Reflection - Dust to Dust

http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/030117.cfm
Jl 2:12-18
Mt 6:1-6, 16-18

In the first of today's readings we heard an exhortation from the prophet Joel. The words which especially caught my attention were those of the opening lines: 

     "Even now, says the LORD,

     return to me with your whole heart,

     with fasting, and weeping, and mourning;

     Rend your hearts, not your garments,

     and return to the LORD, your God."

The call to repentance is one of the oldest of themes in the Judeo-Christian tradition. Fasting. Weeping. Mourning. Almsgiving. Works of mercy. Prayer. Sacrifice. All these and more, are, were, or have been, part of our practices of repentance. Christians have especially focused on them during the season of Lent. 

When I was a child the religious atmosphere was different than today, largely because it was prior to the reforms of Vatican II. Fasting and abstinence were elementary parts of the Lenten season --- required, not just suggested. Devotions like the Stations of the Cross were imbedded in the Lenten routine. And, of course, the age-old custom of giving up something for Lent was well entrenched as common practice. 

My recollection of Lent, as practiced during my childhood, had little sobriety and repentance included. The focus was far more on sacrifice --- the giving up for Lent --- and additional devotional practices. I welcomed the meatless Friday's because then mom fixed a personally favorite dish from our peasant German heritage. Or, we had fish, which, in those days was more a luxury than a sacrifice. The usual "giving up candy" for Lent was a relatively easy practice which was more than compensated by my Easter morning basket of goodies. Religious ritual was, to me, like the drama of a play and I welcomed the addition of those proper to the Lenten season so long as I could be one of the altar boys. There was the soulful dramatization of the Stations of the Cross. There was a sensory deprivation in the covering of statues. There was a mournful note of loss in the restrictions on music. 

Considering my youthful experience, it's probably not surprising that the so-called 'true' meaning and purpose of Lent has been a somewhat muddled issue for me. Even today, clarity of thought on the matter is somewhat elusive. So, allow me to ruminate a bit on the thoughts which come to mind as I consider the beginning of the season.

The Genesis text which tells of man's creation is not included in the readings for Ash Wednesday. Yet, implicitly, the critical verse is there, embedded in one of the best known of Christian practices: The placing of ashes on the believer's forehead along with the accompanying words: "Remember you are dust." The words are drawn from the very essence of the creation story. "Then the LORD God formed man of dust from the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul." (Genesis 2:7)

The words remind us of a simple, basic truth; but it is a truth we are ready and willing to forget for the simple reason that comprehension is beyond our grasp. I'm not thinking of the 'dust' part; it's relatively easy to accept the fact that we will die and return to dust. Rather I'm thinking of the 'formed' part---"God formed man of dust." Acknowledging the truth of the statement does in no way suggest that we fathom the fact to which we are assenting. "God formed man of dust."  How can I possibly integrate that into my mental framework? There is a tendency, at least on my part, to dismiss from mind, or at least set aside, what my mind cannot fully comprehend.

I live at the foot of Pikes Peak and its physical presence confronts me every day; but I have to consciously meditate on its immensity to even remotely grasp the difference between our sizes. I live on planet earth; but it takes a photograph of earth, taken by a probe looking back from Pluto---a photo in which earth is but a dot---to impact my understanding with the awareness that earth is insignificance relative to the solar system. We dismiss the intricate mathematical formula for calculating variations in the orbit of the moon or the interaction of the components of our hearing mechanism or the interplay of musical instruments in a symphony. We dismiss these things when they are too difficult to understand or are beyond the boundaries of our education or are simply matters which hold no interest. We mentally set them aside and quietly acknowledge their existence.

God is beyond my comprehension. I say "we praise You, we bless You, we adore You" and the words flow easily and comfortably from my lips while my thoughts turn agreeably toward the object of my expressed devotion. But I have found that, when I shift the perspective and have the words come from God, a subtle resistance arises within me. "Praise me! Bless me! Adore me!" Even imagining these words coming from God arouses an inner dissonance. The dissonance passes as I remind myself of the speaker, but I have asked myself why is it even there. My answer should not surprise. Other people are the familiars in my life experience; and the immediate response to such statements---"Praise me! Bless me! Adore me!"--- is to hear them as if they come from another human being. My life, like yours, is devoid of any person worthy of making such a claim on others.

Among other things, Lent is a time for truth, for honestly facing the basic facts of our existence. It is a time to admit that the fantasy world I live in is as devoid of reality as the ether if Greek philosophy; that my plans are as assured as a cork in the ocean; that my will is as powerful as a leaf in a hurricane; that my understanding is as grounded as a house of lead built in quicksand. It is a time to acknowledge that only God is God; that His plan will prevail, that His will will be accomplished that His understanding is beyond understanding. 

I say a few things about myself and have a fair idea of what those statements mean. I say a few things about God and quickly admit that I have little understanding of what I am talking about. 

So, those practices of Lent---Fasting. Weeping. Mourning. Almsgiving. Works of mercy. Prayer. Sacrifice.---these offer the opportunity to confront the truth and turn from the pretense that I am in control of my life, that I can succeed in whatever I choose to accomplish, that I am sufficient unto myself, that my will will be done. 

Joel offered a striking image when he admonished that the people should rend their hearts and not their garments. The rending of garments is an ancient sign of sorrow, of being distraught, of acknowledging that an evil has been done. And, because cloth was not a cheap commodity in Joel's day, rending one's garments was also a sign of the depth of sorrow, the intensity of the inner disturbance, the seriousness of the evil. However, when the prophet speaks of rending one's heart a totally different image comes to my mind. I think of packets of sugar, pouches for tea bags, envelopes for hand-warmers. We rend the packet and expose what is inside. The pouch, the envelope, the packet are useless except to protect what they contain. So too with our hearts. We insulate our hearts from the unknown, the fearsome, the potentially painful; and unfortunately we may see God as any one of or all three of those things. Indeed, He is unknown and fearsome and even potentially painful. But He is those things only because he is so far beyond our comprehension. So, we are invited to rend those protections we have thrown around our hearts. To expose the wonder hidden inside. To allow it to be used for the purpose for which it was created.

Earlier I mentioned a few of the many things beyond our understanding and how we tend to set those things aside and dismiss them except as they enter casually into our thoughts. I hiked the Grand Canyon a few years ago. It was one of those things which I, in my limited experience, found to be beyond understanding. It was an ancient mystery, written on the face of the earth. It's size, its antiquity, its grandeur, its beauty, its depth were all more than I could readily encompass. While hiking to the bottom there came a time when I simply tried to open myself to its presence and allow its glory to enfold and embrace me. That is, I believe, what Lent, as a season focused on the truth of our existence, suggests that we do. God desires more than that we allow Him to just casually enter our thoughts like any other great mystery we can't really understand. He desires that we rend the package we have created to protect our hearts and bask in the glory of His intimate presence.