Ash Wednesday is one of my favorite days. That may sound odd, but that's okay. Why is it one of my favorite days? That's harder to explain. I think mainly because it kicks of the Lenten Season. It's the beginning of the preparation and reflection time. I think too, that it is because there is something powerful and humbling about the imposition of ashes.
I have been blessed to participate as a helper in many Ash Wednesday services over the years during my 8 year seminary journey. This past Ash Wednesday wasn't my first in that sense to be part of a service.
It was my first as a pastor, in this particular appointment of the Holston GaP Parish, and my first to attend two Ash Wednesday services.
At Simpson UMC, it is traditional for them to host a Lenten Luncheon series. Ash Wednesday kicked it off this past week with Pastor Tommy Messer bringing the message. It was a very powerful message that was "spot-on" for the season. It was truly a blessing. Though it was a very cold day, we had a little over 20 folks come out for the service and stay for the luncheon, hosted by the UMW.
That evening, we had a 2nd Ash Wednesday service at Fort Oglethorpe UMC. I think there may have been around 20 folks attend that service too. Pastor Tommy brought the message that evening. A different message, yet moving and meaningful.
On the back of the Fort Oglethorpe bulletin there was a poem for reflection. It was new to me. But as I read it, it touched me at different levels and in different places.
The poem, "A Prayer Poem for Ash Wednesday" is by Adrienne Trevathan:
Cover me with ashes,
the thick-smoke soot of the earth.
Make my breathing like the journey
from death into life -- second by second,
prayer by prayer.
the thick-smoke soot of the earth.
Make my breathing like the journey
from death into life -- second by second,
prayer by prayer.
Cover me with a cloak -- bring me low to the earth,
your justice whispering to me like the gleam of red rocks,
the colors dancing in the darkness.
Let me know the power of sage and cedar in my bones,
not that I may trap them there,
but bring them forth in words.
Cover me with darkness --
with the presence of my elders, their tears falling around me,
reminding me of why we are here --
sighing, groaning with our singing, longing to hear us into being,
stretching us beyond breathing and praying and weeping.
Cover me with mercy--
let the bones you have crushed rejoice,
like the woman who channeled every ounce of courage and dignity
to touch your cloak and find new life.
Breathe unto me life anew,
of possibility,
of beauty,
of balance,
of grace.
Cover me with mud --
bring me to my lowest state, so that in my weaknesses
I see your strength --
the reflection of your eyes in the brokenness around me,
the fullness of your love in the depths of our hearts.
Cover me with ashes --
the ashes of my grandmother,
who in living her days knew no strangers,
worked tirelessly with worn hands
and lifted grandchildren high into the air.
Cover me with mercy --
let my cheek come to rest on the cold earth,
its faithful presence a call to walk humbly
beyond myself
beyond my fears
and ever on to the red road that leads to your love.
x̣áýəs -- Changer
Cover me.
Cover me with ashes.
Change me.
-------------------------------
Ash Wednesday's services were not only powerful for me as a pastor of the three congregations in the parish, but also as co-pastor with Tommy Messer. It is a blessing to work alongside someone on this journey of leadership in the parish. We don't always get the opportunity to serve together because we are at different locations. Ash Wednesday was a time when we did get to serve together. It was also a time for us to encourage one another as we imposed ashes upon each other, not once but twice that day.
The Lenten Season has begun. These will be days of reflection, of dying to self, of turning away from sin, of seeking to follow the One True Voice, of attempting to lead a life worthy of the calling, of brokenness, of healing, of being formed in God's image.....
What will I look like at the end of these 40 days? Will I be different than when I started? I hope so. And at the end of these 40 days, the journey will continue... there will still be the things mentioned in the above paragraph. It's just that this season there more intentionality (though these things merit intentionality all the time).
My cousin David posted all kinds of awesome Ash Wednesday postings. I didn't catch them all, but read several of them. I need to go back and sift through them. He posts thought-provoking things. One of the posts was part of a poem by Jan Richardson:
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.
The entire poem, "Blessing the Dust" reads:
Blessing the Dust
A Blessing for Ash Wednesday
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
- See more at: http://paintedprayerbook.com/2013/02/08/ash-wednesday-blessing-the-dust/#sthash.DKgVm6rS.dpuf
A Blessing for Ash Wednesday
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
- See more at: http://paintedprayerbook.com/2013/02/08/ash-wednesday-blessing-the-dust/#sthash.DKgVm6rS.dpuf
Blessing the Dust
A Blessing for Ash Wednesday
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
- See more at: http://paintedprayerbook.com/2013/02/08/ash-wednesday-blessing-the-dust/#sthash.DKgVm6rS.dpuf
A Blessing for Ash Wednesday
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
- See more at: http://paintedprayerbook.com/2013/02/08/ash-wednesday-blessing-the-dust/#sthash.DKgVm6rS.dpuf
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.
Blessing the Dust
A Blessing for Ash Wednesday
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
- See more at: http://paintedprayerbook.com/2013/02/08/ash-wednesday-blessing-the-dust/#sthash.DKgVm6rS.dpuf
---------------------------A Blessing for Ash Wednesday
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
- See more at: http://paintedprayerbook.com/2013/02/08/ash-wednesday-blessing-the-dust/#sthash.DKgVm6rS.dpuf
I don't know what your Lenten journey has in store for you. I don't know what mine has for me. But my goal is to live in to the journey of Lent, step by step....
Blessings on your journey,
Debra
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