Made From the Same Pile of Dirt

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           “Blow the trumpet in Zion; sanctify a fast…gather the people…Between the vestibule and the altar let the priests…weep. Let them say, ‘Spare your people, O Lord.’”

            While we didn’t blow a trumpet to begin the service, we did ring the church bells for all of Selma to hear. You may or may not be fasting today. You, the people, are gathered, at three different times, but you are still gathered.

I stand here between you the people and the altar. While I don’t plan on weeping, I will paint a cross of ashes on your forehead in the shape of a cross and remind you that our Lord Jesus Christ, the Great High Priest, through his life, death, and resurrection, cries out, “Spare your people, O Lord.”

Today’s prophecy from Joel comes at a difficult time for the people of Israel. In particular, locusts are destroying their land and their crops. Foreign armies are causing havoc in their communities. Their very livelihood is being threatened at every level. They cry, from where is our help to come? And their priest weeps for them.

While Joel speaks to a people who exist in a very different time and place than we do today, the fears and concerns of the people remain very much the same. Our earth and our natural resources are being devastated at an alarming rate. People in every land and nation and city are plagued by war and violence and power struggles.

Sometimes I wonder, “What kind of earth are we leaving behind for our children?” “Are we just making a bigger mess out of the mess we were left by our ancestors?” “Are our ‘civilizations’ any more civil than they used to be or are we just putting lip-stick on a pig?”

Maybe I should be weeping today. Maybe we all should be weeping. Maybe we should all cry a little louder, from where is our help to come? And maybe those cries are a little louder after the school shooting in Florida earlier today.

But instead of crying louder, we tend to resort to the blame game. I know I do. Instead of weeping and lamenting, we point our fingers toward those people over there. It is easier that way. Instead of sharing in the blame and the pain, we inflict pain on others. Instead of admitting that we are a part of the problem, we are content in naming how they are a part of the problem. It is human nature to justify the self by putting the other down.

But thank God for Ash Wednesday. In so many ways, Ash Wednesday levels the playing field. Rich or poor, republican or democrat, black or white, gay or straight – you all get the same ashes smeared on your forehead. You are reminded that you are made from the same pile of dirt as everyone else. And, at the end of the day, you return to the same pile of dirt as everyone else.

But for whatever reason, we as humans spend a lot of time separating ourselves into different dirt mounds. Somewhere along the way we convince ourselves and others that this batch of dirt is more valuable than that batch of dirt.

But one day it rains – a national figure is killed, a child goes missing, a hurricane causes devastating damage and floods – and all the different mole hills turn to mud and it all runs together. We discover, in painful and often humiliating ways, we have all fallen in the same muddy ditch and the only way out is together.

I wonder, will we ever get tired of pushing the dirt back into our little corners of the world? When will we recognize this exercise of vanity? When will we see in the other our common humanity?

When will we drop our love affair with our own dirt piles and let the God who formed us out of the earth reshape us through the love poured out in his Son Jesus Christ our Lord? When will we drop our love affair with our selfish ways and let ourselves be shaped by the selflessness of the One who laid down his life for the sake of the whole world – even his enemies? When will we drop our love affair with the blame game and be shaped by the One who defeats sin by works of mercy? 

Again, I say, thank God for Ash Wednesday. The ashes that I will paint on your forehead will be fashioned in the shape of a cross. On this Valentine’s Day, the ashen cross reminds us that God’s love is much sweeter than chocolates and more beautiful than roses. God’s love is about seeing that the world is not how it should be but loving it the way it is through Jesus Christ.  

These ashen crosses are a reminder that whoever you are the life God prepares for us in Christ isn’t about what you can make of yourself, it isn’t about trying to secure your place in the best pile of dirt humanity can construct.

Instead, it’s about trusting in a God who hears the cry of his people. It’s about trusting in a God who brings order out of chaos. It’s about trusting in a God who spares his people through way of Jesus Christ, a way forged out of love, a way that calls us to see in the other our common humanity, a way that is gathering the people together as one, a way that makes good on even the biggest messes this world can make.  

And now, let us begin again in the way of Jesus Christ by observing the holy season of Lent...