dust, to dust returning...

Almost didn't make it to the Ash Wednesday service. (It's always so hard to get anywhere by 7:00 on a work night.) I decided to grab an "after school snack" and then go, having dinner later. Though I probably missed the first half, I'm glad I went. The service was quite spare, and the songs simple.

Ubi caritas et amor, ubi caritas Deus ibi est.
(Where there is charity and love, God is there)

Come and fill our hearts with your peace; you alone, o Lord, are holy.

Lord, prepare me to be a sanctuary, pure and holy, tried and true. With thanksgiving, I'll be a living sanctuary for you.

The first was sung in English, but I love the Latin - probably because that is how I learned the song. The second is one of my very favorite (and well-used) meditative songs... it is best to sing it over and over and over again, until it sinks in deep and becomes part of my breathing and being. The third has not been a favorite of mine; it has a fairly modern, "pop"esqe tune. However, tonight the words were what carried me, and I went into a good place with those.

The silences were the most wonderful...

In the last, long period of silence all was still - until a distant train whistle broke the silence. It reminded me that we are not (as I tend to imagine on holy days) in ancient Christian times, walking in the dust that Jesus trod. No, we are in 21st century America, where trains whistles still blow, cell phones go off, and electronic gadgets remind us that we are late for church.

Even so. Lent comes to this wonderfully imperfect, American culture - as surely as it came to the English and Germans in the 1930's, slave traders in the 19th century, our founding patriots in the 18th century, to the Italians and French during the renaissance, and so on, through the ages.
It is so odd to see people walking around with an ashen "†" on their foreheads. These people with whom I share my experience - my family of friends, brothers and sisters in Christ - are all 21st century beings, too. And yet we carry the ancient symbol on our foreheads tonight. We are but dust and ashes, (carbon-based beings!) and to dust we shall return. What we celebrate is eternal - even in this modern time. And so we observe and celebrate Lent in our way, in this time.
I think this is the first time I've wrapped my brain around the idea that liturgy is not a reenactment of events that happened long ago. Though our traditions have their origins with Christ, through the timeless hand of God they stretch through the ages, morphing and evolving with the centuries, to meet us here, and they will greet us again in the future.

I'm still trying to figure out how I'll observe Lent this year. A while ago, I thought I might be giving up Facebook. I heard on NPR this morning that English priests asked their congregations to give up carbon emissions for at least one day of Lent, to relieve climate-change suffering for the poor around the globe. (A lofty goal! Imagine not using electricity/gasoline for even one day per week!) I might be working on this. I might keep you posted. ;o) Time will tell.