The church was a serious sort of church. The liturgical colors were always appropriate and in full display. The choir was professional in sound and demeanor with eyes always on the church minister.
The crowd was always silent and respectful.
Perhaps, it was the serious nature of the church that made what happened at the Ash Wednesday evening service even more exaggerated.
It happened during the imposition of ashes. The pastor was drawing small crosses with the ashes upon people’s foreheads in a very holy way. He had a holiness about him that was unshakable. Even when he tried to crack a joke during the sermon, the congregation remained silent. You do not laugh in the face of the holy.
The event has been talked about many times since. As far as anyone can deduce, everything that happened that evening was due to the assisting minister politely relinquishing his duty to the pre-teen acolyte.
You see, when the minister was done marking ashes on people’s foreheads, it was the assisting minister’s job to mark a cross on the pastor’s forehead. But, the assisting minister allowed this honor to pass to the acolyte that evening.
That, normally would not have been an issue in this holy of holy churches. Acolytes were well trained children. However, it just so happened that the pastor had a physical anomaly that allowed what happened to take place.
Right there, in the front of the sanctuary, for all to see, the acolyte dipped their finger into the ashes, lifted the finger to the pastor’s lowered BALD head, and proceeded to mark a cross all the way from the back of the gleaming surface to the eye brows. The cross was huge, and thick. It took up the pastor’s entire head! The pre-teen was impressed with himself when he studied what, I swear, was a cross that was only a quarter of the size of Christ’s real cross.
From that moment on in the service, you just could not take the pastor seriously. He was a holy man with the Empire State Building sized cross sketched onto his head.
People giggled as he lowered his head in prayer.
People held back laughs each time the guy looked down to give communion to every person in the church. The cross flashed its presence every time the pastor lowered his head to whisper, "The body of Christ given for you."
The enormous cross completely ruined the holiness of the night and disrupted the holy nature of the church in general.
But, as I reflect back on that night, I cannot help but think that God intended that pre-teen to be there to create that ashy masterpiece. After-all, there was nothing true about the serious, and perfect holiness of that church or the pastor. Each person went home after worship and acted just as sinful as anyone else. The pastor was no exception. No matter how silently reverent the church acted, how perfectly the choir performed, or how holy the pastor acted, they were all still dust.
When we were created, God took dust and molded each one of us. And, when we die, we all dissipate back into the dust of the earth. None of us are gods. We are all dust, stuck together with spit, and we are nothing more.
But, I would also like to point out that we are also nothing less. We are all people who have been molded and shaped by God. We have all been stuck together with the waters of baptism, held together with God’s love. We are balls of dust that were lovingly created by God the Father and saved by the cross of Christ. And, since we were molded with in love, we are balls of dust that show love. So, we are not just any dust. We are God’s dust.
Since we are God's dust, we do seek to share ourselves and our possessions with others, in the same way that Christ gave his life for us.
We do pray to the one who formed us from the dust and still shapes our lives.
We do fast from the things that make us less than what we were created to be.
And we hope to no longer store up a wall-like pile of earthly treasures, just as Jesus was never distracted or blocked from loving us.
Indeed, we are God’s dust, but, today we take a little time to remember that we did not mold and sculpt ourselves. This humility does not allow us to take ourselves too seriously. And, if we were somehow deluded into thinking we were the savior of the world, God would allow a pre-teen acolyte to draw a life-sized cross on our bald foreheads, just to humble us a little bit.
After-all, Jesus did not come to the world in order to get a boost to his ego through our worship and praise. If that was his intention, he failed completely. He was put to death on a cross. That is hardly glorious.
No, Jesus came to the world, not to stroke his own ego but to save the world through perfect love. Jesus came to serve rather than be served. Jesus has no need to get an ego boost from all he does. Jesus Christ simply loves, because he is love.
And, as God's dust, formed through love, we seek to live in the same way as our creator.
With that in mind, may I suggest a few things you can give up for Lent, that you can humbly do in secret, but would also allow you to love those around you.
The Rev. Phil Ressler actually lists 40 things that you can give up, but here are 5 to choose from to get you started.
Fear: Jesus constantly says not to fear. Fear keeps others at arm’s length. Love draws others close so they may truly be known and accepted.
The Need to Please Everyone: We are all dust. No one is any better than anyone else. Therefore, there is only one we need to please: God. So go ahead, love in every way that you are able. Please God and ignore those who may not like it.
Blaming Others: No passing the buck allowed. Taking responsibility for your own actions means that you can alter the harmful ones and stop hurting others around. Not hurting others in the first place is a very hidden, but important way to love.
Fear of Failure: We are dust. We are imperfect. But, try anyway. Try to love your neighbor in the best way possible. It may not work, but no one will be loved if you do not even try.
Feeling of Unworthiness: You are not just dust, you are God’s dust. You are worth something. You have plenty of love of offer in your own unique way.
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