Bless the Lord, O my soul, *
and all that is within me, bless his holy name.
Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.
Today, Ash Wednesday, marks the beginning of Lent, our 40-day journey toward Easter. In the church it is easy to get caught up in all the rules and processes of this penitential season, but at the outset it is important to remember: the point of Lent is not to feel bad about yourself. The point of Lent is Easter.
We have heard some relevant scripture this [morning/afternoon/evening]: the prophet Isaiah calling Israel to proclaim a fast to “loose the bonds of injustice”; Paul in Second Corinthians announcing that “now is the acceptable time” and “the day of salvation”; and Jesus himself telling us whenever we fast not to “look dismal” but to fast in a way that “may be seen not by others but by your Father who sees in secret”. All three of these readings emphasize the penitential nature of Ash Wednesday and they are important reminders of how to go about our Lenten self-examination.
Yet, for me, none of them gets at the heart of this day and this season as does today’s Psalm, Psalm 103, especially its opening verses:
Bless the Lord, O my soul, *
and all that is within me, bless his holy Name.
Bless the Lord, O my soul, *
and forget not all his benefits.
He forgives all your sins *
and heals all your infirmities;
He redeems your life from the grave *
and crowns you with mercy and loving-kindness;
He satisfies you with good things, *
and your youth is renewed like an eagle's.
The Lord executes righteousness *
and judgment for all who are oppressed.
What is the point of Lent? The point of Lent is Easter. And the story of Easter begins with the grand sweep of God’s connection with us.
The story of God and us is told in some detail at the Great Vigil of Easter, and indeed in bonsai form in the Eucharistic prayer we say today and every Sunday. Our story starts in the Garden of Eden, continues through the early days of Israel and its Exodus from slavery, goes on in its settled life under David and other kings, and culminates in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. This story has its ups and downs, but it is essentially a love story—a tale of how God made us, we got lost, and God repeatedly came back to find us.
The psalm we are reading today—Psalm 103, given in its entirety on page 733 in the prayer book—is one I read every day in the season of Lent. I read it to remind myself of God’s deep and abiding commitment to me and to the whole human family. God forgives all my sins and heals all my infirmities. God redeems my life from the grave. And, perhaps in Lent most appropriately, God forgives all my sins and is slow to anger and of great kindness. I read Psalm 103 daily in Lent because it grounds me in the grandeur and depth of what we in the church are up to. We bless God and God’s holy name not because we are ordered to but because, if we’re honest with ourselves, we know that God has given us life and every other good gift with which we are blessed. As Emerson said, “the benefit outweighed the cost from the beginning”.
To say that Ash Wednesday and Lent are ultimately about gratitude and trust is not to say that there are not things we have to repent of. God’s story with us begins in creation, but it is immediately derailed by our first parents, Adam and Eve, who eat the forbidden fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. The so-called apple they eat has nothing to do with sex. Rather, it represents our desire to live life without limitation, even at the expense of others and the creation itself. You can see this as a story of ambition and desire for more. You can see it as a violation of creation itself. We always seem to want more than our share.
Adam and Eve’s problem is our problem. The minute they realized that life had limitations—that we are finite, limited, dependent creatures—they wanted to remove those strictures and be, in a sense, like God. And one way to see the rest of the story—from the Genesis patriarchs through Israel’s history to the life of Jesus himself—is to see it as God’s attempt to help us accept the ecology of our circumstances. You and I are part of a human community. We are part of a non—human environment. Wanting to have and be everything violates the logic of the creation we share with one another. Lent is a time to remember and reset ourselves.
And that is how we come to the sentence that the priest will say when imposing ashes on our foreheads. “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” It is customary, I suppose, to hear that phrase as bad news, as a death sentence, as a reminder that we are mortal. But the older I get and the longer I live the life of faith in the church, the more I hear this sentence as good news. I am dust, and to dust I shall return. That is not a judgment or a condemnation. That is simply the truth. I am part of the world that God made, and I will be a part of that world even after I die.
What comes after death, of course, is the subject for an Easter sermon. But for now, as we begin this Lenten walk together, let us hold on to the blessing inherent in those words. As Psalm 103 says,
For he himself knows whereof we are made; *
he remembers that we are but dust.
Our days are like the grass; *we flourish like a flower of the field;
When the wind goes over it, it is gone, *and its place shall know it no more.
But the merciful goodness of the Lord endures for ever on those who fear him, *
and his righteousness on children's children;
We have long considered Lent a time to abstain from something or to take on a service project. As we think about the blessing and gratitude given voice in Psalm 103 and what they suggest about this season, it helps to remember that we do not observe Lent for Lent’s sake but for the sake of Easter. Over the course of these several weeks we are preparing ourselves to take in both the sorrow of the cross and the joy of the resurrection. We give things up and take things on not because we are bad people. We do them because we want to help God open us up to the big, gracious realities in store for us in Holy Week and at Easter.
Bless the Lord, O my soul, *
and all that is within me, bless his holy name.
Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.
God made us. We got lost. God came to find us. Lent is not a punishment. It’s a gift. Use it to get ready for what is coming toward you at Easter. Amen.
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