Ash Wednesday has always been ambiguous for me. Coming from a pastor, maybe that’s a confession. The ambiguity isn’t over the whole “remember that you came from dust and to dust you shall return” thing. I embrace that message as a liberating commission to start the season of Lent. The rub for me is over commonly held beliefs about what the ashes imposed on our heads (or hands) imply. Are we giving up something for Lent in an effort to sympathize with Jesus’ suffering for the sake of the world? Or are we taking something on in obedience to Christ and his teachings that nurture a faithful life in witness to God’s love for the whole world?
Since I don’t believe that any human being can ever really understand or even slightly empathize with the experience of Jesus’ Passion—his suffering and death—I see giving up something for Lent as a reverent homage to Jesus that might carve out space for a new discipline to take root in our lives, but futile in terms of relating to the Christ we follow. To be clear, giving up something for Lent is good, even faithful; but taking something on for this season of repentance—turning around and walking in a new direction—seems to have more potential for transformation in one’s life. At this point on my faith journey, that’s what I’ve come to believe.
Still, the ambiguity remains. How do I take something on that is direct and clear in its connection to the Gospel message of Jesus Christ?
In a book of daily meditations by Fr. Richard Rohr, A Spring Within Us, the Jesuit priest asserts that Jesus’ teachings are “direct and clear…on issues such as nonviolence; a simple lifestyle; love of the poor and our enemies; forgiveness, inclusivity, and mercy; and not seeking status, power, perks, or possessions.” That reads like a laundry list of virtues for a life of faith. Applying it to Lent, I’m asking myself, “How can I be less violent with the words I speak, the actions I take, and even the intentions I have? How can I live more simply? How can I love the poor and my enemies? How can I practice forgiveness, be more inclusive, and show mercy? And how can I move away from seeking status, power, perks, and possessions?”
Being more direct and clear, I can choose one of those questions and find a way to live it out every day during Lent. Daily practices lead to routines. Routines mold lifestyles. Lifestyles reveal transformation.
I noticed an example of this from a friend of mine from high school who has taken on the daily practice of using an app called 5 Calls. The app enables her to spend five minutes each day learning about issues affecting her vocation as a public school teacher, as well as issues that might be harmful to people in her community, and to then make calls to her representatives expressing her concern on those issues, asking the rep to vote on them in a way that does no harm and, better yet, provides uplift. Now, I don’t know whether that daily discipline has anything to do with my friend’s faith, but I see it as a direct, clear expression of being inclusive and showing mercy. Also, depending on how one might view their representative, I also see it as a flex of non-violence, because I’m not going to call my rep with hopes of positive change and yell angrily into the phone. I’m going to choose words that show love and voice truth.
That’s just one example. If you were to choose one of those virtues from Fr. Rohr’s list, which one would it be? And how would you live it out daily as a direct and clear expression of Jesus’ teachings?
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