Ash Wednesday

 

I first met Stephen Bouman in November 2001. He was one of several U.S. church leaders who welcomed a “Living Letters” delegation from the Geneva offices of the World Council of Churches. The delegation representing Christians from around the world came to express pastoral love and support to Americans following the terrorist attacks of September 11. Ground Zero was still smoking as we gathered around its rim to pray.

It quickly became clear to me that Steve – I should call him Bishop Bouman – was in deep mourning for the friends who were lost on September 11. As Lutheran bishop of Metropolitan New York, he knew many of the fire fighters and first responders who died that day. He was grieving their loss and openly angry about the attack.

Over the next several months I heard Steve try to make sense of the terror in sermons in the Interchurch Center chapel and remarks elsewhere. He brought together those of us who were struggling alone with our grief. I came to look upon him as the unofficial chaplain of the Interchurch Center for Nine-Eleven.

On Ash Wednesday of 2002, Steve led worship in the Center’s chapel.

Paraphrasing him, Steve said we had all been living in Ash Wednesday since the terror attacks. We had literally seen the ashes that had once been our friends. A year earlier, many who died on Nine-Eleven had attended Ash Wednesday services and heard the words as a cross of ashes was drawn on their foreheads: “Remember you are dust. And to dust you will return.” 

Today it is Ash Wednesday again and once again Jesus is calling on us to remember our days of life are fleeting and we are called to live our lives in the way Jesus taught us: To love God. To love our neighbors as ourselves. To forgive our enemies. To do justice. To bring good news to the poor, release to captives, insight to those who are morally blind, to set free the oppressed. 

Each year Ash Wednesday calls upon us to do all these things proactively. We are called to add these things to our daily tasks.

Some of us will also honor the sacrifice of Jesus, who gave up his life for us by giving up something that is precious to us. When I was twelve years old, that precious something to me was peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It was the longest Lent of my life.

There are, of course, more substantial things to give up.

On this Ash Wednesday 2026, let us good Lutherans hear the voice of Pope Leo XIV on Lent:”

"I would like to invite you to a very practical and frequently unappreciated form of abstinence: that of refraining from words that offend and hurt our neighbor. Let us begin by disarming our language, avoiding harsh words and rash judgement, refraining from slander and speaking ill of those who are not present and cannot defend themselves. Instead, let us strive to measure our words and cultivate kindness and respect in our families, among our friends, at work, on social media, in political debates, in the media and in Christian communities. In this way, words of hatred will give way to words of hope and peace."

Amen.