Ash Wednesday Reflection

I have been craving the darkness, the self-reflection, the slowing down of Lent. A friend asked me yesterday about the words spoken over her as ashes were traced on her forehead.

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

Those words are inspired by Genesis 3:19 and here are some thoughts on their use as we enter into Lent through ashes.

I think that verse is used to rouse us to remember the whole second creation story starting in Genesis 2. Humans are given this beautiful perfect abundant garden. God directs us not to eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil but we are to enjoy and steward EVERYTHING (literally everything) else. We choose our own way. The thing is we already know good…it is all around us. But now we also know evil and that started really before the fruit even touched our mouths when we decided to do exactly what we wanted even if it wasn’t the best for our relationship with God and with all creation. Interestingly once the fruit was eaten humans see that they are different from one another and God and they are afraid and hide themselves. The next generation with Cain and Abel sees difference between one another, gets jealous and Cain kills Abel. Is this what evil is? To see difference and either isolate ourselves from one another and God or rise up and harm one another because of difference? When we see difference, we often times are blinded to the reality of our interconnectness. We were escorted out of the garden because now that we know evil we cannot also eat of the tree of life and be immortal because we will destroy everything in the garden and all of creation. Remembering that we are dust (literally God created Adam from the soil) at the beginning of Lent encourages us to remember Gods intention that we are interconnected with God, his creation and one another…and all the ways we fail to remember and live that reality (evil).

My husband and I attended an Ash Wednesday service at a local Catholic parish. Unbeknownst to us, the mass was completely in Spanish. Although we both have decent Spanish vocabulary neither of us are fluent. It was humbling to struggle to understand pieces of the homily. Thankfully the missalette included all the readings and prayers in both English and Spanish.  I couldn’t help but reflect on the ways we allow language to divide us. And yet in that space last night we were drawn together to worship by a shared liturgy, to enter into sacred space and time through the celebration of Ash Wednesday and the church year, to be one through the ashes traced on our forehead, and through the intentional planning of the Catholic church and the leaders at St. Pauls who ordered bilingual missalettes.

Lord, forgive me for the times I have allowed language to divide me from my brothers and sisters and especially the times I thought, even if I didn’t say, wouldn’t it be easier if  everyone just knew MY language. I am not the center of the universe. You are, Lord, God, creator of the heavens and the earth and all the peoples of the world.  Amen.