I have always regarded Ash Wednesday and our Lenten experience as the ultimate self-directed season. The ashes on our foreheads remind us of how we came into this world alone and we will go out alone. The disciplines we assume this day for the next six weeks are catered to our own journeys, focusing on what we have discerned we personally need to right our own relationship with God. When I confess, I am struck by memories of grievances I have committed – images and feelings flashing before me as a particular set of words hits close to home.
But as I read Matthew’s convicting gospel this year, I remembered the wise words of New Testament scholar Karoline Lewis. All those warnings Jesus makes, “Beware of practicing your piety before others…whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet…when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites…whenever you fast, do not look dismal…”, all of those warnings are not in the singular. In the original Greek, they are actually in the plural.[i] So the words are more like, beware of practicing you all’s piety. Or maybe in Southern speak, “when ya’ll pray…” Jesus is not criticizing or singling out you or you or me. Jesus is singling out the community of the faithful.
That may sound like semantics, but there is something quite dramatic about Jesus speaking in the plural versus the singular. Every week in Sunday services, we confess our sins. But we confess them communally. Communal confession is an extraordinary event. While we may feel lost or despondent about our inability to live in the light of Christ as individuals, when we communally confess, a room of voices is saying with you, “Me too!”
One of the things I grieved the most during the pandemic was our inability to gather in person. I loved that we had and continue to have an online community – especially when people write things in the comments, greet one another, or meet Hickory Neck for the first time. But our necessary isolation during the pandemic naturally led to a pattern of looking inward – sometimes so much so that we forgot we are not alone – that there is a whole community of faith who is walking this journey with us and struggling just as we are. There is something quite powerful about listening to the voices of a 7-year-old next to the 77-year-old – the person who looks so put together next to the person who is clearly struggling – the dad with children next to the widow – all confessing together. Week in and week out, those myriad voices remind us we are not alone.
Of course, part of that reason we get so focused on the self in Lent is because self-interest and self-focus is culturally entrenched in being a modern American. There is both a blessing and a curse to the American dream – that any individual can achieve their dreams, if they just pull themselves up by their bootstraps – an argument that assumes everyone has bootstraps. But indigenous New Testament scholar Danny Zacharias argues that we have a lot to learn from indigenous communities in Lent. Zacharias says, “Traditional Indigenous cultures practice communal living and redistribution of resources, often rejecting the accumulation of wealth as a sign of individual success. Indigenous communities also have high social expectations upon wealthier individuals to be the providers, especially for communal events. Generosity and balance are seen as fundamental to a good life. Indigenous leaders have historically been known for their generosity, with material lack by a leader being a strong sign of virtue and abundant generosity.[ii] Jesus’ teaching affirms this principle, calling his disciples to a life where wealth is measured not in possessions but in righteousness and relationship with God.”[iii]
So if Jesus is talking to all y’all this Lent, and if we can learn something from indigenous communities this Lent, what does communal Lent look like? One model might come from Pope Leo this year. The pope said, “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.”[iv]
Our invitation today as we enter Lent is to remember that the act of reconciliation and redemption does not happen alone. We all are invited into a holy Lent. We all are invited into prayer, fasting, and alms giving – even if that fasting looks like fasting from hurtful words. We all are invited to remember we are dust. In person, online, and hybrid together, we are not invited into solo, parallel journeys. Our journeys are strengthened and made possible through the companionship of community. You are not alone. We are in this together. And Jesus lights the way for us all. Amen.
[i] Karoline Lewis, as described on the podcast, “Sermon Brainwave: #889: Ash Wednesday – February 22, 2023,” February 17, 2023, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/podcasts/889-ash-wednesday-february-22-2023 on February 17, 2026.
[ii] Randy S. Woodley, Shalom and the Community of Creation: An Indigenous Vision, Prophetic Christianity (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012), 155.
[iii] Danny Zacharias, “Commentary on Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21,” February 18, 2026, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ash-wednesday/commentary-on-matthew-61-6-16-21-18 on February 17, 2026.
[iv] Pope Leo XIV, as quoted at https://www.facebook.com/FrJamesMartin/posts/pfbid02uQANdoLUZ94niQnhZDvRN1vSQmSG6BckAQ3HwGm2PpLpGUmZtBCqqpKbijunr9Bwl on February 13, 2026.
Seeking and Serving 