Ash Wednesday

Our Ash Wednesday service just ended here at Community UCC. I was really moved by people's response and reaction during worship. Together, we read Isaiah 58:1-12, which talks about empty fasting versus the kind of fasting God calls us to. God calls us to take on a kind of fast that impacts the world. Usually, we only take on fasts that impact ourselves. But, this passage calls us to take on fasts that will bring good news to the poor.

Tonight, as part of worship, everyone was invited to write down what sort of fast they felt called to this Lenten season. They put their prayers in a bowl to be burned, much like the palms that made the ash that would later don their foreheads. Did you know that's what the ashes of "Ash Wednesday" are made of? Last year's palms from Palm Sunday. It's a powerful symbol -- the palms. They were waved in celebration by the sane people who later in the week would yell, "Crucify him." How often our best intentions go awry. Our prayers tonight-- the ones written on the papers -- were fervent ones in hopes that we will keep a fast that matters. Unlike those waving palms long ago. But, even if we cannot, God's mercy is great. God's love for us is unending. God's forgiveness is steadfast. We can rely on that.

I want to leave you tonight with a piece that I shared with those at worship tonight about the connection between the ashes and the palms. I hope you find meaning in it as you begin your Lenten journey.


Palms and Passion Ashes
Originally written for First Congregational Church UCC for Lent 2009
By Rev. Leah Robberts-Mosser

Less than a year ago, these palms were supple, green, full of life.

But since then, they’ve lost their luster, turned a dull gray-brown instead.

Dry and brittle.

So easily caught by a spark.

Then, on Palm Sunday, they were waved in celebration, in anticipation, in the midst of loud hosannas and glory, glory hallelujahs.

Now, they crackle in the fire – desolation instead of celebration, despair instead of anticipation, curses and muttering instead of loud hosannas.

These Palm branches, once laid down in front of the king were signs of our best intentions. How often our best intentions dry up before our very eyes.

These palm branches, once signs of our highest hope have become parched in the harsh light of reality.

These palm branches, once full of life. But sin sucks the life right out of you. It’s no wonder it all went up in smoke.

That’s what these ashes are all about – they’re not just any old ashes, scraped up from the dregs of a fire.

These ashes are what remain from our best intentions gone array, the ruins of our hope, the vestiges of our sin.

These are ashes that because of where they come from, because of what they are, they can’t help but remind us that we are dust, and to dust we shall return.

You are dust and to dust you shall return.

You are dust and to dust you shall return.