All are encouraged to quiet yourself. Get in a comfortable position. Close your eyes. Notice your breathing. Draw your breath in deeply. Pause. Exhale. Breath in. Pause. Breath out. Breath in. Pause. Breath out.
Breath in: “we honour our mortality”; Breath out: “hope is written in the ashes”. Repeat.
Allow for silence.
Let us pray…Lord, as we gather in the silence and stillness of this night, we remember we are but dust and to dust we shall return. Your promise is hope. May we embody our faith in this moment, in this season, and in our lives. Amen.
What we just shared is called breath prayer. It is one, among may of the ways in which we can open ourselves to the presence of God, allowing God into our hearts, minds, souls, and bodies. Our relationship with God can be embodied in intentional ways. We know God when we take and eat, take and drink. God is embodied in the actions and the ways Communion nourishes us.
Tonight, we receive ashes on our faces, a reminder that we come from dust and to dust we shall return. It is a powerful symbol that points to God’s loving work in a garden so long ago, forming life from the dirt and breathing into it so that body, mind, and spirit are filled with life and possibility. God created bodies, yours, mine, every one. We are united by this beloved act of creation, each made in the image and likeness of the Creator. We are embodied.
Tonight, we mark this embodiment using palms we had raised high last year when we remembered the triumphal entry of God as human into Jerusalem. We knew then and know now that entry was to a victory through death. We mark that death by burning the palms, transforming them to ashes.
Thus, the ashes become a reminder, a sign of our relationship with God made flesh in Jesus Christ. Knowing this, we embody this sign, by smearing the ashes on our faces. We are marked by the death we foresaw on Palm Sunday. We are marked by the reality of our own deaths. We are marked and challenged to remember we are dust and to dust we shall return.
We are dust and to dust we shall return. The prayer is marked on our bodies. It is made physical in a way that unites us. Tonight, we stand in solidarity, knowing our mortality, and knowing we are not alone in that mortality. My frailty is your frailty and is also the frailty of Jesus. Tonight, we embody that prayer: we honour our mortality, hope is written in the ashes.
Tonight, we embody our prayer. How else might we embody this season? How will the choices we make about this Lenten journey be experienced in our bodies? To what extent might those experiences be shared with others?
Our prayers, our relationship with God exists in our bodies too. May we be aware of how we embody our relationship with God, with each other, and with Creation as we journey through this Lenten season. May we honour our mortality even as we know hope is written in the ashes. Amen.