The Week Before the Ashes

‘Tis the week before Ash Wednesday, and all through the churches, pastors and deacons are scurrying about!

They locate the burnt, pulverized palm branches and remind each other not to mix ashes with water. On Ash Wednesday, we smear ashes where they can be seen and say out loud what is meant to be left unsaid: “From dust you have come, and to dust you shall return.”

In one week, the word will be out. You cannot buy your way out of death, or schmooze your way, or overpower your way. No matter what you have or who you are, no matter the power you have accumulated or the reputation you have earned, your composition matches everyone else’s. You are dust.

This is bad news for those who have multiple homes and multiple savings accounts. Bad news for those who have worked their way to the top. Bad news for those who can buy a younger face or a great, big boat. Bad news for those whose dreams are made of plastic or steel or engineered wood siding. Dust dirties our dreams.

And yet, this is good news for everyone else. For those who have no home, who have no work, who have a leathery face and no boat. For those who have wrecked their reputation, lost their way, and tasted the dust of despair. These beloved know quite well that life is dust and therefore we are dust.

From the dusty and despairing, the rest of us might learn to let go. You are dust, and therefore your life is not your own. You are dust, beloved dust, with a dusty future that entails none of what you own, none of what you did, none of what you wrecked. Dust is a pile of forgiveness smeared on your forehead.

‘Tis the week before Ash Wednesday. Already you are dust. Good news abounds.

Photo by Zach Lucero on Unsplash