Ash Wednesday

 

Blaise Pascal, the French philosopher, mathematician, inventor, and theologian, he believes that most men are in a near constant state of trying to shield their thoughts from the reality of death. And you can probably imagine some reasons why. It’s not the happiest of things to think about. We often joke that you aren’t supposed to talk politics or religion with other people, but I think you can probably add death to that list of impolite subjects of conversation. It is too sad to contemplate, too gloomy to discuss.

            Pascal believes that the specter of death looms over us, hangs over us. Because even if we are happy now, well we want to be happy forever, and so we do not wish to dwell on the fact that things cannot always continue as they now are, we do not wish to dwell on the possibility of loss. But, as we know, death is inevitable. And that inescapable destiny gloomily reminds us that all we have now is temporary. And having discovered that we are unable to avoid death, unable to cheat death, we do what we consider the next best thing: we ignore death. We think that if we just never think about it, if we avoid the topic entirely, then at least we won’t let that sad future ruin our present happiness.

            So Pascal thinks that all men are almost constantly engaging themselves in diversions such that they can ignore the looming specter of death: whether that diversion is work or entertainment or something else. He thinks most of us are scared of solitude, of silence, because these are the places where without things to distract us, gloomy thoughts can enter in: thoughts of our mortality, weakness, emptiness. And so we look for diversions. His examples from his day and age are chasing balls and chasing hares, sports and hunting. Today we might add to that list watching Netflix or endlessly scrolling our social media feeds. And he says that even kings need these diversions. Even those who seemingly have the most in this world are not happy long without diversions to distract them, for not even kings are free from the shackles of mortality. Thus you can imagine many kings who would just gluttonously consume feast after feast and continuously call in court jesters to amuse them, and yet deep down they have this grumpy, depressive personality that will come out the second they are no longer entertained, for then they may have to think again on the precariousness of their power and position and life as they deal with the threats of enemy armies abroad and plotting nobles, and hungry, angry peasants deomestically.

            Indeed, even kings and the greatest among us are not free from the looming specter of death. Pascal gives an example from his own day and age in the 1600s: Oliver Cromwell. Cromwell, you see, had just toppled the monarchy in England, and was amassing great and fearful power, until what Pascal calls a little grain of sand toppled him, a kidney stone likely no bigger than a fifth of an inch causing a urinary infection leading to sepsis and death. Great Oliver Cromwell was toppled by the tiniest of things before he even reached the age of 60. And all his work was undone, and the monarchy restored.

            And deep down we all know that this could happen to any of us, that death could show up at any moment. Things we so often hope in for security: power, money, they can’t save us. And how do most of us respond to such knowledge? We seek to ignore it, to divert our attention away from. We think ignorance is bliss. The philosopher Thomas Morris who comments on Pascal’s work says look at who is paid most in our human society today: doctors whose work can keep death at bay just a little longer, who can prolong our lives, and entertainers, actors or athletes who can give us distractions and diversions to prevent us from thinking about death. And who is paid among the least in our human society? Philosophers and theologians. Why? He suggests because they make us think about death, and we really, really don’t want to think about that.

And Morris agrees with Pascal about how many of us are seeking constant diversion from such thought. He thinks that future historians are not likely to look back on our age and call it the Meditative Era, but are more likely to call it the Era of Busyness and Distraction. Our technological advances help us to keep adding layer upon layer to our busyness and distraction and multitasking.

            We avoid silence and constantly are distracting ourselves from the looming specter of death because we think ignorance is bliss, but Pascal is absolutely shocked that this is how so many of us choose to respond. Pascal compares our human situation to this: to a person charged with crimes of the highest degree, who knows that in but an hour they will be locked up and executed unless they find a way to clear their name from the charges that have brought upon them this death sentence. There’s yet time and hope to clear their name. But Pascal says that so many of us, instead of using that hour to use all of our abilities to try and find a solution to the problem, we instead sit down and play a game of solitaire. Madness, right? We ignore the problem of death instead of facing it. Isn’t it wild how many people walk through their life without taking much time at all to ask the biggest questions, without taking much time at all to seek answers about things religious and spiritual, about our real purpose for being here on earth and our real destiny after death? Pascal says that so many of us are walking around with this incomprehensible slumber. Seemingly ambivalent to matters of greatest importance.

            Pascal urges us that we cannot believe the lie that ignorance is bliss. We must face reality. And this is what Ash Wednesday does, it makes us come face to face with the reality that we so often try to ignore, the reality of death.

And we take the time to do this not because we are sadists or nihilists, but because by focusing on the biggest problems facing humanity, perhaps our eyes might finally turn to the biggest solutions. This is what we are taught in Psalm 90: to count our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Knowing our days won’t last long, we can live wiser in the present. This is what we are taught in Ecclesiastes 7, that it is foolish to try and feast and party our whole life and simply ignore funerals and sadness, we should seek wisdom from understanding the universal destiny of death.

            Pascal says it’s one thing to live your life not bothering to take the time to read about Copernicus and determine whether or not you agree with his views and teachings, but it is entirely another thing to live your life not bothering to take the time to read about Jesus Christ and wrestle with whether or not you agree with his views and teachings. Pascal thinks it madness to spend one’s whole life invested in football games or fantasy television worlds or whatever hobbies we choose and to not take adequate time to think about ultimate things.

            So Ash Wednesday is there to wake up those who are in that incomprehensible slumber, who are living life seemingly unaware of death, who are living merely for the moment, merely for pride, for pleasure, for self. Ash Wednesday is there as an urgent reminder that, as Isaiah 55 said, we must seek the Lord while he may be found, we must seek God while there is yet time. And we must reorient our lives toward eternal goals that are more important than this fading life.

            But whereas so many in our world live as if they are invincible, or live seemingly ignorant to the reality of death, there are others for whom death is all too real, where it feels all too close for them or for a loved one. And Ash Wednesday is for them too. Ash Wednesday reminds them that the trial they are facing is not unique to them, but will one day be faced by all of us, indeed, even our Lord Jesus Christ had to face death. Ash Wednesday is for them too because when we take the time to think about our biggest problems, we think also about our biggest solutions: we wonder anew about the possibility of resurrection life. The possibility that the one who created us out of the dust, who breathed life into mere dirt, who breathed intellect and culture and morality into us, that perhaps the God who created us did not create us merely to uncreate us, did not create us merely to watch us die. Perhaps the God who created us out of love has loving plans for us still, loving plans that reach even beyond death.

            If we are that person Pascal imagined who was awaiting the death sentence with an hour to spare to find a way to absolve them of their guilt, well guess what, there is a solution we can find, and the solution is of course the grace of Jesus Christ. When we believe in Jesus, his sacrifice forgives us of all our sins, wipes our slate clean. Jesus took on the death sentence for us, he died in our place. And so now we are free from condemnation and have the chance to obtain eternal life. Just believe in him. Believe that the one who made you from dust will remake you. And this is not as wild and crazy a belief as we make it out to be. Pascal looks at critics of the possibility of resurrection, those who deem it far too miraculous, a fairy tale, unscientific, and he says just look at the miracle that we exist at all in the first place, that we were created at all in the first place. Is it really that much of a stretch to think that the one who breathed life in us once could do it again? God will do it again.

            Ash Wednesday is both for those for whom death seems far off and impossible and for those for whom death feels all too near, and its message to them both is this: you can dare to look death square in the face, for there is a hope greater than death. Death is real, but Easter is more real. Resurrection is coming. Christian, dare to confess your frailty, because our hope is not in our own strength. Dare to confess your sin, because our hope is not in our own righteousness. Dare to put ashes on your head and admit your need of a Savior.