A child on Ash Wednesday

Ash Wednesday

The procession up to receive the imposition of ashes.
The movement back to our pews,
dark, messy crosses thumbed on our foreheads.

Down the aisle returns the crossed mother with her child,
Less than two years old,
The solemn smudge on her little forehead, too.
She too had heard the words:
"Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return."
What did she understand of that?
What did I understand of that?

Seeing her, my heart ached.

We are united in the great sorrow and suffering of being human.
Along the way, she will suffer.
Long after I am dead and gone,
She too will die.

Yet her eyes sparkled,
Her smile beamed benediction across the gathering.
I remembered the ancient words:
"If we have been united with him in a death like his,
We will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his."

We live the cross,
But ineffable is the joy of the saints.

Ash Wednesday and Lent

Today, Ash Wednesday, will mean many Christians "giving up something for Lent." In addition, some will also choose to add into their lives a specific intention to do something positive for others. Both can be very healthy for Christians and Christian congregations, especially if such discipline is followed for the sake of the community.

Consider a text appointed for this day--Isaiah 58, in which the prophet gives voice to God's desire for shalom in the context of real life community. After mocking the practices of the outwardly pious, come these words (CEV translation):
I'll tell you what it really means to worship the Lord.
Remove the chains of prisoners who are chained unjustly.
Free those who are abused.
Share your food with everyone who is hungry;
Share your home with the poor and the homeless.
Give clothes to those in need;
Don't turn away your relatives.

All of this is about God's cry for shalom in the real world of human community. It is at heart linked with the way of the Christ and I would say is the great heart at the core of any religion.

Alexander Shaia (www.quadratos.com) asks us to consider that such a larger Lent was the practice of the early church: Lent as a yearly retreat for congregations, during which they examined their lives together, sought forgiveness and reconcilation and scrutinized their ministries and mission to the world in the light of the way of the Christ.

What if Christian congregations found the courage to reform Lent that way now? Then, instead of wallowing in the dismal examination of personal sins and neuroses, or the unhealthy cult of individualism ("Jesus and me"), congregations would be asked to consider together how well their aim to serve as the body of Christ in their particular neighborhoods and communities lived up to their intentions. Such a metric, fleshed out in the particulars of the congregations real life would mean forgiveness and reconciliation among themselves, and renewal and rededication to their mission. After all that, Easter would mean a renewed and renewing celebration of the presence of the risen One now more consciously known among them. It would be a discovery again of what it really means to worship the LORD.