Ash Wednesday (2007): "Jesus Christ the Gravedigger"

Ash Wednesday (2007): "Jesus Christ the Gravedigger"
Joel 2:1-2, 12-17; Psalm 51:1-17; 2nd Corinthians 5:20b-6:10; Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
Preached by the Rev. Preston D. S. Parsons, Feb. 21, 2007

There’s at least one thing that we can say for the hypocrites in this gospel. At least they were worshipping the right God.

According to Matthew, these hypocrites are giving alms. They are praying. They are fasting. These are, in and of themselves, Godly pursuits. It seems that the only mistake these hypocrites make is that they worship God conspicuously.

But they are at least worshipping God.

But when I think of the things that I do conspicuously, I am worse off than even these hypocrites. What I conspicuously worship is not even God. I drive through downtown Winnipeg, and I look out my truck window at people lying on the street, hungry and desperate people. I feel conspicuous when their eyes catch mine.

I conspicuously worship wealth. And the convenience that comes with wealth. I am a conspicuous consumer. I am doing my part, participating in this vast economy where the product is obvious, but the cost is hidden: a conspicuous consumption that might very well make our entire world fall apart.

And I hate it. I just hate it. It makes me angry, because I don’t even know how to stop worshiping these false gods of wealth and consumption. I don’t know how to pull out, how to disconnect from what by all reports has little to do with God’s purpose for the world.

I wish that I could at least be a hypocrite. But I am worse off. I am not even a conspicuous worshipper of the one true God.

***

This passage of Matthew's points outward toward the things that we worship, toward our conspicuous idolatries. But there is another idolatry that precedes our pursuit of wealth and comfort, the idolatry of the self. There is a person that I present to the world. There is a person that I create, the person that I would have myself be. The person that I would like people to think I truly am.

I’m successful, I’ve overcome adversity and I’m entirely independent, I’m on my very own spiritual journey.

The hypocrites have nothing on me.

At least they want people to think that they are holy. I just want people to think that I am successful, and valuable, and spiritual.

Sometimes I don’t even care if I am lovable in the eyes of God. I only want to be deemed valuable in the eyes of the world, a world that values the spirituality of self-infatuation above communal disciplines, a world that congratulates wealth above poverty: a world that values our idolatry.

These burdens, all of our idolatries, they’re like a great load of earth lying on top of a coffin. I might be alive inside. You might be alive inside. But the earth is so heavy that no matter how hard I push the lid remains closed. Trapped in the coffin, buried in the graveyard. For all intents and purposes, I am a dead man.

And what are these things keeping us in the graveyard? Wealth? Convenience? A house full of stuff? A career? The esteem of colleagues? Is that where my heart is? Is that where your heart is? In the earth on top of a coffin?

We need to be dug out, we need to repent. Lent is about exactly this: repentance, and forsaking our idols. The Lenten project is to call out for help, to repent of our idolatries, and the be restored to life in Christ.

We cry out for the help of a man with a shovel.

And thank God he comes. Shovelful by shovelful he sets us free. Jesus Christ the gravedigger, digging us out of the grave. And that gravedigger says – “Friend – I love you always, even when you are burdened. Know this - I love you even when you have nothing. I love you even without wealth. I love you even without your car. I love you even without your job. I love you even without your friends. I love you even in your spiritual pride. I love you even without your love for me. And when you repent and turn to me, I will heal you.”

And so with God’s help the earth itself is moved. And with God’s help we find that torn heart in that pile of earth.

God doesn’t love us for our wealth. Or for what we do at work. Or for who our friends are. Or for who we want the world to think we are. God loves us despite these things. He rejoices when we turn away from our idols and turn to him. God rejoices when we put aside all these things that keep us in the graveyard, and we turn to Him for help.

This is good news! We are free from these burdens – St. Francis runs through the town naked. Bach writes a Cantata. We can turn and worship the living God: the living God that transforms the world, the God that can move the earth, the God that is moving the world from corruption into life, the God that is moving the world from death into life. The one who responds to even our faintest cries for help, and rejoices.