The Ash Wednesday Ligurgy and
St. Timothy's Ash Wednesday Witness event were so moving last night. I am incredibly grateful to be a part of this Community, and so very blessed to be a part of last night's Witness.
One of St. Timothy's core values is "Art as a pathway to knowing God." That's been my experience for the last 7 years, but I never expected to be part of a church community that valued the arts and implemented it as part of our "church experience".
A couple of months ago, Liz Parker, our Associate Pastor, heard the Spirit's whisper and felt the pull to incorporate the arts into our Ash Wednesday evening. She pulled a small team together, gave them her vision, and we were off and running.
After the Ash Wednesday Liturgy last night, 4 roomes were opened to the arts: two were used for people who wanted to write their thoughts in poetry and/or prose, one was opened for photographers to take images of our community with the imposed ashes marking their foreheads, and the Parish Hall was opened for those who wanted to make a visual image marking their experiences of Ash Wednesday. We also had a couple of "roving photographers" taking candids shots. The idea is to pull all of these creative "images" together in an exhibit to open on Palm Sunday when St. Timothy's offers the Brazosport Community an Easter Season Taize Service. After witnessing the Spirit and the Muse dancing together last night, I can only imagine how powerful that exhibit will be.
It's not often someone actually LIKES Ash Wednesday, but I do. It's only been a part of my life for the last 8 years, since coming into the catholic community. And I've had some profound Ash Wednesday experiences. Last night was no different.
Liz's emphasis on our Art event has been that Ash Wednesday is the one day of the year that the Church talks about death, the one day of the year that the world is reminded in a very visual way that death is a given. And we don't like that, especially here in the West.
All of us will die. That used to be a dreadful thought for me; I even convinced myself that I wasn't going to die, but that I would be one of those victorious overcomers of the Last Days who would be here when Jesus came back, and I would stand with him against the Antichrist...
whatever that is...
But death isn't as fearful for me anymore. Not that I want to die, but I've been given some very healthy "death instruction" over the last few years.
Painting has taught me: shadow is a necessary part of the picture--otherwise you don't see the Light. Night is as holy as Day. Centers of interest are found when Light and Darkness are most contrasted.
Science teaches me Solar systems die, planets die, nature goes through cycles of death and rebirth, Winter tells us death is coming--yet, for the most part, we don't want to talk about dying, at all, never--not our own death, nor the death of those we love.
I have a couple of friends who embrace the old women's religions. They've reminded me that death is part of the plan--and always has been.
I was recently privy to a very special blog for 4 months. Bill's wife Lilly was going through the death process, and Bill shared his experiences, fears, hopes, dreams, and pains with us. Death was discussed openly and honestly. I feel better prepared in some small way to face it when it comes knocking at my door. I so appreciate his honesty, in the face of that which seemed so cruel.
I've had friends who've had to bury their children, one of them recently. That doesn't seem fair, but that too is a part of this world's life experience.
Relationships die. Friendships end. Marriages break up. People move away. And Life goes on. That too is part of the plan.
And in the last few years I've befriended the darkness and found energy to walk into the light on numerous occasions. This isn't saying I want to experience it today, but at least I've been given glimpses into death as a part of life--not to be dreaded but accepted as part of the Original Plan.
For me, one of the most moving part of the Ash Wednesday Liturgy at St. Timothy's is probably unique to our church. Our pastors are husband and wife. I love watching them serve each other communion. But on Ash Wednesday, I watch them mark each other with ashes and tell each other, "You're going to die". And it moves me to tears every time.
As we moved forward last night, I saw in my mind's eye, millions, perhaps billions of people through the centuries moving toward the Cross to receive their ashes. This morning, as I worked on this little image, I pondered death, mortality, and with it, the hope for our tomorrows. Every closed door opens onto some new experience. It never, never ends. I firmly believe in Life after death. Not so sure how it will look--seriously doubt I'll dance on streets of gold, but who knows. All I know is whatever's on the other side is an extension of what we have here...a continuation of the journey in some other form. Like my mother says, "I'm not afraid of death. I'm not so sure about the dying part--that's pretty difficult to think about, but I know there's something more after this is gone."
And it's a pretty good thing that we allow at least one day a year to ponder our mortality. In the middle of efforts to extend life so that we don't die until we're hundreds of yeas old, in the middle of a culture where botox, plastic and dye in a bottle helps us look forever young, it's probably a pretty good thing to ponder Reality.
Now a little plug: St. Timothy's is offering all kinds of artistic processes during our
Lenten Events, and you're invited to be a part of it.
Blessings...
