Lent began last Wednesday in Western Christian traditions—”Ash Wednesday.” It is so called because the ashes received on the forehead signify a time for penitence, for abstinence, fasting, almsgiving and prayer. This annual journey begins with heartfelt lament from the prophet Joel, “Gird yourselves, O priests, and weep” (Joel 1:13). The great mystery of sadness and suffering in a life bound up with God’s heartache is that we can choose to turn around, to come back to our senses.
“Even now, says the LORD,
return to me with your whole heart,
with fasting, and weeping, and mourning;
Rend your hearts, not your garments,
and return to the LORD, your God.”—Joel 2:12–13
This time of “PanDeepening” has certainly reflected our communal lamentation. For many, it feels like ashes.
Listen to the psalmist’s lament, and see if it resonates with any of our own current heartaches:
The prayer of one afflicted and wasting away whose anguish is poured out before the LORD.
LORD, hear my prayer;
let my cry come to you.Do not hide your face from me
in the day of my distress.Turn your ear to me;
When I call, answer me quickly.For my days vanish like smoke;
my bones burn away as in a furnace.My heart is withered, dried up like grass,
too wasted to eat my food.From my loud groaning
I become just skin and bones.I am like a desert owl,
like an owl among the ruins.I lie awake and moan,
like a lone sparrow on the roof.All day long my enemies taunt me;
in their rage, they make my name a curse.I eat ashes like bread,
mingle my drink with tears.—Psalm 102:1–10
How gritty, how dry and sad to taste ashes. In this unprecedented time, I imagine us all caught in the throes of a raging forest fire, where the air is so thickly polluted with smoke that the smoldering nightmare leaves us gasping for breath, ingesting ashes, hopeless at the sheer destruction, the loss of wildlife, the devastation of our arbor elders, total consumption and waste. The feelings of overwhelm and despair could settle in our lungs and remain there, choking out all hope for survival, for a potential future filled with promise. Breath, as we have all come to learn, is so precious. It connects us to Earth, to Spirit, to one another, to all creation, to Creator. Without it, we are lifeless.
COVID. George Floyd. Breonna Taylor. Institutionalized racism. Misogyny. Me too. Refugees who find not a sanctuary, but a death camp. Earth in peril, covered in plastic, infused with toxic waste. Derecho. Insurrection. Families and friends torn apart. Corporate greed. Opioid crisis. Depression. Suicide. Genocide. Ecocide. We can’t breathe.
What if we all turned it around? Took a deep, collective breath? What if we took seriously that very basic reminder of Ash Wednesday: “Remember, you are dust, and unto dust you shall return.” The ancient stories of creation remind us how inextricably bound with Earth we are, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. We are embraced by Earth, en-wombed by Earth, en-tombed by Earth. Earth is our birthing bowl and our resting place. Might we remember, we are ALL dust? We are descendants of star detritus from light years before us, as is every living being in Earth’s tender embrace. We are stardust. All of us. The wider “We.”
Arbor elders and beloved creature kin. Clean water, gently revitalized oceans and rivers. Beautiful Earth cultivated with profound care. Tended with love. Pure, breathable, scintillating air for all to thrive and enjoy. Healers and teachers. Frontline health care workers. Hospice ministers. Midwives. Educators. Community advocates. Social workers. Entrepreneurs and visionaries. Family caregivers. COVID Moms and Dads. Environmentalists and poets. Greta Thunberg. Amanda Gorman. You. Me. Learning to breathe together, as one.
When it feels like ashes, tastes like ashes, maybe it’s time to return to the Creator’s legacy, the good soil, so fertile and ready for planting. The seeds are within us for transformation and growth. Just add water.
- What tastes like ashes right now in our life?
- Where does our breath feel shallow?
- What might we let go of in order to prepare the soil for planting?
- What needs watering right now? Imagination? Gratitude? Compassion?
- How can we celebrate our gradual reconnection with one another, creation and Source of All Being?
—Laura Weber, Prairiewoods associate director and retreats coordinator