February 25, 2009
You can’t conceive, my child, nor can I or anyone,
The appalling strangeness of the mercy of God
Marked by Ashes
Ruler of the Night, Guarantor of the day . . .
This day - a gift from you.
This day - like none other you have ever given, or we have ever received.
This Wednesday dazzles us with gift and newness and possibility.
This Wednesday burdens us with the tasks of the day, for we are already halfway home
halfway back to committees and memos,
halfway back to calls and appointments,
halfway on to next Sunday,
halfway back, half frazzled, half expectant,
half turned toward you, half rather not.
This Wednesday is a long way from Ash Wednesday,
but all our Wednesdays are marked by ashes -
we begin this day with that taste of ash in our mouth:
of failed hope and broken promises,
of forgotten children and frightened women,
we ourselves are ashes to ashes, dust to dust;
we can taste our mortality as we roll the ash around on our tongues.
We are able to ponder our ashness with
some confidence, only because our every Wednesday of ashes
anticipates your Easter victory over that dry, flaky taste of death.
On this Wednesday, we submit our ashen way to you -
you Easter parade of newness.
Before the sun sets, take our Wednesday and Easter us,
Easter us to joy and energy and courage and freedom;
Easter us that we may be fearless for your truth.
Come here and Easter our Wednesday with
mercy and justice and peace and generosity.
We pray as we wait for the Risen One who comes soon.

In my years as a music teacher at a Catholic School, I became familiar with a wonderful song by Tom Conry, called “Ashes. Every year, as we remembered that we were dust, remembered indeed that we are fallible, fallen human beings, we would sing this song, which reminded us that our humanity may be fallen, but it is also redeemed.
The song reminds one, in some ways, of the life of the Phoenix, a mythical bird who, at the end of its life, would catch fire, and be reduced to a pile of ashes. Out of those ashes the bird was reborn, a new creation.
We as humans have the promise of rebirth in our baptismal covenant – we have been born again through water and the spirit. Often, however, the movements of our lives leave behind places that have been burned, or singed – broken places that have not healed. These are part of the fallibility we are reminded of in the Ash Wednesday Liturgy: Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.
But just as the Phoenix is reborn from the ashes, so we are promised resurrection. The beginning of our journey in lent calls to mind the ashy, broken places, the hidden places within, known only to God. But at the end of this Lenten journey, after suffering the supreme fire of the Cross, we are given resurrection – new life through Christ.
The Lenten cycle is one that repeats itself through our lives, not just as a season in the church, but as a reality of our walk with God. We commune with God; sometimes we are reminded of sins, or painful experiences; through our journey with Christ, the Holy Spirit brings healing to those places. We continue to commune, find new things that God must touch in our lives, find hope and resurrection once again, and continue on.
What is God calling you to this Lent? Is God perhaps calling you to come nearer, to allow God to finger those tender places so that God’s Spirit can bring healing and resurrection? Allow God access, this season, to the deep places within the heart.
Ashes
We rise again from ashes,
from the good we've failed to do.
We rise again from ashes,
to create ourselves anew.
If all our world is ashes,
then must our lives be true,
An offering of ashes,
An offering to You.
We offer You our failures,
we offer You attempts;
The gifts not fully given,
the dreams not fully dreamt.
Give our stumblings direction,
give our visions wider view,
An offering of ashes,
An offering to You.
Then rise again from ashes,
let healing come to pain;
Though spring has turned to winter,
and sunshine turned to rain.
The rain we'll use for growing,
and create the world anew,
From an offering of ashes,
An offering to You.
.... Thanks be to the Father,
who made us like Himself.
.... Thanks be to His Son,
who saved us by His death.
.... Thanks be to the Spirit,
who creates the world anew,
From an offering of ashes,
An offering to you.
On Thursday, March 5, we resume our practice of Contemplative Prayer, 7:00 pm in the Meditation Chapel.
Don’t forget that on March 8, at 2:00 a.m., we Spring Forward into Daylights Saving time.
March 8th is Children’s Eucharist.
Next week I will be in Connecticut at the 2nd week of the Clergy Leadership Project. The Pax will resume Wednesday 11th.
For those on our prayer list:
For Matt Rogers as he continues his discernment.
For those who are deployed and their families.
Remember us, Lord, for we are your children.
Teach us to enter more deeply into the mystery of the Church,
That it may be more effective for ourselves and for the world
As a sacrament of salvation.
Lover of mankind, inspire us to work for human progress,
Seeking to spread your kingdom in all we do.
May our hearts thirst for Christ,
The fountain of living water.
Forgive us our sins,
And direct our steps into the way of justice and sincerity.
Lord,
May everything we do
Begin with your inspiration,
Continue with your help,
And reach perfection under your guidance.
We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
Who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
One God, forever and ever.
Pax et Bonum,
Loree+
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