“Beware of practicing your righteousness before others in order to be seen by them, for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
2 “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. 3 But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, 4 so that your alms may be done in secret, and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.
5 “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. 6 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.
16 “And whenever you fast, do not look somber, like the hypocrites, for they mark their faces to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. 17 But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, 18 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.
19 “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal, 20 but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
My homily from Ash Wednesday (February 18, 2026), 7:30 pm worship, on Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21.
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So one of things I do as a PTA volunteer is to co-lead the local book fair at my kids’ elementary school. I don’t have the time or energy to read as much as I would like but we do what we can to help others discover that book – or series of books – that show them how amazing reading can be. I know, though, that books aren’t always the biggest draw at the book fair since fuzzy journals, multicolored pens, erasers shaped like pieces of sushi, and shrinked wrapped bricks of dirt with a fake gem inside entices all ages. The kitsch is seen as necessary to generate all the kinds of profit needed to keep these book fairs going. But I do find it interesting that not every multicolored pen or plastic finger pointer actually sells. Over the last few years, one item that rarely ever moves is a pen filled with invisible ink. Now when I was younger, invisible ink mattered since passing a friend a so-called “blank” piece of paper in the middle of class to a friend was, for 2nd graders, a big deal. There was something really exciting knowing that even though we couldn’t read those words until we dunked them in some probably toxic chemical solution when we got home, they still belonged to us. It didn’t matter if the words were a bad joke, a meme, an insult, or even a question about last night’s homework, their invisibility never overshadowed the visible impact they had on us. And that image of making the invisible visible is, I think, a good image for us as we move into a new season of the church year.
Now one of the interesting things about Matthew’s version of Jesus’ life is Matthew’s emphasis on contrasting ways. There is, on one side, God’s way for our life and all of creation that Jesus regularly invites us into. But there is also a different way that tears at our relationship with God and one another. This binary is, I think, not meant to be seen as two rigid things that we can easily choose between. Rather, what we assume to be good and holy might not be if we don’t take seriously how our love of power, comfort, control, and our general inability to imagine tomorrow being different from today hides God’s intent for our lives. This might be why so much of Jesus’ initial sermon to his disciples that marked the beginning of his ministry in the gospel according to Matthew used contrasts as a way to express his point of view. It wasn’t enough to simply sketch out God’s imagination for us and for creation; Jesus also held up a kind of metaphorical mirror inviting us to reflect on what we assume to be faithful and true. These contrasting images help us, I think, to recognize how peacemaking, mercy, comfort, forgiveness, and grace are way more foundational to God’s kingdom than to ours. What seems reasonable or even good in how we structure our lives and our communities doesn’t always fit with a God who declares the meek, the mourning, the poor in spirit, and those who hunger for righteousness as blessed. And there’s a way in which what we say to be faithful and good makes us look like complete hypocrites instead.
The word “hypocrite” is very old and, in ancient Greek, it was often connected to what actors did on the stage. An actor’s basic job is, I think, to put on a persona and then live out a story for an audience who doesn’t always know what’s coming next. The actor not only embraces the character they’re trying to be; they also add their own nuance, care, wisdom, and life as a way to make that character whole. They, on one level, are not only acting for themselves. They’re also helping to make a community of strangers form a deeper relationship with themselves and their world. I’m sure many of us have, after watching some show, movie, or musical, have found ourselves changing how we treat our family and friends in light of what we saw on that stage. Actors have a way of putting up a mirror that reflects back a little of our souls. Yet actors, when they are on a stage, are living out a story that has, in one way, already been told. They’ve memorized a script, figured out the stage direction, and the play will only last so long. Their work is a performance that, while necessary and vital, is done with an audience. An actor is meant to be seen and Jesus is concerned that one of the ways the faithful lose their way is by primarily focusing on being seen too. Life can feel as if it is a kind of performance especially if we feel like we’re filling out a role that doesn’t quite feel like the real version of us. And there is quite a dopamine rush when the accolades for doing good start pouring in. Yet God’s way isn’t designed for an audience. The good we do and the sacrifices we make for others to thrive isn’t about getting our names plastered in lights on some billboard in Times Square. It is, instead, about reflecting something different into the world. And while what exactly that looks like will vary from situation to situation, this different way isn’t some invisible code that requires some fancy incantation, prayer, or supernatural event to make it clear. We already have it since it was etched on your forehead with a bit of oil when God proclaimed you really are part of God’s vision for the world.
Ash Wednesday is, I think, more than a moment where we come face to face with our mortality. It’s also an opportunity where we, once again, remind ourselves of what we get to make visible. On most days of the year, the sign of the Cross that was made on our forehead is, like invisible ink, unable to be seen. But we then take a moment at the start of Lent to outline it with the ash from burned up palm branches. These crosses aren’t meant to be part of a persona we put on every once in a while on the stage we call life. It is, rather, a reminder for us of who – and whose – we are. We get to take a moment to intentionally reflect on our words, actions, and the care we offer to ourselves, our families, ourselves, our families, our neighbors, and our enemies and wonder if we make visible the invisible Cross we bear by letting others know how loved and valued they are? Is the contrast we live out in our daily lives rooted in the mercy, forgiveness, grace, and hope Jesus has already given to us through his life, death, and resurrection? Or do we hide God from those who need God too? The season of Lent is, I think, an opportunity to not only recognize just how far God’s love has – and will go – for you. It’s also when we, as the body of Christ, realize we get to make God’s love visible too.
Amen.