Over and again in the New Testament, we hear that we can’t disentangle what we believe about God from how we live with other people. In fact, we often learn what we really believe about God in the way we treat others.
We come to claim Ash Wednesday as the stand-in for the unknown anniversary of the day when the fires will go out and there are only ashes. We do this not out of a sense of gross morbid curiosity, not to wallow in dark fascinations, but as O’Donohue says “to gather ourselves / and decide carefully / how we now can live / the life we would love / to look back on…”
Jesus not only heals the son from his demon, he also works to heal the disciples and us from our addiction to knee-jerk reactions and quick fixes. He invites them and us into the slower and more fulfilling path of taking the time to listen to God and each other.
What are we spreading as Jesus’s Church? Is it the same old judgment and condemnation the world’s violent battles are made to arouse in us? Or does what we have to offer the world have a different source? A source that is mercy. A source that is love. Gift. Forgiveness. Give these away with your life, says Jesus, especially to your enemies and opponents, and these are what will come back to you and fill up your life. And when a good measure of some small mercy we’ve managed to give away, pressed down, shaken together, running over is put back into our laps, won’t we wonder why we spent even a moment of these short and precious lives of ours spreading anything less?
His words blessing the poor and the hungry and the weeping and the hated are every bit as miraculous as his words blessing the bread or inviting Peter out into the deep water. Again and again, Jesus offers a world that is more than pain and logic.