"Concerning treasures": Ash Wednesday Sermon 2021

 

Sermon for Ash Wednesday 2021

“Concerning Treasures”

Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

The Rev. Carrie Ballenger

 ***

Storage

By Mary Oliver

When I moved from one house to another

there were many things I had no room for.

What does one do? I rented a storage

space. And filled it. Years passed.

Occasionally I went there and looked in,

but nothing happened, not a single

twinge of the heart.

As I grew older the things I cared

about grew fewer, but were more

important. So one day I undid the lock

and called the trash man. He took

everything.

I felt like the little donkey when

his burden is finally lifted. Things!

Burn them, burn them! Make a beautiful

fire! More room in your heart for love,

for the trees! For the birds who own

nothing– the reason they can fly.

***

Concerning Treasures

Matthew 6:19-21

‘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.

***

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer. Amen.

In early 2014, I learned my family had been chosen to serve here in Jerusalem as missionaries. Thankfully, we had several months to prepare for the big move from Chicago, but it was clear we needed to start work immediately to pare down all the stuff associated with our big suburban lifestyle.

I was surprised at how good it felt to clear things out. All that stuff in the garage, in the basement, and tucked away in “junk” drawers—we didn’t need that stuff anyway! Good riddance.

And then there was the stuff I was able to gift to others. Many books, my beloved purple bicycle, a huge basket of yarn and knitting supplies, and especially the snowblower were all gratefully received by neighbors, friends, and church members. (although maybe I should have brought the snowblower for tonight’s “snowpocalypse” in Jerusalem!)

Of course, there were some things that were legitimately hard to let go of, some that I still miss today. I really should have held on to my gorgeous barnwood dining room table! And I still wish I could have brought my dog, Charlie, to Jerusalem. But for the most part, this was not treasure we were letting go of. This was simply “stuff.”

Sometime during those weeks of cleaning and gifting and selling and sharing, I preached a sermon about the beauty of simplifying. I excitedly talked about how good—and maybe even godly—it was to let go of stuff. After all, “Do not store up treasures on earth, but store up treasures in heaven” said Jesus.

The Monday after that Sunday sermon, a much-respected retired pastor in the congregation pulled me aside. He looked me right in the eye and advised me that, perhaps, a sermon on the “beauty of letting things go” was not the best theme for church members who had just recently learned they would need to let their pastor go. A very wise lesson to learn.

So here we are on Ash Wednesday, and once again we are called to consider Jesus’ teaching concerning treasures, and storing up things in heaven rather than on earth. This time, however, we’re doing it during a global pandemic which has already taken so much away from us. For this reason, it might feel challenging to think about “giving things up” or fasting or engaging in a spiritual discipline this year for Lent. Maybe, like me, you feel that you just don’t have much more to give, thank you very much!

The truth is some of the stuff lost in the past year has been just that—stuff. But some of the lost things have been actual treasures: Holidays with family, time with friends, and of course the many children of God who have died due to COVID—none of this is junk! These are treasures, both on earth and in heaven.

But perhaps this is exactly the point of Jesus’ teaching concerning treasures. It’s terribly hard to find the “bright side” of a pandemic, but over the past year it does seem people have found ways to recognize the real treasures of life. We’re discovering what really matters to us, and what we can let go.

Some of us talk to our families more than ever because now that we have Zoom! Some of us are slowing down or trying new things. We’re caring for our neighbors more and thinking more about our health. In a way, as a result of this awful virus, we’re learning how true Jesus’ words are: “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

In the poem we heard today from Mary Oliver, she writes about clearing away the things she’s kept in storage, which over the years have become less and less important to her. Eventually, she hires someone to come and clean it all out. She writes:

So one day I undid the lock

and called the trash man. He took

everything.

I felt like the little donkey when

his burden is finally lifted. Things!

Burn them, burn them! Make a beautiful

fire! More room in your heart for love,

for the trees! For the birds who own

nothing– the reason they can fly.

I think this poem is a beautiful illustration of why Jesus teaches us to pay attention to where our heart is. It’s not so that we will walk around unattached to people or to the world—but so that there will be more room in our lives and hearts for love in this world. Worry, greed, hunger for power over others, hatred of those who are different from us: this is the stuff that crowds our minds and hearts. This is the junk that keeps us weighed down, tethered to the ground.

I love the last line of Mary Oliver’s poem, when she says that after burning all the junk, there is more room in her heart “for the birds who own nothing, the reason they can fly.” Just think what we would be able to do with that extra room in our hearts and our lives! When we’re unencumbered by hatred and sin, distraction and worry, we can feed the hungry, pray for our enemies, fight oppression and injustice, and be the Kingdom of Heaven on earth. We can treasure the ones Jesus treasures. As Mary Oliver might put it: we could even fly.

Now, this is the moment during the Ash Wednesday liturgy when we would gather near the baptismal font, and I would reach up to make a cross of ash on your foreheads, saying the words, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Some people find this tradition a bit morbid or depressing, and maybe especially so this year. Do we really need to be reminded that we’re mortal after 2020? Hardly.

But I want to tell you that whenever I look into the eyes of church members, young and old, and place the ashes on their heads, it doesn’t feel like a sad moment. Yes, I’m reminded that we are all mortal. We are all dust!

But I’m also reminded that we all are treasures. We are God’s treasured dust.

God treasures dust so much that God breathed life into it.

God treasures dust so much that when we get a little messy, God doesn’t just clean us up and throw us away. Instead, Jesus was sent to walk alongside us, and to love us all the way to the cross.

So this is what I hope you hear today as we do a slightly modified version of the liturgy of the ashes:

I hope you hear that you are dust—

And that you, living dust, are treasured by God, from your first day until your last day.

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

May the peace of God which passes all understanding keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.