So we smear the ashes, that nasty reminder of the limited shelf life of our good intentions, on our forehead. Then everyone can see: we are not perfect, we too will fall again and again.
This is what our falling looks like: our own participation in the death of the innocent, the oppression of the weak, the ignoring of the frail. Our own sinfulness prompts us to a new expression of repentance. We never expected to be perfect. During Lent, we remind ourselves that we have fulfilled our own low expectations. The ashes then are a signal for repentance to begin.
And sorrow. Grief. Distress. Maybe even a bit of despair. Throw some ashes over your head and folks are going to figure out something big is going on. In biblical times, when a person wore ashes (and not in that clean, neat way we do on Ash Wednesday) everyone knew that deep sorrow or deep repentance was at hand. It was a sign that all was not well.
Even unto death. Genesis 2 tells us that God created the earth creature Hadamah (we call him Adam) out of dust. Then God breathed life into this earth creature by blowing the Spirit into its nostrils. This is where we came from. This is where we will return. From dust. To dust.
So the ashes remind us that in the end, we are God's. Then we have (roughly) 40 days to consider what that might mean, what it might look like in our lives. In our death. In the promise of our living in glory.
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