Ash Wednesday Reflection 2016: Heavenly Treasures

Sermon for Ash Wednesday 2016

Lutheran Church of the Redeemer, Jerusalem

The Rev. Carrie Ballenger Smith

Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Several years ago on Ash Wednesday, I reached up to smudge ashes on the forehead of an elder of the congregation, a beloved member of the choir who towered over me – in more ways than one. I remember the moment well, because I had to tiptoe and stretch to reach his forehead with my ashy finger, and we shared a smile.

“Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return” I told him.

Neither of us could have known that around that same moment, this elderly church member’s 19-year-old granddaughter was across town in a car, hurtling down a gravel road toward a tree. The next morning, I received the phone call every pastor dreads: 

We need you at the funeral home. Jennifer has died.

Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

A few years later, just after I announced to the congregation that I would be moving here to Jerusalem to serve as a missionary, I received a visit from Jennifer’s mother. I hadn’t seen her much in church since Jennifer died, except for Christmas and Easter and other special occasions. It was still too hard, she told me, but she wanted to come see me before I left.

We shared some happy memories of Jennifer. We talked about how beautiful her funeral was, and marveled at the nearly two thousand teenagers who showed up to her visitation. Jennifer’s mother mentioned how it made her sad to think the new pastor would never have the chance to know her kind, talented daughter.

Then she handed me a small box.

Inside was a beautiful bracelet, with brightly colored stones and an engraved clasp. It was the kind of gift that immediately made me start to say “No, no, no, I couldn’t possibly, I can’t accept something this nice…” but before the words could escape my mouth, she was saying, “Pastor, this was Jennifer’s bracelet.”

“You should wrap the bracelet in this special cloth when you’re not wearing it. And it should always be kept in this box. And it should only be cleaned with plain water.”

The instructions were detailed and specific: Take good care of it. Wrap it gently. Protect it. Treasure it.

She didn’t say it in so many words, but I knew what she meant: “Treasure this gift, as we treasured Jennifer.”

Every Ash Wednesday I think of Jennifer. I think of that moment when I reached up to place ashes on her grandfather’s head. I think of the weight of those words “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return” and how unprepared we all are for the reality they represent.

But I also think of Jennifer every Ash Wednesday because of these words from Jesus:  

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

At the beginning of the Lenten season, we generally hear this as a call to spend the next several weeks denying ourselves earthly pleasures and worldly treasures. We give up chocolate, or coffee, or wine, or buying new clothes, hoping to spend our energy instead thinking about “higher things” and practicing the “heavenly treasures”—virtues like generosity, compassion, and self-control.

The truth is, most of us could stand for Lent to come around about four times a year rather than just once. Heaven knows we can always use a little extra practice in sharing the gifts of creation, caring for the poor, treating our bodies as temples, and loving our neighbor as ourselves.

But these days, when I consider Jesus’ invitation to turn away from treasures which moth and rust destroy, and to turn toward heavenly treasures, I don’t think of some abstract virtues or self-improvement goals.

I think of Jennifer. And Connor. And Kathy. And Frank.

I think of the many foreheads I’ve smeared with fingers full of ashes – and the many graves I’ve sprinkled with hands full of earth.

And I am reminded again that the treasures of heaven are standing right in front of us.

We are, all of us, God's creations. We are God’s beloved treasures—and God has given us to each other for mutual care and protection.

Lent, therefore, can be a time to re-orient our hearts toward the precious gifts of friends, family, and neighbors, knowing that God has given us these treasures in clay jars. We are all dust, and to dust we shall return.

At the same time, this season is a call to resist every temptation to take for granted, treat as expendable, or de-humanize any of God's beloved creations  – whether through selfishness, or busyness, or prejudice, or plain indifference. 

Blessed Teresa of Calcutta once said:

“As Lent is the time for greater love, listen to Jesus' thirst...'Repent and believe' Jesus tells us. What are we to repent?  Our indifference, our hardness of heart.”

During this Lenten season, I wonder what it would be like to fast from indifference. I wonder what it would be like to take on the discipline of seeing and treating every single human being as a treasure—as an extravagant, unexpected, undeserved gift from God:

A treasure who deserves our full attention.

A treasure who deserves our kindness.

A treasure who deserves to live without fear.

A treasure who deserves to live with dignity.

A treasure who deserves education.

A treasure who deserves access to clean water.

A treasure who deserves freedom of movement, of religion, of speech.

A treasure who deserves to be spoken to, and spoken of, with respect.

Of course, it is easy enough to imagine fasting from indifference to those we love, those who look like us, those who talk like us, those who share our opinions and life experiences and political points of view.

But what of the others? What of those nameless, faceless beings on the other side of the wall, and the other side of the issues? What of the ones who actively work against our treasured worldviews?

And what of the thousands escaping war on crowded boats and washing up on beaches? What of the children in faraway countries—and in our own neighborhoods – dying of poverty, dying of despair, dying of gun violence, dying as pawns in extremist fantasies of world domination?

Are these not also God’s beautiful creations?

Are these not jewels, precious jewels for Jesus’ crown?

And is this not the fast that we choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke?

 Is it not to share our bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into our house; when we see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide ourselves from our own kin? (Isaiah 58)

Let us pray: As we begin this season of repentance, create in us clean hearts, O God, and renew a right spirit within us. Give us the strength to fast from indifference to the people around us. Help us to recognize and honor every human being as a precious gift from you, the very image of Christ, heavenly treasures in clay jars. For where our treasure is, there our heart will be also. Amen.