A Pastoral Letter During Turbulent Times

June newsletter article by The Rev. Jack Alvey, Rector of The Episcopal Church of the Ascension in Vestavia Hills, AL

            When I was a teenager, I told my dad that I was worried about getting a job after college. “What if I’m not good enough?” I wondered. He said something like, “You don’t need to worry about that. You’ll be fine.” I replied, “How can you be so sure?” My dad told me, “First of all, you are smart and people like you. Plus, you are a white male.” (Note: My dad said it in a very matter a fact way. Right or wrong – that’s just how the world is).

            I can’t remember exactly what he said next, but I do remember feeling strangely satisfied with the answer. While I couldn’t articulate it then, what I was coming to understand was one of the perks of white (male) privilege. Because I was a white male, I would already have a leg up on people who weren’t white and who weren’t male. For better and for worse, the thought empowered me.

            In the years to come, I struggled (and continue to struggle) with what to do with this white (male) privilege. I’ve often thought, I didn’t ask for this. It’s not my fault that I am a white male. I am a good Christian and according to the Bible there is no distinction between male and female, Jew and Greek, slave and free. However, as I’ve learned over the years, color blindness is not the answer. The issue is much deeper than racism or sexism or any -ism. These are symptoms of a deeper problem (more in another conversation).

            Some years ago, I had a conversation with two female clergy in the diocese about privilege. Frustrated with the conversation, I blurted out, “What in the world can I do about it? Don’t ask me to be sorry about it (I was already feeling guilty).” They kindly responded, “You can use your position of privilege to give voice to those without a voice.” At the time, I thought that was a pretty simple idea.

            Fast forward a few years to when I was in my first year as Rector at St. Paul’s in Selma. My first year in Selma marked the 50^th anniversary of Bloody Sunday. I was gently told by Bishop Sloan that I needed to make sure I acknowledged the event. I thought this was a wonderful opportunity to use my privilege to give voice to those who did not have had a voice at St. Paul’s 50 years ago. One of the voices that I chose for the Lenten series was a woman named Ruby Sales. 

Ms. Sales was from the Blackbelt of Alabama and participated in the Civil Rights Movement in the 1960s South. In 1965, Sales befriended Episcopal Seminarian Jonathan Daniels who came to Selma to be a part of the movement. While in Hayneville, Alabama, after being released from jail, Sales attempted to enter a white only store. When she defied an order not to enter, a Sherriff’s Deputy pointed his shotgun at Ms. Sales. Mr. Daniels, however, stepped in front of the blast and was killed immediately.  

            Now, 50 years later, Ms. Sales would have a voice at St. Paul’s Selma – the very congregation who once shut her and many others out (St. Paul’s would open its doors to all a few weeks later). I was so proud of myself for getting Ms. Sales to speak. It was a true testament to racial reconciliation! Within seconds, the captive audience of about 70 people shut down. I shut down, too. The first words out of Ms. Sales’ mouth went something like, “The first thing you all need to admit is that you are racists.” So much for racial reconciliation.

            It was easy for me to be angry at Ms. Sales for her speech that night. I had to do a lot of damage control in the weeks to come. The harder thing for me to do was to pay attention to the anger that she was carrying – an anger that I can never understand as a white male. Then it dawned on me. God did not want her to speak about racial reconciliation or racial healing.

As painful and as uncomfortable as it was, I believe God needed us to hear the anger in the Black community – an anger that has been largely suppressed in this country for 400 years. For me, it was a Jesus flipping the tables in the Temple moment. I was reminded that Jesus said, “Do not think I have come to bring peace on earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” Read my recent article entitled “Politics in the Pulpit” for more context.

Before there can be healing or reconciliation (reconciliation is a word I’m not wild about using in this context, but more on that in a different forum), there must be truth telling. The same is true in our own households with our own family members. Before there can be peace and healing, the truth must come out and be dealt with.

As the country reels in the aftermath of the appalling killings of Ahmad Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd, peaceful protests have turned violent in cities all across the country including our own city of Birmingham. While I didn’t want to watch the footage of downtown riots, I made myself watch for five minutes. Again, I was reminded that it would easy for me to condemn the actions of the violent protesters and wash my hands clean.

The harder thing for me to do was to pay attention to the anger that still exists in our country around issues related to prejudice and hate. I needed to be reminded that conversations about racism, sexism, and the other the -isms is long from over. In many places, I’m not even sure the conversation has even begun.

