Lenten Poetry: Day 7

Walking Rainbows

A rainbow is not just a symphony of colors
sent to calm the storm in our souls;
it is a talk with God,
a mysterious, miraculous conversation with God,
heart to heart,
the very heart of God saying to our hearts:
"I remember I am your God.
Be my walking rainbows,
so that the whole world
will know to whom you belong,
for I am the God who keeps promises,
and I have not forgotten our covenant."
This is the hope of the church:
that God keeps promises.
The mission of the church is to
walk among the suffering and give,
for we are covenant keepers,
walking rainbows,
bringing the hope of the good news to the poor.

--Ann Weems

Lenten Poetry: Day 6

The Visit

I went to visit her,
but dreaded seeing
her body cancer-filled.
What I saw upon her bed
was a small bag of yellowed skin
full of bones.
She faced the window
away from the door I entered,
and I heard her whisper
this prayer:
"Thank you, God:
I had a nice time."

--Ann Weems

Lenten Poetry: Day 5

The Disciples

Hurting, they came to him.
Healed, they followed him.
Grateful, they gave to him
what they had and what they were.
Blessed, they became a blessing
and went out to all the world
in his name.

Those who are hurt
and healed
grateful
and blessed
still move among us
in his name.

--Ann Weems

Lenten Poetry: Day 4

Put Away The Tinsel

When Lent comes,
you have to put away the tinsel;
you have to take down your Christmas tree,
and stand out in the open...vulnerable.
You either are or you aren't.
You either believer or your don't.
You either will or you won't.
And, O Lord, how we love the stable and the star!
When Lent come the angels' voices
begin their lamenting,
and we find ourselves in a courtyard
where we must answer
whether we know him or not.

--Ann Weems

Lenten Poetry: Day 3

The Walk

Those of us who walk along this road
do so reluctantly.
Lent is not our favorite time of year.

We'd rather be more active--
planning and scurrying around.
All this is too contemplative to suit us.
Besides we don't know what to do
with piousness and prayer.

Perhaps we're afraid to have time to think,
for thoughts come unbidden.
Perhaps we're afraid to face our future
knowing our past.
Give us the courage, O God,
to hear your word
and to read our living into it.
Give us the trust to know we're forgiven,
and give us the faith
to take up our lives and walk.

--Ann Weems

Lenten Poetry: Day 2

Lent

Lent is a time to take the time
to let the power of our faith story take hold of us,
a time to let the events
get up and walk around in us,
a time to intensify
our living unto Christ,
a time to hover over
the thoughts of our hearts,
a time to place our feet in the streets of Jerusalem
or to walk along the sea and listen to his word,
a time to tough his robe
and feel the healing surge through us,
a time to ponder and a time to wonder...

Lent is a time to allow a fresh new taste of God!

--Ann Weems

Ashes

Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

Today we receive ashes. These ashes aren’t just any old ashes though. These are not the ashes from a campfire. They are not the ashes from a dilapidated building. They are not the ashes from the burned text book of the class you didn’t like in school. They are not the ashes from a volcano. These ashes are made from the palm branches we used last year on Palm Sunday as we shouted Hosanna. These ashes carry the reminder that our hopes of triumphal parades can very quickly turn into betrayal, persecution, and burial.

I have seen my fair share of ashes. I spent four summers working at Bible camp. I have sat around close to 240 campfires. That means I have seen a lot of ashes. I played my guitar as the community sang songs. I listened to the gospel being proclaimed. I prayed to God the creator and sustainer of all things. And at every campfire there were ashes. The ashes were the product of the burning logs and branches. The ashes were the leftovers of the fire. They were the waste after the heat and light was gone.

The ashes we receive today are a reminder of who we are. We are ashes. We are people of the dust. We are dusty people. We, who were formed from the dust, will once again return to dust. God, who loved us enough to form us out of the dust of the earth and breathe the breath of life into our bodies, will at the end of our days on this earth welcome us into our eternal home, leaving behind ashes in this, our temporal home.

I saw another kind of ashes at camp. We also did a confession that resulted in ashes. We would invite campers to put their sins on a piece of paper. Then they brought their sins forward and placed them on a nail at the center of the cross. After everyone’s sins were placed on the cross we would start the paper on fire and let the sins burn away. The ashes that remained were in the shape of a rose at the center of the cross. The ashes were the product of the burning sins. The ashes were the beautiful reminder of our forgiveness on the cross.

In the same way, the ashes we receive today are a reminder of repentance and forgiveness. Lent is a time when we are called to repent and change our ways. As we repent we are mournful for the hurtful things we have done to ourselves, to others, and to the world. But today we are reminded, that even though we are dust, we are also God’s children. God has claimed us as God’s own through the cross, and today, in the ashen cross placed upon our foreheads, we are again marked with the cross of Christ, and reminded that we are forgiven. We are stamped as children of God through the cross.

I saw a third kind of ashes at camp. I saw ashes of broken relationships. I saw ashes of abuse. I saw the ashes of hate. I saw the ashes of neglect. I saw ashes of girls that cut themselves. I saw ashes of boys that had attempted suicide. I saw the ashes of being a young person in the world today. I saw the ashes of death. I saw the ashes of life. Sometimes I felt like I was completely surrounded by ashes. And as I sifted through those ashes, I remembered that God was in the ashes and I reminded the young people around me that they are loved. I reminded myself that I am loved.

The ashes we receive today are a reminder of love. At baptism we were marked with the sign of the cross. The ashes that are placed on our foreheads are a reminder of our baptism. They remind us whose we are. We are Christ’s. We are loved. He died that we might live. And not just live, He died that we might have everlasting life.

Ashes. You are dust and to dust you shall return. Do not sound a trumpet before you when you give alms. Do not be the like the hypocrites when you pray. Do not look dismal when you fast. And do not practice your piety in a showy manner. Yet, come and receive ashes. Come with a humble heart. Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return. And when you leave this place be reminded of who you are – a loved and forgiven child of God marked with the cross of Christ forever.

What then is our response to the ashes that will be smeared on our foreheads? Will you simply wipe them away pretending nothing has happened? Or will you wear them as your tattoo—your ink for this journey? Eventually the ashes will fade away, but the cross will still remain. We will always be loved and forgiven children of God. We will always be marked with the cross of Christ. We will always be dust.

Today we are invited to a campfire. We are invited to sing hymns. We are invited to listen to the Gospel proclaimed. We are invited to pray to God the creator and redeemer. We are invited to place our sins at the foot of the cross. And today we are invited to receive ashes in the shape of a cross on our forehead. These are ashes of sadness and mortality, of belonging and life, of repentance and mourning, of forgiveness and love. Amen.