February 2023
Reflection: Ash Wednesday and Changing Direction
In the liturgical calendar, today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. Here is a brief explanation from the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) of Ash Wednesday and the season of Lent.
An excerpt from the Companion to the Book of Common Worship (Geneva Press, 2003, 109-110)
The Lenten journey from the ashes of death to resurrected life begins on the first day of Lent, Ash Wednesday, which signifies a time to turn around, to change directions, to repent. This first day of Lent reminds us that unless we are willing to die to our old selves, we cannot be raised to new life with Christ. The first step of this journey calls us to acknowledge and confront our mortality, individually and corporately. In many traditions, this is symbolized through the imposition of ashes — placing a cross on one’s forehead. During the imposition of ashes the words: “You are dust, and to dust you shall return” (Genesis 3:19) are repeated again and again. We are to remember that we are but temporary creatures, always on the edge of death. On Ash Wednesday, we begin our Lenten trek through the desert toward Easter.
Ashes on the forehead is a sign of our humanity and a reminder of our mortality. Lent is not a matter of being good, and wearing ashes is not to show off one’s faith. The ashes are a reminder to us and our communities of our finite creatureliness. The ashes we wear on our Lenten journey symbolize the dust and broken debris of our lives as well as the reality that eventually each of us will die.
Trusting in the “accomplished fact” of Christ’s resurrection, however, we listen for the Word of God in the time-honored stories of the church’s Lenten journey. We follow Jesus into the wilderness, resist temptation, fast, and proceed “on the way” to Jerusalem and the cross. Our Lenten journey is one of metanoia (“turning around”), of changing directions from self-serving toward the self-giving way of the cross.
What I hope for each of us during this season of Lent is a time of reflection, a time to look at our lives with compassion and see how we can more fully live a life of love. I recently listened to an episode of The Ezra Klein Show where he interviewed Dr. Brandon Terry (Harvard University) about the life and writings of Dr. King. I find myself thinking about the end of the episode a great deal. Dr. Terry describes how Dr. King loved people. He states that the Black Power leaders who often found themselves in deep disagreement with Dr. King mourned him deeply…
they're heartbroken. They mourn his loss. They grieve for him in part because, and you can read any of these memoirs, particularly Stokely Carmichael's, they felt like he never, that even when he disagreed with them, he loved them. And not just because they were friendly, but because he loved in the sense that he always invoked agape love, that he wanted good will for them, and that his arguments weren't from a place of trying to humiliate them or embarrass them or expose them as ridiculous. He wanted to affirm their right to make the arguments they were making, to affirm their intelligence and judgment, and to enter into their mind to try to reconstruct a position with sympathy but then show why it falls short for the sake of goals that he was forthright about, about justice, about reconciliation, about love. (The Ezra Klein Show, Jan. 16, 2023)
When I consider Lent and repentance, I hope to love those with whom I disagree in this way.