In my estimation, the longer we convince ourselves that color blindness is the answer, the longer we convince ourselves that we (white people) aren’t a part of the problem (or solution), the longer we avoid conversations about racism and sexism and the other -isms, the longer it will take for the truth to come out in constructive ways. 

This is bigger than I have black friends, or I’m nice to black people. All of that is a step in the right direction but that only scratches the surface of what we need to be focusing on. This is about telling the truth that the legacy of slavery is alive and well in our country today. By not talking about it, by suppressing or minimizing or demonizing the anger in the Black community, we (white people) are simply heating a pot that is already boiling.

Over the next few weeks, I invite you to be a part of this conversation. In place of our usual Ascension Wellness Center Series, I will co-host a two-part conversation alongside my friend and colleague The Rev. Dr. Tommie Watkins, Rector of St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church in Birmingham. The conversations will happen on Facebook Live and Zoom at 9 a.m. on Thursday, June 4^th and Thursday, June 11^th. Stay tuned with more information on how you can participate.

Tommie and I have had a number of conversations over the years related to racism, sexism, and the other – isms. Sometimes these conversations have been uncomfortable, but I am better for them. As Tommie will tell you, the problem is much deeper than race. In addition to helping us come to terms with our white privilege, I hope the conversation will move us beyond shame and guilt so that we can talk about it in constructive and life-giving ways. 

Friends, it is starting to look a lot like Pentecost – a rush of a violent wind is sweeping the country off her feet. If the idea of this conversation makes you feel uncomfortable, if phrases like white privilege and systemic racism scare you, then I’d say that is a good sign that the Holy Spirit is moving you toward the conversation for the sake of the gospel. Now, more than ever, the Spirit is calling us to proclaim the message that envisions people of all races and nations worshiping our Father in heaven, a Father who says, “You are important. You are of value. You are no more or less loved than the person standing next to you.”

Finally, I invite your prayers during this time. Below are prayers from the Book of Common Prayer (BCP) that I feel are appropriate for this time of great unrest:

For the Human Family
O God, you made us in your own image and redeemed us through Jesus your Son: Look with compassion on the whole human family; take away the arrogance and hatred which infect our hearts; break down the walls that separate us; unite us in bonds of love; and work through our struggle and confusion to accomplish your purposes on earth; that, in your good time, all nations and races may serve you in harmony around your heavenly throne; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

For Peace
Eternal God, in whose perfect kingdom no sword is drawn but the sword of righteousness, no strength known but the strength of love: So mightily spread abroad your Spirit, that all peoples may be gathered under the banner of the Prince of Peace, as children of one Father; to whom be dominion and glory, now and for ever. Amen.

For Social Justice

Grant, O God, that your holy and lifegiving Spirit may so move every human heart [and especially the hearts of the people of this land], that barriers which divide us may crumble, suspicions disappear, and hatreds cease; that our divisions being healed, we may live in justice and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

In Times of Conflict

O God, you have bound us together in a common life. Help us, in the midst of our struggles for justice and truth, to confront one another without hatred or bitterness, and to work together with mutual forbearance and respect; through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

For the Oppressed
Look with pity, O heavenly Father, upon the people in this land who live with injustice, terror, disease, and death astheir constant companions. Have mercy upon us. Help us to eliminate our cruelty to these our neighbors. Strengthen thosewho spend their lives establishing equal protection of the law and equal opportunities for all. And grant that every one ofus may enjoy a fair portion of the riches of this land; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

For Cities

Heavenly Father, in your Word you have given us a vision of that holy City to which the nations of the world bring their glory: Behold and visit, we pray, the cities of the earth. Renew the ties of mutual regard which form our civic life. Send us honest and able leaders.  Enable us to eliminate poverty, prejudice, and oppression, that peace may prevail with righteousness, and justice with order, and that men and women from different cultures and with differing talents may find with one another the fulfillment of their humanity; through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

A Prayer attributed to St. Francis
Lord, make us instruments of your peace. Where there is hatred, let us sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, union; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

            

Politics in the Pulpit

          One of the cardinal sins of a preacher is to bring politics into the pulpit. By its very nature, especially in our country, politics divides. The Church, at her best, is where divisions cease to exist. As St. Paul said, “there is no longer Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female.”

