Day 2 of Lent. {making beauty out of ashes}
Yesterday was “Ash Wednesday”.
For my new friends who might not be familiar with liturgical practice (I was not familiar for a very long time), Lent is the day that begins with Ash Wednesday, 40 days before Easter. The exact date varies, as does the exact day of Easter Sunday, but the ritual and theology have never changed:
“During Lent, let us find concrete ways to overcome our indifference.”
In full disclosure, I am not Catholic, though the above quote is Pope Francis. I’m Protestant, born and bred, and all the best hours of my life spent studying Scripture - and those hours are many - haven’t done a single thing to alter that fact. Theologically, I beg to differ with some of the doctrine and practice of the Catholic Church. (And I am sure that they beg to differ with me…)
However, liturgy has been their means to preserve the precious truths about God, down through the ages since (Catholics say) St. Peter. I respect that.
A bit of liturgy, fundamentally, helps us remember. And, most importantly, liturgy helps us to remember the same thing. After all, our faith must not rest on “he said/she said”. There are fundamentals pertinent to following Jesus Christ that have never changed and will never change.
And while I do not officially participate in Ash Wednesday, here is what I love about it:
It involves the outward sign of an inward, invisible truth: we were made from the dust, and to the dust we will return.
Practicing Catholics attend a service where the sign of the cross is made with ashes on their forehead. Since I’m not Catholic, I painted the cross on the back of my hand, using a mixture of ashes and iridescent black paint.
What a sobering reality. This cross is a visible reminder of what for some might be a dark truth: death is the ultimate statistic. This cross on the forehead, for Catholics, is also a visible reminder of the sin of the individual, and the sin of all collective humanity. Consider the following verse from the book of Ezekiel:
So why do I, who am not Catholic in any sense, why do I think at all about Lent?
First of all, again I will tell you that I find a bit of liturgy (another term for liturgy might be “heartfelt ritual”) to be helpful to me as a human. At the risk of seeming reductionist and offensive to my Catholic friends, I find the observance of some liturgies to be simply charming. It makes for an artful life.
I enjoy the sense of continuity that comes with having the same thoughts, reviewing the same truths, and engaging the same practice, year after year after year. It’s why I celebrate a form of Advent at Christmas. Both Lent and Advent are a means of slowing time down just enough to live what I call “a well-considered middle”.
The older I get, the faster time flies. I am looking for ways to mark the time, to consider the cross, and to rejoice in such an overwhelmingly scandalous salvation.
Historically, the objective of these 40 days leading to Easter, is to spend the time in a degree of introspection and total (or near total) abstinence from some besetting weakness or sin. Personally, I believe the Gospel teaches us something different. Jesus Christ has forgiven all my sin, past - present - and future! (That alone bends my brain…it blows my mind. Totally.)
And while my Gospel does teach repentance from sin and dead works, there is a far greater emphasis on the finished work of Christ.
I make the sign of the cross on the back of my hand to celebrate trading my ashes for beauty.
“The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
because the Lord has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners, a
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes...”
Here’s a short time lapse of the art that came from today’s celebration of scandalous forgiveness - a 9x12” collage on paper:
