Daily Prayer, Spirituality and Worship in the Roman Catholic Tradition

The night before Ash Wednesday, Lord...
Take, Lord, Receive by John Foley, SJ
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Let's see...
How long's it been since I last went to church
- to get ashes on Ash Wednesday?
Maybe, for one reason or another,
it's been a year, or two or 10 - or more!
Maybe I’ve never gone.
Maybe I've never had the opportunity
to have my forehead smudged with ashes…
Well, two things for sure:
getting ashes doesn't mean I’m holy
-and-
getting ashes doesn't make me holy!
As a matter of fact,
getting ashes means: I’m not holy!
Ashes are for sinners...
Ashes are for people like me,
people who sometimes - even often -
act without thinking,
make poor choices,
tell lies,
cheat and steal,
take advantage of others,
break promises,
go down the wrong path,
hurt other people
(even folks I love),
forget to pray,
make selfish decisions
and do the wrong thing:
sometimes little wrong things
and sometimes big wrong things...
Ashes are for people like me:
people who screw up,
who forget what's really important,
who let things slide,
- even a lot...
Ashes are for imperfect, broken people,
for people like me
who let things get out of control
and who sometimes do the wrong thing
even when they know exactly
what the right thing is...
Ashes are for people like me, people
who
take too many short cuts,
lay down on the job,
check out when they need to show up,
let other people down - big time -
and disappoint themselves
more often than they can count
and more than they want to admit...
Ashes are for people just like me:
people who gossip about others
who fail to defend the underdog,
who keep silent when they ought to speak up...
Ashes are for sinners
- for people just like me...
Oh, I know getting ashes won't turn my life around
but it could be a step,
even just one step
in a new direction
on the path I want to follow
but too often miss or stray from...
Getting ashes tomorrow
just might be the beginning of mending:
my relationship with God,
my relationships with others,
and even my relationship with myself…
Getting ashes tomorrow might help me
take an honest look at some things in my life:
things I really need to think about,
things I need to pay attention to,
things I need to let go of,
things I need to embrace,
things I need to pray for,
things I need to change,
things and relationships I need to
reconcile, mend and heal...
Getting ashes tomorrow
might feel kinda strange,
and I might be a little embarrassed
when others see my smudged forehead:
what if they make fun of me?
or ask me what it means?
or why I did it?
Well, I could just be honest.
I could say I did it because:
I've been thinking about my life,
taking a little personal inventory,
trying to make some changes,
and I thought this might be a time,
that this might be a way,
that this might be a place to start...
Me going to church to pray?
Me getting ashes?
Hey! It could happen!
I know it won't hurt
and it just might be good to give it a try,
to give it a chance:
to give God (and me) a chance,
a chance for a new beginning...
So, Lord, even if it's been a long time
since the last time I got ashes,
even if I’ve never received ashes,
I'll be in church tomorrow
to get my forehead smudged,
to reconnect with you and take a first step
on a path I've been wanting and needing, to walk...
And since I know I can come up with a dozen reasons
not to get ashes tomorrow
give me a nudge, Lord, a shove,
a kick in the butt or whatever it takes
for me to take this first step,
on the first day of Lent...
Amen.
Is this the manner of fasting I wish,
of keeping a day of penance:
that a man bow his head like a reed,
and lie in sackcloth and ashes?
Do you call this a fast,
a day acceptable to the LORD?
This, rather, is the fasting that I wish:
releasing those bound unjustly,
untying the thongs of the yoke;
setting free the oppressed,
breaking every yoke;
sharing your bread with the hungry,
sheltering the oppressed and the homeless;
clothing the naked when you see them,
and not turning your back on your own...
If you remove from your midst oppression,
false accusation and malicious speech;
If you bestow your bread on the hungry
and satisfy the afflicted...
Then light shall rise for you in the darkness,
and the gloom shall become for you like midday;
Then the LORD will guide you always
and give you plenty even on the parched land.
He will renew your strength,
and you shall be like a watered garden,
like a spring whose water never fails.
Such exercises as fasting cannot have their proper effect unless our motives for practicing them spring from personal meditation. We have to think of what we are doing, and the reasons for our actions must spring from the depths of our freedom and be enlivened by the transforming power of Christian love. Otherwise, our self-imposed sacrifices are likely to be pretenses, symbolic gestures without real interior meaning. Sacrifices made in this formalistic spirit tend to be mere acts of external routine performed in order to exorcise interior anxiety and not for the sake of love. In that case, however, our attention will tend to fix itself upon the insignificant suffering which we have piously elected to undergo, and to exaggerate it in one way or another, either to make it seem unbearable or else to make it seem more heroic than it actually is. Sacrifices made in this fashion would be better left unmade. It would be more sincere as well as more religious to eat a full dinner in a spirit of gratitude than to make some minor sacrifice a part of it, with the feeling that one is suffering martyrdom.
-Thomas Merton in The Climate of Monastic Prayer
Pastors often receive requests from parishioners asking to be “dispensed” from fast and abstinence for particular social occasions. Of course, it is precisely on such occasions that the self-denial of fast and abstinence might be most meaningful. Such a “dispensation” is not a pastor’s to give. The Church tells us that in this matter individuals have freedom to excuse themselves but that, “no Catholic will lightly hold himself/herself excused from so hallowed an obligation as this penitential practice.”
