Ash Wednesday

"Brothers and sisters: We are ambassadors for Christ."

What does it really mean to be, as Paul says, “Ambassadors of Christ?”

Maybe it’s fitting that we ask this question today. It’s probably this day above all when our allegiance to Christ becomes readily visible. The mark of our baptism - our identity as Christians - becomes visible in the form of ashes.

But is that what it really means, to be an “ambassador of Christ?” Is it just about the exterior?

As I was thinking about this, I guess you could say an old “folk tale” came to mind from my time at seminary. Not sure how much of this is true or exaggerated. I heard it from a priest, who heard it from a priest, as folk tales go. But I think it can help us to understand what sort of ambassador we are called to be.

Once upon a time, there was a seminarian who would always do extravagant penances every Lent. And maybe most importantly, he made sure to let everyone know about them - harsh fasts with no food, so many hours in prayer. Give up meat entirely. Bread and water only.

This went on for the first few years. But one year, his spiritual director stopped him and said, “How about for this Lent, your penance will be whatever I tell you to do. What do you say to that?”

He readily agreed, thinking his spiritual director would give him something truly penitential.

So Lent begins, and as he sat down to eat with his friends, his spiritual director came to his table and said to him, “Give me your plate.” The spiritual director replaced his meager meal, with . . . a Big Mac, extra large fries, and a huge milkshake. He told him, “eat this,” and walked away.

Now, the guy’s a bit confused. There he was, in front of his friends, who were all giving something up, soda, dessert, something - and there he was eating a Big Mac, his friends, scoffing at him.

The next day the seminarian came to the chapel early to pray. His spiritual director was waiting for him. “Go back to your room to pray.”

Friends started asking him, “We haven’t seen you in chapel. We thought you were going to spend extra time in prayer this Lent?”

The next evening, he was in the seminary lounge. While many had given up beer and snacks, the spiritual director gave him a large, frothy mug of ice-cold beer.

Day after day, for the next two weeks, the spiritual director did the same thing - purposefully interrupting any sort of penance he tried to do.

Quickly, he became a bit of a laughingstock. His friends, playfully egging him on: “Pretty tough Lent, right, Big Mac?” Rolling their eyes at him.

The seminarian, furious, scheduled a meeting with the spiritual director. And as he sat down, his director, smiling, asked him, “How’s Lent going?”

He finally exploded. He told his spiritual director that he was angry and embarrassed, that he had great plans for Lent, and that he was ruining them. His reputation was trashed, people thought less of him.

The spiritual director sat and listened patiently, nodding his head and smiling. After the seminarian finished, the spiritual director slid a Snickers bar over to him and told him, “Eat this, while I explain.”

That’s a genius move by the way - you can’t argue when you have a Snickers in your mouth.

Then, the spiritual director calmly pointed to a Bible, “Matthew, chapter six.” So the seminarian picked up the Bible in front of him and began to read to himself:

“Take care not to perform righteous deeds in order that people may see them . . . When you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, who love to stand and pray in the synagogues and on street corners so that others may see them . . . When you fast, do not look gloomy like the hypocrites.”

He set the Bible down, and immediately, he understood: The spiritual director hardly had to say it: the seminarian wasn’t being an “ambassador for Christ.” He was being an ambassador for himself.

All of these acts, the fasting and penances - they weren’t for God. The seminarian wanted to look good, to show everyone just how holy he was. His fasting was done to be seen - not for “the Father, who is hidden, who sees what is hidden”

What that spiritual director did for him, without him even realizing it, was a fast. But it wasn’t a fast from food, or drink. It was a fast from pride.

Christ was many things, but prideful, wasn’t one of them. And that tells us something about the type of ambassador Christ wants in this world. He wants us to be those ambassadors who go about our work with humility.

The very same humility that led Christ, “though he was in the form of God, to not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross.”

Before all else, humility is the true mark of an ambassador of Christ.

Yes, we are called, as it says in our first reading, “to return [to the Lord] with our whole hearts, with fasting, and weeping, and mourning.” We are asked to do something for Lent. And some aspects, like the ashes, are public. But notice the very next line - “Rend your hearts, not your garments.”

The heart is that hidden part of ourselves - it’s the place where only God can see.

I’m sure many of you are choosing things to give up, foods to fast from, prayers to say, and alms to give. All good things. But remember the purpose for which we give those things up.

Jesus, as always, is our model - how did he do it? He fasted alone, in the desert, for 40 days. How many times might we share that selfie today, with ashes on our foreheads? What’s the motivation behind it? Love of God? Or love of self?

So this year, I’d ask you to try something new. Offer to the Lord one penance - it can be anything - but tell no one about it. Do it in secret, for all of Lent.

Because one day, you might discover that it was that one penance alone, that the Lord treasured above all others, simply because you gave it to him . . . and to him alone.

“And your Father who sees in secret will repay you.”