Monday, August 26, 2013

Sabbath and Freedom - Proper 16 - Isaiah 58:9b-14, Luke 13:10-17



if you honor (the Sabbath), not going your own ways, serving your own interests, or pursuing your own affairs; then you shall take delight in the LORD, and I will make you ride upon the heights of the earth (Is. 58)

Keep the Sabbath holy. This notion dips in and out of Jesus’s ministry, showing up particularly at times of conflict. Keeping the Sabbath holy was, to Jesus and his contemporaries, not simply a matter of having a day-off from work; to keep Sabbath was how the Jews understood their life with God: their obligation to define time in a particular way that reflected the act of God in creation, and God’s deliverance of Israel from their slavery to the Egyptians. To break the Sabbath was akin to rupturing the order of things. It was to fall back into a kind of slavery.

The version of the Ten Commandments in Deuteronomy directly links the Sabbath with liberation from bondage: ‘You shall remember that you were a servant in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God brought you out thence with a mighty hand an outstretched arm; therefore the LORD your God commanded you to keep the Sabbath day‘ [Deuteronomy 5.15]. Under this description, Israel is liberated from bondage into bonds with its God. These are bonds, however, that do not tie them down but that make them at home with God and each other. Left to themselves, without the bond of Sabbath, the people looked for gods to enslave themselves to. But if they lived under the law, in the kind of society that refuses the idol of productivity and the compulsive need to be a success story, then they will preserve the freedom God has given them. In other words, freedom for Israel was not automatic and certainly not a birthright. It could not be taken for granted. It depended on how people related to each other, what sort of community they had their lives in. 

Jesus unquestionably believed this: he thought the whole point and purpose of the Sabbath and the Torah in general was, and always had been, to enshrine and maintain a certain way of living together which he called love. It was not the case that Jesus placed love in opposition to law; rather through his teaching, his life with others, and even in his death, the obligations expressed through keeping the Sabbath were the ways in which he showed how we can abide in relationships with other people, and with our God. For love is a sign of those enduring fidelities which give us stability and identity. True freedom, Jesus taught, is found through being grounded and connected with God and others. When we lose Sabbath and its bonds of fidelity and stability, we become adrift as people, making secure our lives to whatever passes these days as solid: our possessions, our work, perhaps even our passing interest in God. 

Are we a people without Sabbath, without, that is, fidelity and stability as religious believers? Sociologist Richard Sennett refers to our age as one of ‘fleeting forms of association’ whereby strong social ties like loyalty and long-term connection have ceased to be compelling.  "No long term", Sennett continues, means keep moving, don't commit yourself, and don't sacrifice.[i]  Instead of friendships, we have transactions of products and people; instead of rest, we have entertainment; instead of freedom, we are in bondage to our own determined self-sufficiency. We become bent over like the women healed by Jesus in today’s gospel, unable to stand erect as members of a stable community bound together in love. The enslavement the women experienced was like a demonic burden that limited not only mobility, but her freedom to live and share in the life of others. In releasing her, Jesus showed us and his detractors the shape of life with God, the promise of his enduring care.

The Sabbath is a sign that none of us are ultimately slaves, neither of work nor of any human being nor even of God. The Sabbath is a sign of the dignity of every human being whom God has called to share his life. The erosion of fidelity to friendship, rest, and stability bear witness to a society that does not recognize this ultimate shared dignity. We go on producing and consuming without interruption. The vision of Jesus gestures towards something else; he points to our liberation, where, in the words of Isaiah, we shall take delight in the LORD

Our freedom is ultimately what it means for us to live into the space God opens up for us; a space where we can share friendship and be healed of our broken hopes, our ruined relationships, and the rest of our  ‘fleeting forms of association’. We were made for stability; we were created for joy. To keep the Sabbath and to do so as an expression of holiness, is to embrace our purpose and destiny as a people defined by our bonds. The gift God gives through the Sabbath is the basis for our freedom; to abide with him is the beginning of our liberation from our slavery to patterns of life that restrict human wellbeing. When we are free, we can, like the healed woman, stand secure as a member of a community shaped by love, and under a God who in Christ, has called us into new life.


