Sermon for Ash Wednesday, February 14, 2024

Isaiah 58:1-12+Psalm 103+2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10+Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

Those of you have heard me preach more than a few times will know that I often draw inspiration from the late writer and pastor Frederick Buechner. He had a way with words that helped shape my own writing and speaking in ways maybe I'm not even fully aware of.

Buechner was fond of saying that the gospel is always bad news before it is good news. And Ash Wednesday is when the news is not yet good, at least, not for us.

In his book Telling the Truth: The Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy, and Fairy Tale, Buechner tells the story of Henry Ward Beecher, who went to my alma mater, Yale, in 1872 to deliver the inaugural Beecher Lectures on preaching. This lectureship was named for his father, Lyman Beecher, and it continues to this day. Henry Beecher not only had a well-known dad, but his sister was Harriet Beecher Stowe of Uncle Tom's Cabin fame. Henry Beecher himself was highly regarded as a supporter of women's suffrage and immigrant rights, an abolitionist and proponent of evolutionary theory, and he was a renowned preacher.

What nobody knew at the time of his invitation to lecture at Yale was that Henry Beecher was involved in an adulterous affair with a married parishioner of his, and it was about to go public. And it was not just going to go a little bit public. It was in the newspapers with accusations and counteraccusations and ultimately a very public trial.[1]

As Buechner tells the story, this is what happened on the day of the lecture:

When [Henry] stood there looking into the hotel mirror with soap on his face and a razor in his hand, part of what he saw was his own shame and horror, the sight of his own folly, the judgment one can imagine he found even harder to bear than God’s, which was his own judgment on himself, because whereas God is merciful, we are none of us very good at showing mercy on ourselves. Henry Ward Beecher cut himself with his razor and wrote out notes for that first Beecher Lecture in blood because, whatever else he was or aspired to be or was famous for being, he was a man of flesh and blood…[2]

Beecher was in the "bad news" part of the gospel before it became "good news." Maybe that long look in the mirror and a lecture penned in blood was the beginning of repentance, of turning around. The kind of repentance we are called to here on Ash Wednesday.[3]

What Isaiah the prophet is saying to the people of Israel is not much different than what Beecher might have been thinking to himself. They had all forgotten who they were. They had forgotten whose they were and what that demanded of them. They had "followed too much the devices and desires of [their] own hearts," as the old confession says, and had brought themselves to the brink of disaster.

And this is where the bad news becomes good news. God does not abandon us to the desires of our own hearts. God calls us to return, not as an angry boss but as a loving and nurturing mother who longs to bring us back into the fold.

The Lord will guide you continually,
and satisfy your needs in parched places,
and make your bones strong;

and you shall be like a watered garden,
like a spring of water,
whose waters never fail.

Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt;
you shall raise up the foundations of many generations;

you shall be called the repairer of the breach,
the restorer of streets to live in. (Isaiah 58:11-12) 

Those who have gotten thrown off track, who have lost their bearings, who are wandering in a dry and weary land, are promised that we will receive water from an everlasting spring. All that it requires is that we turn and drink.

Sometimes finding our way requires a timeout from those things that draw our attention from God. When Jesus talks about giving alms and praying and fasting, he is assuming that these are things that we do already, activities that demonstrate a pious life. If we aren't doing those things, maybe we might begin. His instructions are not, however, that we should do these things but how we are to go about them. We needn't make a big show of any of it. People talk about giving up chocolate or sweets for Lent. I call that a diet. Lent is not a diet. It is a period of intention, of spending time with Jesus in the wilderness, honing our understanding of our purpose here on earth which is not simply to take up space or to win the race to be the richest or most successful or most powerful. And we can't do that if we are subject to incessant noise or distraction.

I will also issue an invitation to each of you to create space in your life between now and Easter to be reminded that you are beloved of God, to have your weary soul restored with springs of water, and your heart set on fire with love of God and your neighbor.

            Give generously.

            Fast in a manner that makes sense for you.

            Light a candle every morning and take a moment to say thanks.

            Go for a walk and leave the earbuds at home.

            Read a psalm or two every day.

            Invite the spirit's presence.

            God is waiting for you.

[1] https://library.brown.edu/exhibits/archive/RLCexhibit/beecher/beecherms.html

[2] Frederick Buechner, Telling the Truth:  The Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy. And Fairy Tale (New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 1977) p 2.

[3] With gratitude to Teri Daily for a reminder of this Buechner lesson: https://www.openhorizons.org/finding-grace-in-a-bowl-of-ashes.html