Over the years one of the useful things I’ve tried to do is to blog my way through Lent, which is better achieved with finding prompts to spur thought. The problem this year lies in struggling to find a set that I’ve not used before, or finding ones that are, how shall I put it, very Christian indeed. That shouldn’t be a problem, of course. After all, I am one, a Christian priest no less, but I’m reluctant, or feel that I might be somehow inflicting them upon my readership (all three of you, if you’ve not jumped ship after my very sparse writings over the last few years. After all, I tend to come at things from an angle, not that I have any aspirations to episcopacy, despite the fact that bishops move diagonally!)
However, all things must start somewhere, and today is Ash Wednesday. Upon my forehead is a black smudge, similar to the ones received by the 10 or so faithful souls who showed up in the Multi-Centre here Isengard for Holy Communion and Imposition of Ashes, a new record for attendance here on the still-feeling-new-but-not-really-that-much campus.
Traditionally leftover palm crosses from the previous year are used: signs of hope that marked the beginning of Holy Week recycled via cleansing fire into the start of the season of penitence. Fine, dry, grey powder. Dust. A circularity, and one that picks up the stories of humanity’s creation, from the dust of the Earth in the book of Genesis, as well as the dust of the stars as science teaches us. From death, life. Through life, to death. Rinse and repeat. (Though not in the wheel of reincarnation underlying other faiths).
The day’s liturgy reminds us “Remember that you are but dust, and to dust you shall return.” It echoes the funeral liturgy or “ashes to ashes, dust to dust” (as opposed to David Bowie’s one of “ashes to ashes, funk to funky” – which takes us off in a completely different set of associations!
A start to a season of contemplating mortality, frailty and failure, an inward turn, even as (God-willing) the days not only lengthen but warm, bringing the renewal of spring in flora and fauna. It’s explicit in the liturgy of the day, blending hope and faith, “Turn away from sin, and be faithful to Christ.” We are called to acknowledge our mortality, yet at the same time to turn beyond our inevitable demise, to a far greater hope.
A good place to start Lent. A good place to restart blogging. I wonder how long it will last? But then again, I’m reminded of the closing lines of one of my favourite films, Bladerunner, pondering Rachel’s doom, “It’s too bad she won’t live! But then again, who does?”
We all have an expiry date. But until then, we live.
Life, Faith and Role-Playing Games 