Why are we here? What is all of this about?
The Bible, the great Tradition of the Church and the Book of Common Prayer have no faith (place zero trust!) in our ability to save ourselves.
In the face of the rampant and unchecked “We’re-getting-better-all-the-time-ism” that continually poisons the world and dilutes the gospel, Cranmer’s prayer book collect for Ash Wednesday is arresting. It’s a jaw-dropper, and it bears repeating in its entirety:
Almighty and everlasting God, you hate nothing you have made and forgive the sins of all who are penitent: Create and make in us new and contrite hearts, that we, worthily lamenting our sins and acknowledging our wretchedness, may obtain of you, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness.
Cranmer wrote the collect for Ash Wednesday for inclusion in the 1549 Book of Common Prayer, and it was an instant “attention-getter” (to steal the quip from Jackie Gleason).
And it’s still an “attention-getter” today, because the temptation in 2020 is the same as it was in 1549: to believe that it is human nature to achieve the good – that it’s perfectly reasonable, and even predictable, that well-meaning adults equipped with all the facts and figures will always make right decisions. Do you really believe that given enough time, the right political climate, and the proper exercise of our own free will that we can fix ourselves and save the world?
In his most popular book, The Ragamuffin Gospel, Brennan Manning cautions us with these words: “Our approach to the Christian life is as absurd as the enthusiastic young man who had just received his plumber’s license and was taken to see Niagara Falls. He studied it for a minute and then said, “I think I can fix this.” Judge of the Nations, may we not put you to the test in our arrogance!
All of this so far is to suggest just one point — that the Bible, the great Tradition of the Church and the Book of Common Prayer take sin and our sinful nature seriously. And that’s the first thing I want to say in this little homily for Ash Wednesday.
And I really only want to say one more thing. And it’s also staring at us in Cranmer’s collect. And it’s what gives Ash Wednesday – it’s what gives the gospel – real, life-changing power. And it is this: God hates nothing that he has made.
The late Fred Barbee asks the crucial Ash Wednesday question: “Can you take the very worst situation in your life, the lowest point to which you have every seen yourself sink, and still believe that God is reaching towards you?”
If the gospel writers tell us anything, it is that Jesus specializes in reaching towards us precisely at our worst times – not when “she was very good indeed,” as Longfellow said, but “when she was horrid” (do you remember the “Girl With the Curl?”) .
Why else (why else?!?) would Jesus spend most of his time pardoning and liberating tax collectors, sinners and prostitutes? Because the good news of the gospel is that God hates nothing that He has made.
About fifteen years ago, I decided to give up potato chips for lent. That probably, and rightly, sounds silly to you, but it was a big deal to me at the time. And it was a big deal partly because we lived in Birmingham, which is the home of the one and only Golden Flake Potato Company. If you’ve never had Golden Flake chips, let me just say don’t start. Move over Lays and Zappo’s – Papa’s got a brand-new bag (James Brown)! Even Bear Bryant – the coach himself – binged on Golden Flake potato chips!
My big Lenten plans – my big “fast” from Golden Flake potato chips – lasted all of about two and a half days. Malacy found the half-eaten bag in the garage trash can on the first Friday in Lent. I remember looking at her with a half-impish grin and saying, “You should be proud of me! I only ate half the bag!”
With the benefit of hindsight, that whole chip fast experiment had nothing to do with returning to the Lord with a contrite heart and had everything to do with trying to be like that newly licensed young plumber looking at Niagara Fall and thinking “I can fix this.” Applied to our sinful nature, that attitude is born from gross, repulsive pride and not the humility and the child-like dependency on our Father’s mercy and grace that are the basic prerequisites to enter the kingdom of God.
The truth is that I can’t fix myself, and neither can you fix yourself – or anybody else. What I needed to hear fifteen years ago hasn’t changed. I needed to hear that God hates nothing that he has made.
I remember reading about (but I can’t recall where!) an article how Robert Downey, Jr. bounced back from years of arrests, rehabs and a string of very public mishaps and went on to receive the American Cinematheque Award. It’s a big deal, and if you win that award, you get to choose who presents it to you. To everyone’s surprise, Downey chose Mel Gibson to present the award. This was a shock because Mel had been persona non grata for over a decade in Hollywood by then, due to his own struggles with substance abuse and violence. When they asked Downey why he chose Gibson, he said something like: “When I was without hope, Mel reached out to me and kept a roof over my head.”
Before he was in the sky as Iron Man, you see, Downey sat deep in the valley of failure and regret, and hope found him! He was pulled up by a compassionate hand.
Every time this lent you examine yourself and take a good, hard look at all your sins and offenses, you better look five times to the Friend of Sinners – to the life-changing mercy, love and extended hand of Jesus.
Why are we here? What is all this about?
We are here to “obtain of You, the God of all Mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness,” because You hate nothing that you have made.
Sermon preached by the Rev. Charleston D. Wilson
Church of the Redeemer
Sarasota Florida
Ash Wednesday
26 February 2020