[i] Richard Sennett, The Corrosion of Character: The Personal Consequences of Work in the New Capitalism (W. W. Norton & Company, 2011), pp. 24–25.

Sunday, August 11, 2013

On God and Goals - Proper 14 - Luke 12:32-40


Jesus said to his disciples, "Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”

There are a number of important themes that run through our scripture readings for this morning. The vision of Isaiah speaks to the place of purity and obedience for God’s people, while our lesson from Hebrews outlines a program of faith, such as exemplified in Abraham and Sarah and their journey into the unknown under God’s care. For his part, St. Luke lifts up the message of hope: the kingdom of God, Jesus announces in today’s reading, is for those who maintain focus on God’s arrival in their midst, even as God comes in unexpected ways and in God’s good time.  A key for God’s presence being the desire that God’s people live richly through serving each other.  What I would like to explore this morning is how all of our texts gesture towards an understanding of human life as having a goal, an end if you will, and this goal is a graced humanity through which we are united one-to-another, and ultimately with God himself.

The first thing to say is that such a goal of human life operates within a climate where many alternative goals seem also to exist. Isaiah’s poetry is pretty clear on this point. Isaiah pictures wasted sacrifices and even oppression as activities associated with the wayward Israelites. “I cannot endure solemn assemblies of such iniquity”, God declares to the people. Despite their elaborate cult of worship, oppression and injustice were the defining marks of the community. In the book of Hebrews, we find a tamer context, yet there remains the real possibility that Abraham and the ancestors could have stayed put, instead of venturing in faith to the place of God’s calling. “But as it is”, the writer declares, “they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one”. It would be reasonable to consider the plight of Isaiah’s listeners, and the objects of the admiration in Hebrews to be as a result of choices: the oppressing people choosing poorly, while the faithful ancestors choosing well. And of course, choice does have something to do with it. Yet there exists in scripture a deeper reason for human activity than personal choice; one that assumes as a basic premise that to be human in the simplest sense is already to possess a direction in life that is only fulfilled completely in the company of God.

This deeper reason, as I call it, this inclination in us, operates with a different set of assumptions to what is often accepted today as common wisdom in matters of what counts as a goal and purpose for human living. This common wisdom goes like this: people first of all just are, and what categories they may fit into, what kind of being they are, what relationships they have with others, is a subsequent and secondary matter determined, in the case of ‘authentic’ people, by their own choices. Human beings may, for their own purposes, ascribe functions to things. I may make a spoon in order to eat my breakfast cereal, and it will be a good one if it fulfils the purpose I have given it, and a bad one if it does not. In a similar way, a group of people may invent the art and institution of sailing and similarly decide what makes for good sailing and what for bad; all these purposes are ascribed by the decisions human beings make. We cannot, says this common wisdom, in the same way speak of human beings themselves as having been ascribed a purpose or role. Of course, human beings can be given roles, as when we appoint them as teachers or carpenters, and then they may be judged on objective grounds as good or bad teachers or carpenters. But we do not appoint people to be human beings, and so we cannot on any objective grounds say that a person is living well or poorly only that they are performing particular tasks well or not. For this way of thinking, purposes and roles are always human artifacts. There are no purposes prior to human decisions; there are no purposes for human beings in themselves. We simply exist, and through our choices, determine what our purpose is, and what it is not.

Such wisdom operates in such a way that to suggest an alternative is to threaten some form of determinism (so popular with the new atheists), or worse, the failed social experiments of totalitarianism in all its varieties. Any view that hinders our freedom must be suspect. Or so the common wisdom purports. The deeper reason that I am suggesting is evident through our readings this morning begins with the assumption that to be human is already to have a goal before any choices are made. And this goal is understood as what human life is when it has reached its best state, its perfection and completion in and for itself. An example may be called for here. We may decide to be a doctor or a lobsterman, and this decision will require a whole host of considerations, plans and choices, as well as matters such as family expectations, financial resources and the rest – and depending on how things go, we may succeed or fail to be a doctor or lobsterman. Having a goal in as much as we are human, however, is not like having a purpose in life: it is more like having a job – the job of living humanly well, in succeeding to act, think, and generally exist in the world in the most humanly way possible. 

