What a mess -- Reflection for Ash Wednesday 2020

Reflection for Ash Wednesday 2020

Lutheran Church of the Redeemer, Jerusalem

The Rev. Carrie Ballenger

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

I miss funerals.

I realize this is a strange thing to say.

It’s not that I miss seeing beloved church members die, or seeing their families grieve them.

But after 6 years serving as pastor of our weirdly young, transitional and international congregation, I do miss the way that funerals bring faith communities together, in the best ways. I miss potlucks. I miss casseroles and homemade macaroni and cheese and yes, even some Jello salads.

Most of all, I miss the way that confronting our shared mortality helps a community to remember that it is, in fact, alive. That we really do love each other, in spite of our differences. That we really can make a difference, in each other’s lives and in the world.

But we don’t need a funeral to be reminded of that reality. That’s what I think Ash Wednesday is for us, once a year.

Because this day is not really about the end of our lives. The ashes we receive on our foreheads today are not truly about death—they are about life and living.

“Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return” is what is said each year when we receive ashes. But it occurs to me that what we often hear instead is “you will, one day, become dust” as if until then, we are something different.

I’m not quite sure what that thing is, but I think we prefer to imagine ourselves as something cleaner, something prettier than dust. We like to have that perfect Instagram filter is in place at all times. We strive to be always freshly showered and well-toned and well-adjusted, until that day when we will become, suddenly, dust.

But on this day, we hear “Remember you are dust.” You are dust. Right now, you are dust! And dust is messy.

Yesterday, I got a call from a pastoral colleague in Bethlehem who wanted to come to Jerusalem and borrow some ashes for his Ash Wednesday service. I was happy to help, but I was also quick to tell him: Listen, I have some ashes. But there’s nothing sacred about them! In fact, these are ashes from our Muslim colleague’s cookstove. Abu Ahmad brought me a giant bag of them about 4 years ago, and I’m pretty sure we’re still going to have enough to last until Jesus comes back!

Perhaps the liturgical police would frown at using these ashes rather than ashes from Palm Sunday palms. But actually, I love it. I love that today we will remember in a real way that life is messy. Love is messy. Faith is messy.

And soon, our foreheads will be messy. Messy with ashes from a coworker’s cookstove. Messy with the sign of the cross, which we also try to sanitize and clean up and filter, but which was also messy, and painful, and awful…and at the same time, beautiful, and powerful, and real. And...it was not the end of the story.

Yes, I do miss funerals. But we don’t need to wait for the end of life to remember that we are, in fact, alive. That’s what this day is for. That’s what the season of Lent can be for also, if we choose to take up the discipline of these forty days.

Fasting, praying, and giving are the way Christians have historically marked this time leading to Holy Week and Easter, but in contrast to popular belief, these are not practices designed to make us more perfect, or skinnier, or holier, or cleaner. Neither are they practices designed to help us avoid death or aging. They are about embracing the messy middle called life, which is exactly where God meets us. God in Christ meets us in Bethlehem, and in Jerusalem. God in Christ meets us on our first day, and our last, and also on all the days in between. The hard days and the joyful days, the days when we look our best and the days when our foreheads and our lives are a mess.

And so we fast, and we pray, and we give, not to lament our eventual deaths but in order to live! If you choose to take on a discipline this Lenten season, let it be with the intention of living more fully, and loving more deeply—your body, your neighbors, and God.

Dear siblings in Christ, the world is a mess! The nations are in an uproar. The occupation continues. Friends and loved ones are dying.

And…The almond trees are blooming. Babies are being born. People are falling in love. And God in Christ is with us, in the messy midst of it all. Thanks be to God.

Blessing the Dust: For Ash Wednesday

By Jan Richardson

All those days

you felt like dust,

like dirt,

as if all you had to do

was turn your face

toward the wind

and be scattered

to the four corners

or swept away

by the smallest breath

as insubstantial—

did you not know

what the Holy One

can do with dust?

This is the day

we freely say

we are scorched.

This is the hour

we are marked

by what has made it

through the burning.

This is the moment

we ask for the blessing

that lives within

the ancient ashes,

that makes its home

inside the soil of

this sacred earth.

So let us be marked

not for sorrow.

And let us be marked

not for shame.

Let us be marked

not for false humility

or for thinking

we are less

than we are

but for claiming

what God can do

within the dust,

within the dirt,

within the stuff

of which the world

is made

and the stars that blaze

in our bones

and the galaxies that spiral

inside the smudge

we bear.

—Jan Richardson