In a way, this describes life sometimes. Using eyesight as a metaphor, when we lose sharp focus in our vision, it distracts us from enjoying the life we experience right before our very eyes. We need some way to help us refocus. We need a corrective lens to bring the light together properly so that we can see clearly, brightly. Things look better, life looks better, with our vision in focus.

Lent serves as a regular “vision” check-up for the daily life of faith. Like an annual eye appointment, Ash Wednesday gives us the opportunity to closely examine our lives over the past year and make necessary corrections. For in the daily life of faith, confession precedes correction.

As I am fond of saying, there exists no greater check-up from the neck up than to hear the words, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return,” as ashes get smeared in the sign of the cross on our foreheads. Kind of puts it all in focus doesn’t it? “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return” has a way of keeping things in perspective.

As you might imagine, in my line of work, I bury a lot of people. I don’t know if you have ever been to an Episcopal funeral, but I find them quite different from the funerals of other church traditions, or those solely conducted in funeral homes. Amidst the stark realities of death and loss, in a Book of Common Prayer funeral there exists this constant thread of joy and celebration similar to Easter—because Christ has been raised, so, too, will we be raised, says the prayer book quoting scripture. An Episcopal funeral is truly a celebration of the Easter life for the one who has died; it finds all its hope and joy in the resurrection of Jesus.

One of the most powerful moments of the liturgy is done at the graveside. (You’ll find it in the middle of page 501 in the BCP.) During The Committal, standing at the head of the casket, the Celebrant says these words, “In the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our sister (or our brother), and we commit her body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

Now, if these words weren’t enough of a reminder to us of our annual Ash Wednesday “mortality check,” then note the rubric just above this line, directing the action at that time. It says, “Then, while earth is cast upon the coffin, the Celebrant says these words…” So try to picture this, while I’m saying the words, “and we commit her body (or his body) to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” with a handful of loose dirt I am physically making the sign of the cross on the casket of the departed.

What a book-end this makes: That which we have been reminded of every Ash Wednesday has come to pass on our Resurrection Day, the day on which we celebrate our entrance into the new life while we lay this old body of dust and ashes aside. Therefore, Ash Wednesday and the Liturgy for the Burial of the Dead both give us a tremendous gift—clarity of vision. By them, we can understand and discern the things in life that truly matter. As Matthew’s Gospel remind us, “…where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Think of that line for a moment. “…where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” It strikes us as so self-evident that we don’t even think about it; and we don’t think about it. We don’t think about it, or dwell on it, because if we really did it might be too painful to admit to ourselves where our hearts truly reside. The church openly gives us the gift of Ash Wednesday as the secret to living a joy-filled life. That true joy does not come in money earned or possessions owned, in titles won or great tasks accomplished, or in any thing other than a life lived in love and harmony with God and our neighbor, as we love ourselves.

Ash Wednesday represents an opportunity to learn to see ourselves as God sees us and to love ourselves as God loves us. Far too often, we live our lives as if we don’t know who we are or whose we are. Like an orphaned Harry Potter, living beneath the stairway of the dreaded Dursleys, we accept our life among the Muggles as if this is all we are meant for. Then the Gospel of Jesus comes in, flooding our mailboxes with love-letters from God which not even Mr. Dursley can keep out or run away from. If you’re trying to run away from God’s call to you—give up! You cannot outrun God; you cannot hide from God. Give in to God, there’s nothing to fear.

Once you learn whose you are, and come to understand who you truly are, then the only thing you’ll lose is that which can only blind you: fear—fear of God, fear of others, fear of being alone, fear of dying. Clarity of vision takes away all fear and replaces it with love.

Living in God’s love gives us perfect vision for this life, and for the life yet to come. With God’s vision we can then finally see ourselves, our neighbor, and where our treasure truly resides—in those whom we love with God’s love that dwells within us.

That’s what ashes on our foreheads can do for us. That’s what dirt cast upon a coffin can do for others. The Great Physician awaits to check our vision; let us approach him without fear, but with wonder, love, and praise. Let us not hesitate to ask for clarity of vision.

“What do you want me to do for you?” says Jesus, in the Gospel of Mark, to Blind Bartimaeus. “My teacher, let me see again.” Jesus said to him, “Go, your faith has made you well.” Immediately, he regained his sight, and followed him on the way.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

The Rev'd Timothy M. Dombek
ST. JAMES EPISCOPAL CHURCH
301 Piney Mountain Road
Greenville, SC 29609-3035
(864) 244-6358
stjamesrector@mindspring.com

Copyright © 2002 Timothy M. Dombek All Rights Reserved.