What it means to live humanly well is what Isaiah is calling for in a community that seeks justice, rescues the oppressed, defends the orphan and pleads for the widow. Living humanly well is what the writer of Hebrews suggests as what having faith means. Faith is not just a feeling or a mood, but a kind of understanding or knowing that God loves us, and that such love is proper because we are creatures of God’s creating. Likewise, to do the job of being human, and do it well, is what Jesus refers to as the Kingdom that God desires to make real in those whose lives are prepared to receive it. There are some who limit the goal of human living to various subsets of moral activity, concluding that following particular rules and abiding by specific ethical teaching is equivalent to living well. What I am suggesting is that while moral behavior is part of our goal for living as human beings, the deeper reasoning evident in our readings is not reducible to only moral considerations: again, to simply exist as a human is to have a goal, and this goal includes not just our actions, but also the reasons for our actions, the shape of the communities to which we belong, and way we are open or not to showing love to friends, neighbors and even enemies. Such a goal is more than a series of choices; it means that in the midst of our complex lives and world, there are myriad purposes for us to explore, and a single goal towards which we are drawn. The significance being that as we grow deeper into living humanly well, the better we see ourselves as sharing in the mystery of goodness and joy that are gifts of God.

To claim that to be human means to have a goal, and this goal is a life with God shared through a community of goodness and joy, is to claim the same things as Isaiah does with Israel, and Jesus does for his disciples when they reminds us of God’s desire to shape us into God’s people who are invested in the work of salvation, justice and worship. This work – the job of being human – is discoverable at one level as we consider the kind of life that we might consider full and rich. Yet, it is God’s good pleasure to reveal and help us see the broader and deeper implications of our humanity through the gift of faith. And what faith does is show us that is that our journey to God as our goal is not completed under our own power. Through learning to see our way in the world by means of divine goodness and joy, we begin to recognize that as we journey, we are sometimes subtly, sometime surprisingly, being drawn to what we were made for: the eternal love which is the Father. What we discover is that all along, the closer we come to God, the more we learn what our humanity is all about.

As people, we not only have purpose, we have an end to which our life is moving. What we do and say, how we live and who we love is not inconsequential, for all of our decisions shape our lives in one way or another. What doesn’t change is the path on which the fullness of humanity is learned and lived. The good news that is presented in scripture, is that it is God’s desire that we grow into living well, and this is neither a reward for good behavior nor a carrot placed before us as we travail. God in Christ has opened the way for us to reach our proper end. For in Christ, we discover the fullness of human life; a life that is perfected in faith by the delight of God.

Sunday, August 4, 2013

On God and Greed - Proper 13: Luke 12:13-21

But God said to (the man), `You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?' So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God."

It is unsurprising that Jesus is against human greed. Most people are. Despite the ease with which it is condemned, greed is a multi-headed hydra, existing and reemerging in forms and shapes that conceal its essence behind social, political and economic facades that are not always identifiable as simply as the farmer in today’s gospel. One man’s greed is another man’s responsible investment strategy.   Rather than considering the evils of greed, I wish to take a few moments this morning to examine what it might mean to be rich toward God, the very thing the greedy farmer was not.

Before we attend to what it means to be rich toward God, it is worth noting two general arguments that have arisen over the ages that question the involvement of God in the kind of everyday social and economic issues that we face as humans. First, there is the concern that religion  in  its  Christian  conception  divides human loyalties, placing our longings beyond this world and rejecting  the  view  of  human  nature  as  most  fundamentally  grounded  in self-interest  for  material  comfort. In the modern era, the goal, this position holds, is not that of redemption and human perfection by an other-worldly entity, but the domain of productive channeling of the enormous energies of self-interest toward the mastery of the natural world of resources and the internal world of desires and needs.  While religiously minded people are considered too heavenly minded to have any earthly good, the modern and enlightened person sees fit to make of this world what they can in order to live comfortably and securely with a minimum of distress. To such a person, society does not require agreement in matters of religion or ‘private morals’ when it comes to concerns around wealth or greed; these belong to the sphere of comment and are relegated first to private judgment and then, as their social irrelevance becomes clearer, to the subjective world of ‘values’.