As a preacher, I have tried to remain apolitical in an effort to create space where people of faith, from both sides of the aisle, can worship God. I love the idea that the Church can be a place where people are defined, not by their political affiliation, but by a God who sees us all as beloved children through Jesus Christ our Lord. The Church, at her best, provides a place of healing for a people who are divided on so many issues.

            However, there are times in history when the middle ground erodes away. There are times in history when we must make a stand for the sake of what is right; even more, there are times when we must take a stand for the sake of the gospel of Jesus Christ. There are times when we can no longer sacrifice truth for the sake of unity and peace. At some point, the status quo will no longer be good enough for the kingdom of God. 

In particular, there are times when peace, veiled in the cruelty of keeping the status quo, must be disrupted so that the kingdom of God can draw near. In America’s history, peace was disrupted with a civil war that put an end to slavery. Peace was disrupted so that women might have the right to vote. Peace was disrupted when we went to war with Nazi Germany to put an end to the systematic murder of Jews. 

Peace was disrupted and continues to be disrupted so that African Americans and people of color in this country may no longer be seen as less than, not only in light of the law, but also in our hearts and minds. Peace is being disrupted so that members of the LGBTQ community can feel safe and fully valued in their own communities and churches. And there have been times in our country’s history when peace was not sufficiently disrupted for the sake of the kingdom of God.

Jesus himself said, “Do not think that I have come to bring peace on earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” Jesus goes on to say members of one’s own household will be divided. Jesus is saying that before the kingdom of God can take root on earth, this world must be turned upside down (which it will at the foot of the cross). And if we are serious about following Jesus, then we must be serious about turning this world upside down with a kind of love that rights all wrongs.

If we are serious about following Jesus, then we must risk making people mad. If we are serious about following Jesus, then we must be serious about rejecting agendas or policies that are antithetical to the kingdom of God. If we are serious about following Jesus, then we must be willing to disrupt the peace, the status quo for the sake of the kingdom of God – a place where the first are last and the last are first.

Sometimes following Jesus might make one look like a Republican. Sometimes following Jesus might make one look like a Democrat. So, if one follows Jesus and that makes them look like a Republican or Democrat, does that mean they are being political? I would think not. 

At the end of the day, Christians cannot be beholden to a political party if they are serious about following Jesus. At some point, following Jesus will make one step out of line with their political party. At some point, following Jesus will make one step of out of line with their social identity.

As you’ve heard me say before, Jesus did not come to start a new religion. Rather, as Robert Capon said, Jesus came to put an end to religion. What Capon means is that Jesus did not come to make up a bunch of new rules on how to find our way to God just so we mortals could fight about it some more. 

Instead, Jesus puts before us a cross that says no amount of striving will get us to God. In his great hymn, A Mighty Fortress is our God, Martin Luther says, “our striving would be losing.” The cross is the place where God meets us in our losing and brings us to himself. The cross is not about us finding our way to God through good deeds. Rather, the cross is about God finding us in our pointless striving and saying the way of the cross is the way of life and peace.

Jesus tells his followers, “If you want to be my follower, then you must deny yourself and take up your cross.” Taking up the cross is about finding God in the weak and vulnerable for that is where the crucified Lord dwells and takes us to new life. More than following a moral code or certain ideologies, following Jesus is about sacrificing oneself for the sake of the other particularly the weak and vulnerable.

These past few months have put this call to take up our cross to the test. Everything that we’ve been talking about in recent months – wearing masks, staying home, proper hygiene – isn’t simply about protecting ourselves but about protecting others. These past few months have been about sacrificing our livelihood for the sake of others especially the weak and vulnerable. 

And if wearing a mask is what it means to follow Jesus today, then I pray we may gladly accept the discipline regardless of our political persuasion. If being physically distanced for a little longer is what it means to follow Jesus today, then I pray we do so with the conviction that this is what we do as citizens of God’s heavenly city by virtue of our baptisms. And if following Jesus makes you look political, then so be it – you are a beloved child of God – the only name that will never be taken away from you. 

The Reason for the Season (of Advent)

             During this season of Advent, my spiritual reading will be devoted to the work of The Rev. Fleming Rutledge who recently published a book entitled: Advent: The Once and Future Coming of Jesus Christ. The publication is a compilation of Rutledge’s Advent sermons, writings, and teachings. For those who are unfamiliar with Rutledge, she is considered not only one of the best Episcopal preachers but also one of the best preachers in the United States.

