Dust and Ashes

[Bishop Dave Brauer-Rieke]

Today is Ash Wednesday in our religious tradition. We impose ashes on our forehead and are told that we are dust, and “To dust you shall return.” It is an honest day.

The ashes I am familiar with are those of campfires, woodstoves and forest fires. Living in the glorious Pacific Northwest we engage the cycles of life through hunting and fishing, hiking, skiing and huddling together in the cold and wet before the glowing embers of evening. Ash is what remains from such sacred moments. It is the reminder of what was – and no longer is.

The forests of my home welcome fire as a regular part of life. Left to their own devices forests will burn slowly in various places throughout the dry summer months. The trees are scorched but not destroyed. Dead branches and spots of undergrowth are cleared away. Certain seeds wait for the fire to crack them open. They cannot grow without the season of ash.

Foresters have learned not to try and improve on this system. There was a time when forest fires where put out to protect the harvest. In this world the fire load grew as dead branches accumulated, pine bark beetles flourished and other, hidden cycles of life were denied. Then, when fires came, they raged out of control and could not be contained. All became ash, the harvest was lost and the old growth fades away. We need regular cycles of confession and re-orientation. They must not be were denied. Nature knows when and how to come to the altar. She knows the time of her own Ash Wednesday.

So today I have donned ashes with the faithful here in Chicago. I have thought of trees. They probably have not. I have remembered the charred trunks of living Douglas Firs, strengthened by their history of hardship. I don’t know what images have come to the minds of others.

Lord, let humility burn frequently, yet spottily in my life. May Christ’s crucifixion be the last raging fire our world ever devises. A little ash, new life, a clearing of the clutter, the ongoing vitality of history, a cracking open of a hope that awaits my faithfulness – this is my prayer.

Bishop Dave

[Debra Schulz]

To refer to Ash Wednesday as an "honest day" hits the nail on the head.  Honest days are few and far between for most people.  Perhaps that is one reason they are so sacred. 

I am fortunate to work in a place (an assisted living facility) where death is visible on a regular basis...and therefore life itself is cherished.  Most residents are in their 80's...which means that they either have let go of their "filters" or the filters themselves have faded.  When they come into the coffee shop to visit, it's much like sitting around a campfire at the end of the night.  We chat and laugh together.  Sometimes we sing.  We share with each other, our wonderful memories.  And on a regular basis...we have those full blown Ash Wednesday conversations.  We talk about people who have recently died...about those who are close to the end of this life now...and about our own eminent death.  Thankfully, there is very little fear. 

Remember.  From dust we came and to dust we shall return.  And...from God we came and to God we shall return.  Amen!