Pastor Jeni Grangaard, the campus pastor at Luther Seminary, invited me to preach at our Ash Wednesday service and to brainstorm on how we can bring art and creativity into the liturgy. We collaborated and came up with a multisensory experience.
First, I painted an image on my iPad that was projected on the main screen during the opening liturgy (see image).
Second, I preached, using the image and four tactile stations. The sermon both proclaimed the message and gave instructions for the imposition of ashes.
Third, the congregation was invited to move through four stations, the second of which was the traditional imposition of ashes.
Finally, we shared in communion.
Two talented musicians wove beautiful music throughout the liturgy.
photo by Dr. Cody Sanders
Watch the service
This is a simple diagram of the four stations.
This image was never used during the service, but I sketched it as part of my sermon preparation.
Read the Sermon
This painting is based on a memory.
Many years ago I drove through Yellowstone National Park with my family. The first thing we saw as we entered was a large section of forest that had recently been devastated by a fire. Everything was charred and bare and stark. It was shocking.
As we continued through the park we came to another section of forest. All the trees were about six feet tall. Shooting up from amongst them, like bleached out bones, towering over them from ages past, stood the tall trunks of the forest that had been burned in a previous generation.
I was intrigued by this and did a little research. I learned that some pine trees actually need the intense heat of a fire to release the seed pods.
One generation turns to ash while another generation springs to life.
Life, ash, rebirth.
We have come to this service to receive the ashes of a burned plant, mixed with olive oil, on our foreheads.
We say the words, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”
Ash. Dust.
Last May
I had the opportunity to participate in an international, interfaith gathering of spiritual changemakers in Orange, California.
A Native American spiritual leader told us something that really stuck with me. She said that in her tradition they always keep 14 generations in their mind.
They remember the seven generations that have come before us. Their lives, and their choices, for good and for evil, are what have shaped our moment, right now. We are here because of them.
And, every decision that we make, for good and for evil, will shape the seven generations that come after us.
As I was thinking about this moment,
when we speak these words, I realized that is what we are doing.
Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.
In the beginning, God took a lump of Adamah, of dust, of soil, and breathed life into it to form the Adam, the human.
The human is a clump of dirt filled with the breath of God.
When that human life dies it returns to the soil. It is composted.
That’s what soil is. It is the composted lives of previous generations that becomes the soil for the present generation.
Generation after generation.
Formed. Infused with the breath of life. Returned to the soil.
Much of this soil is rich and full of love and nutrients. For this we give thanks.
Here’s the harsh reality. Sometimes it is hard to honor these generations because the soil they have left for us is filled with pain and violence and the forest seems scorched and barren.
And yet, here we are. You are a clump of dirt, filled with the breath of God.
Everything that we do, in the soil of now, will eventually be composted and become the soil for the seven generations that come after us.
Today is Valentine’s Day.
It’s always a challenge to try to blend Valentine’s Day with Ash Wednesday.
Insert snarky meme here.
As I was meditating on these thoughts about the dirt and the generation, and soaking in the scriptures for today, something occurred to me.
There is a theme that ties all of this together,
that is all about Valentine’s Day.
Joel warns the people that a fire is going to burn everything down.
Don’t waste your life, he says. Rend your hearts, not your clothes.
Humble yourselves and make things right with God and each other.
Things may seem lost and hopeless, but there is one thing that you can trust: the Steadfast Love of God. The Chesed, in the Hebrew.
The God who breathed into your lump of dirt is the God who loves you and will never give up on you.
David cries out,
“Create in me a clean heart, Oh God. Through your steadfast love, renew your spirit within me.”
God demonstrated Chesed for us
when God became a clump of dirt, named Jesus Christ, who showed us what it looks like to be a clump of dirt filled with the breath of God in the fullest way; What it means to live in the Kin-dom of God and to walk in the Spirit.
Paul reminds us that,
no matter how burned out and desolate our circumstances may be, God can bring new life from it in the power of God’s Spirit.
Jesus reminds us in our Gospel reading
of one key part of living in the Kingdom of God that it isn’t about us. Don’t spend your energy drawing attention to how amazing you are. Go in secret. Talk to God. In the secret place, draw your strength and identity from this truth.
The God who formed you, on this Valentine’s Day, looks at you and says,
“Remember, you are a Beloved clump of dirt, and to the dirt you shall return.”
You are part of something so much bigger than yourself. The gift of life that I have given you is for everyone. Use your breaths well, and walk in the freedom of my love.
Jesus showed us the way.
He lived his life to demonstrate God’s Steadfast Love in proclaiming the Kingdom is at hand, its for everybody.
He touched the outcast.
He healed the sick.
He confronted evil and delivered people from it.
And then, he died, rose from the dead, and showed us that life is about new life, and new life, and new life.
By the grace of God,
we are washed clean of sin,
we are buried with Christ,
we are set free to love our neighbor and make good soil for the generations to come.
In a moment you will be invited to come to four stations.
If you are willing and able, I invite you to pick up a clump of dirt in your hands. If you are not able to touch the dirt, then we have compostable dishes that you can use to scoop it up.
Take a moment to reflect on the generations that have shaped your present moment. The Good and the Bad. We must make peace with it, and give thanks to God, for all of it, because it is what brought you here.
Bring your clump here.
This is your moment.
Rend your heart.
Own the bad soil that you have made so far.
Receive the forgiveness of God. And when we say, “Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return,” also hear,
“You are a beloved clump of dirt, filled with the breath of God. Live it well.”
Then step to this bowl and drop your dirt into it.
As you do, acknowledge that someday you will die. Pray for the generations that will come from the soil that we have left for them.
Finally, come to the baptismal font.
As clean water is poured over your hands, imagine the Steadfast love of God, being poured over your whole body. We are buried with Christ, made clean, set free by the grace of God, and rise to walk in the newness of life.
Come.