            In her book Advent, it is clear that Rutledge is interested in recapturing the original meaning of the Advent season. Rutledge says, “For many years, I thought that, during Advent, one was supposed to pretend that Jesus hadn’t been born, so that we would be more excited when Christmas came…In Advent, we don’t pretend…we take a good hard look at the darkness we are in now…so that we will understand with utmost clarity that our great and only hope is in Jesus’s final victorious coming.”

            If you look at the lectionary readings for the season, you will notice that the first Sunday’s focus is on the second coming of Christ – not Christmas. In addition, the second and third Sundays focus on John the Baptist’s witness to the Jesus Christ who is already born and about to begin his public ministry. Only on the fourth Sunday of Advent do we get a prelude to Christmas when we hear about Mary, Joseph, and/or Elizabeth. 

In addition, there are only 2 hymns in the hymnal that portray Advent as the season when we wait for the birth of Jesus – the rest look toward Jesus’s final victorious coming. Another clue that helps us understand the original intent of Advent is discerned when we look at what the word Advent actually means. The word Advent is taken from the Latin word Adventus which can be translated into “Second Coming.” 

As the consumerism of Christmas has grown over the years, it is nearly impossible to observe the original intent of Advent. In secular culture, the season leading up to Christmas has grown into a three-month event beginning in October when decorations are put up at department stores! Between parties and pageants and plays and shopping lists, who has time to keep awake and watch for the Second Coming of Christ? During this season of darkness, we are flooded with lights and sounds that distract us from the true light – Jesus Christ.

Rutledge names the tension of this time for Christians saying, “Christianity is under attack from every quarter – not least from within its own ranks as we become more and more indistinguishable from everybody else – but the commanding voices of the prophets and apostles are still capable of lifting us out of the culture wars onto a plane that not even the most cynical Jesus-basher can successfully besiege.”  In other words, Advent is a season when Christians have the opportunity to remember how we have been set apart to point to the kingdom that is come.

John the Baptist calls us to repent. Quite simply, we are called to turn away from the promises of our earthly kingdoms and toward the promises of Christ whose kingdom is (being) established on earth as it is in heaven. Or as Rutledge says, “John the Baptist’s lonely, austere style of life bears witness to a reality that is coming, a reality that will expose all worldly realities, all earthly conditions, all human promises as fraudulent and transitory.” And by revealing our earthly kingdoms as counterfeit, Christ gives us the grace to turn toward the kingdom that has no end.    

During this season of Advent, may you grow more alive to the truth that the only One who can save you (and us) from the darkness is the One who is not of the world but the One who is coming into the world.

Advent Devotional Companion to use with an Advent Wreath.

Bishop's Election: What's our next move?

Feast Day for the Consecration of Samuel Seabury

First American Bishop

November 14^th

Matthew’s Gospel tells us that “when Jesus saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” During the colonial era of the church in the new world, there were no Anglican bishops. If the church needed more priests, they would ship candidates to England to ordain them. 

Once the war was over, it became clear that the Anglican Church in the new world needed to have its own bishops. Under the cover of darkness, a secret meeting of Connecticut clergy met in Woodbury on March 25, 1783 and chose Samuel Seabury to go to England to seek consecration as bishop. Thankfully, the church follows a different process of selecting bishops these days.

Predictably, Seabury had a difficult time convincing bishops in England to consecrate him bishop. In order to be consecrated bishop by an English bishop, one must swear allegiance to the crown. Obviously, Seabury would not do that because of the whole American Revolutionary war thing. 

After a year of failed attempts of trying to persuade English bishops, Seabury traveled to Scotland where the official church was Presbyterian. The Scottish Episcopal Church had broken ties with the monarch a century before. Therefore, there were non-juring (swearing) Anglican bishops who were willing to consecrate Seabury. The apostolic chain of succession connecting bishops all the way back to Peter would continue in the United States.

In Aberdeen, on November 14, 1784, Samuel Seabury was consecrated bishop. A part of the deal was for Seabury to convince the newly forming church in the United States to use the Scottish prayer of consecration (inherited from the Eastern Orthodox liturgy). In addition, the nine small crosses on the Episcopal Shield form a cross which represents St. Andrew – the patron of Scotland. Seabury was then chosen Bishop of Connecticut.

