Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Ash Wednesday Reflections


This is probably the most reflective time of the year for me, a time of introspection and "repentance". I no longer use the term "repentance" as I did so many years ago, but instead, I use the term "repentance" as Cynthia Bourgeault defines it in her book, The Wisdom Jesus. She defines "repentance" as the art of  "waking up". During Lent, I choose in a profound way to wake up to my life and what Jesus (still) means to me as I live deeply into my personal evolution.

I wrote this poem a few years ago as part of our St. Timothy's Ash Wednesday reflection. The poem is a flash back of my first Ash Wednesday experience as a member of the catholic community of  St. Michael's in 2003.
Integrating Ashes
(Remember, O man, that you are dust,
and unto dust you shall return.)

He stands before her today
dressed in purple. 
In his hand a small dish
filled with ashes of palms
mixed with holy oil and water.
He traces his thumb in the black mixture
and marks her forehead with the sign of the cross
while reciting ancient words
meant to remind her of her mortality.

Instead
like a bolt of lightning
she remembers her beginnings
not the date of her birth
but the origin of her material substance
billions of years ago at the dawning time.
She feels her feet rooted
in dirt
in time
in space.
She is child of Earth
as well as Spirit.

Most of her life has been separated
time here below is preparation for there - above
true life begins only at death
all is disconnected from the Holy.
Creation is fallen.
Genuine joy comes only after this vale of tears.
Heaven is her only real home.

But at this moment
marked with ashes
under the sign of the Cross
integration begins as she experiences
the delight of being human
woven into the fabric of the New Creation Story
connected with all that was and is and ever shall be
all that has been created for billions of years.
Creation is good.
So is she.

She has been given beauty for ashes.

Today, even before I go to church to receive my ashes, I am already remembering again my mortality.  When I lost my mother last year in August, I was privileged to keep her ashes here in my home for a few days before taking them to East Texas to be buried next to my father.  Over those few days, I often stopped to hold that urn close to my heart and ponder the ashes of her life - 84 years reduced to just this little bit of dust.  And yet....

She is still so near me. Her spirit is so alive. I know that my experience of the ashes is only a shadow of the Reality that she now experiences, freed by physical death, into the fullness of the Great All that I call God.

I know so much less today than I did back in 2003. I'm not so sure about so many of the dogmatic beliefs I held so near then, but I do know in my knower deep inside that there is life after death.  I'm no longer so sure what that looks like. But I do know that there is Something More, and that my sweet Mother is experiencing that More. And I believe down deep inside me that someday I'll experience that More, even as I seek to live each day more fully into the gift of being human, bound by time and space.










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