so... ash wednesday 2021

Like so many of you, I've wondered how we might mark Ash Wednesday 2021 this year. Some, obviously, will not mark it at all. Ignoring the intentional call to "die before our death" is not something popular culture has much of a stomach for, right? We are a youth obsessed people who deny, hide, and obfuscate death as much as possible. And when, like this full year of pandemic, we cannot run away from the inevitable, we distract and/or self-medicate ourselves only to become resentful when the contagion still triumphs. 

Others, like one of my favorite writers, Diana Butler Bass, simply acknowledge their weariness. "The pandemic has made the traditional practice unworkable, as it involves close contact and in-person gathering."

Thus, some churches have developed alternatives including drive-thru ashes and handing out baggies of ashes for self-imposition or sprinkling on one’s head. But, I confess: the whole thing is wearying. How is Ash Wednesday really all that different from any other day in this interminable pandemic? The entire year has felt like Lent, so today is just another ashy day.

It is not up to me to say what another feels. In some ways, I get what Dr. Bass is feeling, and it rings true. The older I get, the more space I have for letting others feel what they feel without any interference, commentary, or judgement from me. I recall a conversation guideline someone insisted upon when we were building a coalition to oppose a state-wide ban on same sex marriage. The word was simple: NO comparisons of our various degrees of suffering, ok? No one would be allowed to suggest that they have been hurt more than anyone else. I thought back to my political sociology classes in the 70's where academics spoke of the "relative depravity" factor. However you want to measure it, life is hard for us all in varying degrees, and if we are going to live and work together I've realized that it is not my job to evaluate your feelings or experiences. Period.

For me, I am missing my loved ones this Ash Wednesday. And singing the songs of faith with others in full throated abandon, too. I'll join with my L'Arche community in Ottawa via ZOOM of Friday - and that will be holy ground. I shared some songs, poems, thoughts, and prayers with our tiny FB streaming community today, too - and that was a blessing. (check it out here on Be Still and Know: "Small is Holy." Here is the link:

https://fb.watch/3JmAgH6XaH/)

Where I've come out as Lent 2021 begins is this: with so little practice transforming our own pain, it seems like we mostly transmit it to those who are most vulnerable. Without a chance to learn and practice how to "did before our death," we keep doing the same old things while expecting different results. I know that I personally need to break that death spiral. I also know that to choose to "die" to self in this self-centered culture is foolishness writ large. So I am honoring the way St. Paul put it: a life guided by the foolishness of Christ and his Cross. 

This Lent I want to go deeper into a life that lets my false self die so that I might revel more in joy, trust, integrity, and compassion. I have a LOT of work to do in this dying so I give thanks for one more season of Lent to do some of it. For those who would like to join me in this pilgrimage, I'll be sharing my reflections and my experiences in prayer, word, poetry, and song on my Sunday live streaming: "Small Is Holy." (go to: https://www.facebook

.com/Be-Still-and-Know-913217865701531/)

Lent will mostly be spent alone. Such is the reality of this moment and no amount of Zooming will change this. I might be able to get my first vaccination in early March, with does number two ight before Holy Week. Perhaps there's the change we might be able to some time with our wee family after all of this. But probably not as Di has to wait even longer than I for a vaccina-tion. No matter how this Lent shakes out, however, I am ready to let go of a little more of myself and move towards the foolishness of the Cross.