The second argument against bringing God into the mix of human enterprise is one that has haunted modern atheism since Nietzsche. It has to do with how we understand the way God and humanity relate. The concern is not that God is a cruel and dangerous boss who orders us mere mortals around, demanding that we pray and always give to the poor, but that God is boss at all. A kindly and considerate slave master is still a slave master, and for Nietzsche the relationship of God and creature could not be other than one of master and slave. God and therefore God’s involvement in matters like finances is rejected not in the name of human happiness but in the name of human freedom. Better to rid ourselves of a divine taskmaster and get on with becoming better humans, this position holds, then to live with the illusion that God has our best interests in mind when calling for us to help strangers and give our money to charity. God is an excuse for our failure, Nietzsche and his disciples contend; better that we strive and struggle for human excellence on our own terms.

To summarize the two positions: one, God is what we appeal to as a matter of private belief and personal values without the social significance of say, the marketplace or political policy, and two, our freedom as humans consists in rejecting the divine moral arbitrator of religious belief in favor of a more assertive and presumably, more human human existence. Both are part of our social framework and are appealed to in some form whenever religious fervor threatens to cross over into the actual day-to-day living as political, social and economic animals. I am lingering a bit on these points primarily because of their potency in reducing something like today’s parable to a fairy tale rather than a call for living a certain kind of life. If God is a symbol of our moral weakness, or if we desire to share what we have with others because it earns us points in heaven, then being rich towards God is a lovely metaphor, yet it lacks any coherence - let alone power - to help us live and grow as people.

This is unfortunate, for the message of Jesus is one that promotes a vision of human wellbeing against the paucity of life represented in the genteel farmer and his growing crop yield. Yes, the farmer can eat, drink and be merry, and yes, these things are good things worthy of human endeavor; however, the whole episode displays a serious lack. At the end of the day, nothing in the farmer’s life is received or indeed, shared, as the gift it actually is. From his life to the bumper crops, the farmer has thought that to possess and have is equivalent to a full life. To this, Jesus offers a critique: true richness is a life ordered to God as a generous creator.
What this parable shows us is that we do not live by building ever more secure fences of possessions around ourselves, but by giving to others space to live. This is to give life to others. The human animal and human society flourishes, not to the extent that it possesses riches, but to the extent that we give life to each other, to the extent that we imitate the creativity of God. For God's creative act is an act of God's poverty, for God gains nothing by it. God makes without becoming richer. His act of creation is purely and simply for the benefit of his creatures. We are sometimes tempted to ask what motive God had for making the world - meaning 'What did he hope to gain by it?' But, of course, this question is absurd. It is only creation that gains by God's act. It is a purely gratuitous act of love, that characteristic act of love which is the giving of life.

To be ‘rich towards God’ is shorthand for a learning to pattern our lives on the creativity of God. This is not about some blandly generalized benevolence that on occasion and for tax purposes we extend to individuals and institutions in need. It is always a worthwhile act to give, yet there is a tendency in us to see such giving as a transaction alone. What is missing is the risk associated with opening our lives through our giving. The richness Jesus has in mind is the kind of direction our lives display in opening the barriers associated with securing and defending the goods that are common to us as humans – goods as basic as food and as complicated as justice – not simply to share, but to actually participate in as part of what it means for us to thrive as people. Such goods to be participated in are neither mine-rather-than-others’ nor others’-rather-than-mine, but instead are goods that can only be mine insofar as they are also those of others, that are genuinely common goods, as those defined through giving and receiving. This isn’t the stuff of some idealized utopia or some weird 60’s era commune, but a particular direction for living that is attuned to a sustainable economic and political path that reflects the loving abandon God demonstrates in securing us moment by moment as beloved daughters and sons.

