Dust, the invitation of Lent
Lent is my favorite season of the church year. I think this is because its inwardness is so different from what we find around us in our daily lives. There is nothing wrong with daily life, but aren’t we all here because we are seeking something deeper? Lent takes us there. Having put away our Alleluias until Easter, we spend these weeks pondering the journey of Jesus to the cross and cultivating the yearning deep within us to return to God with our newly cleansed hearts.
And yet all is not somber and slow. There is joy in Lent. It is just a different kind of joy than we find in the celebratory seasons. Many years ago, as he was preparing for Ash Wednesday services in the monastery, Thomas Merton wrote that “In a minute we will go barefoot to get ashes on our heads to remember, with great relief, that we are dust. The source of all sorrow is the illusion that of ourselves we are anything but dust. God is all our joy and in him our dust can become splendor.”
Remember that you are dust. These treasured words on Ash Wednesday lead us into this season. Lent is a time of letting go of all that obscures or drowns out our essential dust-ness.
We may not fully succeed, but Lent invites us to practice letting go of who we pretend to be, who we think others want us to be, who our parents always told us we should be, who we always hoped that one day we might become. Whatever your age, the measure of time becomes irrelevant. Instead, Lent calls us to look in the mirror and say, “This is who I am, I’m doing the best I can.” We lift our essence to God as an offering of dust from the universe and hear the reply: “Well done, good and faithful servant.”
You turn us back to the dust and say, “Turn back, O children of earth. For a thousand years in your sight are like yesterday when it is past and like a watch in the night.” (Psalm 90:3-4)
What are some ways you can let go of that which obscures your essential dust-ness?
Instead of listening to music in your car, simply observe the world around you and (when it’s safe) especially the sky.
Stop complaining so much and, whatever the object of your complaint, be grateful that you have it in the first place.
Declutter your main living area to showcase what’s really important to you.
Stifle whim to impulsively shop online and try to make do with what you have.
Never use your phone at the dinner table; instead, focus on those who you are fortunate enough to share a meal with.
Pray with the conviction that God always responds: “Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it.” (Mark 11:24)
Don’t hold grudges; instead, chalk up the offending behavior to experience and get on with life.
Study the stars at night on those rare clear evenings. Learn their names, their progression across the sky, and greet them regularly: “Hello, Sirius; hello, Procyon.”
Let your dust be that of the splendor of the stars.
We may not fully succeed, but Lent invites us to practice letting go of who we pretend to be, who we think others want us to be, who our parents always told us we should be, who we always hoped that one day we might become.