February 1, 2005
It's Ash Wednesday Time on Feb. 9th!
I will never forget the first Ash Wednesday service I attended. When I walked into the sanctuary I noticed how the decorum and mood of the people were so entirely different from that of the Christmas cycle. This mood immediately communicated the different nature of the spiritual discipline ordered by the Lenten season. The lights were dimmed, those already in the pews were quietly praying, as other people arrived they were greeted with quiet whispers, a simple nodding of the head, or silence. There seemed to be a seriousness attached to the worship into which we were entering, a somber spirit to which I was unaccustomed. I took my seat, and in the quietness of the moment, a silence not broken by organ music or friendly chatter, I bowed my head and waited for the service to begin.
There was no procession, no choir, no organ music. The celebrant, dressed in a black robe, simply walked out from a side door in the front and said in a hushed tone, "Let us pray." Then he slowly and deliberately rayed: "Almighty and everlasting God, you hate nothing you have made and forgive the sins of all who are penitent: create and make in us new and contrite hearts, that we, worthily lamenting our sins and acknowledging our wretchedness, may obtain of you, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, forever and ever. Amen."
Even as he prayed I sensed what was to become my Lenten spirituality: "Create and make in us new and contrite hearts." This pattern of repentance and conversion that was reiterated again in the service and expressed again and again throughout the season was calling me into a new and fresh experience with the healing reality of Jesus Christ.
I listened intently to the reading of the Scriptures that followed the prayer. The readings were Joel 2:1-2, 12-17; Psalm 103; 2 Corinthians 5:20-6:10; and Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21. While all these Scriptures speak to the pattern of renewal, calling us to repentance and conversion, the Gospel reading appears to set forth a blueprint for a Lenten spirituality. It calls us back to the basics, to God's love for us, and to our response to that love. In the Gospel reading appointed for Ash Wednesday, Jesus calls us to practice our piety in faith, to pray, to give alms, and to fast (Matt. 6:1-6, 16-21).
The emphasis is not faith as a mere belief system - an objective set of propositions to which we give intellectual assent - but faith as an embodiment, a life lived out in true piety characterized by prayer, almsgiving, and fasting. What lies at the root of each of these three practices os spirituality is not a mere rote, impersonal ritual but a truly engaging, demanding, and committed relationship.
The sermon that followed clarified how important it was for us to see fasting, prayer, and almsgiving in the perspective of faith. In the Gospel reading (Matt. 6:1-6, 16-21) and elsewhere Jesus chastises the Pharisees for improper motivation in the practice of fasting, prayer, and almsgiving. They do it to "be seen by men" (v. 5). They do not practice their piety in faith. The true evangelical reason we are called upon to fast, pray, and give alms is not so others will praise us but to establish, maintain, repair, and transform our relationship with God. When the Lenten discipline is not seen in terms of works or as a means of attaining God's favor but as a relationship with God, neighbor, and self, the discipline itself moves us to a deeper spirituality.
(Excerpt from Ancient-Future Time)
Bob Webber
Myers Professor of Ministry
Director of M.A. in Worship and Spirituality
Northern Seminary—www.seminary.edu
(See Northern's M.A. in Worship and Spirituality and D.Min. in Worship by clicking on the website.)
