Ash Wednesday:
“Behold the Man: A God Who Hungers”[1]
March 6, 2019
Text: Matt. 6:1-6, 16-21
Almsgiving,
prayer, and fasting, along with a good smear of ash on your forehead. These are marks of Lent. Prayer, of course. We’re pretty good at that. Almsgiving?
Maybe. That is not just putting
money in the offering plate, although that is nice. But here we are talking about giving to the
poor. Fine. Probably good for me to do once in a
while. We could stand a little more
charity. Ashes we’re used to on Ash
Wednesday. The older folks among us
probably thought it was too Roman Catholic in the beginning, but now that we’ve
been doing it for so many years, it’s second nature, and kind of fun. The danger we must watch out for, of course,
is that little ashen cross becoming a mark of pride. Remember, it is not a mark of pride, but of
humiliation.
But
then there is fasting. Fasting? That’s the tough one, isn’t it? Yet Jesus says, in our Holy Gospel tonight, “when
you fast” (Matt. 6:16; ESV; emphasis added). He doesn’t say “if.” “When you fast.” It’s not a command to fast. He just assumes it. The command is that when you do it, don’t be like the hypocrites who make a big show of
it to be seen by others. It’s the same warning we get with almsgiving
and prayer, both of which Jesus also assumes… “when you give to the needy”…
“when
you pray” (vv. 2, 5), as undoubtedly you will, because that is a mark
of being My disciple, don’t do it like the hypocrites do, the Pharisees or the
super-Christians, to be seen by others.
It’s not about making others admire your great piety. If that’s all you want for a reward, fine,
you have it, and that’s all. But these
exercises are between you and your Father in heaven. Your Father in heaven sees what you do in
secret, and He will reward you. He will
bless your almsgiving for the good of your neighbor, and return it on your head
sixty or a hundredfold, both in this life and the life to come. He will hear your prayers and answer them for
Jesus’ sake. He will act for you, for
your good, for your salvation. He will
see your fasting, and what He sees in secret, He will reward. Oh, but fasting. We’re just not sure what to do with
that.
What
is it about fasting that is so objectionable to us Lutherans, us Americans? Well, the Lutherans are worried it’s too
legalistic. We’re afraid it smacks of
works-righteousness. Friend, if you’re
going to worry about that, you’re never going to do any good work out of fear
that it will lead to works-righteousness.
The key with fasting… or ashes, or almsgiving, or prayer, or not
stealing, or being faithful to your spouse, or
any other good work, is to remember that you aren’t doing it to earn your
salvation. Jesus did all of that already
by His perfect fulfilling of the Law and His sin-atoning death on the cross for
you. That’s all given to you
freely. You don’t do good works to earn
what is already yours in Christ as a gift.
You do good works because it
is already yours in Christ as a gift.
As
far as our American objections to fasting, in a fast-food culture, fast-ing
just seems weird (Hemmer). I stand
before you as proof positive that a little less fast-food and a little more
fast-ing wouldn’t kill us.
But
really the problem is, fasting is just too physical. It’s all about the body. There are similar objections to kneeling or
making the sign of the cross or bowing toward the altar. When piety gets too physical, too bodily, it
becomes too real. Same with Jesus
Himself. When He gets too physical, too
bodily, He becomes too real. That’s
really the objection to the real presence in the bread and wine of the
Sacrament. Too fleshy for us. We’re comfortable with a religion that is
abstract and cerebral. That is what we
often mean by the word “spiritual,” as in everybody’s favorite phrase,
“spiritual, but not religious.” But when
it touches us in the flesh and bone, it invades us. Too real.
Too corporeal.
But
that is the religion of the God who is a man… Jesus. His religion is all about flesh and
blood. It’s shocking. Because it’s so real. Christianity is anything but a head in the
clouds religion.
Now
think about this. God, who is spirit,
and who is essentially impassible and sufficient in Himself, now hungers.
Because He is a man. Jesus. Ever since the incarnation, the Second Person
of the Holy Trinity, God the Son, has a stomach that rumbles when it is empty
and needs to be filled. He has a mouth,
lips, teeth, a tongue, taste-buds, an esophagus, a stomach, large and small
intestines. He digests His food and
expels it. Some of the food He
likes. Probably some of it He doesn’t. Sometimes it sits well, sometimes it
doesn’t. Sometimes His tummy gets upset. He was nourished through an umbilical cord in
His mother’s womb, by her milk when He was born. Mary had to introduce different foods over
time, as you do to a toddler, only He is the Creator of those very foods. Undoubtedly He ate His fill as a growing boy,
a teenager with a bottomless appetite.
He ate the Passover lamb with His family, He who is THE Passover
Lamb. He received His daily bread from
God His heavenly Father, and it kept Him alive.
He’s just like us. That’s pretty
real. It’s scandalous, actually. It’s shocking enough to you Lutherans. Think about how shocking it is to so many who
think they know what Christianity is,
but in reality, make up their own spirituality that has nothing to do with the body, and nothing to do with Jesus.
