Matthew 6:1-4 · Giving to the Needy
Ashes at Starbucks
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
Sermon
by Mary Austin
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This passage from Matthew is an odd choice from the lectionary, for the day we have the most public display of our Christian faith. “Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them,” Jesus says. Good advice. Then we go ahead and mark our foreheads with ashes for everyone to see. If we stop for bread and milk on the way home or go to an early service and wear our ashes to work, if we stop by for some drive-thru ashes, we can’t help but advertise our faith. Most days of the year, no one knows from the outside that we’re Christians. We don’t wear a hijab, like some of our Muslim neighbors, or yarmulkes, like some of our Jewish neighbors. But on Ash Wednesday, everyone at the grocery store, the office, or Starbucks knows our faith.

Are we doing exactly what Jesus warned against?

Or are we just getting our outside to match the inside?

The sign of ashes on the outside reminds us who we are on the inside. Maybe you already know a lot about ashes.

If you lost a loved one recently, or if you’ve been sick, or if you live with pain that won’t go away, you know all about the taste of ashes in your life. If you’re struggling with finances, if you’re working hard every day and feel like you’re getting nowhere, you know about dreams turning to ashes. If your child has gone off somewhere you can’t reach them, then you know the feeling of ashes.

In our world, the taste of ashes is everywhere.

Every day seems to bring another shooting, at a courthouse or church, parking garage, or a school. We excel at tearing people down with videos and Twitter.

The ashes are all around us... and within us.

Maybe it’s a relief to wear them on your forehead this year. You’re ready for some mourning and turning back to God.

In this text, the traditional one for Ash Wednesday and the start of Lent, we hear Jesus talking about the traditional practices of Jewish faith of his day — fasting, prayer, and giving money to the poor. In his tradition, these were the big three. He’s not urging people to do these things — he’s assuming they will. It goes without saying that he expects them to practice their faith. But, as always, Jesus is concerned about how we do things.

In our time, the way we practice our faith is different — it could be teaching Sunday school, or setting up communion, or welcoming guests to the church. It could be what church people consider sacred time — serving on a committee. Some people find the touch of the Spirit through being in a small group, meditating, doing yoga, walking prayer, or praying with music. It’s all good — and still Jesus invites us to make a radical shift in how we do them.

Jesus tells us to lay aside any notion of impressing one another, or even being pleased with ourselves. Don’t make a performance out of your faith, he tells us. Don’t worry about the prayer you’re going to say for a group, and whether or not the words are right. Don’t count up your hours working at the soup kitchen. Don’t tell people that no one can clean the church kitchen like you can. Work behind the scenes, in the same way that God works invisibly. Get out of the game of constantly assessing, weighing, counting, measuring, judging others and ourselves. Part of our human nature is that we can only focus really well on a few things at a time. It’s hard to have two full-time jobs. It’s difficult to date two people seriously at the same time — let alone be married to more than one. We can concentrate on how well we’re doing — or how well other people are doing — or we can focus on our inner connection with God.

Hasn’t this happened to all of us?

We have a fabulous spiritual moment, and we’re basking in the glow of how great God is or how spiritual we are, and then we’re rude to a store clerk, or yell at a family member, or get impatient with a neighbor.

We’re always called to turn back, to keep turning toward God. We’re always reminded to make the inside match the outside. No one shows us the truth of who we are like the people who bug us, or our own children and partners. It’s easy to look great to the outside world. Jesus is calling us to let that go, and to concentrate on the connection to God.

To remind us of how fleeting everything is, we have this mark of ashes on our foreheads.

This mark is for us — a sign that our lives are ashes, as well as joy, and that the ashes are not the final word. When we look in the mirror today and catch sight of our foreheads, when we wash our faces tonight, as we go through Lent and remember the shadow on our foreheads, the mark on the outside reminds us of who we are on the inside. Even in the ashes, we belong to God. We belong to the God who comes into the ashes and brings out life. The God who has the last word over our limitations, over death, and sin, and everything in this world.

The ashes proclaim on the outside the deepest truth we know on the inside. We are people of faith, on a spiritual journey. We’re marked with our prayer to turn toward God, and with God’s promise that there is more than ashes. Amen.

CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Ashes at the coffee shop, resurrection at the bus stop: sermons for Lent and Easter based on the gospel text, by Mary Austin