“To Fast or Feast?”
Ash Wednesday – February 21, 2007
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
The Reverend Canon Beth Knowlton
The Cathedral of St. Philip, 12:15 pm
We buried my grandmother two years ago on Ash Wednesday. It was really rather surreal. My grandmother was raised in an independent bible church, and there was no particular significance in her tradition to laying her to rest on this day, instead of any others. But, it certainly did color my experience.
To start with, I was in a strange city and without my church community. I went to a small church near my hotel and started my day with the words we’ll hear today. “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.” It was strangely comforting to hear those familiar words in a nave where I didn’t know anyone, where no one really had any idea of what lay ahead of me for the rest of the day. Certainly no one knew I was a priest and would normally be on the other side of the altar rail. I felt connected to the season in a way I would not have anticipated. Stripped away from the comfort of familiar faces, a defined liturgical role, or a known sacred space, the words enveloped me and I felt at peace.
As I made my way back to the hotel across icy streets, it occurred to me I needed to decide whether I was going to fast that day. A number of things were brought sharply into focus. My grandmother was a good Bohemian woman. And believe me, that means food and hospitality are not to be trifled with.
Nowhere is this more clear that at the visitation and the funeral. Everyone who came to pay respects to my grandmother could not leave the funeral home until they had been ushered back into the kitchen reception area. There they were plied with an assortment of Shrove Tuesday Paczki from the local polish bakery. If there was not at least twice as much food available as could possibly be consumed, we needed to make a grocery store run.
At the heart of this send off ritual is the post-graveside luncheon. One would not dream of not offering a lunch after the service. And there are only certain establishments that are really up to snuff. My grandmother’s funeral was no exception.
We arrived at the lunch immediately following the interment. Let me be clear, this was not a light lunch. One would not dream of insulting the gathered family with a single entrée. There was going to soup, salad, sauerbraten, polish sausage, spatzel, fried chicken, and dessert. This was not a place to unobtrusively observe a fast.
As I reflected on my grandmother and her life, it became incredibly obvious that I need to eat that meal. There was no way in which a personal practice of piety could trump the decades of my grandmother’s hospitality.
Beyond that, I had to look underneath the externals of my practice and examine my intention. I was not considering fasting to become aware of how hungry I would be in the face of food. When I fast, I do it with the intention to be more aware of God in my life. And on that particular Ash Wednesday, the best way to honor God’s presence in my life was in the face of my grandmother. Remembering her generosity through the years as she served up abundant tables of food for her family was the best kickoff to Lent I could imagine.
And that is at the heart of what Jesus is calling us to remember in the Gospel lesson today. It is not a diatribe against public worship or personal practices of piety. It is an invitation to explore our tendency to miss the deeper reasons we are engaging them.
Our Lenten disciplines need to evolve in that framework. We need to look underneath the outward signs and see what we are seeking. Is it an improved connection with God? What will best accomplish that? Giving something up? Taking something on? It can be a different answer for each one gathered here. But, if it reminds us of our connection to God, we are well on are way to observing a holy lent.
Today, it doesn’t matter who you are or what age you may be. As you come to the altar rail, you’ll hear “remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” We will apply them to the babies held in their mother’s arms---and we’ll apply them to those who might need assistance making their way to the rail.
How will you feel when you hear the words, “remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return?” Sobered? That is fine as long as we don’t confuse that with depression. Hopefully in those words we find encouragement. Hopefully we feel more deeply our affiliation with one another. A glimpse of this is the invitation to become more holy. As we strip away distractions and focus more on what is truly important to us, we find in what appears to be a desert, the deep wells of God’s love and new life.
Amen
Comments? Contact Beth Knowlton at: BKnowlton@stphilipscathedral.org