Podcast of "High Wire" (MP3)
Isaiah 58:1-12
Psalm 51:1-17
2Corinthians 5:20b-6:10
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts
be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.
Ash Wednesday, the beginning of
Lent, the season of introspection, reflection, and repentance. Who says the
season doesn’t need better PR? This is one of those days in the Christian
calendar we Protestants really aren’t quite sure about. I find this especially
true living in America , the Land of Opportunity
We’re more familiar with Ash
Wednesday’s naughty cousin, Mardi Gras. Given the choice between reveling like
tomorrow won’t come and wearing ashes while someone in a black robe says, “Remember
that you are dust and to dust you will return,” who wouldn’t take beads any day
of the week? Of course, there’s more to the choice than that, which is why I’ll
be the guy in the black robe holding the ashes this evening.
About ten months ago, the youth of
the church came entering waving palm branches crying the words of the grand
entry into Jerusalem, “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the
Lord! Hosanna in the highest!” We get that. We understand that with no trouble.
The triumphant entry into Jerusalem
Tonight, those same ashes play a
crucial role in our liturgy. Dried, burned, and mixed with oil they will make
the sign of the cross on our foreheads in just a few minutes. Last year’s
joyful, triumphant entry is this year’s sign of death.
“Remember that you are dust and to
dust you shall return.” Frankly, given a choice of things to say in worship, I
will always prefer “He is risen, He is risen indeed.” But you can’t have one
without the other. Without death there cannot be resurrection. Without death
there cannot be new life.
So what thanks do we get for
sharing the Good News of the death and resurrection of the Lord? Let’s find our
answer in our reading from 2Corinthians. The former Saul of Tarsus, the man who
went from the most zealous persecutor of Christ to the one who took Christ to
the gentiles, shows us the consequence of bringing the faith to the people of Corinth
He’s met with troubles, hardships
and distresses; in beatings, imprisonments and riots; in hard work, sleepless
nights and hunger. He talks about the rewards of sharing the Good News of
Christ Crucified. He speaks of himself
and his companions as servants of God commending themselves in every way by the
Holy Spirit and in sincere love; in truthful speech and in the power of God;
with weapons of righteousness in the right hand and in the left.
Paul and his fellow travelers knew
glory and dishonor, bad report and good report. They were genuine evangelists,
yet regarded as impostors. The Lord and the people knew them, yet they were
regarded as unknowns. In Christ they die yet, and yet they still live. They
were beaten, and yet not killed. You know, I just don’t see our evangelism
committees saying, “Yeah, sign me up for that!”
About twenty years ago, I was
running a residence hall at a community college in rural southeast Colorado
But there is that last part; they
were sorrowful, yet always rejoicing. While poor, they made many rich in the
gospel. Having nothing, in the Lord they possessed everything.
I said that this liturgy of sorrow
and joy is foreign to many Protestants, but I may have used too broad a brush
to paint that picture. As true as that may be, it seems like Ash Wednesday
would cause most Americans in general a lot of discomfort.
Living in the world today seems to
be a high wire act and here we are, standing on the wire hundreds of feet above
a surface that is more than likely quite hard, working without a net.
Did you know that? High Wire
performers almost always work without a net. It’s true. It’s because there is
nothing like falling to earth gaining tremendous speed while carrying what is
tantamount to a huge spear. This actually makes bouncing on a net unsafe.
Bouncing around gives the walker’s balance pole a couple more shots at a good
skewering so most high wire acts don’t use a net.
So we seem to live in a high wire
act, working without a net, standing high above the ground where one misstep
can bring us to our death. As the old song goes, “I’m up on the tight wire, one
side’s ice and one is fire,”[1]
and it seems like as long as we stay on this small, small wire we are safe,
safe in a place between fire and ice. But let me tell you something, this is a
lie, it’s a bald faced lie.
The truth is that the wire isn’t so
high. It’s more like a line painted on the ground. We can get off the wire at
any time, but there’s a kicker. As Paul reminds us, living in Christ does not
save us from the unsavory characters of this world. People who want to oppress
and suppress and depress will be there to give it their best shot. There is
prosecution and persecution and as much as it was a way of life in Paul’s time
it is a way of life in ours.
Tonight we remember this with the
mark of the cross with the ash from last Palm Sunday. Jesus did this by the
agony of the cross. But in this agony there is mercy. And by the mercy of God,
let us be marked as his, marked by the ash, and by his blood.
Worshiping Christ does not take us
from the daily grind. What it does though is show us that when we face life
with both feet on the ground, grounded in God’s peace and love, we are bathed
in love that redeems the pain and suffering. Even death is redeemed in Christ,
by Christ, and through Christ from the cross and the empty tomb.
Ashes to ashes, funk to funky.[2] It
is true, we are dust, and to dust we shall return. But in Christ even the dust
is restored to abundant life.
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