An Ash Wednesday Meditation in Three Words

⁸ Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. ⁹ “All this I will give you,” he said, “if you will bow down and worship me.”¹⁰ Jesus said to him, “Away from me, Satan! For it is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.’”¹¹ Then the devil left him, and angels came and attended him.

This is a meditation in three words.

“Again . . .” That’s the hardest word in this passage. As I hear it I can’t help adding, “Oh no not . . . again.” Ongoing temptation, the work of the Devil, and things that seek to trip me up, freak me out, pull me under, or do me in – they happen again, and again, and again. As we enter into this season of Lent we do so to ponder this truth once again – that we are beautiful, sinful creatures made of ash in the image of God. We are cracked icons capable of terrible and tragic things. We remember this “again.” And yet friends I also want to tell you tonight that the most beautiful word in this entire passage is “again.” That’s why we follow the church year and celebrate Ash Wednesday even when Valentine’s Day might feel like more fun or reflect a more attractive form of love. We practice this during Lent again to name the darkness so that we might inch that much closer to the light. “Again” becomes our very word for salvation. A third century monk Abba Anthony once said, “Anyone who has not been tempted cannot enter the kingdom of heaven. Without temptation, one cannot be saved.” So God takes up our “again” and lovingly twists it to his own purposes and once again forgives us, once again cares for us, once again fortifies us. This God loves us once again.

“Kingdoms . . .” The second word in our passage is the Devil’s unquestioned claim to be able to offer power with no strings attached save one – worship. The lovely writer Henri Nouwen calls this the temptation to power. He notes that when he considers why so many people have left the church throughout Europe as well as North America, the word “power” easily comes to mind. One of the great ironies of the history of Christianity is that a religion founded upon a crucified and failed messiah has constantly given in to the temptation of power – political power, military power, economic power, or moral and spiritual power – all this despite the fact that we say we love one, who did not cling to his own divine power, the Apostle Paul tells us, but emptied himself, becoming a servant, even unto death. Why is this so? Why do we fall prey so easily to the temptation of power? Maybe because power offers an easy substitute for the hard task of love. It seems easier to be God than to love God, easier to control people than to love people, easier to regulate life than to love life. This Lenten season I invite you to explore what powerlessness might look like for you. 

[Here the original point ended and I went on to point three. However, I had wanted to say something more and didn't. So I have returned to add this for whomever might read it and to help me remember to have courage and listen to the Spirit. On Ash Wednesday 2018 the U.S. experienced another horrific high school shooting. This has become so common that words simply fail to describe them. Evangelicals, of all Christians groups, remain the most skeptical of gun control legislation. More importantly, however, is the wish by so many Christians to remain armed for their own protection, for their own safety. I guess I want to ask, "How might following the powerless Jesus speak to that concern?"]

“Attended . . .” Our third and final word is an antidote to our desire for power. Listen to this truth: even Jesus needed attention. Even Jesus, the Gospel writer notes, needed angels to care for him. He wasn’t self-sufficient, self-sustaining, or self-made. The other night my small group gathered after missing a few meetings due to all of the disasters and displacements. And as we sat around the table, shared failures and triumphs, and personal concerns and fears, I felt something holy and sacred, something life-giving and (breathe out). I felt “attended” to. What if we don’t have to solve all the problems of this world – indeed our solutions often seem to create just as many problems anyway? What if all that we must do faithfully, persistently, without reservation, is to give one another, the poor, the hurting, the hopeless, our attention. The famous Christian philosopher and activist Simone Weil is one of the angels who will attend to us. Listen to her words:

Those who are unhappy have no need for anything in this world but people capable of giving them their attention. The capacity to give one’s attention to a sufferer is a very rare and difficult thing; it is almost a miracle; it is a miracle. Nearly all those who think they have this capacity do not possess it. Warmth of heart, impulsiveness, pity are not enough…The love of neighbor in all its fullness simply means being able to say to him: ‘What are you going through?’”

This Lenten season I invite you to do two things on top of whatever discipline you practice: attend to someone else but also allow someone to attend to you.

Prayer of Confession:

Lord, we confess to you what we are. We are sinful people who persist in our own destruction again and again. Help us this season to confess our sin again, so that we may once again enjoy the light of your salvation.

Lord, we confess to you what we long for. We are sinful people who prefer power over love, influence more than sacrifice, and notoriety instead of humility. Show us this season how to model our lives on Jesus who, though he was God, humbled himself.

Lord, we confess to you what we ignore. We are sinful people who think we are self-sufficient and self-made, in need of no one. Offer us the grace of being attended to and give us grace so that we might attend to others. Amen.