In his book, Welcome to the Episcopal Church, Christopher Webber says, “Americans had had a church without bishops for almost two centuries. Now that they had bishops, they would have to work out what they were for.” Were they Pastors? Administrators? Spiritual Directors? Liturgical Ornaments? Maybe a little bit of everything? These questions continue to be worked out in the life of the church to this day.

In a few weeks, the Bishop’s Search Committee will present a slate of candidates to the Standing Committee who will announce the slate to the diocese. Members of the committee are striving to present a slate of candidates that represents the diversity of the church. One member of the committee told me, “We want to give the diocese real choices.”

I hear the committee saying that they want to give the Diocese of Alabama the opportunity to choose a bishop who will best serve the diocese during this particular season of our life together. As Bishop Sloan suggested in his retirement announcement, God tends to call bishops to serve for a particular season in the life of the church. Bishop Sloan recognizes the rapidly changing culture and feels that a new bishop would be better suited to shepherd the church into the new era. 

While this is certainly a time to celebrate all the gifts that Bishop Sloan has offered the Episcopal Church in Alabama for this particular season, this is also a time to discern what gifts a new bishop might bring to the table for the next season. I am thankful for the Standing Committee and search committee for facilitating this process of discernment. As the diocese continues to discern what gifts a new bishop might need to bring to the table, I hope we are able to discern with the Holy Spirit what candidate is uniquely suited to respond to the opportunities and challenges that face the church today. 

What kind of leadership skills will be required to move us in the direction that the Holy Spirit is calling us toward? Do we need a pastor? An administrator? A visionary? A preacher? A liturgical ornament? Which gifts are most needed for the church in this particular season? What kind of shepherd do we need for this new season in our life together? In the end, it is my hope and prayer that we see how God is using this process to help the diocese become one flock under one shepherd – Jesus Christ our Lord.

Bibliography:

1. Brightest and Best: A Companion to the Lesser Feasts and Fasts by Sam Portaro 

2. Holy Women, Holy Men: Celebrating the Saints

St. Joseph - Patron of Households

            While we have been in Birmingham for over six-months, we still own a house in Selma. Even though we buried a statue of St. Joseph upside down by our front door and said the St. Joseph prayer, we still have not received an offer on the house!

            Some of you may be familiar with this quasi-pagan tradition of burying a St. Joseph when trying to sell a house. Regardless of the hint of superstition involved, the tradition is a reminder that St. Joseph is the patron saint of households. He is also the patron of laborers or workers as he was a carpenter.

Joseph took care of the household of Jesus. Joseph was the person quietly tending to the practical matters of the faith. He was the one who ensured there was space for Jesus to grow into adulthood. He made sure Mary could raise this child both in her body and in her home.     

When Joseph found out Mary was pregnant, he quietly moved to divorce her. However, the angel told him that this pregnancy was of the Holy Spirit. Joseph, a faithful man, decided to stick with Mary despite the humiliation and shame it might bring. When news got out that King Herod wanted to kill Jesus, he helped his family escape to Egypt. 

Joseph’s place in the gospel is a reminder that tending to our spiritual lives involves a practical side. Tending to our spiritual lives involves making physical space so that we might nurture and grow our faith. How we can make space that is comfortable, safe, clean, and even beautiful. How can we make space that invites the Holy Spirit in? a place of radical hospitality and welcome? 

I love how this church makes space for the faith of Jesus to grow. Our campus is open and big. The large windows invite the natural light and beauty of the world around us to fill our senses. I wonder where there are other spaces in your life where you can nurture your faith. Maybe you have created a place in your home. Maybe there is a quiet place in nature – in your backyard, at a park. 

If you don’t have such a space, consider asking St. Joseph to help you find and make space to experience the divine life of God. And like St. Joseph, you might even find in your calling to make space for others to experience the love of Christ.

As you prepare and find space to grow in the knowledge and love of God, I pray you discover how God is making space in you – in your heart and soul – to carry the love of Christ just as God, through Joseph, made space for Mary to carry and nurture the love of Christ. And may your life be about making space for others to know the goodness and mercy of God in Christ. 

   

Giving Up Our Pacifiers

Click here to listen to sermon

            When Mary Katherine was an infant and toddler, she always had to have her pacifier - her “pap, pap” or her “paci.” John is much the same way. When the pap, pap is nowhere to be found, a collective anxiety grows in the household. Pillows are thrown. Sheets are pulled off the bed. Tears are shed by both parent and child. Interesting things are found under the bed or in the sofa cushions.  

