[Jesus said:] “Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven. “So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

“And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. “When you are praying, do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do; for they think that they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.

“Pray then in this way: Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And do not bring us to the time of trial, but rescue us from the evil one. For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.

“And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. “The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light; but if your eye is unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light in you is darkness, how great is the darkness! “No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’ For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. “So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.

Matthew 6

Pastor Marc's sermon on Ash Wednesday (February 10, 2016) on Matthew 6. Listen to the recording here or read my manuscript below. 

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Over the last six weeks, we’ve heard a lot of different beginnings while in worship. We started everything off with the story of creation, Genesis 1, where God took dust and formed us. We’ve watched as Jesus, in the gospel according to John, started his public ministry when the wine at a wedding party ran out. The very next week, Jesus walked into a synagogue and began his public ministry in the gospel according to Luke with a 9 word sermon. So today, on this first day of Lent, we’re in the middle of Matthew’s beginning. Jesus is on a mountain, surrounded by his disciples and a large crowd. Jesus begins to speak - sharing a sermon about what being a disciple of God actually looks like. Creation, a party, a religious gathering, and a sermon. These are good ways, holy ways, to start first things. But when it comes to the ashes in this little bowl, ashes that I’ll use to mark our foreheads in the shape of the cross, my first things weren’t nearly as holy. The first things I grabbed were an old, red, signed coffee can, a box of matches, a dusty old sieve, and a lime green fruit smasher with the name of a bar written on it. I then trudged out to the fire pit, next to the picnic tables behind the Genesis Garden, and set up my ash-making station. I was ready to burn but I still need to find some fuel. 

Now, for me at least, it’s strange to think about burning, about fire, during Lent. The season of Lent is always a time for quiet and reflection. It’s a time for us as a church to slow down, take a breath, and see Jesus. We’re not here to see Jesus as we want Jesus to be. We’re here to spend these 40 days and six Sundays proclaiming Jesus as he truly is. We’re here to see him teach, to hear his words, to see his struggles, and to stand at the foot of his Cross. Lent is an opportunity for us to step back from our busyness and step into how God is busy in our lives. Lent, in a sense, is a time to try to breathe God in. 

But when I try to breathe God in, I don’t usually want to breathe in God’s fire. Breathing in fire - that flame and heat - is something I’d like to avoid. I have no problem imagining breathing in a God who is like a cool mountain breeze or maybe an Irish spring. Even a God who is ice cold, in the middle of a snowstorm, is easier to breathe in than a God of fire. I’ve been in the middle of the desert, where there is no humidity. There’s dust, there’s heat, and each breath entering my lungs burns. There’s something punishing about that kind of air. But ashes can’t be formed by a cool mountain breeze. They need fire. They need flame. And when we breathe in God, we need that flame too. 

That sense of fire - of flame - of a burning for God - is why I think the disciples and crowd gathered around Jesus. They knew that there was a passion, an energy, in Jesus and in what God is doing in the world. None of Jesus’ words in his sermon can be described as a cool mountain breeze. Jesus is telling them what it means to be a follower of Christ, what it actually looks like to be a disciple. Those early followers want to be a part of what Jesus is doing - and Jesus lets them know that being a disciple means we might get burned.  

So back to that old, red, burnt coffee can, sitting in the fire pit, ready for its fuel. I trudged back into the building, down the ramp next to our library, walked through our fellowship hall and into the storage room in the back. After I turned on the lights, I looked up to the very top shelf, way above my head, and saw a little bundle wrapped in black plastic. I knew that’s what I needed and I also knew I needed a ladder to get that down. But, of course, I couldn’t find a ladder. So instead, I climbed on a chair, crawled onto a large metal cabinet, reached up and pulled that little bundle down. With my fuel in hand, I walked back to the fire pit, unwrapped these long, dried out stems, bunched them, crunched them, and stuffed them into that coffee can. And then I lit a match - watching as these palm fronds, the same palms we used last Palm Sunday, ignite. They burned quickly, with the wind blowing the smoke into my face, and the leaves becoming ashen memories of what they were before. After the fire went out, I gently crushed what was there, straining out the big pieces so that only these little ashes remained. I added a few drops of olive oil, mixed it, and that’s it. That’s the ashes for Ash Wednesday. This is what I’ll use to gently mark your forehead in the shape of a cross. It’s a reminder of what these ashes were originally for - a symbol of what Jesus did in Jerusalem on the Cross - and a reminder that this Jesus who loves us, who lives for us, who lights a fire in us, and who died for us, will never let us go. 

Now, there’s a risk to being a disciple. There’s a risk in carrying God’s flame. But in Jesus, God’s fire, God’s love, God’s mercy for us and for this entire world - that’s implanted in us. Inhaling God means we’re going to add oxygen to fuel that love that God has already given us. We can feel like we’re an old, red, signed coffee can. We can think we’re just a dusty sieve, without a sense of purpose or point in our lives. We can want a God who keeps us cool to the touch. But a God who is cool to the touch isn’t a God who can change us. Tonight's a night to remember who we are. We are God’s. We are Christ’s. Lent is a time to see Christ, to hear God’s story, and see that Jesus’ Cross is given to you, to me, and to the world. We inhale so that, when we exhale, God’s love, God’s mercy, God’s forgiveness that is given to us, will go out, covering the world. 

Amen.