Ash Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Sermon: "Ashes to Ashes"
Scripture: Joel 2: 1-2, 12-17
Reverend Larry Gerber
 
When we cry, our tears may be tears of revenge, seduction, escape and empathy. But on Ash Wednesday, Joel the prophet issues a call for the kind of weeping that accompanies an authentic change of heart.

There must be a gezillion reasons why human beings (uniquely) break down and have a good cry now and again. Some of us have our tear ducts so close to our eyes, that we can, as they say, cry at the drop of a hat. But not CBS anchorman, Dan Rather. This hard-biting journalist is widely known for his aloofness and apparent imperturbability in times of crises. That's why the country was amazed to watch Rather cry when appearing on the Letterman Show in September, 2001, following the terrorist's attack. Dan Rather doesn't cry. But Dan Rather does cry. President Bush likewise teared up in an informal news conference, confessing, "I'm a lovin' kind of guy." For many, it humanized both men.

Crying isn't so hard for a lot of us.
Our kids cry when their feelings are injured, when Mommy leaves them with the sitter, or when the teacher scolds them for being disruptive in class. We cry during arguments, at the loss of a loved one, when watching a movie, listening to a song, when a passing thought runs across our minds, when we've hit the lotto jackpot, when we're slapped with a lawsuit, when our children do us proud, when the daughter gets married or because the daughter isn't married. We cry tears of revenge, seduction, escape and empathy; tears of pleasure and pain. The biblical history of tears shows us David crying at the death of Absalom, Abraham over the death of Sarah. Joseph bawled when meeting Benjamin. Even Jesus, according to that famously short verse in John's gospel, wept.

Some even have the ability to bring on the tears in public on cue. Jimmy Swaggart wept profusely in an attempt to keep his ministry afloat. Sally Struthers can tear up on TV as she pleads for your support for Save the Children. George Bush can tear up during moving invocations of patriotism. And the mother of all weepers, Tammy Faye, is prone to weeping adventures that alone assure Estee Lauder a long and bright economic future.

So what's this crying game all about? That's a good question as we observe Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent - the season of the church year that might appropriately be called "lachrymose," meaning tearful or sorrowful. To start things off, the prophet Joel issues a call for tears, for repentance. Divine judgment is on its way, and so God says through the prophet, "return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning" (2:12). Although the people of Judah are terribly threatened by the coming of the day of the Lord, God offers them the opportunity to repent with fasting and weeping, and to return to communion with him.

Joel is convinced that these tears must be genuine. His God isn't interested in crocodile tears, or in any weeping that is designed to manipulate others. The Lord is not looking for the kind of crying that is simply a biological event, a form of bodily elimination that may have the effect of evacuating ulcer-causing chemicals and proteins. No, God is interested in the type of weeping that accompanies an authentic change of heart.

In the middle of this cacophony of crying, the prophet Joel calls for a particular kind of weeping: That which is genuine, and which leads to repentance. To repent is to turn your life around and begin to walk in a new direction; it means to turn away from sin and idolatry, and turn toward God's will and God's way. "Return to the LORD, your God," implores the prophet, "for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love" (v. 13).

Here's where the crying gets complex: It is not only a sign of sorrow over sin, but can be an expression of joy over God's goodness. We are invited to turn toward a gracious and forgiving God, not toward a vengeful and punishing Lord. God is "gracious," full of goodwill; "merciful," showing the love of a mother for her child; "slow to anger," waiting patiently for repentance; and full of "steadfast love," love which is grounded in God's promises to his people.

God's forgiveness knows no boundaries. His joy knows no restraint. He runs to meet us, according to the parable of the prodigal son. Puts his arms around us. Kisses us. Welcomes us home.

The key thing to remember is that our crying - whether happy or sad - should result in changed behavior. The prophet Joel says, "Rend your hearts and not your clothing" (v. 13); change your insides and not just your outsides; make sure your fasting and weeping and mourning are part of a new walk, not just a new talk.

What Joel really hates is hypocrisy: People who say they are repenting but then fail to turn their lives around.

 When you weep in the process of true repentance, you're crying the tears of new life.

This is no joke. Tears have long been thought to bring the dead to life. Long before scandal-prone politicians and religious leaders turned on the tears in a desperate attempt to save their careers, people were making strong associations between crying and the renewal of life. In the Egyptian story of the death of the god Osiris, the goddess Isis finds her brother Osiris dead and weeps over him. Her tears bring the dead god back to life.

Similar stories are told of the Mesopotamian gods Marduk and Tammuz and of Ishtar and Gilgamesh. But most important for us are the words of our Bible that make a link between tears and new life:

"May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy," says Psalm 126. "Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy" (vv. 6).

And the assurance of Jesus in Luke, "Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh" (6:21).

Plus the promises of what the Spirit will do in the lives of believers. At the Last Supper, Jesus says, "Very truly, I tell you, you will weep and mourn, but the world will rejoice; you will have pain, but your pain will turn into joy" (John 16:20).

Tears and new life - they are inextricably linked in the promises of our faith. In this Lachrymose Lent, we can believe that if we return to our gracious God with all our heart, with fasting and weeping and mourning, then we will discover a fullness of life that we have never known before. If we turn our lives around and work hard for the restoration of our relationships and our community, we'll know a joy that we never thought possible.

Our tears will lead to resurrection life. That's something to cry about!