the eyes were the only human thing you could see...

Ash Wednesday
Trinity on the Green, New Haven
March 1, 2017

When I was in my twenties, I had a good friend named Jagy who was from New Orleans. I was thrilled to receive an invitation from his family for Mardi Gras. Six of us drove through night and stayed with his extended family. The first night we sat down to a Gumbo supper and planned the next day.  We would go to see three parades, ending with the largest parade put on by the club named Rex. Everyone, they said, would wear a costume. Jagy’s mother  asked, Had we brought one?

 

None of us had, so they went to an old bureau and pulled out a group of “jailbird” costumes--caps and suits with wide horizontal black and white stripes.  Each of us found one that fit, and we were set for the next day.  I still have pictures of the intricate floats that went by.  Soon we overcame our reserve and found ourselves waving our hands yelling “Hey mister” to those on the floats, hoping to have golden doubloons and multi-colored necklaces thrown to us.

 

Everyone was wearing costumes.  The most elegant costumes of satin and velvet trimmed with gold were worn by the people on the floats.  Each had a mask totally hiding their faces with only almond shaped openings for their eyes.  It felt strange to me to be looking up from the street into the eyes of the people on the floats to call out to them for a trinket.  Strange because the eyes were the only living thing you could see.  But every once in a while eye contact was made, and with expert aim a necklace would land in my out-stretched hand.

 

I imagine that it’s far less common today for everyone who goes to Mardi Gras to wear a costume.  But what if you were to choose your costume for Mardi Gras, what would it be?  Someone you admire?  A public figure, historic or political?  Would you be a mythical figure? An animal? A movie character? If you could wear any costume you could imagine, what would you be?

Costumes, though, aren’t confined to special celebrations.  Many of us put on a costume every day.  Our facades, the way we dress, often project the person we want to be, or feel we need to be, or others want us to be.  Or maybe we clothe ourselves in armor, to protect ourselves from outside threats. Sometimes, we may even want to protect ourselves from the person we know we are.  Our facades, our costumes, our armor, the personas we wear in the world can become so much a part of our identities that we no longer know who we really are. We can’t say who it is God created us to be.

 

The disciplines and practices of Lent lead us toward discovering the person we are at our core. Jesus taught those who followed him to continue the traditional practices of piety of that time, yet practice them more intensely.  Jesus doesn’t say, if you give alms, if you pray, if you fast. We hear when you give alms, when you pray, when you fast.  Simple as they may seem to be, these actions can have a tremendous impact our lives and on our salvation.

 

In prayer, we see the world through holy eyes. We reach out to God and discover God is already reaching out to us.  In giving alms, we walk alongside those who suffer economically. We learn from them.  We find a deep sense of God’s presence in serving as Jesus served. In fasting, either giving up something we enjoy, or taking on specific activities for Lent, we discover what holds the greatest importance for us in our lives.  What takes the place God is meant to hold.  Our denial, our suffering, opens us more fully to God. 

Through prayer, almsgiving and fasting, Christians throughout the centuries have sought to readjust the focus of their lives. We follow in their footsteps as we practice self-denial. This isn’t about overcoming our needs. We practice self-denial to diminish our need for all that draws us away from God.  As we re-focus our view of the world, we are led to see our place in the world in a new way. 

The disciplines of a holy Lent offer us a time and a path to return to God.  Slowly we focus our eyes on God.  Looking at God through the masks we wear, we find the release, the relief, of seeing of God looking back at us. We can peel away the masks, the facades, lower the armor, asking God to forgive us and heal us and make us whole. 

 

God, knowing us completely, welcomes us much as the prodigal father welcomes his returning son--with delight, compassion and love.  In this process we discover more and more fully the simple core, the purity and simplicity of the person God created us to be.

 

We may believe that our facades are so toughened, so bonded to the person inside that we can never know the freedom we need to be made whole again.  We may believe that we have been so hurt by life that we can never exist without our shells.  We may believe that we can never remove anger or fear that we hold close to ourselves.  We may believe that we can never change. That is so far from reality, so far from the truth.

 

When God became human in Jesus Christ, all of humanity was offered a new idea of who we can be.  Rather than lowering himself to reach our human level, Jesus raised our understanding of the divinity at our core.

As we recognize and begin to shed the protective cover we’ve placed around ourselves, a new being emerges. We find the hatred and anger softened. We recognize the person deep within, waiting to be set free.

We aren’t learning to stand alone, unprotected. We begin to let God do the work we used to ask our shell to do.  In God we find our strength, our meaning, our image, our defense, our identity. 

Living out of that deeper connection with God is new and different. At our core we long to shed our shell.  We want to move beyond depending only on ourselves.  We want to trust and rely on God. We find companionship in a worshipping community like this one.  We walk with others along the same path. We discover that we are not alone. 

Soon, I will invite you to a holy Lent. I will invite you to a time of prayer, giving to others, and giving up what separates you from God. Through these acts of devotion, proven over time, each of us moves closer to God. God waits to forgive us and to lead us to deeper holiness of life. Then our armor and façade, our masks and costuming can be left behind. They are no longer needed because the ground of our security, our identity, our anchor, and our energy is God.

When ashes are placed on our foreheads we hear the words, You are but dust and to dust you shall return. Our beginnings and our endings are in God. God’s greatest desire is for you and me to journey throughout our lives into deeper discovery of the refreshment, the challenge and the energy that are ours in this new way of being. Today is a significant step on that journey. May we offer these forty days all that we are able to offer, so that we may receive the transformation that the season can offer us.

Amen.

 

Our Holy Land Lenten Reflection