We cannot act, as God does, for no benefit to ourselves. But we can  live  (either more or less)  by the  free  gift  we  make  to  others.  It is a question of which direction we are aiming for through our ordinary, everyday living. All this can be summarized by saying that as humans, we live by sharing and participating in mutuality with others, in friendship if you will, and that our location to God is learnt partly through such relationships. It’s a bit platitudinous to claim this, I know, but what I want to make clear is that the process of living in friendship, the tasks associated with making life possible for others through holding as common those things implicit to a thriving human life; all of this is patterned on and a reflection of a God who creates freely with gratuitous love and who has befriended us in Jesus. To live as though such love and friendship is true, is to move beyond the position that holds our religious belief as a private affair, and likewise to shatter the idol of the taskmaster god. It is to be rich toward God; to draw on his grace and participate in his joy without bland benevolence or naïve appeals to simply getting along.

As Jesus’s own life demonstrates, to live with such richness is to challenge the ways and means by which we isolate and inflict violence upon one another. For to be rich toward God is to live more deeply into our humanity as we have received it: as a gift from a gracious God. At the end of the day, it is how we live out of such giftedness that shapes our wellbeing. This path of life may not yield bigger and better barns for what we possess and subsequently have to defend; but it will provide a richness in human living that will satisfy us down to the very fiber of our being.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Ashes and Meaning: On Not Getting Ashes-To-Go



The practice of Ashes-To-Go is a recent addition to efforts by the Church to ‘meet people where they are’. The premise of this practice is straightforward: sometimes, the best church rituals ought be taken from behind the walls of the church and delivered to people in their daily life and work. Some proponents see Ashes-To-Go as an evangelism tool, others, a way to spread Episcopal hospitality (and presumably, identity). Those who see a problem with this practice are asked not to worry: this is a matter of individual conviction, not of church polity. If nothing else, it is the Episcopal Church getting ‘out there’. What possible argument can there be against that?

Along with evangelism and hospitality, proponents of Ashes-To-Go list the proclamation of God’s grace, the sharing of religious ritual, and the witness such an action provides as added benefits. Presumably, like the Good Friday processions that occur in some towns and cities, the public witness of Ashes-To-Go contributes to the recognition that Church isn’t just about buildings and preaching: being public is part of the mission and purpose of a people ‘called out from among the nations’ to be God’s people.

Under the heading ‘challenges’, a flyer announcing the Ashes-To-Go program listed a number of concerns, presumably by those who take issue with the practice. One such ‘challenge’ is the effect on what the ashes mean when taken out of the context of an Ash Wednesday liturgy. To take the ashes out into the street without the proper framing of song and sacrament, the argument might go, is to strip the action of its significance. We might call this the ‘meaningful context’ argument. I imagine that proponents of Ashes-To-Go might reference the consecrated bread and wine used by Eucharistic ministers, or the oil of healing by clergy, as examples of other significant items and rituals that are taken into public, non-Church settings. Like these, Ashes-To-Go is an instance where the ministry of the Church extends from the heart of her worship into ‘the world’. 

My interest in Ashes-To-Go has to do with the ‘challenge’ just listed, that of the concern for the loss of meaning when the ashes are distributed outside the context of the liturgy. There is merit to this concern, especially in considering the other symbols included in an Ash Wednesday liturgy, in particular the prayers of contrition and the Eucharist that are absent in the user-friendly manner of Ashes-To-Go.  However, my interest is more specific than context; it has to do with the imposition of ashes as a meaningful activity, an action that is symbolic. In other words, I am interested in what the imposition of ashes communicates.

I wish to approach this inquiry first by saying a few things about communication before considering the how Ashes-To-Go compares to other significant and meaningful activities of the church.

I want to begin with the suggestion that we belong to the world of communication, of culture, of language. We are linked with each other not only by what we do to others or have done to ourselves by others but also by our communication with others, by means of words and symbols, or, to sum this communication in one word, by signs. By ‘sign’, I do not mean the vehicle upon which I trundle a thought out of my head and into yours. A verbal or symbolic sign is not a means of delivery of a meaning, I do not load some meaning into a sign at my end and send it off to you in the hope that you will unload it and receive the meaning at the other. Communication happens when we share a sign, when we both simultaneously have it as meaningful. A simple example of this is our use of everyday words. If I am talking about my cat, the way this becomes communication is that you and I both know what we are talking about when we use the noun, ‘cat’. If the word ‘cat’ was not already part of the English language, and a common word at that, we would not be communicating; we would probably be in a state of confusion about the topic of discussion. If, for instance, I said, ‘my cat Wellington likes to drives buses’, it would be clear to any language user who knows what a cat is, that I am either employing language like that in a fairy tale, or better yet, I have no clear sense of what kind of thing a cat is. I would, in other words, be confused. 

