As we come again to the beginning of the season of Lent—the Church’s primary season of repentance—I can’t help but think about how profoundly counter-cultural (and plain weird) it is to walk up to a priest, kneel, get some ashes rubbed on your forehead, and listen to them remind you that you are going to die; “Remember, O man, that dust thou art, and to dust thou shalt return.” C’mon, it’s weird! Repentance isn’t a sexy word; it doesn’t fit in with our emphasis on being “self-made” people or with the popular mantra of “no regrets.” Our culture seems largely concerned with the importance of having a positive self-image, and this usually means being always affirmed, but what if the way of repentance is the only way to for us to see ourselves honestly, without resorting to seeking out our worth at the expense of the other?
John Calvin, in his Institutes of the Christian Religion, writes, “As long as we do not look beyond the earth, being quite content with our own righteousness, wisdom, and virtue, we flatter ourselves most sweetly, and fancy ourselves all but demigods.”[1] Of course, he goes on to make a point that is foreign to a catholic mind—the theory of “total depravity”—as it fails to account for the goodness of creation. Nevertheless, his immediate point is sound: We can always find some other human that we find “repugnant” or “disgusting” enough to make us pretty confident in our assumed “goodness.” The great irony, of course, is that in this perspective our “positive self-image” is dependent on the judgment and demonization of another. If we, even sometimes for valid reasons, find our sense of righteousness and self-worth in light of our opposition and moral superiority to anyone—a president, someone who supported a different political party, a “bigot,” a murderer, an annoying co-worker, a sibling, a refugee, a celebrity, a rapist, a hypocrite, a Wall Street trader, Hitler, anyone—we miss the point and we hide ourselves from the true point of self-discovery. I am absolutely not implying that it is unnecessary to oppose destructive actions in society or to stand against injustice, but I am saying that we don’t find our true worth by comparing ourselves to those who we find objectionable. Instead—strangely—we find it in ashes.
In our mortality we are all equal. We cannot build a tower, or a palace, or a wall that will keep us safe from death. It is the great equalizer. For a Christian, there is a particular death that we look to to find truth. The ashes that we receive on our foreheads on Ash Wednesday are in the form of a cross. We are directed beyond our own mortality to a moment in history and to an obscure man who died as a criminal on a hill outside Jerusalem. In Jesus, the God-Man, we see that the true point of humanity is not self-assuredness, ratings, moral superiority, pride, success, honor, cozy affirmation, respect, or any other predictable human endeavor or desire. Instead, we see a perfect self-offering for the sake of the other. We see extreme humility. We see God naked on a cross. We are of course free, as Calvin implies, to find someone “lesser” who makes us feel superior—wiser, more loving, more beautiful, more “woke”—but in that we are perpetuating the same destructive game that we claim to be fighting against. Instead, we can repent in dust and ashes, acknowledging our mortality and insufficiency, and look to the one True Human. When we see him for who he is, then maybe we can begin to be honest with ourselves—seeing both the good and the bad. It is in the divine self-emptying of the cross that we find our worth. We are beloved at the expense of no one but God. We also will die, and there’s nothing that we can do about that. But death, as we come to find out, isn’t the last word. In the meantime, maybe we need someone to rub some ashes on our foreheads once a year, look us in the eyes, and say to us, “Remember, O man, that dust thou art, and to dust thou shalt return.”
One of the Baha'i writings that I truly enjoy is called "The Hidden Words" and one of those "sayings" is: "O CHILDREN OF MEN! Know ye not why We created you all from the same dust? That no one should exalt himself over the other. Ponder at all times in your hearts how ye were created. Since We have created you all from one same substance it is incumbent on you to be even as one soul, to walk with the same feet, eat with the same mouth and dwell in the same land, that from your inmost being, by your deeds and actions, the signs of oneness and the essence of detachment may be made manifest. Such is My counsel to you, O concourse of light! Heed ye this counsel that ye may obtain the fruit of holiness from the tree of wondrous glory."
ReplyDeleteAnd that is the word that comes to mind every Ash Wednesday, as we are reminded of our mortality, and our resurrection through Christ.
Very well said, Jon.
Jon, I believe that one of the failings of the modern Church is that we've become caught up in the secular culture's bent on self-improvement. Christianity, on the other hand, would seem to demand self-sacrifice. We "sacrifice" our propensity towards "fairness" and "justice" when we repay good for evil, when we do right and suffer for it, when we "die" to ourselves.
ReplyDeleteThe ashes call us to a humility that does require a comparison. And the comparison finds that we perceive and treat others as more important than ourselves.
Well done, Jon. All the best in your quest.
Loving these Jon. Keep writing and contemplating.
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