In many Christian liturgical traditions today marks the start of Lent and is also referred to as Ash Wednesday. One of the ways to mark the occasion is to receive ashes, often made of the burned remnants of the palm leaves from the previous year’s Palm Sunday, in the form of a cross on the head or hand. There is a traditional reminder that “You are dust and to dust you shall return.”
On previous Ash Wednesdays I have reflected of the connection to the rest of creation this entails – from the first “earthling” being formed out of the earth in the Book of Genesis to modern scientific insights of how all elements, other than hydrogen and helium were born out of the death of stars – in other words, we are all literally stardust.
This Ash Wednesday, I want to focus on the reminder of our mortality. Traditionally, this reminder of mortality is meant as a call to humility and an acknowledgment of the need for discernment in order to achieve right action – this is often portrayed through the language of sin and humankind’s tendency to sin but that can often be taken in directions I do not wish to go.
While I think such calls to humility and the need for discernment are good ways to reflect upon this day, I will go a slightly different direction this time around. To do so, let us reflect on a quote from Star Trek: Generations
“Someone once told me that time was a predator that stalked us all our lives, but I’d rather believe that time is a companion who goes with us on the journey and reminds us to cherish every moment…because they’ll never come again…what we leave behind is not as important as how we have lived.”
-Captain Jean-Luc Picard in Star Trek: Generations
This is a good reminder, I think, of the scriptural focus on time, and the ways in which time can be fluid. The reminders of mortality, both in this Star Trek film and in the entire concept of Ash Wednesday, can lead to several different reactions. One common one is to say “Tomorrow, we may die; so tonight, let’s feast!”; another is to try, at all costs, to escape our morality. The former may be somewhat emblematic of much of North American and Western European cultural practices, built on capitalism, and sold through entertainment and false necessity. The latter may be somewhat convicting of Christian tendencies towards “escape valve” theology that views the present state of existence as a mere prelude to heavenly paradise. What the Star Trek quote points to, and what is also present in some of the scriptural witness, is yet another direction. One where we acknowledge that our time on this side of history is limited, and that rather than being fearful or despairing of that fact, we take it to heart and focus on making choices that are compassionate, loving, faithful, hopeful, and just as a result. Further, we make these choices not out of any wish for a future reward, or to have our name last through the ages to come, but simply because we have a firm conviction it is the right way to live.
This focus on right living and right practicing, with the commensurate acknowledgment that we will inevitably fall short of our goals at times, is the one I am most drawn to. It is one where I see Christianity operating at its best, and often avoiding at all costs at its worst.
May you find this reflection helpful. Amen.
The Dreamers' Corner 