A sign (verbal, symbolic or otherwise) is a piece of communication when it is already meaningful as part of our language and therefore, our world. The process of education is important to introduce here, for signs don’t become meaningful without the benefit of learning a language (e.g. English), and through this, learning how to use words and concepts. Such learning shapes not only how we speak, but also how we interpret our world. This is where the role of symbolism comes to the fore.

When we consider actions or items that we deem ‘symbolic’ (i.e. everything from a national flag to consecrated bread and wine), we are referring to words or actions that have layers of meaning, only some of which are going to be evident at any one time, and in any one context. Consider the sacrament of the Eucharist. It would be odd if the words, items and actions associated with the Eucharist didn’t include food and a meal. The Eucharist is a symbolic meal, but it would be lose any coherence if instead of bread and wine, we used motor oil and a slap of concrete. Whatever the Eucharist signified, it wouldn’t be a meal if what was used didn’t already have significance as items used for eating and drinking. Now, when the priest says, “this is my body” when holding the bread, the meaning of this one meal shifts dramatically. This shift is towards the very substance of Christ being present, while the substance of bread (i.e. what we answer when asked: what is it?) falls away. Yet, even the most ornate sacramental theology maintains that consecrated bread is for eating (principally), and not, for example, for simply parading around. The meaning of a meal provides the significance of the Eucharist as a particular kind of meal. Take the food away, and we are left with an interesting, but meaningless, set of words and actions.

So far I have talked (ever so briefly) about how communication can be understood as the sharing of a sign, and then, how this communication deepens to become symbolic through words, actions and items being associated with a particular understanding of our world. By ‘a certain understanding of our world’ I mean, an understanding that is shaped and formed through the teaching, prayer and activity of the Christian church. The Eucharist is one and perhaps, the central symbolic event in the Church, mainly because it is the one occasion where Christ is directly encountered (“this is my body”), while other sacraments and actions – baptism, for example – is about sharing in the benefits of Christ’s life, death and resurrection. Given all of this, what kind of action is the ‘imposition of ashes’? What is being communicated, and how?

Consider the distinction and relationship between a word and a statement, as in the sentence, “The cat was extremely hungry”. In a basic grammatical sense, ‘the cat’ is the subject, and ‘was extremely hungry’ is the predicate. The subject stands for or refers to what is being talked about, while the predicate was something meaningful about the subject. By itself, ‘was extremely hungry’ does not refer to anything. To say what something is, is to define it. Definitions delimit the area within which descriptive statements may be made. In other words, the subject of a sentence sets some boundaries about what can and cannot be said (or described) about the subject. My cat example earlier is trying to demonstrate this very idea. It is meaningful to speak of a cat being hungry given the kind of thing a cat is (i.e. an animal) and the kind of activity eating is (i.e. an activity proper to cats), but it is nonsense to say that a cat drives buses (this isn’t the kind of action associated with cats, at least, outside of a Disney movie). The point I wish to stress is that definitions and descriptions are both an ordinary part of how we speak, but also, how we understand and interpret our world. And this can be done well, or poorly, depending on how we use definitions and descriptions.

Now consider Ashes-To-Go. On the surface, it is the same action replicated a thousand times over on Ash Wednesday in countless churches. No doubt, something like “remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return” is recited, much like what takes place in a formal liturgy. The particular action of pressing the ashes onto the foreheads of people is again, identical to a church service. Proponents of Ashes-To-Go assume that this action is also a meaningful activity in that the person receiving the ashes shares in the activity as a piece of communication (i.e. the sharing of a sign). The only difference is that the activity takes place in front of Starbucks rather than an altar. Proponents also assume that this difference is not significant enough to render the action as somehow ‘less than’ what a person would experience in a liturgy. It is evangelism, hospitality, the grace of Jesus at work, and a public action of the church. So far, so good.

