Sackcloth and Promises: Isaiah 58:5-8 - Ash Wednesday

Orange sackcloth by Forbes Johnson on Flickr. CC by 2.0

 ⁵Is such the fast that I choose,
  a day to humble oneself?
 Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush,
  and to lie in sackcloth and ashes?
 Will you call this a fast,
  a day acceptable to the Lord?
 ⁶Is not this the fast that I choose:
  to loose the bonds of injustice,
  to undo the thongs of the yoke,
 to let the oppressed go free,
  and to break every yoke?
 ⁷Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
  and bring the homeless poor into your house;
 when you see the naked, to cover them,
  and not to hide yourself from your own kin?
 ⁸Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
  and your healing shall spring up quickly;
 your vindicator shall go before you,
  the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. (NRSV)

Our use of sackcloth instead of ashes for tonight’s liturgy got me thinking: where did this practice come from? 

Throughout the Old Testament, people put on sackcloth and ashes to signify that they were in mourning. This was a public confession of one’s sins to the community. 

We tend to shun such dramatic displays of one’s spirituality, and Jesus’s words in today’s Gospel would seem to support that. Faith, for us 21^st century Americans, faith is a private matter. But back then, you would draw more negative attention to yourself by never donning sackcloth and ashes, as people would perceive you as being proud and self-righteous. We are all sinners, after all, so why should we go around pretending we’re not?

As someone with allergies to dust, I can’t imagine covering myself with ashes—while dressed in a garment made of burlap—the most unsuitable material for clothing. This makes wearing a facemask seem like putting on chapstick. It wasn’t intended to be convenient or comfortable. It was to compel an even greater discomfort towards the things that draw you away from God.

Sackcloth and ashes were a form of spiritual discipline—not so much self-punishment as an intentional and deliberate grieving for sin and turning yourself to God’s open arms—what we call repentance. Always remember: you don’t repent so that God will turn back to you; you repent so that you will turn back to God who has never stopped loving you. The beginning of repentance is to own the simple truth that without God, all you are and all you’ll ever be is ashes and dust. To reject God’s promises and God’s commandments is to deny reject life itself. 

And how might you know just how greatly you need God’s gift of repentance? Consider your stress level and how many nights you lay awake at night worrying. Think of how easy it is to lay your faith aside for “more important things.” How does the amount of time you spend glued to a TV or smartphone screen compare to the time you spend in the light of the Gospel? Is being right more important to you than being like Jesus? Are you more eager to fight the devil others than fight for God in yourself? 

And what about the hidden thoughts and secret desires; the things about you that you’d prefer God not mess with?

The most disturbing signs of our need of repentance exist all around us. Why are so many of God’s children in need, suffering poverty, hunger, neglect, and isolation, with all the riches and resources available in this world?

Our attitude toward our sin and the sin within the kingdoms of this world must not be one of casual indifference. There must be a time to grieve for what we have done as well as what we have left undone. There must be a time to grieve that our failure to love the neighbor as ourselves has contributed to their suffering. There must be a time to grieve for our rejection of God’s life-giving commandments, all the while thinking we knew better than God what is best…

Sinners naturally resist such an attitude. When Christ calls out, “repent,” it’s the sinner in me that says, “nothing in my life needs to change. If God won’t help me, then God should leave me alone. And don’t bother me with the neighbor’s problems. They should take care of themselves. I’ll love people who deserve to be loved. I’m going to keep doing things my way.”

And yet, even when you persist in such an attitude, God doesn’t give up on you. God’s arms remain open wide. God in Jesus Christ loved you so much that “he descended into hell,” because that’s what it took to free you from the devil’s deadly grip. Why run away from that love any longer?

Repentance is commanded of you—so that God can be everything God longs to be for you: gracious and merciful; slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. God longs to give you the life that overcomes the pains of this life and the chaos of this world. Jesus calls you his disciple so that you can witness his love transforming this chaotic world and the tragic circumstances people face as he uses your hands, feet, and voice to do it. Nothing the gods of this world have to offer can compare to what God longs to give you, if you would but trust and obey.

Instead of looking at the Lenten journey as a burden, see it for what it is—a journey inside God’s heart of love for you, revealed at the cross. It’s a time to return to the wide-open arms of God, who never stopped loving you, even when you delighted to reject God’s ways.  It’s a time to be mindful of your utter dependence upon God’s grace in life and in death. It is a time of discipline to be broken away from the wants and desires that draw you away from God. And it is a time to be joined with God in remaking this world according to God’s plans, so that none of God’s children is left behind to suffer hunger, homelessness, and hopelessness. 

There is nothing to fear, nothing to lose, and everything to gain in turning back to God, for he is gracious and merciful; slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. This is our Lenten journey.

If God can make you out of dust by breathing into you the breath of life, just imagine what God can do for you when you answer the call and surrender yourself to his love.