"Unapologetic Theology: A Christian Voice in a Pluralistic Conversation" is the title of a book by my beloved theology professor and friend, the late William C. Placher. It is also now the title of this blog, a place where I hope to add a Christian voice -- God knows, not "the" Christian voice, but "a" Christian voice and not just any old voice, but a distinctly Christian voice -- to the pluralistic conversation going on about just about everything.
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Why Ashes? And Why give things up for Lent?
Perhaps the two most commonly asked questions about Ash
Wednesday and the season of Lent are, "why do we put ashes on our foreheads?"
and "Why do we give
things up for Lent?
Let me take a stab at answering those questions today:
We put ashes on our foreheads because ashes have long
been a sign of our mortality. "Mortality," means, of course, we are mortal. Human. Not divine
or angelic. We are "formed of the earth, and to earth we one day
return...ashes to ashes, dust to dust."
Ash Wednesday is a kind of Christian Yom Kippur - and as Rabbi
Alexis Roberts says of that day, "Many say we're practicing to be dead:
looking over our values, accomplishments, and failures as though it was all
over and now we have to make an accounting."
Because most of us live fairly busy lives and don't take much
time for deep reflection, Ash Wednesday is a good day to ask questions we don't
often pause long enough to ask. Questions like author Steven Covey encourages
us to ask:
"What kind of wife, mother, daughter -- what kind of
husband, father, son, would you like to be remembered as?"
"What contributions, what achievements do you want people
to remember after you're gone?"
"Think of the people around you -- the people you are
closest to, the people with whom you spend the most time -- what difference would you like to have
made in their lives?"
Talk about beginning with "the end in mind" -- that's
THE end, our end,
that ashes can help keep in mind.
So ashes on Ash Wednesday remind us of our mortality, and are
therefore a good chance to start, or restart our lives with "the" end
So, why do
we give things up for Lent?
Why are we encouraged, during Lent to take on the ancient spiritual practices of prayer,
fasting, and almsgiving?
Why the customary emphasis on giving up sweets and/or alcohol
and/or tobacco for the forty days (and nights!) of Lent?
We take those practices on and we give those things up for Lent
for the same, very simple reasons:
To find out what has a hold on us.
To find out what we have become unduly attached to.
To find out what lesser things, people, and habits we have settled for as
substitutes for an adventure with God.
The point of prayer, fasting, and giving away
more money is not to make ourselves suffer; the point is to learn something
The point is to learn what we have become enslaved to; what has
been robbing our freedom, or making us less than fully free and joy-filled.
The intention of discipline like prayer, fasting, and
alms-giving, in other words, is meant to help us explore the mystery of our
hearts. They are meant to force us to ask questions about
ourselves...wrestle with things about ourselves we normally don't.
And so here's a radical thought (and by "radical" I
mean rooted, rooted in the Bible and in Christian history) -
The practices of prayer, fasting, and giving away money, like
the practice of worship, are not
meant to be ends in themselves. Those
practices, like all religious practices, are meant to be means to an end, and the "end" is to
kick up questions like the ones above: questions about our end purpose in life,
and questions which, if we stick with them long enough, will transform our
behavior and our life.
Turns out that ashes and spiritual practices have the same
purpose, then: to help us love God and love our neighbor as ourselves.
If they aren't doing that, then they aren't serving their
purpose. And neither are we.
For Lent, I was thinking of doing the typical fasts: fast from Facebook and take up reading, fast from petty vices like overindulging in sweets and alcohol and take on moderation, yada yada yada.
But I'm re-thinking that this year. What I'm fasting from this Lent is discouragement. That means cutting back on what is so often the source of discouragement, which is a tendency to gorge on, or dwell on, bad news.
(Let me be clear: that does not mean giving up news or otherwise burying my head in the sand: it means staying informed while finding ways not to get pulled into a downward spiral of feelings of numbness and helplessness; it means giving up unproductive feelings like hopelessness and resignation and taking on visible behaviors like giving encouragement and taking action.)
It means making visible -- here, on my blog, and even on Facebook -- the good.
Because the problem is -- to paraphrase the community organizer Rich Harwood -- a lot of times we see "good news stories…
So for Lent, I was thinking of doing the typical fasts: fast from Facebook and take up reading, fast from petty vices like overindulging in sweets and alcohol and take on moderation, yada yada yada.
But I'm re-thinking that.
Now one of the things I'm thinking about fasting from during Lent is discouragement. That means cutting back on what is so often the source of discouragement, which is a tendency to gorge on, or dwell on, bad news.
That would mean taking on encouragement: to make visible -- even on Facebook -- the good.
Because the problem is -- to paraphrase the community organizer Rich Harwood -- a lot of times we see "good news stories" as being quaint -- they are tossed in at the end of the news as an inspiring story, or put in the style section. But stories of good things happening -- people coming together to do things, is not a touchy-feely, feel-good story, but something affecting real change.
So for starters: I'm inspired by the leadership example of…