Where's Your Heart? (Reflections on Ash Wednesday)

People don’t like to hear bad news. Especially not in church.

But the prophet Joel (Joel 2:1-2,12-27) is warning us that “a day of darkness and gloom,” is at hand, and we are enjoined to return to the Lord with fasting, weeping, and mourning. And I don’t think his warning is ill-timed at all.

Yesterday, the Federal Office of Management and Budget released its proposed budget for fiscal 2019. According to the smart guys who study these things, this budget will slash Medicare and Medicaid, make deep cuts in the SNAP (Food Stamps) program, and drastically roll back federal protection and oversight for the environment while shoveling huge scoops of money to the military and, potentially, increasing the federal deficit by $7 trillion. Have you considered what would happen on the day when the U.S. government can’t pay back all the money it has to borrow because of run-away military spending and tax cuts? You don’t need to be a Biblical prophet to figure that one out.

We are being called to a Day of Repentance.

In the Gospel assigned for Ash Wednesday (Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21), Jesus tells us that where our treasure is, there our hearts will be also (v.21). So where are our hearts? I’d say that just about all of this section of Matthew’s Gospel, part of the “Sermon on the Mount,” is a warning that our hearts have turned inward. Sin, as Martin Luther often pointed out, is a case of the individual curved in on his or herself, forgetting the commands of God and the needs of the world around us.

In the Gospel Jesus warns us about the self-aggrandizing arrogance of those who blow a trumpet when they give alms. But what about those who sound off because they refuse to give alms? What about those who ask, “Why should I pay school tax when my kid doesn’t go there?” or “Why do I have to provide a safety net for people who are too dumb to save for a rainy day like I did?” or “Charity just makes people lazy. Let ‘em get a job!”

We love to sound our trumpets, don’t we? We spend hours on facebook, showing ourselves off. We all become instant celebrities. And we love fame for its own sake—as if notoriety is the same as worthiness, and everything we do must have universal appeal because we’re the ones doing it. (For the record, I’d really love to see pictures of your new grandchild, but I don’t have to see the restaurant meal you’re about to eat or your vacation photos. I’d much rather enjoy a meal with you and have you tell me about your adventures!) So often, however, the touch screen keeps us prisoners of our own narcissism.

Not only do we become besotted with our own lives and narratives, but the instantaneous nature of social media seems to have led us to believe that we’re entitled to everything we want the instant we want it. We grow impatient in our self-importance. We honk the nanosecond the light turns green. We sigh heavily if the customer in front of us has a complicated transaction. We treat minor annoyances like they’re crimes against humanity—ignoring the fact that true crimes against humanity are being committed every day even though our media outlets seem more interested in telling us about the Kardashians.

Ash Wednesday and Lent are our wake-up call. This is a time to get real about who we are and what we care about. This is the time to look inside and ask “Where is my treasure? Where is my heart?”

The exhortations Jesus gives us in this Gospel lesson are meant to re-focus us. He says, “Whenever you give alms…” which to me presupposes that he intends his disciples to be alms-givers. He means for us to be people of compassion who unfold ourselves, look around us, and recognize we have a duty to those in need.

Jesus also gives us a word about our prayer life—which suggests to me that he expects us to have one. He is calling us to seek God’s way in our inmost hearts. Intentionally, Quietly. Personally.

We are also called to that arcane Lenten discipline, fasting. This isn’t just a suggestion that we go on a diet, but a reminder to jettison the unnecessary things in our lives. Traditionally, Lent has been a time of sacrifice. For centuries, Christians have used this forty-day period as time to give up an unnecessary indulgence and dedicate our resources to charitable giving or acts. We can give up the cigarettes or the lattes, and donate the savings to World Hunger. We can give up facebook, and spend the time listening to our families, reading the Scriptures, or praying contemplative prayers. We can give up complaining, and find words of praise for the people around us. We can give up worrying about the world, and commit to some form of advocacy.

The good news is that God is always listening, always present. God is always willing to help us find our way back to being the people we are intended to be. There are no wrongs God can’t make right if our hearts turn in God’s direction. A change in the world begins with a change in our hearts.