TURN, TURN AND TURN AGAIN

This poem by All Thieves (featured in the Grey's Anatomy Episode "No Good at Saying Sorry") seems very appropriate for the beginning of Lent and for those reeling from another mass shooting in the USA:

Worn from walking this far
So worn from talking this much
And what we found and what we've seen
As the road curves down

And the lights come up to meet us
Silent for the evening
We enter this town
Like new born creatures

Those I know I see anew
And the space between us is reduced
For I am human
And you are human too.

So turn and turn again

We are calling in all the ships
Every traveler, please come home
And tell us all that you have seen
Break every lock to every door
Return every gun to every draw
So we can turn
And turn again

Only priests and clowns can save us now
Only a sign from God or a hurricane
Can bring about
The change we all want

And we've done it again
This trick we have
Of turning love to pain
And peace to war

We're just ash in a jar

So turn and turn again
We are calling in all the ships
Every traveler, please come home
And tell us all that you have seen
Break every lock to every door
Return every gun to every draw
So we can turn
And turn again 

REMEMBER THAT YOU ARE DUST...

ASH WEDNESDAY

Sermon preached in the Church of All Saints, New Eltham

at Low Mass with Imposition of Ashes on 13^th February 2013

INTRODUCTION

“Ash on an old man’s sleeve

            Is all the ash the burnt roses leave.

            Dust in the air suspended

            Marks the place where the story ended”

So writes T. S. Eliot in his poem, ‘Little Gidding’.  I have a memory of my grandfather sitting in his armchair, a cigarette dangling from his mouth and the ash falling down onto the waistcoat of his blue, pin-stripe suit.

“Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return”

The starkness – even abruptness - of that sentence, which is said as ashes are smeared on us, cuts through the glamour and illusions of life.  It’s meant to, and it presents us with a view of the reality of our human condition.  An old man in his armchair or dust suspended above our foreheads.  It tells a story.  All is passing – the child seems to become the old man in a brief span of years and, from the dust of the earth out of which we are born, we return so very quickly.  The boldness of those words shakes our comfortable lives.  Remembering that we are dust is a call to return to an ancient wisdom that we are as much physical people as spiritual people. Spirituality and physicality are at root connected.  It's a wisdom found in all religions. The ancient Hebrews knew this, and so, of course, did Jesus.

But it is, of course, only part of the picture, only half of the statement addressed to us as the black cross is smeared on our foreheads.  The other part is equally simple and direct: “Turn away from sin and be faithful to Christ”

Stark again, but this time in terms of choice.  Yet we would be misled if we were left thinking that the point of this statement is just to frighten us into becoming more religious.  It is an invitation to bring order into chaotic lives, to seek the source of wholeness.  To be faithful to God’s gentle and generous invitation to receive the gift of life.

Today we are invited to recognise the truth of who and what we are – of the earth.  And there’s nothing wrong with that.  Indeed, earth is the sacred seedbed of creativity and contains all the elements necessary for life.   We need to realise, perhaps dimly, that to be fully alive requires us to be captured by a greater vision.  The vision of the Risen Christ who appeared to his disciples and who enveloped them in the Divine Glory on the Mountain of the Transfiguration.

CONFESSION

This tension – between a recognition of the truth and reality of who we are as human beings and the potential we have for glory, is, of course, played out throughout our lives but made more explicit now – and especially during Holy Week. 

Our Faith recognises the need we have to face this tension and not to ignore it.  Recently a friend of mine, a priest and psychotherapist, sent me the draft of a talk she was giving in Glastonbury on the subject of the Sacrament of Confession and the Therapeutic process.  In it she wrote about her first experience of making her Confession:

“Early one Saturday morning”, she wrote, “I struggled into the church feeling unclear, confused and thoroughly miserable.  I sat in the pew, the priest sat at the confessional.   Not having a clue what I was going to say, except that I needed to own my own sins … I trusted and believed this would bring me back to myself and to God.

I started with the set format words… ‘Bless me, Mother, for I have sinned.’  And then the priest saying, ‘The Lord be in your heart on your lips, that you may rightly and truly confess your sins.  In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  Amen’

I am kneeling in front of a crucifix; the priest is sitting next to me. We do not look at each other.  I say, ‘I confess to almighty God, to blessed Mary, ever-virgin and all the saints and to you, Mother, that I have sinned in thought, word and deed, through my own deliberate fault.’

With her help I find the words.  They feel bald, clear, naked and frightening.  They are just me.  I am speaking from myself.  I am feeling shameful, fragile and vulnerable but gradually I also have a sense of Christ’s love for me.  He loves me when I feel so dreadful: it is as if I have opened myself to Christ and God, and they are putting their healing hands right into me. The pain is going.  I finish it off by saying, ‘For these and all my other sins which I cannot remember, I am truly sorry, firmly resolve to do better, and humbly ask pardon of God, and of you, Mother, penance, advice and absolution.  Amen’

Then there is the moment of absolution. ‘Our Lord Jesus Christ, who has left power to his church to absolve all who truly repent and believe in him, of his great mercy forgive you your offences; and by his authority committed to me, I absolve you from all your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  The Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ, the prayers of the blessed Virgin Mary and of all the saints, whatsoever good you do or evil you endure, be to you the remission of sins, the increase of grace, and the reward of eternal life.  Amen’

For a brief moment I am without sin. For me there is this unbelievable moment that I find myself truly knowing that I am without sin.  I feel joyous I feel liberated from myself I have been reconciled once again with Christ and so with myself.” 

