Remembering the Dust

Many of you who know me know that I love the liturgical calendar--I love the rhythm of the year, seeing the seasons change in the color of the cloth on the altar, seeing the advent wreath emerge (at Bethany we actually had a Lenten wreath--in the shape of the cross--so I guess it wasn't really a wreath--that instead of lighting a new candle each week during the 6 weeks of Lent we would extinguish a candle each week, leading up to Holy Week when the candles we go out completely on Good Friday). I was probably the only 12 year old who could articulate the meaning of each of the candles on a wreath, or what color each season had correlated with it. I don't just love the liturgical seasons because it's "church trivia," I love the liturgical seasons because it brings a depth, a richness, a familiarity to my faith. I strongly believe this aspect of our faith is not taught well in churches at all--never explained so others can appreciate the depth and richness of the traditions of the seasons (think about it--we teach our children the traditions of the Easter Bunny, the tooth fairy, and Santa--and even the indians and pilgrims, yet we fail to teach them that Pentecost is the church's birthday, or that advent and lent are times of preparing and waiting for something really really big and special to happen). When I worked in children's ministry at Bethany that is one thing we did well there--kids as young as four were helped to expereince these aspects of worship in their own worship space. The colors would change just like in the sanctuary, candles would be lit, each week we would talk about what season we were in and what it meant, what we were celebrating or waiting for, and how we could prepare for things like Easter or Christmas. My four year olds would come in the classroom, see that maybe there was a purple cloth out right around this time of year and would say "oh!! it's purple!! Purple means we are waiting for something!!" And then we'd talk about what we're waiting for--letting us expereince more deeply the season using our senses--seeing the colors, smelling the smoke from the candles etc. When we have kids and begin establishing our own family traditions, the church calendar is going to play a big part in guiding the rhythm of our family's year. (Dont worry, this isn't something I decided on my own, Chuck's excited about this--he said he isn't sure he ever really understood or celebrated the depth of the church seasons and loves that I get so fired up about making this a part of our lives). A friend of mine from Bethany actually just published a book on helping families expereince traditions like these in their homes, which I can't wait to get my hands on and read!

Needless to say, I love Ash Wednesday. It's a day that seems to mark a turning point--we've been celebrating the Christmas season, Epiphany (the day the Magi visited Jesus--symbolizing the spreading of the Gospel to the Gentile world), and the Epiphany season, and now we're moving in a new direction. We're heading towards Jerusalem. But it's not a straight and easy journey. We have some work to do to prepare. We as Americans like to rush ahead to the feel-good ending of books and movies, and likewise I think we do the same with the Easter season. We forget that to fully experience the joy of Easter Sunday we have to stay and sit awhile at the foot of the cross and the entrance to the sealed tomb on Good Friday. And Lent helps us get ready to encounter the agony and grief that took place there. We realize we are mere dust, we are nothing, yet it is for us, for us dust-people that Jesus showed up, walked an arduous path to the most gruesome death any of us could imagine. As we enter into this new season, may we attempt to take a deep breath. To slow down. To stop racing around and simply sit in wonder at what has been done for us. And may we remember that we are ashes and dust--yet we are loved more than we could ever possibly imagine.