The Rev. Peter M. Carey
Ash Wednesday Sermon
9 March 2011 – Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, VA
In the Episcopal Diocese of Virginia
Sin is a word that brings up a lot of emotion, a lot of baggage.
For some of us, the experience of church over the years has involved weekly reminders of our own sinfulness, our own wretchedness, our own little-ness. We have been reminded of the many ways that we are not worthy. We have been reminded all too often of the mistakes that we have made. We have been reminded of the ways that even though we see the good, we cannot seem to be good.
So, for many of us the word Sin brings up the ways that the church, and preachers and Sunday school teachers have been a reminder of our little-ness, of our mistakes, of our wretchedness. Often, what emerges from this kind of teaching on Sin is that people are triggered into feeling guilty, guilty for “things done and left undone,” and just guilty in general.
As a priest, I come into contact with many people who “used to” go to church. People who see me in the grocery store or at my kids’ schools or about town who express how guilty they feel that they haven’t been coming to church more often. It can be strange to encounter these deep feelings of guilt. I tell them that I don’t really care about that, that we’d love to see you, but that guilt shouldn’t be wasted on a thing so small as that. I tell them that if the reason they are coming to church is because they feel guilty about it, I’d rather they didn’t come.
You see, I am one of them. In college, I rarely went to church. Sometimes I went to the interfaith service at the chapel, but there was no Eucharist, and it somehow felt too different than my own church. I went a few times to the Episcopal Church in town, but for whatever reason it did not become a habit. Other times I went to the Folk Mass offered by the Newman Center, but the Roman Catholic tradition did not feel like home. However, one Tuesday afternoon, I decided that I would go up to the Eucharist that was being offered in a Lounge in the Student Center. Along with my friend Adam, I walked up to the Lounge where an older man was sitting at a circular table in a brown jacket, with a Bible and a few Books of Common Prayer on the table.
He welcomed us, and asked if we should begin. We looked at each other a bit puzzlingly, was this everyone? The priest asked if one of us wanted to read the Old Testament lesson and the other to read the Epistle. He said we’d do the sermon together.
He reached down into his bag and brought out a pottery chalice and plate, a small bottle of wine and a container of bread. And we began.
We moved our way through the beginning of the service, and when we got to the sermon, he asked us about ourselves. Adam and I introduced ourselves and told him where we were from, both in terms of our hometown (we were both from Middlebury, Vermont) and in terms of our own spiritual journeys.
I found myself saying that I felt so bad for not coming to church more while in college. I felt guilty for not coming to church.
It was at this point that the priest, named Bill, said, “You know, guilt is something that should not be wasted on whether or not you’re going to church. Actually, if the reason that you are going to church is that you are motivated by guilt, I would rather you didn’t go to church.”
And so, there it is. We have been given the message by the church that we are sinners but then all too often we have not been given the other side of the coin. We have not been offered the other side of the pillow, the cool and sustaining grace of God.
And so, today, we begin the season of Lent, and there are those who are motivated by guilt to “give something up,” to try to fast, to give up chocolate, or Facebook, or grumbling or alcohol. And others “take something on,” perhaps a new prayer regimen or reading the scriptures. These are good and worthy things to do. However, what is the motivation? There needs to be an intention that is deeper and richer than guilt. There needs to be an intention that is not merely based on the assumption that we are sinners.
Keeping a holy lent, then, would include keeping a whole lent. Wholeness, holistic. Considering both the sinner that I am, and also the grace-filled child of God that I am. On one side, we can affirm that “we are dust, and to dust we shall return,” but on the other side is the notion that we are each made in the image and likeness of God, and are blessed and given the gift of God’s love.
There is a Hasidic Jewish story that recounts a master who recommended having two cards in your pockets. On one card it would say, “you are but dust,” and on the other side it says, “the universe was made for you!” Both are true, there is no dichotomy here, there is not inconsistency. We are but dust, and the universe was made for us. God does not want us to wallow in a sense of our sinfulness that makes us lesser beings, God does not want us to be so “lowered” that we are not human, that we are bound up by guilt or fear. But God also does not want us to think that the world is really all about us. God does not want us to be self-centered narcissists. God wants us to be whole, whole children of God who recognize our sinfulness and our blessedness.
You are but dust, and the universe was made for you.
