An Ash Wednesday Reflection
Originally offered Feb. 26, 2020
The meaning of the ashes.
As if meaning were a simple one-for-one.
As if we each meant the same thing when we said,
“Ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.”
I am no disgruntled freshman
trying to squeeze out a metaphor;
there is little interest for me
in nailing anything down.
But lifting things up? Yes, let’s do that.
Let’s lift up our fears, hold them to the light.
Raise a torch to illuminate
the dark corners of our psyche,
under our beds,
inside our closets,
where the most frightening monsters hide:
Fear of abandonment, fear of rejection,
fear of just simply being alone;
fear of reprimand, of not being good enough,
fear of getting it wrong, or getting lost, or getting stuck.
All these fears given urgency
by the question that lurks underneath:
What if it’s like this forever?
What if it’s this, and only this, and then I die?
What fear have we known greater than death?
Ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.
We all fall down.
While we’re lifting things up:
Let’s lift up our pain
(I know it’s hard to do)
but let’s lift it up
that we might get a better view
of the brokenness that has shaped us
the suffering that has formed us –
not “because,”
not “for a reason,”
not “as a test,”
just for good.
The pain of the world is in all of us,
not one has escaped – no, not one.
Some hide it better than others,
determined to best it,
determined not to let it determine their lives;
some wear their pain right on their sleeve.
Wherever we find it,
let’s lift it up,
that in raising our hands
we might discover
our neighbors have their own pain, too.
We might discover
we are not as alone as we’d thought.
Ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.
We all fall down.
And if we’re going on lifting things up,
we might need, in this moment,
to lean on one another
for the work before us is grim:
Let us lift up our wrongs.
Let us lift up, together, our own shortcomings,
lift up, united, our faults.
Not merely to say,
“Look, she’s done it too,”
but rather,
“Look, she’s found grace even there.”
For grace is abounding,
that’s why it’s called grace,
sweet, blessed undeserving
not something earned by fasting,
not something earned at all.
Grace is the thing
more eternal than our sins,
more lasting than our pain,
more immortal than these bones.
Ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.
We all fall down.
Grace is the One who meets us on the ground,
who lifts us up,
who marks us with a blessing,
who journeys with us
even here, even now.
Amen.
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