So my friend wrote of her experience of her first Confession.

Too often we are caught in a cycle of self-concern that can prove debilitating and dangerous. 

We are never sure if we’ve got it right.  We are afraid to own ourselves, to admit to being the people we know we are.  We can be ashamed and carry our burdens just because we fear that, if others knew about us, they wouldn’t like what they saw.  Yet we long, somewhere deep in us, to be free.  To be reconciled to the truth of who we are, with God and with the world around us.  We glimpse the possibility of a life that can be lived to the full, with all our creative energies flowing.  Yet fear holds us back.  It’s then that we need to listen, deeply, to those words: ‘Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.  Turn away from sin and turn to Christ.’

CONCLUSION

So may this Lent be a time to face the truth of who we are and know that God longs to set us free.  Starting from embracing the reality of who and what we are – and that can be an immensely painful process – let us also realise a bit more of the glory that is ours as well.  We may be only dust, but we’re dust destined for glory.  The visible mark that will soon be traced on our foreheads echoes the invisible sign made at our Baptism and all that is promised by that Sacrament will be retold in Passiontide.

“Dust in the air suspended

            Marks the place where the story ended”

And new life began.    Amen.

ASH WEDNESDAY 2009

"When you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face …
and your Father who sees in secret will reward you" (Matt. 6: 17/18)

INTRODUCTION
I always find that injunction of our Lord rather worrying as we prepare for the imposition of ashes on our foreheads! Does that mean that we shouldn't - that the whole exercise contradicts Jesus' teaching? I remember a time when I was in the Franciscans and some in the community were so concerned about those words that it was suggested we simply anoint each other with oil. But it didn't catch on.

Yet the principle stands - what matters is the way our heart is changed, not what we do with the body. Of course, when religious observance was a matter of boasting, as in the time of Jesus, it was right to tell people 'not to wear their religion on their sleeves'. But we live in a different age and in a different culture. Walking down the street with a cross smeared in ash on your forehead should be a sign of faith. We don't do it to show that we are better than others: we do it because it reminds everyone of that simple fact - "Dust you are and to dust you shall return."

LOOKING FORWARD TO EASTER
Lent, of course, is the season of preparation for Easter. To keep a 'good' Lent doesn't mean that we have managed to observe our Lent rule - our fasting or prayer or whatever. Keeping a 'good' Lent means that we have made a good preparation for Easter - have prepared ourselves to realise, again, that to which we are called. Fullness of life in Christ.

Like me, many of you will have spent years trying to do that. I haven't counted how many Lenten rules I have created - or how many times I have failed to keep them! Sometimes it can all feel a bit depressing as one begins to start the process all over again and I catch myself, sometimes, asking, 'Why bother?'. Why not just be a 'Sunday Christian', go for my weekly, monthly or whatever dose of that certain 'feel-good factor' that can come after attending church and leave it at that. After all, does God notice?


Well, I don't know whether God notices or not, but I know that I am called into a relationship with Christ from which I cannot escape. He beckons to me, even when I turn aside, and invites me to be at-one with Him. I know I am loved by Him and I cannot turn from that love. As they hymn says:


O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

We stand at the threshold of Lent knowing that, for just forty days, we are called to focus more deeply into that relationship so that at Easter we can, in some way, know the joy of being at-one with the Risen Christ.

PRAYER AND FASTING
So we are invited to consider the time we spend in prayer and to consider the question of fasting. It's a season when we 'spring-clean' our lives: look at the clutter we have accumulated and decide on something that we should let go of, if only for this season. And the reason we do that is so that our lives might be more fruitful. Ever gardener knows the importance of time spent weeding, hoeing and all the rest. That special preparation to help the garden thrive and be more fertile so that it's abundance can flourish. Let's make sure the garden of our lives is tended with more care this Lent. After all, it's the most important thing you have. Your life. And if you strip away anything, make sure it's the weeds that are choking new growth. Let some light into your soul and let your garden breathe. Give it some fallow time - time for the rain to gently caress its soil and the sun to shine on it.

FASTING FOR THE GOOD OF ALL
And remember, fasting is never just for my own benefit. As our reading made clear, our fasting must also be for the benefit of all. As one, young, Episcopal priest said: 'Part of our Lenten discipline, then, should be reclaiming and reaffirming our physical selves and the physical selves of others. Seeking balance with our neighbors, the earth, and our well-being is really where we ought to be headed. Taking care of the physical world rather than exploiting it is, in fact, a spiritual discipline that can help lead us out of the constant upward battle and into a more wholesome existence. (Fr. R. E. Helmer)

CONCLUSION
So let this Lent be a retreat with the Lord, a time when you have some space to be with him. Clear out some of the weeds that choke your life. Reflect on what's most important for your well-being and the well-being of the world. Look at one thing that needs changing for the benefit of others.

Maybe it will mean just becoming more aware of the way we can so easily forget how our actions affect others.

And, remember, it is Christ who - lovingly - invites us into this Lent with Him, not that our faces can be blackened with despair, but that our lives might be enlightened through His Resurrection.

Amen.