24 February 2012

On Ash Wednesday

    Today, with the beginning of Lent, comes the ashes. This soot applied to the foreheads on the first day of the purple season−Ash Wednesday−can be a rich symbol. It is a gift of the Middle Ages, when Christians sorry for their sins came to the church as Lent began, barefoot and clad in rough cloth. After the prayers, ashes made from palms (whose leaves have been saved for almost a year from the previous Palm Sunday) were tossed into the air or sprinkled on the head.  

        The Ashes mark our sin. They remind us that because we sin, we die, and dying we return to dust, to ashes, with the ashes we confess what we already know about ourselves, wearing our sins upon our brow.

        The ashes went wrong when they were linked to penance-something we must do that makes us suffer, as if our suffering, could earn us some forgiveness. Nothing could be further from the truth! It is His suffering on the cross of Calvary that saves, and His alone. If the ashes infringe upon the work of the Lord Jesus Christ, then they must be put away. And so they were, falling out of use in many Lutheran Churches.

        And yet there was a time, you may recall, when ashes were a substitute for soap, something for cleansing and renewal. Now that gets closer to the truth. We are Christians, and for us the last word is never sin, to death, or ash. The last word-the endpoint, the fulfillment of the Law (Romans 10:4), God’s yes! (2 Corinthians 1:20), God or us (Romans 5:8), the fullness of the Gospel−is Jesus Christ.

        And so if you come near the altar this Ash Wednesday, the ashes will be traced upon your skin where Name and water once graced you at baptism. They will be given to you in the sign of the cross, reminding you that you belong to Christ, that he alone forgives you, and that there is no penance you can do to save yourself, in part or full. Free of charge, it is He who cleanses and renews you, He who saves you as a gift (Ephesians 2:1-10).

        The ashes mark your salvation. They remind us because of Christ, we live, and living to return to life, to discipleship. With ashes we confess what we already know about ourselves, wearing our salvation on our brow.

        The gift of ashes is a symbol, rich and deep, but nothing more. If you think it will help your piety, your discipline, your rejoicing, your faith, then come to the front for ashes on this first Wednesday of the purple season. And if you do not, or if you would simply like to pass it by this year, please do! Faith finds an aid−but not its ground−in this ancient custom. The only ground of faith and life is Christ.

        Always remember with the ashes or without, you are free, as you are Christ’s.

Happy Lent!

Scott Bruzek

21 February 2012

On the Eucharist

The word "Eucharist" means literally "thanksgiving."  A Eucharistic life is one lived in gratitude.  The story, which is also our story, of the two friends walking to Emmaus has shown that gratitude is not an obvious attitude toward life.  Gratitude needs to be discovered and to be lived with great inner attentiveness.  Our losses, our experiences of rejection and abandonment, and our many moments of disillusionment keep pulling us into anger, bitterness, and resentment.  When we simply let the "facts" speak, there will always be enough facts to convince us that life, in the end, leads to nothing and that every attempt to beat that fate is only a sign of profound naiveté.

Jesus gave us the Eucharist to enable us to choose gratitude.  It is a choice we, ourselves, have to make.  Nobody can make it for us. But the Eucharist prompts us to cry out to God for mercy, to listen to the words of Jesus, to invite him into our home, to enter into communion with him and proclaim good news to the world; it opens the possibility of gradually letting go of our many resentments and choosing to be grateful.  The Eucharistic celebration keeps inviting us to that attitude.  In our daily lives we have countless opportunities to be grateful instead of resentful.  At first, we might not recognize these opportunities.  Before we fully realized, we have already said: "This is too much for me.  I have no choice but to be angry and to let my anger show.  Life isn't fair, and I can't act as if it is,"  However, there is always the voice that, ever and again, suggests that we are blinded by our own understanding and pull ourselves and each other into a hole.  It is the voice that calls us "foolish," the voice that asks us to have a completely new look at our lives, a look not from below, where we count our losses, but from above, where God offers us his glory.

Eucharist-thanksgiving-in the end, comes from above.  It is the gift that we cannot fabricate for ourselves.  It is to be received.  It is freely offered and asks to be freely received.  That is where the choice is!  We can choose to let the stranger continue his journey and so remain a stranger.  But we can also invite him into our inner lives, let him touch every part of our being and then transform our resentments into gratitude.  We don't have to do this.  In fact, most people don't.  But as often as we make that choice, everything, even the most trivial things, become new.  Our little lives become great - part of the mysterious work of God's salvation.  Once that happens, nothing is accidental, casual, or futile any more.  Even the most insignificant event speaks the language of faith, hope, and, above all, love.

That's the Eucharistic life, the life in which everything becomes a way of saying "Thank you" to him who joined us on the road.

Henri J. M. Nouwen, With Burning Hearts, pp. 124-126

07 December 2011

Dies Irae

06 December 2011

Veni, Veni, Emmanuel

13 November 2011

On Psalm 1

A psalm implies serenity of soul; it is the author of peace. A psalm forms friendships, unites those separated, conciliates those at enmity. A psalm is a city of refuge from the demons; a means of inducing help from the angels, a weapon against fears by night, a rest from toils by day, a safeguard for infants, an adornment for those at the height of their vigor, a consolation of the elders, a most fitting ornament for women. It peoples the solitudes; it rids the market place of excesses; it is the elementary exposition of beginners, the improvement of those advancing, the solid support of the perfect, the voice of the Church. It brightens the feast days; it creates a sorrow which is in accordance with God. For a psalm calls forth a tear even from a heart of stone. A psalm is the work of angels, a heavenly institution, the spiritual incense.

-- Basil the Great Homily X, on Psalm 1

27 October 2011

On the Mass

Our churches are falsely accused of abolishing the Mass.  Actually, the Mass is retained among us and is celebrated with the greatest reverence. Almost all the customary ceremonies are also retained, except that German hymns are interspersed here and there among the parts sung in Latin. These [ceremonies] are added for the instruction of the people, for ceremonies are needed especially in order that the unlearned may be taught. […] Accordingly it does not appear that the Mass is observed with more devotion among our adversaries than among us. […]By contrast, due to God’s blessing, our priests attend to the ministry of the Word. They teach the gospel about the blessings of Christ, and they show that the forgiveness of sins takes place on account of Christ. This teaching offers solid consolation to consciences. In addition they teach about the good works that God commands, and they speak about the value and use of the Sacraments. --  Apology of the Augsburg Confession XXIV: 1-3, 9, 48

27 October 2011

On the Beauty of Holiness

In a world full of so much ugliness, liturgy should be a rest for the soul, a repose where the soul can breathe. Beauty is not aestheticism. It is not an aim in itself. It is a glimpse of God’s glory. We shouldn’t stay with a glimpse [...] because people are thirsting for beauty and for what they rightly feel is behind beauty: the glory of God revealed to us. Heaven opens in liturgy. Beauty in liturgy costs time, love, care, commitment. We must take time for preparing the liturgy, looking for the beauty of the flowers, the songs, the space, the incense, the candles. All this has nothing to do with pure aestheticism, but it is an expression of love. The faithful can tell whether or not there is the love of God in a church. My experience is that wherever you have a beautiful liturgy, people come. People are attracted, and rightly. We should not say that this is only a superficial attraction. Beauty is one way to God. It should never be separated from goodness and truth. Beauty without goodness is not beauty; so love for the poor has to be cultivated together with love for beauty—and, of course, with love for the truth. -- Archbishop Christoph Schonborn of Vienna