Inexplicably, we are still finding Mary Katherine’s pacifiers around the house. I say, inexplicably, because we have moved twice since she was a toddler! So, if you ever see John with a pink or purple pacifier, you now know why. For us, it was easier to potty train Mary Katherine than it was to get her off the pacifier.

Eventually, everyone gets off the pacifier – some later than others. As we mature, however, we pick up other pacifiers along the way. We adults might call these pacifiers a glass of scotch, the newest binge worthy TV show, a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, a cigarette, social media, a murder mystery book. Sometimes these pacifiers turn into self-destructive behaviors - eating disorders, alcohol abuse, drug addiction, and sex addiction to name a few. 

Over the years, we accumulate habits and behaviors that make us feel safe and comfortable. We find things that help calm our nerves after a long day. Some fall into routines that help deaden the pain while others fall into routines that help them feel something – even pain.

These pacifiers distract us from having to confront the wilderness of our lives. Without these pacifiers, we are left alone with our thoughts and feelings, and that can be a scary prospect. Anxiety grows. Left alone with our thoughts and feelings, the sound of silence is often deafening. Hello darkness, my old friend is only said endearingly when singing along to Simon and Garfunkel.

During this first Sunday of Lent, we journey with Jesus into the wilderness. This journey with Jesus into the wilderness asks us to give up our pacifiers. In case you were wondering, we convinced Mary Katherine to give her pacifiers to a friend of ours who had a newborn and it actually did the trick!

In the wilderness, Satan tries to distract Jesus from the wilderness by offering him the pacifiers of provision, power, and protection. Satan even uses scripture to sweeten the offer, but Jesus uses scripture that frustrates the way of Satan. Remember that just because someone quotes scripture doesn’t mean they are speaking the truth of God. Taken out of context, scripture is a dangerous weapon especially when used against those who are spiritually weak. 

There might actually seem to be some kind of wisdom in the lies of the devil. Who doesn’t seek to have provision, power, and protection? What kind of harm can one bite really cause? Our problem, however, is do we know when enough is enough? When does enough provision blind of us from poverty and disease? When does enough power blind us to the plight of the weak and vulnerable? When does enough protection blind us to the peril that others find themselves in?

When does enough lead us to stop learning how to receive and start teaching us how to hoard, when does enough lead us to stop learning how to be grateful and start teaching us how to be more possessive?

For those of us who do possess plenty of provision, power, and protection in this earthly world, a journey into the wilderness can do a world of good for our souls. Putting the season of Lent aside for a minute, most, if not all of us have been driven into the wilderness for some reason or another – death, disease, disaster, the consequence of our sins or the sins of another.

One of my first wilderness experiences happened when I left the security of my Over-the-Mountain neighborhood to the rural backwoods of North Carolina on a mission trip. Not only did I see poverty first-hand, but I also confronted the wilderness that I was experiencing back home. That time in the wilderness was one of the most formative times in my life. 

Being that I am not Jesus, I didn’t ace my first wilderness excursion and still haven’t aced one for that matter. However, that wilderness experience was the beginning of a life-long spiritual journey of learning to trust what God gives me to live instead of trusting the pacifiers I think I need to get through life.

As we see in the biblical narrative, the wilderness is where the people of God grow. And as we see in that narrative, the wilderness can be harsh and unforgiving, the wilderness can create internal conflict and division, the wilderness can make us want to dive into the trashcan to find that filthy pacifier we once joyfully discarded. Devilish temptations are especially strong in the wilderness.   

Like a modern-day camping trip, the temptation is to make our wilderness experience as painless as possible. We pack an air-mattress, ear buds, a battery powered fan, our cell phone, and anything else that makes us forget we are alone in the dark surrounded by creepy, crawling things, by things that go bump in the night. But unless you’ve set up basecamp at the entrance of a bear cave with a nursing momma, odds are you will survive in the wilderness even without your pacifier. 

It might leave you famished, but odds are you will come through that experience realizing that there is very little you really need to enjoy life. Odds are you will realize that most of the things that promise a better life are the very things that weigh you down in life. Odds are you will realize your pacifiers can be more destructive than the things that go bump in the night. 

You will come through the wilderness, by the Spirit’s guiding, with a renewed confidence in your ability to recognize and resist false promises. You will come though the wilderness, by the Spirit’s guiding, with a renewed trust in the promise of God’s provision, God’s power, and God’s protection.

