She was speaking about organized religion vs "spiritual but not religious." She described a buffet of spiritual practices and the idea of being "spiritual" as walking the buffet and choosing helpings of those things that seem most appealing. She described organized religion as giving her things she would have quickly passed on the buffet - humility, forgiveness, repentance. More unpleasant parts of spiritual growth.
Ash Wednesday is not a day I would choose. A random reminder of death - often in the middle of February - when life is already depressing. The start of a fast, when life would feel better as a continuous feast.
But every year as my faith deepens. As I've grown through unpleasant seasons of fasting, I've begun to crave this season of less. Even my children, knowing that beloved devices are going up on a shelf, have begun to secretly crave this time of simplicity. A time to be counter cultural. To push back from over abundance and perpetual feasting and to be drawn into the wilderness.
I feel the Spirit moving this year.
Yesterday, out of the blue, a teenager from my church texted to ask what the hours were for receiving ashes. Her schedule was packed and she was trying to figure out when she could fit it in. After several texts back and forth, it seemed the only time should could realistically do it was at 6am.
My alarm went off at 5:40. I popped out of bed and dressed in the dark. Zander wiggled in the space in left behind. He usually wanders into my room between 4 and 5 and snuggling him in the last hour of sleep is so warm and cozy.
I grabbed oil and Zanders baptism candle from the shelf, sent a text and headed out into the cold dark morning.
Her car was already parked in front of the church doors. I fumbled through mixing ashes and oil on the center console then grabbed the printed liturgy, candle and lighter from the passenger seat and got out of the van. I set the candle on top of my printed sheet on a dry patch of parking lot and we crouched in our sweat pants as we squinted to read in the dim candlelight.
The words were a confession.
An acknowledgement of our broken humanity. An acknowledgement that someday we too would die.
I placed ashes on her head.
She placed them on mine.
I wished her luck for her busy day of cheer practice and FFH activities and watched her jump in her car off to the busy day ahead. I got back in my mini van And headed back to motherhood and the onslaught of morning prep that awaited me.
But I smiled.
The moment didn't escape me.
A young woman and a middle aged woman. Greeting each other in the dark.
Gathering around a candle...
foreshadowing Easter...
When other women would venture into the darkness looking for God in a tomb in a garden.
Powerful things happen when women go looking for God in the pre-dawn darkness.
God shows up to meet them.
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