In Sorrow Together (Ash Wednesday)

A sermon by the Rev. Guillermo A. Arboleda, written for and delivered at The Episcopal Church of St. Paul the Apostle, Savannah, GA, on Ash Wednesday, February 18, 2026.

Primary Bible Reading(s)

(Click on February 18, 2026, to see all of the Lectionary Texts)

Joel 2:1-2, 12-17 (NRSV)

Blow the trumpet in Zion; sound the alarm on my holy mountain! Let all the inhabitants of the land tremble, for the day of the Lord is coming, it is near--a day of darkness and gloom, a day of clouds and thick darkness! Like blackness spread upon the mountains a great and powerful army comes; their like has never been from of old, nor will be again after them in ages to come. Yet even now, says the Lord, return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; rend your hearts and not your clothing. Return to the Lord, your God, for he is gracious and merciful,slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing. Who knows whether he will not turn and relent, and leave a blessing behind him, a grain offering and a drink offering for the Lord, your God? Blow the trumpet in Zion; sanctify a fast; call a solemn assembly; gather the people. Sanctify the congregation; assemble the aged; gather the children, even infants at the breast. Let the bridegroom leave his room, and the bride her canopy. Between the vestibule and the altar let the priests, the ministers of the Lord, weep. Let them say, "Spare your people, O Lord, and do not make your heritage a mockery, a byword among the nations. Why should it be said among the peoples, `Where is their God?'"

Showing Up

By the Rev. Guillermo A. Arboleda, Program Manager for New Starts, ELCA

Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

I have thought a lot about death lately. Part of that is personal to me. Some close relatives have gotten sick lately, and I’ve become more aware of my family health history. I just hit a significant birthday, and I’m thinking more about cholesterol and things like that. 

But part of that is also about the news this week. On Monday, a public school teacher at Hesse K-8 School, Dr. Linda Davis, was killed suddenly in a car crash. The crash itself was the result of a high speed chase involving federal immigration enforcement officers and an undocumented immigrant man trying to avoid deportation. There is a lot that could be said about this avoidable tragedy, but I’ll simply say this: As Christians, it is important for us to remember that we all promise in our baptism to “respect the dignity of every human being.” That applies to immigrants and law enforcement officers and teachers alike.

Dr. Davis was just driving in her car to work. She was caught completely off guard by the situation unfolding around her. It seems that she died very suddenly after the collision. And the honest truth is that what happened to her could happen to any of us. I didn’t know Dr. Davis personally, but I discovered this week that I know many people who do. Savannah is a small town, so you also might just be one degree removed from this tragedy. American culture doesn’t like to talk about death and mortality. We don’t like to think about how fragile life truly is. But life is fragile. We aren’t promised any time.

And that makes me sad. It should make us sad. Sorrow is the appropriate response to tragedies like this. We have every right to be a community in mourning. Because the other difficult truth is that there are tragedies all the time that don’t make the news. People grieve losses each and every day. For as much as we try to avoid it, death is inescapable. Sorrow is inescapable.

But Lent is an opportunity for us to lean into sorrow instead of running away. It is a chance for us to acknowledge our mortality together. We are gathered today to ponder about and prepare for our deaths. That is itself a gift from God. Because Jesus promises to meet us in the mess of our sorrow. Jesus promises to be our great consolation in times of despair. And Jesus invites us to follow him into the sorrows of our neighbors. 

God is revealed to us more deeply when we grieve and when we stick together in grief. It’s tempting to go through sorrow alone. But the church is a community of pilgrims journeying together through grief toward the living Christ. As St. Paul tells us in Romans 12:15, “Rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn.” One of the most powerful acts of charity we can do as Christians is to care for one another in times of grief. That’s why funerals are such a big deal. They are one of the ways that we show people that, no matter how hard things get, they are not alone. We have their backs because Jesus has our backs. And when I am too weak to support you, you can be there for me. 

On Ash Wednesday, you may be thinking about your Lenten disciplines: things you will give up or take on to grow in your spiritual life. But whatever you do, don’t forget that you are dust and that life is fragile. Even if you are not grieving that reality now, I can guarantee that someone you know is. So, make time this Lent to be with those who are mourning. In that shared sorrow, we find God. In accompanying those who grieve, we find God. In this Lenten journey to the cross, we know that Jesus understands our sufferings more deeply than anyone else. Because Christ suffers with us, we have grace to share in the sufferings of one another. 

And on the other side of suffering, we know that Jesus rose again. Yes, we are mortal. Yes death and sorrow are inevitable. But Jesus overcomes it all through the power of his resurrection. So take heart. Do not be afraid. And stick together through whatever sorrows you face, as Jesus sticks with us. Amen.