Ash Wednesday 2011

Ash Wednesday has happened again, and I sit at my computer with a big splotch of ashes on my forehead that somewhat resembles a cross. I've been intrigued by the presence of Ash Wednesday on Facebook, especially by the number of organizations that ask "What are you giving up for Lent?" Even the Women's Ordination Conference asked that question! I'd long been under the impression that making positive changes or altering a bad habit were preferable to the old-fashioned notion of "giving something up." Giving something up does have a measure of the punitive in it. It can also lead one to become a bit obsessive, as we get deeper into Lent and miss what we've "given up" more & more. And then there's the worry about cheating & the temptation to cheat, or, conversely, the temptation to feel a bit "holier than thou" because we haven't cheated. Unless one is seriously addicted to something, I wonder whether it's worth the hassle. I mean, seriously, how much time do you really want to spend thinking about chocolate?

So, of course, now it's time for me to let our little corner of the world know what I'll be doing for Lent. Since I'm not giving something up, what am I taking on? It's quite simple. I've decided to cultivate silence in my apartment. Ordinarily, I leave the radio in my bedroom on most of the day, in part to keep the cats company. The radio is tuned to NPR, and over the years of listening, I've learned some really wonderful and even awesome things. During this Lent, however, I've decided to listen only to the hourly newscasts & to listen just before going to sleep. I know how easy it is to keep the radio or tv on for "company." That's especially true, I think, for those of us who live alone & have lived that way for a good while. With silence, my thoughts are right there, out in front, with no excuses, no matter how uncomfortable or foolish, banal or sinful, goofy or just plain wrong -- wrong as in evil, not wrong as in incorrect. The only things I'm hearing right now are the typing of the keys & one of my cats trying to get every last morsel of food from his dish.

So Lent has begun. This year, I'm much more aware than usual of the connection of the Lenten journey to vulnerability. That, no doubt, arises in large part because of my mother's death nearly two months ago. "Human, thou art dust, and to dust thou shalt return" takes on a much starker reality this Lent. In the journey of Jesus, we see a man who is profoundly vulnerable. He allows himself to be touched, offers his power for healing, for reconciliation, for justice. He meets people exactly where they are and in moments creates relationships of trust in which those who approach him not only trust him but also trust themselves for the first time in their lives. The people who encounter Jesus come to know how very deeply they are loved by G-D, not because of anything they did; rather, they come to know they are loved by G-D because of their faith -- a faith that leads them to be healed, to love others, to forgive others, and to love and forgive themselves.

That's all I'm able to write tonight; I'm fighting the effects of a sleepless night last night, so I'm about to eat something and then try to go to sleep early. A most blessed Lent to all of you who are journeying with Christ this holy Season.