It’s a bit disturbing to read Jesus’ words about the pitfalls of outward piety on the one day that we mark our faces in worship. Is Jesus condemning what we are trying to do as Christians today? Or at least taking us down a peg in our spiritual striving? I don’t think that Jesus’ point is to discourage us from our rituals. He does, however, know the danger that shame can play in our lives, especially when we dig down deep to examine our own failings, like we do today. I think that he’s warning us away from the fruits of shame and leading us to the rewards of true vulnerability before God and others.
If you haven’t read or listened to any of psychologist Brené Brown’s work on shame and vulnerability, I highly recommend it. It really informs what Jesus is doing in today’s Gospel. Shame, according to Brené Brown, is “the intensely painful feeling … of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging.”[1] While guilt tells us that we have made bad choices, shame tells us that we ourselves are bad. The only anecdote to shame is vulnerability--opening ourselves to the uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure of relationship.
If you want to see shame at work, take a look at the first hypocrite in our Gospel. He whips out his trumpet to play a fanfare to his own generosity every time he drops his pledge in the offering plate. Why does he need that trumpet? Because the voice of shame whispers in his ear: “Deep down, you are a loser. If you want to be loved, you need to be successful in your career. You are “enough” only when you are working, when you have money and fame to show for your actions. Without success and the concrete trappings that come with it, you are no better than a slug on the sidewalk. Without a nice house and fancy vacations, your family won’t love you. Without the latest fashions and top-notch schools, your children won’t honor you. Without a name in the community, your parents will be disappointed in you.” The successful, busy hypocrite needs the praise of others in order to feel worthy, in order to drown out the voice of shame inside his head, and he thinks that he can buy that praise with money or success.
The second hypocrite, on the other hand, might well be a clergy person or a lay leader at church. If you want to hear shame at work, listen to him, as he prays loudly and publically, to impress onlookers. He puffs up his prayers with big words and peppers his sermons with Hebrew and Greek phrases. Or he brags about his special relationship with Jesus, shouting out to the Holy One as if God were his own best fishing buddy. Why does he need to make a show of his faith? Because the voice of shame whispers, “Deep down, you are a loser. You are “enough” only when you’re the perfect Christian, when you can impress others with your godliness.” The pious hypocrite needs the admiration of others in order to feel worthy, in order to drown out the voice of shame inside his head, and he thinks that he can manufacture that admiration by showing how close he is to God.
If you want to see shame at work, you might also watch the third hypocrite, as she dumps a whole container of ashes on her head and rubs them into her face and hair. “O woe is me,” she moans, “Look, look, look at what a miserable sinner I am!” Why does she need our pity? Because the voice of shame whispers, “Deep down, you are a loser. Without constant attention from others, you are nothing. You are ‘enough’ only when people are noticing you, when they feel sorry for you, when they comment on your Facebook or Instagram post. Without exaggerating to everyone how you stayed at the office with the flu to finish the project single-handedly, you feel invisible.” The suffering, martyred hypocrite needs the pity of others in order to feel worthy, in order to drown out the voice of shame inside her head, and she thinks that she can stir up that pity by exaggerating her predicament far and wide.
There’s probably a little bit of each of those hypocrites in all of us, isn’t there? We all deal with the ravages of shame.
Now, if we want to see vulnerability at work, we have to take a look at Jesus. In Jesus, God puts on vulnerable human flesh. God steps into the shame-driven world in which we live. And yet Jesus does not shame us. Jesus loves saint and sinner alike with God’s own mercy and loving-kindness. Jesus risks everything for that love, even letting us nail him to a Cross. “You are enough!” this Jesus tells us. “You are a beloved child of God. In the secret recesses of your heart and soul, God created you for relationship: for relationship with God and with one another. Live with integrity as God’s beloved children. There is no treasure greater than God’s Love. There is no goal more meaningful than being in relationship with your Creator, free from the venomous hissings of shame.”
How grateful I am that our God is not a shaming God, and that Ash Wednesday and Lent are meant not for shame, but for its anecdote: the vulnerability of repentance. The chance to turn again toward the God who loves us. Today’s ritual is not all about the ashes themselves: we have to remember that the ashes that we receive on our foreheads today are carefully formed into the shape of a cross, into the very shape of vulnerability itself. Theologian Richard Lischer writes, “We don’t receive the ashes [of our mortality] on Ash Wednesday only; we bring them to the altar every day ... Only in Jesus are [the ashes] gathered into the shape of the cross. Time and time again, we bring [our ashes to Jesus] and then return to our mortal lives with something far better.”[2] We return to our mortal lives filled with the vulnerability that opens us up to be in loving relationship with God and our neighbor. Our goal today is to remember that we are frail human beings who make mistakes, and then to wear the mark of that vulnerability out into the world, hearts open, with no need to hide.