Sirach’s advice tonight was, “To whatever you choose - stretch forth your hands… To whatever you choose - stretch forth your hands…”
This “stretching forth of our hands”, this “reaching out for, is a basic human gesture. We see it in infants, early on, when they begin to reach out for what's in front of them - with their tiny little arms and hands - when they reach out for us to pick them up, to hold and embrace them, to feed and protect them. And once we begin this “stretching forth our hands,” reaching out like infants - we never stop! Even if illness, or old age, or some misguided sense of propriety, keep us from physically stretching out our hands - our hearts and our minds are stretching out all the time: for what we want, what we desire, for what we choose.
So, to what in this past week, did you and I stretch forth our hands? What did we, this past week, reach out for? What did we try to grasp? What did we grab for? What did we try to get a grip on? Get hold of. Glom onto...
Sirach raises the stakes here, saying that God sets before us - things to stretch out for - good and evil, life and death - and that we're called to reach for good over evil, and for life over death.
Those are serious categories to contend with. Sometimes we actually do have to choose between good and evil. Sometimes we might have to make life or death decisions. But much more often we face smaller challenges - the kind we meet day in and day out. The kind we met last week: the daily choices we made:
between telling the truth and lying,
between breed and generosity,
between playing fair and cutting corners,
between good, wholesome thoughts and lusty fantasies,
between foolishness and wisdom,
between honesty and fraud,
between arrogance and humility,
between what's truly beautiful and what's fake, and tawdry,
between kindness and meanness,
between welcoming others in and shutting others out,
between my being faithful or unfaithful to my spouse,
my friend, my word, my responsibilities,
between healthy entertainment and junk food for the mind,
between wasting my time and spending it well,
between building others up, or tearing them down,
between insulting others and praising others,
between gossiping and minding my own business,
between speaking a cruel word or speaking a kind word…
And those are just some of the many choices I made this past week that gave me the option of choosing
between what's good and evil,
what's wise and foolish,
what's right and wrong,
what brings me life and what eats at my soul,
between what enhances the life
of the people around me - or tears us apart.
No, not every choice I make is a life-or-death option - but everything I think, everything I say, and everything I do - does fall somewhere on the spectrum between what's right and what's wrong, what's good and what's evil.
Everything I think, and say, and do leads me ultimately, either closer to a greater life, to a deeper love of God and neighbor -OR- closer to a lesser life that weakens my potential for goodness, for becoming the person God made and called me to be.
It's Sunday night. Tomorrow will be Monday, then Tuesday, and then Ash Wednesday. And the beginning of Lent.
We might do well, all of us, to spend this Lent studying the kinds of choices we make in our daily lives. Even just becoming aware of the choices we make in our daily lives. Studying with the expressed intention of discovering which choices bring me life - and bring life to those around me – and which choices erode, eat away and tear apart the fabric of the human community in which you and I live.
Just this past week, Pope Leo offered a great suggestion for what we might give up this lent. Something besides, in addition to, meat on Fridays in Lent. Something to give up as part of our daily lives, especially in these tense and contentious times. Let me share with you what he wrote. He said:
I would like to invite you to a very practical
and frequently unappreciated form of abstinence:
that of refraining from words
that offend and hurt our neighbor.
Let's begin by disarming our language,
avoiding harsh words and rash judgment,
refraining from slander and speaking ill
of those who are not present
and cannot defend themselves.
Instead, let us strive to measure our words
and cultivate kindness and respect
in our families, among our friends, at work, on social media,
in political debates, in the media,
and in Christian communities.
In this way, words of hatred
will give way to words of hope and peace.
What will we choose this Lent? Will we choose to use words that hurt and offend our neighbor? Or to disarm our language - and cultivate respect and kindness. Will we continue to choose words, to engage in conversations, that tear us apart from one another? Or will we choose words and engage in conversations that cultivate patience, understanding, kindness - and the hope of reconciliation and peace?
Jesus, who laid down his life for us on the cross, offers his life again for us tonight, here at this altar, in the bread and the cup of the Eucharist.
We are invited here, at his table, to feast on that wisdom that nourishes us, and helps us to make good choices.
We choose wisely when we choose good over evil, truth over lies, the genuine over the counterfeit, the selfless over the selfish, the kind word over the cutting word.
Anytime we make less than a wise choice, we make a foolish choice… Anytime we make less than a wise choice, we make a foolish choice…
So pray with me, that you and I will “stretch forth our hands” and reach out for that wisdom, that goodness, that serves our God, and our neighbor.
Pray that we reach out for anything and everything that deepens our life in God, who is our greatest, our only, our one, true wisdom.
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| Image: George Mendoza |
Good morning, good God!
Well, in 48 hours
it will be Ash Wednesday...
I want, Lord
-actually I need-
for this to be a good Lent...
I need to start again,
with you,
with your help...
It's time for me to take a spiritual inventory:
to count my sins
and number your countless mercies....
And as you know well, Lord,
I've been here before,
so many, many times...
Amen.