Given on Ash Wednesday, 2018:
Last Friday, people around the globe tuned in as the 2018 Winter Olympics began. Some of the greatest athletes the world has ever known walked across the Olympic stage to the tune of their national anthems as they carried their flags with pride.
For years, they’ve all dreamed of glory. And for a select few, they shall find it. Those countless hours of training, highly specialized diets, and nights without sleep will be for something: a golden medal fastened around their neck with ribbon.
These athletes remind us that competition is written into the human spirit. We all desire glory, but these are the ones who’ve trained for it.
Yet in a few weeks, these games will conclude and all will return home. The world will move on, as few will remember these athletes’ records, their successes, or their failures. Few will remember their names.
These athletes and the records they hold will fade into the annals of history.
***
And herein lies the wisdom of Ash Wednesday.
That ugly black smudge of ash smeared onto our foreheads reminds us that time is passing, that history will swallow all of us up, that death – my death – is coming, and I know neither the day nor the hour.
And not only me; everything and everyone around me is returning to dust:
… the trees that line this campus…this chapel we are praying in…the people I have loved… these clothes I’m wearing…my books…my favorite coffee mug… these hands that wrote this homily… even those prestigious gold medals earned at the Olympics.
Everything and everyone is returning to dust.
What, then, does this mean? Should we seek earthly glory while we can, like so many who’ve gone before us? Or is there an even wiser path to take?
***
Saint Paul tells us, “these athletes train for a perishable crown; but we for an imperishable one.” As Christians, we are challenged to train for the greatest crown of them all: the crown of eternal life.
And Jesus tells us exactly how to win it: pray, fast, do penance.
When we pray, we strengthen our relationship with our Father in heaven, the God who created us out of love, the one who knit us in our mother’s womb.
And simultaneously, we grow in communion with our brothers and sisters around the world who are reaching out to the same God, striving for the same glory.
When we fast, we remind ourselves that our deepest hunger is neither for bread nor for gold, but for God.
And when we perform acts of penance, we’re reminded of our weakness, the truth that we need Christ’s attention, we need his healing touch.
***
Christianity is the most demanding path of them all, for the only way up is down; if we are to rise with Jesus, then first we must die with him. And that begins by walking the path of humility, self-denial, and love.
And it continues by admitting that we are dust, and to dust we shall return.
But thanks be to God that is not the end of our story. The day will come when we shall be called by name out of the ash, and walking together across that heavenly stage, we shall proclaim the words of Saint Paul:
“I have competed well; I have finished the race. I have kept the faith…All that awaits me now is the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the just judge, will award to me … and to all who have longed for his appearance.”
May we compete well – and encourage one another along the way, because Christianity is not a zero-sum game; everyone wins.