Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax-collector.
Today, western liturgical Christian churches celebrate Ash Wednesday, where ashes are put in the sign of a cross on the foreheads of the penitent, yet another great word unfortunately largely reserved for church settings. The penitent refer to people who acknowledge and regret their sins. Today, ash Wednesday, kicks off our season of Lent, the 40 days before Easter, a time where we omit happy acclimations in prayer, and songs take on a noticeable minor key.
The words spoken when the ashes are “imposed” or placed on the forehead are, ‘you are dust and to dust you shall return’.
So between the downer service and the reminder of our mortality, Ash Wednesday could be a hard service. And to be clear, it’s not the best day to bring a newcomer to church. But having said all of that, it’s one of my favorites.
This makes me think about grief and trauma and regret. These are not my go-to emotions, even in hard times. I infrequently feel grief, rarely feel traumatized, and don’t often come face-to-face with regret. It’s not that sad, traumatic, or regrettable things don’t happen. When they do, those emotions pass by, I acknowledge them, and move back to a place of a more optimistic and happy outlook. I don’t believe it’s a sign that I’m emotionally stunted, but rather have the resilience to acknowledge the cruddy parts and move through them. Or at least I hope that’s what it means.
Lent in general, and Ash Wednesday in particular, are times when I am almost forced to hang out in those darker places. Where I’m given permission to spend more than a passing moment thinking about the hard, dark, ugly, dead parts. This happens for a fixed period of time, in a community of faith, concluding with Easter, the ultimate antidote for hard, dead, dark.
So this morning’s reading is Jesus telling a parable about the two people praying. The guy who society thought had it all – he was deeply religious, he fasted twice a week and tithed or gave 10% of his income. I can relate to this guy. I want to be that guy, able to commit to spiritual practices and tithing. Except… That guy goes on and exclaims loudly in his prayer to God that he’s grateful that he’s not like the OTHER guy in the synagogue. The other guy was a tax collector, a Jew who for financial and social gain allowed himself to be a pawn for the occupying Roman forces, collecting crushing taxes on his fellow Jews, often collecting even more to line his own pockets. Tax collectors were the ultimate people in that society who had hard, dark, ugly, dead parts. The tax collector prayer, acknowledging his dark, ugly, dead, hard, sinful parts.
So the set up is complete. The ‘good guy’, the guy who prays and fasts and tithes, is someone I want to be. The ‘bad guy’ is serving as an extortionist for the despised Roman government. The good guy prays that he’s glad he’s not like the bad guy. Alas, Jesus’ response is that the tax collector was justified, and the Pharisee was not, concluding with the line, “All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted”. Dang.
Most seasons of the year, I still strive to be the Pharisee, faithful, prayerful, tithing. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the Pharisee. Except his judgment, lack of humility, and lack of acknowledgment of all the dark, ugly dead things in him. Lent and Ash Wednesday is a time where we are all called to search ourselves to find those things, to be honest with God, to be humble about our inadequacies and dark ugly dead things. We don’t do this to wallow, or to be falsely humble. I do it because these are all genuine parts of me. For these few weeks, I’ll spend time in prayer and reflection about these bits of me. They deserve to be examined and daylighted. I can afford to do this, because in 40 days, I’ll celebrate Easter, where all my crap is renewed, restored, forgiven. I want to arrive there with a more accurate inventory of the real and complete me.
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