Ash Wednesday Intentions

Ash Wednesday brings us to church wondering whether the preacher William Sloane Coffin was right when he said, “most people have just enough religion to make them miserable.” Is misery the point of the day? If not, how do we find a bit more in faith?

In spirituality posture matters. Subtle adjustments can make a big difference. Nuance matters. Lent comes to remind us, it is not only what spiritual practice we choose, but how we practice, and why we practice that shapes us.

Our readings for Ash Wednesday center on intention. Joel commands the people to sanctify a fast. Sanctify means simply to set something apart. We make something holy by separating it from what is mundane. Set the time apart. Paul encourages us, “now is an acceptable
time.” Now. Then Jesus says, “don’t practice in order to be seen by others. Don’t blow a trumpet before you give. Make your generosity a secret.

I once interviewed a consultant for stewardship, this was in my previous parish. We were working to expand our practices of generosity. The consultant said, “we should look at creating a system of donor tiers for this church.” He explained symphonies and theaters do this all the time. They print the names of donors by level in the back of the program. The consultant said, “If someone gives over a certain amount yearly they could be a bronze level donor. Add $1,000 and they’d be silver.” At $10,000 they’d join something he called “the rector’s circle.” We did not hire that consultant.

Subtle questions matter in faith. Posture matters. Intention can be everything. I wanted to read him the story of the widow’s mite. Jesus tells us the old woman who gave from her poverty, though the monetary value may have been smaller, she gave more. Jesus tells us: you can’t buy access to God. It is not what you are able to give, but how you practice giving. Are you giving in a way that changes your perspective? Are you giving in a way that shapes your view of the world? Are you giving in a way that makes a difference?

Likewise with prayer. Jesus says, “pray in secret.” Prayer has little to do with performance and everything to do with intention. That’s partly why we admire kids’ prayers so much. I’ve heard grandparents talk about praying with grandkids who say things simply like, “and God, take care of my aunt and the homeless.” There’s no performance in a kids’ prayer like that. It’s all intention. Kids prayers are often far clearer than those from clergy.

This Lent, I would invite you consider simplifying your prayers. Now, if reading the whole daily office helps you stay centered, if setting up all the bookmarks or ribbons to turn to the various pages required isn’t a distraction, great. If surrounding yourself with prayer cushions, singing bowls, icons, candles and incense helps you be intentional, by all means. But prayer can also be much simpler. It can be taking intentional time for stillness, to breathe. Notice God’s caring presence in the midst of a frantic day. Prayer can be as simple as setting aside time to watch the sunset most evenings. And as those mountains turn pink simply saying “thanks.” Prayer can be simple. Because prayer is all about our intention.

God doesn’t need our fancy words in order to be present. We can’t make God any more present. We can’t muscle our way through. Working harder doesn’t make God love us more. I’m convinced God is often waiting for us to stop trying so hard, to relax, to let go. Many of us need less busyness and more quiet, more gentleness, more room for laughter and joy so we can be open to God’s always abiding love.

One of the greatest theologians of the 20th century was a black lay Episcopalian woman named Verna Dozier. Dozier taught some classes at Virginia Seminary, and was awarded an honorary doctorate, but her formal training was as a schoolteacher. She taught public school in Washington DC for 35 years. Throughout her life, she studied the Bible, and became an advocate for Bible study in churches across the country.

Verna Dozier once wrote, “Don’t tell me what you believe. Show me how the world is different because of what you believe.” We emphasize so much what we believe. Don’t neglect the questions of why and how.

Intention matters. I always loved reading this Gospel on Ash Wednesday in the Episcopal church because Jesus tells you not to disfigure your appearance, and then we go ahead and mark ashes on our foreheads, right? Jesus tells us not to pray on street corners. We’ll spend time today doing ashes-to-go on the street corner. There’s some irony in Ash Wednesday Gospel, and that’s okay. Sometimes irony helps us to ask good questions, to ask the whys and the hows of faith. To worry less about the what’s.

Jesus is all about intention with this practice of prayer, this practice of generosity. If we pay attention, Jesus asks us the subtle question about our practice of faith.

Speaking of intention, I always share a word of caution on Ash Wednesday. Lent can be dangerous. I worry, in Lent, about all the disciplines we tend to take on around food. So many people live with eating disorders. So many of us are unkind to our selves when it comes to our bodies. Please don’t add a layer of toxic spirituality into the mix. If you struggle with food, please pick something else for Lent. Or, make your Lenten Discipline simply: “I will feed my body.” Make your discipline, “I will talk with someone I trust about my relationship to food.” Intention matters. The only meaningful spiritual discipline around food, I’m convinced is simple. It is: “I will nourish my body.” For some of us that is huge work. Please be careful.

The best advice I have ever heard about Lent came from an old Jesuit chaplain at my college, the University of San Diego. Fr JJ. O’Leary was famous on campus as the shortest preacher. He often finished a homily in just two or three minutes. He’d ask a question, invite the congregation to “go into your hearts” to answer the question. He’d wait just a few seconds, and then begin the next part of the service.

One Ash Wednesday, during the noon service, Fr. J.J. said simply that when we give something up for Lent, God doesn’t want us to give up things that make us happy. If we enjoy chocolate or a martini at the end of a long day we shouldn’t give them up. God wants us to give up something that made us sad. He then said. “I invite you go into your hearts to consider what you might give up that makes you sad.”

JJ cut through all the usual junk around faith. He asked a question of intention. Give up what makes you sad.

This Lent, how will you practice enough of your faith so that it isn’t miserable? How could you pay attention to intentions, to the subtle how’s and the whys of your practice. You might find yourself giving up what makes you sad. You might encounter the always present presence of God, the one who meets us even in secret. You might find a spiritual practice which helps you gently be more fully alive.