I don’t what you have chosen to give up for Lent, or if you have chosen to give up anything for Lent. But if you have or if you choose to, I invite you to notice two things. First, notice that those devilish temptations are finite – temporary. Like a bully in the schoolyard, Satan will eventually stop playing with you if you stop feeding into his game. 

Secondly, God will never leave your side, even if you insist on rolling around in the dirt with the schoolyard bully, God will be there. Where you go, I will go, God says. Satan will give up on you, but God will never give up on you and that is a promise you can take with you to the grave and beyond. Amen.    

A Spiritual Scar

A part of me wonders if we shouldn’t have a therapist on-call on Ash Wednesday especially after we say the Litany of Penitence. The litany asks us to confront our darkest fears, deepest regrets, and most distressing sins. We are asked to confront those places we hide from even ourselves. The logical question asks, “Why should we even go to those painful and shameful places?” Why add insult to injury? Can’t we just skip over to Easter?! Let me frame the question as if I were a surgeon. 

There is something unhealthy growing inside of you. You might be okay for a little while but eventually your body won’t be able to fight off the disease. You need an intervention. If we do the surgery now and remove the disease, there is hope for healing and wholeness. And if it is any consolation, the scar left from the surgery will be a reminder that you overcame your illness. 

Think of Ash Wednesday, and Lent for that matter, as a kind of spiritual surgery. It might feel scary. It might feel painful, but this spiritual surgery is meant to heal you and make you whole. It is meant to help you let the light of Christ shine onto the deepest, darkest depths of your soul to bring about healing and wholeness.

Think of the ashen cross that I will paint on your forehead as a kind of spiritual scar. This spiritual scar is not only a reminder of your sin and mortality but the ashen cross is also a reminder of Christ’s desire to heal you and make you whole. Included in these ashes is oil for healing. So, as you are outwardly anointed with this oil, know that you are inwardly anointed by the Holy Spirit. 

            When you receive these ashes, I invite you to close your eyes and imagine the light of Christ inwardly anointing all those dark places in your soul with the healing power of God’s love. Imagine the Holy Spirit cleansing the basement of your soul with the brightness of the True Light.  

Once the basement of your soul is cleansed by the light of Christ, you are free to begin storing up for yourselves treasure in heaven – storing up things that aren’t things – things that St. Paul calls the fruits of the spirit - love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

Today’s lessons make it clear that God doesn’t need our ritual and liturgy if our ritual and liturgy do not lead us to store up treasures in heaven. In Isaiah, we hear that our ritual and liturgy is done in vain if we do not seek out the lonely, last, and lost, if we do not seek out those who Jesus claims are first in the kingdom of heaven. 

If our religion doesn’t compel us to heal the sick, feed the poor, and lift-up the downtrodden, then we must be willing to ask, “is my religion about a self-improvement project or is it about becoming that wounded healer we know in Christ?” There are plenty of offers for self-improvement out in the world (books, programs, classes). While that is all well and good, the aim of the gospel of Jesus Christ is about bringing healing and wholeness to a sinful and broken world.

            The spiritual surgery of Ash Wednesday is about turning us into wounded healers. We, who know the healing power of Christ’s love, are then compelled to share that healing power with the world. This spiritual healing helps us reprioritize our lives. Instead of living toward the attainment of earthly treasurers, our eyes our opened to the value of heavenly treasurers – treasurers that, as Isaiah says, repair and restore the communities of our world.   

While God doesn’t need our religious practices, we need them. We human beings seem to have a hard time remembering that we are loved and valued. We seem to have a hard time remembering that we belong to God and each other. We need this spiritual scar to remind us that we belong to a God whose property is always to have mercy. And as a people who belong to a merciful God, we, too, belong to each other according to the same promise of mercy.

As you leave here tonight and as you journey through the season of Lent, I invite you not only to notice the ashen cross on your forehead but on the forehead of all whom you encounter – especially on your homeless brother and sister, your lonely brother and sister, and even the brother and sister you tend not to like very much. 

Begin to notice that everyone – especially those who differ most from you – is wrestling with the demons in the basement of their soul, everyone is seeking healing and wholeness, everyone is worthy to know the healing power of Christ’s love. And may God grant you every grace to be a wounded healer in a world desperate to be made whole. Amen.