Sermon for Ash Wednesday, March 5, 2025

Joel 2:1-2,12-17+Psalm 103:8-14+
2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10+Matthew 6:1-6,16-21

I have long been fascinated with planets and stars. Part of me thinks that if I had it all to do over again, maybe I would study astronomy. The abundance of knowledge and understanding that we humans have about the universe has grown exponentially just in my lifetime, and rather than making me doubt ideas about creation and the existence of God, it only strengthens my faith.      

While I love living in Hoboken and its proximity to New York City, one big downside to that is the light pollution that prevents a really good look at the night sky. When we lived in Charlottesville, a little outside the city, one of the joys of my morning dog walks was the canopy of stars that lit up the sky, the visibility of the Space Station when its orbit brought it overhead, and the cycle of meteor showers that put on a show a few times a year. (Ask Tim sometime to tell you about the time I dragged him out of bed at 3:00 in the morning for a particularly epic display of the Perseids!) Those of you who follow such things will know that last week, seven planets lined up in the sky, some of them visible to the naked eye beginning just after sunset. Mars, Jupiter, Uranus, Venus, Neptune, Mercury, and Saturn formed what looked to be a perfect arc, although that is just an optical illusion. In Hoboken, the three brightest were mostly visible, but Uranus is too far and the last three fell just below the horizon of buildings even if we could see them with the naked eye. Images of this phenomenon from other places where light and buildings do not interfere demonstrate that what we were able to see here is a dim replica of the reality.

A similar kind of pollution clouds our ability to see Christ in the world around us, to connect deeply with God in prayer, to understand in our innermost being that we are all so beloved. The gift of Lent is that it gives us a chance to clear out that pollution.

In the early Church, catechumens - those preparing to be baptized - would already have undergone almost two years of preparation during which they could only be present in the assembled congregation up until the end of what we call the Service of the Word. Before the Eucharist, they would leave because they were not yet full members of the body. And after almost two years of this, the final 40 days plus Sundays were a time of intense preparation through fasting, almsgiving, penitence, and prayer. And only after this time of getting ready were these catechumens prepared to be baptized at the Great Vigil of Easter, just before dawn on Easter Day, following which they received communion for the first time.

Lent has, though history, been a serious business.

Yet while our practices of Lent might have changed, our need for it has not. We are distracted and distressed, overscheduled and under-rested, our attention being drawn in a thousand different ways so that not only are we not connecting with others, but we are also not connecting with ourselves, either. Not to mention missing out on our connection with God.

Lent lets us hit the reset button.

There was a time in my younger days when I thought this purple season was such a drag, taking the fun out of things, removing the joy from going to Church, an unrelenting parade of asceticism and austerity.

But then I grew up and realized that this is an invitation to a very special time of reconnecting with what is important. When Jesus talks about praying, fasting, and giving alms, he is inviting his listeners - and us - to clear out the clutter. None of it is about how it looks to someone else. This is an inside job between God and us as individuals. And while 1st century Palestinians may not have had daily commutes and cell phones and alerts constantly seeking our attention, still Jesus reminded them that their hearts will go wherever their treasure is. That treasure is not just money, mind you, but our time, the things we are talented at, our friend and family connections. And none of these things are bad - they are all treasure we have been blessed with. Where it becomes a problem is when they create pollution between us and our relationship with our Creator, the one who blesses us with all that we are and all that we have.

As this season of Lent begins, take a quick assessment of where your time and attention are and are not. What are those things that are simply cluttering up your days? How much of that can you clear out, whether it is screen time or work time or spending money on one more thing you could probably do without?

Much as I long to spend more time someplace where I can see the stars and planets above me, so I long to be less scattered, to have my attention more focused on who I am in the depths of my being as a beloved child of God. Jesus's prescription for that is to pray in a quiet place, to give anonymously, to fast from whatever needs fasting from, and to put our treasure where our heart belongs.

       Yet even now, says the Lord,
return to me with all your heart,

with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning;
rend your hearts and not your clothing.

Return to the Lord, your God,
for God is gracious and merciful,

slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love... (Joel 2:12-13a)