Today is Ash Wednesday. And, I am not anticipating many of
us coming to the church today to receive ashes in the ancient Christian
tradition, but we are open. If you do come you might leave disappointed,
because we stopped doing that rite 5 or so hundred years ago.
Ash Wednesday marks the start of the Lenten season, a 40 day
time period of sacrifice, abstinence and contemplation in preparation for
Easter --another holiday many of us look forward to with great excitement. At
Easter we will celebrate renewal, the return of spring, and maybe even the resurrection of… hope or a savior.
You should know I have mixed feelings about Easter. For now,
suffice it to say, through my ambivalence I recognize in the holiday a chance
to connect with history and traditions, (Perhaps even great music. Easter is
made for Bach after all).
Easter is down a long road of embodied memories that might
not be my own personal memories, but pieces of collective consciousness. All of
these things are part and parcel of the religious experience, and by extension—the
human experience. I recognize in the austerities of Lent too, a certain
opportunity to connect with a history that is absolutely not my own. I am, after
all, a dyed in the wool 21st century, Unitarian Universalist. But
the memories of Lent might include me all the same. The memories are
irresistible and they might even suck you into them too!
Embodied memories? Collective memories? At first, it all
sounds strange and impossible; like a post-modernist excursus gone over one
bridge too far. Is there anything that we can collectively remember? And, how
might we recall it, if we needed to? Especially, if we needed it to save our own
lives? This is something that transcends heritage. It’s not American or French
memory, Victorian or 22nd century memory, but human memory. It’s
transcendent in that way.
I think that transcendent human memory might be
disappointment, a collective human remembrance of unmet expectations. We have
all been disappointed about something:
Disappointed about ourselves or our abilities.
Our lack of ability.
By our failures and sometimes even disappointed about our
successful accomplishments. (L'Embarras des richesses) Perhaps we did it “too” well,
or too fast, or too slow, or not at all.
Disappointed by loved ones who weren’t there, who are here.
Or the children whose personal ambitions contradicted our own, more robust ambitions
for them.
Perhaps we are disappointed that human lives are short and filled
with uncertainties and dreams and reversals of fortune.
And, we might be disappointed that in the end a hero will
not come to save us from ourselves? Mission “not” accomplished.
Whatever, the specific disappointment, we all share in the
experience of disappointment and its memory.
Our culture provides us with many anodynes to distract us
from the pains of disappointment and a host of fancy drugs to avoid the memory.
However, if we want to overcome our disappointment, we must pass with full
consciousness through them.
I recommend in the days and weeks leading up the celebration
of Easter we consider passing through our own Lenten period to contemplate the
memory of life’s shortcomings, reflecting and sifting through the
disappointments that are our human heritage. We may draw on tradition, ritual and
memories—our own or the memories of others. (The Christian mythos might be
useful) As we do this, let us look real hard for lessons and other buried
treasure; new opportunities hidden in the old ones. We will have to make
sacrifices, perhaps the first of which will need to be our pride, and the
second our guilt and third –shame. Let’s also look for forgiveness, our theme
for the month, it might be the hardest thing to find, but it is worth the
search. If we can find forgiveness in the muck of disappointments use it on
yourself first and then on others.
We can always talk about the experience, our triumphs and our set-backs. See you in church. Daniel.
We can always talk about the experience, our triumphs and our set-backs. See you in church. Daniel.
