Sermon:
March 6, 2003
Ash Wednesday Services

Scripture:
Matthew 6:1-6  
Matthew 6:16-20

My dear friends, let us play. Yes, you heard me correctly. Now is the time for play. In fact, today the church begins that time of the year when we do our most serious playing. And playing is a serious business, you know. Ask any teacher of children. Better still, watch children at play. No wonder they are tired at the end of the day. They work hard at playing. They take it seriously. 

Play is the child’s laboratory for learning about life. Youngsters who have never played at being grown up tend to be stunted when they confront the actual experience. Boys who have never been allowed to play with dolls can hardly be expected to hold their own infants with ease and loving confidence. It has to be latter learned (if it is ever learned at all.) 

Play, as much as we adults scoff at it, may be a more valuable tool for learning than all the “educational” resources the professionals can create. That is why on Ash Wednesday, the church summons us to a season of play. Our Lord has told us, if we are to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, we must become as little children. And one of childhood’s most important occupations is to play. 

Am I wrong in my impression, however, that most of us do not come to church to play, that play is often the furthest thing from our minds? Play is often foreign in our religion. If it is to be found in the church at all, it is best restricted to the nursery.  Yet it is so much a part of faith. 

H. L. Menchen defined a Puritan as “a person with the haunting fear that someone, somewhere, might be happy.” I know the shadow of a Puritan still comes to church in me from time to time. What about you? This is why, as we enter the so-often solemn season of Lent, I talk of play. Because the work of worship is taking play seriously, and why on Ash Wednesday we play with deadly seriousness. 

In a few moments, we will gather around our Lord’s table together. We will be confronted with ashes and remember the reality that “from dust we have come and to dust we shall return.” That’s deadly serious stuff. It is here that we are confronted with our own mortality. As children learn to live through their play, so the church helps us learn to live beyond death through our play. 

After all, it is in seeing beyond death that we learn what is important in living, and we then learn how to truly live. It is in the play of Lent that we take time to examine ourselves. 

Are we in communion with God, as we would like?            
More importantly, are we in communion as God would like?            
Are we in communion with ourselves?            
Are we whole and who God has crafted us to be?

Remember that wholeness without God is little more than an illusion. As we seek that connection in these 40 days, Jesus gives us some direction as to what it is to live, to play as children of God. 

Be especially careful when you are trying to be good so that you don’t make a performance out of it. It might be good theater, but the God who made you won’t be applauding.

When you do something for someone else, don’t call attention to yourself. You’ve seen them in action, I’m sure—‘playactors’ I call them—treating prayer meeting and street corner alike as stage, acting compassionate as long as someone is watching, playing to the crowds. They get applause, true, but that’s all they get. When you help someone out, don’t think about how it looks. Just do it—quietly and unobtrusively. That is the way your God, who conceived you in love, working behind the scenes, helps you out.

And when you come before God, don’t turn that into a theatrical production, either. All these people making a regular show out of their prayers, hoping for stardom! Do you think God sits in a box seat?

Here’s what I want you to do: Find a quiet, secluded place so you won’t be tempted to role-play before God. Just be there as simply and honestly as you can manage. The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense his grace.

In prayer there is a connection between what God does and what you do. You can’t get forgiveness from God, for instance, without also forgiving others. If you refuse to do your part, you cut yourself off from God’s part.

When you practice some appetite-denying discipline to better concentrate on God, don’t make a production out of it. It might turn you into a small-time celebrity but it won’t make you a saint. If you ‘go into training’ inwardly, act normal outwardly. Shampoo and comb your hair, brush your teeth, wash your face. God doesn’t require attention-getting devices. He won’t overlook what you are doing; he’ll reward you well.

                       Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21 (The Message)         

Looking religious! Giving to the poor, prayer, fasting—all are hallmarks of the religious life. But those hallmarks can lose their connection with the root, the Source, the reason for their practice. There are only two parties in the picture Jesus paints: God (the creator) and each of us (the created). With God already knowing what’s really going on, there is no one to fool but ourselves. 

As we play during this Lenten season, as we draw close to God—examining and opening ourselves to God’s transforming grace—we take from Jesus a reminder that it’s not what it looks like that holds value, but rather what it truly is. 

May we have ears to hear the sound of God’s voice calling us to reflect and play this Lenten season, and to live beyond death in his kingdom. Amen.