READING                   Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

"Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven." So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. "And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. "And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for your selves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

SERMON

I don’t know how it happened, but I somehow grew up with this tremendous fear of being deprived. Perhaps it was because the people who influenced me in my early childhood were both generations from, and generations immediately following the Great Depression. It is obvious from the size of my girth that this propensity to hoard is not only about material stuff, but about the very food that is intended to nourish my body. In my case it goes way beyond need or nourishment. It seems that there comes a time in just about every day when the amount of food I ingest far surpasses need or nourishment. So what is this about?

Lent is traditionally a season for giving things up. Anyone here giving up something for Lent? What? Lent is historically a time of fasting for the devout and religious. This led to the Catholic practice of giving up meat. Now it is just giving up meat on Fridays, replacing it with volumes of deep fried fish and French fried potatoes, I guess; not to mention washing it all down with wine, beer and other so-called spirits.

I’m not really doing anything different for Lent, per se. It seems odd to me to isolate this awareness of consumption, and the fear associated with it, during a particular season of the year. The process of bringing to consciousness that which I unconsciously grind out in the self-destructive behaviors of daily living is not something I can afford to compartmentalize during a few weeks of the year. This is indeed part and parcel of spiritual growth and maturation.

Some people attend 12-step groups in order to deal with some out-of-control aspect of their lives. Their dependence upon a higher power, and their engagement in a process of self-awareness is a year-round, one day at a time endeavor. These groups usually meet rather quietly in churches and synagogues at times when other people are not typically in the building. Jesus teaches those who were following them to be more like this, to practice their piety, as it were, more quietly than the religious leaders of his day who loved to show how faithful they were to God, or how generous they were. Step groups use the serenity prayer, but you will never see them standing out on a large stage in front of the masses saying, “Hey everybody, come on, let’s all pray the serenity prayer!” And the folks in step groups will not likely go around telling everyone how sober they are, or how long they have deprived themselves of whatever it is they need to deprive themselves of.

I have been in and out of various step groups over the years, but that fear of depravity still haunts me. As for treasures, my life is rife with treasures, with stuff, and with people, my family, friends, and acquaintances. This community can be challenging at times, to say the least, but I would stack its love and support up against its darker nature any day. Sure, my fear of depravity tells me that when someone is against me, or dislikes me, or perhaps all out hates me, then I am somehow incomplete. But my treasure is in the constant flow of affirmation I receive from you all, and from the God who energizes us all.

It is only my focus on the treasure of God’s unconditional love and grace that can combat this fear of depravity. If I do not in some way bring to consciousness every day that God’s love is greater than my anxiety, then I run the risk of being overcome with fearful behaviors, hoarding behaviors, glutinous behaviors that focus more on me than on God or others. My faith is my treasure. My hope is my treasure, And the God who gives me both, together with the greatest love in the universe, is the currency that gives value to that faith and hope.

Lent is a time for elevating our consciousness in this regard, so we can certainly choose to use it as an opportunity, in spite of what I said about compartmentalizing it. Frederick Buechner lays out some question for Lent. We can use these or make up our own. The important thing is that we come out on the other side of Lent more conscious, more aware of ourselves and how we both do and do not work, than when we started. Here are his questions (from Whistling in the Dark):

• If you had to bet everything you have on whether there is a God or whether there isn’t, which side would get your money and why?
• When you look at your face in the mirror, what do you see in it that you most like and what do you see in it that you most deplore?
• If you had only one last message to leave to the handful of people who are most important to you, what would it be in twenty-five words or less?
• Of all the things you have done in your life, which is the one you would most like to undo? Which is the one that makes you happiest to remember?
• Is there any person in the world, or any cause, that, if circumstances called for it, you would be willing to die for?
• If this were the last day of your life, what would you do with it?

Buechner concludes,

To hear yourself try to answer questions like these is to begin to hear something not only of who you are but of both what you are becoming and what you are failing to become. It can be a pretty depressing business all in all, but if sackcloth and ashes are at the start of it, something like Easter may be at the end.

That is the best thing about remembering that we are dust and that we’re going to return to dust some day, that new life, resurrection, and Easter hope lie somehow on the other side of the ashes of our lives. If our hearts are willing to beat in the truth and honesty of questions like the ones Buechner sets forth, then the treasures of God’s unconditional love and grace, and the arms of those who travel into dark places with us, cannot be far behind. We will surely find our treasures where our hearts are.