“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust” we will intone on Ash Wednesday.
This year, however, marks our first Ash Wednesday since the COVID-19 pandemic reached the U.S., and we’re scrambling to figure out changes to the liturgy so we can safely distribute those holy ashes.
What remains the same, though, is the liturgy takes us through a litany of our sins and reminds us that our lives and bodies are temporary and will be returned to the earth.
What our bodies are made of will be returned to its source.
There’s no stopping the process.
Death is inevitable.
But—were so many of them inevitable in 2020?
On Ash Wednesday, We Face Death—AND Anger AND Shame
We’re not good at death under the best of circumstances.
So how much worse are we when the death was premature? When it was preventable? Avoidable? When that death was not inevitable—just yet?
COVID-19, or more precisely, our treatment of one another in response to it, has resulted in countless deaths that were not inevitable in the past year, and we have only ourselves to blame.
For a very long time we have cultivated the social pattern to cover our mouth and nose when we sneeze or cough.
Why? Because we know that viruses are infectious.
To protect others from our germs, we cough or sneeze into our elbows, and everybody is literally happier and healthier.
I am bewildered, then, that so many claim a human “right” supersedes a human “should.” (And yes, in this instance, I mean “should”). The insistence not to wear a mask because “you can’t make me” disrespects Jesus’s most fundamental example and command that we serve one another—in this case, by keeping a potentially deadly virus to ourselves inside a mask.
Even if people won’t wear a mask from the mistaken notion that “there’s no good reason” (i.e., the virus is a hoax), then there is still this: to paraphrase Paul’s I Cor. 8:13, "If mask-wearing is a cause of their falling, I will wear a mask so that I may not cause one of them to fall.” In other words, if some believe the virus is a hoax, then I beg them to listen to Paul and wear a mask anyway, and humor us sillies. Where’s the harm?
Sadly, the damage is done.
People didn’t wear masks, they spread the virus, and our loved ones died.
On this Ash Wednesday, not only is there our usual grief and fear about death, there is also anger and resentment. In addition, there will be shame and guilt in those who realized too late that the virus is real and deadly and they should have worn a mask.
Moreover, mask-refusal isn’t the only cause of Death-Too-Soon in 2020.
Many others died in the last twelve months who didn’t need to. They died from death-by-race: George Floyd. Tyree Davis. Brandon Dionte Roberts. Breonna Taylor, to name just a few.*
How do we preach Ash Wednesday with all these sentiments: grieving death, fearing a premature one, resenting death’s timing, or feeling ashamed for our contributions?
8 Preaching Suggestions for Ash Wednesday in 2021
1) Acknowledge this isn’t a typical Ash Wednesday
You’ll be making adjustments and explaining the changes to the liturgy, so it’s OK to name that the sermon may be different too.
2) Acknowledge all of the grief, fear, anger, resentment, shame, and guilt
The sermon this Ash Wednesday is different because we’re lamenting differently. Anger and resentment, guilt and shame might be more part of the mix than they were a year ago.
No matter what we’re feeling, God won’t let us face or endure any of it alone.
3) Name those who have died
I know it’s not All Saints’ Day, but see suggestion #1 above.
Naming those who died this past year lets people know they don’t have to face this season alone.
Their grief and all they bring with it are the stuff of the liturgical season.
4) Add to the confession
We have not shielded each other from this virus or rooted out prejudice when we have long known we should have.
Confess and receive forgiveness.
And don’t stop there.
5) Apologize and make amends wherever possible
If we know we were part of a super-spreader event?
If we got in someone’s face when we were unknowingly a virus-carrier?
When we failed to speak up in the face of racism?
Say we’re sorry and do what we can to fix it.
6) Lenten discipline: Pray for those who contributed
William Law, the 18th Century theologian said, “Intercession is the best arbitrator of all differences, the best promoter of true friendship, the best cure and preservative against all unkind tempers, all angry and haughty passions.”
In other words, praying for our enemies, known and unknown, is good for the soul.
It might be the perfect Lenten discipline.
7) Empathize: most are doing the best they can
Most of us don’t engage in evil willfully or blatantly.
Most of us are figuring things out as we go and doing the best we can in the moment.
This is all exaggerated because we’re all under incredible stress, so our ability to make good decisions is compromised.
Rather than assume evil intentions or dehumanizing by calling people names, start with the assumption they’re doing the best they can.
Because many of us are.
8) Bring before God all that blocks us from the fullness of God’s love
This is the purpose of the Lenten season.
Confession is good for the soul, so confess it all to God.
Encourage your listeners to tell God everything that is on their hearts and minds.
Don’t hold anything back.
God can take it.
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*And not just in 2020, of course. Our brothers and sisters of Color have been dying before they could reach their God-given natural lifespan for centuries. Don’t believe me? Read my local Texas school district’s recent newsletter about “The Sugarland 95,” referring to the 2019 discovery of 95 African American men who died in the late 1800’s from forced convict labor, and when their unmarked, communal grave was discovered during new building construction. Or read Isabel Wilkerson’s Caste.