Let it sink in a minute. Our God is a man. Our God has flesh and blood. We say it all the time in the Creed, but we
take it for granted: “conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the virgin Mary,
suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried… The third
day He rose again from the dead.” In His human, flesh and blood, body!
And
it was with this body that our God was baptized in the Jordan River by John,
and immediately cast out into the wilderness to fast for forty days and forty
nights. Needless to say, He was hungry. And in His hunger, He did battle with the
devil. He resisted the temptation of the
evil one. Where our first parents fell
to the serpent by taking and eating, our Lord was victorious by not taking and
not eating. For you and for your
salvation. His hunger is for your
righteousness. He denies His fleshly
desires. He knows that man does not live
by bread alone, but by every Word that proceeds from the mouth of God. He is tempted in every way as you are, yet
without sin (Heb. 4:15). He is
successful where you are not. He doesn’t
just give up chocolate or soda for a few weeks.
He does not eat or drink. Forty
days of it. He is suffering hunger for
you.
So
fasting must not be such a terrible thing if Jesus did it. And Moses did it. And David.
And Ezekiel. Esther had the
people fast for her when she risked her life by going uninvited before the
king. It was physical component of their
prayers. St. John the Baptist
fasted. All the saints in the Bible
fasted. Jesus assumes you will
fast. He does not command you. You don’t have to fast. In fact, some of you shouldn’t for health
reasons. It is no sin. No consciences are bound in this. And whether you do or don’t fast, by the way,
that’s none of anybody else’s business.
That’s between you and your God.
But for the able-bodied, Jesus assumes you will fast. Just as He assumes you will give to the needy
and pray. This really is something maybe
we Lutherans should reclaim as a discipline and as God’s gift to us.
But
what good is fasting, if it doesn’t earn us brownie points with God or contribute
toward our salvation? First, it
disciplines the flesh. This is hard for
us as Americans to understand, but it is good to deny yourself sometimes. Denying your stomach reminds you that your
stomach is not your god. It can’t boss
you around. It is good to remind your
body that you don’t live by food, but by God’s Word. And denying your stomach disciplines you to
deny other fleshly desires: lust, covetousness, greed, selfishness. It’s a training. It gets you into shape.
Here
is what Luther says about fasting: “It is right to fast frequently in order to
subdue and control the body. For when
the stomach is full, the body does not serve for preaching, for praying, for
studying, or for doing anything else that is good. Under such circumstances God’s Word cannot
remain. But one should not fast with a
view to meriting something by it as by a good work.”[2] That’s a very reasonable assessment. It reminds us of what we memorized in the Small Catechism: “Fasting and bodily
preparation are certainly fine outward training,”[3] especially in preparation
for the Sacrament. It doesn’t take the
place of faith. But it is good.
Then,
too, it is good that fasting teaches you how weak you are. If you’re giving up chocolate this year, you
know how hard that will be. Part of the
discipline is to show you you’re not such a great Christian. You can’t even give up chocolate, much less
fast, much less give up your sins. Oh,
how you need Jesus Christ and His salvation!
This leads you to repentance. It
puts you in the right disposition before God, as a sinner, utterly dependent on
God’s mercy in Christ.
Repentance,
now that is what Lent is all about.
Return to the Lord your God, preaches the Prophet Joel (2:13). Blow the trumpet and consecrate a fast. Call the congregation together for a day of
humiliation and prayer (vv. 15 ff.). For
the Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast
love (v. 13). Fasting is a physical act
of repentance, like the ashes on your forehead, like tearing your clothes and
sitting in sackcloth, or prostrating yourself before God.
But
if for no other reason, fasting is good because it reminds us that Jesus is a
man, and as a man in His state of humiliation, He hungered. For you.
He is a real man, and He has suffered all that you have suffered, only
His suffering is for your redemption. In
the end, Lenten discipline, including fasting and almsgiving and prayer, is not
about what you do. It is about what
Jesus does for you. It is about His incarnation, His coming into
your flesh and blood. It is about His
suffering and death on the cross for your forgiveness, to reconcile you to God
the Father. It is about His bodily resurrection from the dead, which
is your righteousness and eternal life.
Don’t
be afraid to fast. Just give it a
try. What could it hurt? I think you’ll find it enriching. But whether you do or don’t, receive this
Lenten gift from Jesus, that this is a season for living by every Word that
proceeds from the mouth of God, for self-examination, repentance and confession
of sins, for living by the Holy Absolution, firmly rooted in your Baptism, and
for opening your mouth at the altar to be fed with the living Bread from
heaven, the very human body of Jesus given on the cross for you, now hidden
under the bread… the very human blood of Jesus shed on the cross for you, now
hidden under the wine. Fasting focuses
us on that Feast. And that Feast is the Bread
of eternal life, Jesus Christ for you.
In the Name of the Father, and of the Son (+), and of the Holy
Spirit. Amen.
[1] Based on Jeffrey Hemmer, Behold the Man! (St. Louis: Concordia,
2018).
[3] Luther’s Small Catechism (St. Louis: Concordia, 1986).
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