Matthew 6:1
Ash Wednesday
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.” Mt 6:1
Perhaps you are familiar with the story of the
state trooper who observes a highway motorist rapidly changing lanes, tailgating,
flashing his lights, and honking his horn.
The trooper acts, turning on his lights and directing the driver to pull
over. Walking up to the passenger window
he says, “Do you know why I stopped you?”
“Well,” the driver answers, “I guess it is because of my aggressive
driving.” “No,” the trooper responds, “I
pulled you over once I read your bumper sticker which says ‘Jesus is my
Co-Pilot’ and, based on the way you were driving, I figured the car must be
stolen.”
Piety is defined as reverence for God and the devout
fulfillment of religious obligations. Samuel
Johnson, the 18th Century English writer, held “Piety practiced in
solitude, like the flower that blooms in the desert, may give its fragrance to
the winds of heaven, and delight those unbodied spirits that survey the works
of God and the actions of men; but it bestows no assistance upon earthly
beings.” Johnson is lockstep with Jesus’
instruction personal piety is not something to be put on display. And yet, while we should not proclaim it on a
bumper sticker, our private devotion ought to influence, if not completely
direct, our outward words and actions.
The word piety and its derivatives, such as pious, suffer from what one person calls “an image problem.” They are used to describe a person who is
very religious. At the same time, they
are used to highlight the hypocrisy of those who make a show of their religion
to assert their superiority. The first
we admire and strive to be. The second
we hold in utter disdain.
There is something of a disconnect between what Jesus
clearly teaches – “Don’t practice your piety before others – and what we do
here this day – having our forehead smeared with ashes, thus putting our piety
on full display. It wasn’t always so.
The first English prayer books did not have a service
for the imposition of ashes. In fact,
the 1552 book gives this endearing name to the service to be held on the first
day of Lent: “A Commination Against Sinners”; commination being a popular word at the time meaning “threatening.” If we were to use that liturgy for this service,
you would experience what one liturgist called “a ritualized cursing.”
It may surprise you to learn, as it did me, our
current prayer book is the first to call for the actual use of ashes on this
day. And while it is new to our prayer
book, it is not a modern innovation, but rather a return to an ancient practice
running up through the Middle Ages. And
while we impose the ashes by making the sign of the Cross on the forehead as a
reminder of our marking with chrism oil at baptism, this was not the custom in medieval
times. They imposed ashes by sprinkling
them on the head, thus the “act of piety” disappeared into one’s hair,
preserving Jesus’ teaching about keeping your devotion a secret. It seems our forehead tradition evolved from an
accommodation made for monks. Because
they had shaved heads the ashes were rubbed onto their skin to ensure it would
adhere. Over time this led to the public
symbol of the ashen cross.
In a recent article in The Living Church, Matthew Olver, a professor of liturgics at Nashotah
House Seminary, suggests priests and congregations consider returning to the
practice of sprinkling in order to reinforce Jesus’ teaching that our acts done
in secret will be rewarded by our Father who sees in secret. He also points out the prayer book rubric for
this service (found on page 265) states “If ashes are to be imposed” then a
prayer is to be said. Then it directs “The
ashes are imposed with the following words”.
The visible sign of the Cross is not directed… nor is it prohibited.
I find it helpful to ponder ways in which my devotion
may take on a more private character.
But, as with the aggressive driver, it ought to make a difference in my
public persona. Both are necessary. I keep thinking about something Christopher
Beha wrote in a recent article in The
Atlantic:
One of the reasons I love Ash Wednesday is that for
one day these beliefs are conspicuous to others without my having to say a
word. I think I’m a better person on
this day on account of that. To push
ahead of someone on the train, to refuse a dollar to the women selling candy with
a baby on her back, to make a snarky remark at the register about my
misunderstood coffee order, all while I have ashes on my head, would announce
to someone who cared to notice the disjunction between my supposed beliefs and
my life in the world.
A key to understanding Jesus’ teaching about piety is
found in these words, “Beware of practicing your piety before others in
order to be seen by them.” In
order to… if you are performing your religion as a show in an attempt to impress
others… well, then… that will be your reward.
Yes, most of our pious acts should and will occur with no one to
notice. They will be like the fragrance
of the desert flower which only God and the angels will ever smell. But we should always practice our piety is
such a way that when others see the ashes on our forehead they will know the reason
for our devotion and give praise to our Father who is in heaven.