I want to suggest, however, that the imposition of ashes alone is similar to saying a word without adding a description. If I was to say, “The cat”, or simple “cat”, you might wonder, ‘yes, what about the cat?’ A subject without a predicate is not a proper statement; in fact, it’s not a sentence at all. The word ‘cat’ is a meaningful word that refers to something in our world, so we are not entirely left in the dark by its use. But without a description, without, that is, something meaningful to add to the subject, we don’t have anything except the possibility of a definition (i.e. what kind of thing is it?). Now definitions are essential in order that a description be considered accurate or not. Without a description, all we have is a subject. Ashes-To-Go is like this word.  Alone, the imposition of ashes is not enough to be a sign that can be a piece of communication because alone, ashes and their use are not significant, like that of food and eating together, or water and the act of bathing or cleansing. Yes, ashes have a place in our world in reference to fires and even death; the question is: on the street corner, does the act of giving ashes communicate? I am not confident it does.

The folk who are concerned to keep the ashes within the context of a liturgy are correct, I believe, because the act of giving ashes (like a standalone word) is in need of describing, that is, the need for further words, items and actions to help explain and situate the activity as a meaningful piece of communication (the sharing of a sign). Proponents may argue that what matters in the realm of communication is what happens in the ‘mind’ or ‘heart’ of the person receiving the ashes (on the side of the street, or elsewhere), yet I would contend that such an understanding confuses the truly public character of sacral acts for a private experience. I would be pleased to hear that someone felt better after receiving the ashes on the sidewalk; I’m just not sure what this has to do with the ashes of Ash Wednesday. 

Ashes-To-Go is an incomplete activity if the goal is to perform a meaningful activity in relation to what the ashes are for. Moreover, this practice fails to be a sign of contrition or sorrow. As a piece of public witness, it is hard to imagine how the purposes of evangelism are carried forth in the act of smudging ashes onto the foreheads of strangers, especially given that no reference is made to how this act fits within a description about the call to repentance and new life in Christ that is demonstrated in the celebration of the Eucharist that generally frames the giving of ashes. Ashes-To-Go can be defined like a word can be defined, but without the framing of other signs that can be shared as moments of communication (e.g. repentance and absolution, bread/wine and Eucharist), this one activity remains isolated and potentially confusing even to those who would usually receive ashes in a church, but, for some reason, prefer ashes to go.

In what I have argued, I have not suggested that the answer to making Ashes-to-go more meaningful is to provide more and deeper explanations. Education is one way to help clarify the symbolism of the ashes of Ash Wednesday as shared signs of something significant. The primary concern is that, unlike the Eucharist, ashes alone lack the depth of meaning outside the actual Christian practices of worship. It might be argued that the same goes true for the anointing of the sick, but even in this action, the subject in question is the human body and the oil and prayers for healing are practiced in light of the obvious benefit a healthy body is for human wellbeing. The same cannot be said for the ashes, and this is not because ashes are not sacraments. It is simply because ashes are not strong enough signs that communicate anything; in other words, they require a greater framework of meaningful activity and words to become a coherent expression of the church’s proclamation of divine grace and joy. 

The point of raising a question around the practice of Ashes-to-Go is not to try and discredit the activity of getting the church ‘out there’, beyond the walls of the parish. When I think of churches that hold a prayer vigil at the site of a murder, or Eucharist in the park, I think we have a much clearer demonstration of public witness. Getting ‘out there’ is an insignificant reason for Ashes-to-go even if proponents argue that such action is better than hiding our ashes behind church walls. Feeding the hungry is a benefit and is significant, both as a practice of hospitality and as it refers to the meal of the Eucharist which is the gift of Christ himself in the graced bread and wine. Getting Ashes-to-go is not on par with such practices, and while it will be done with fervor, it will always be an incomplete and potentially confusing activity.

 * thanks to Gary, Elizabeth and Seth who provided helpful comments and critique.