Plants
absorb light from the sun, little by little, day by day, and (in a seemingly
mundane marvel) manage to use that sunlight to grow. They store the energy that is gradually
poured in the branches and leaves they grow.
It’s possible to release that energy all at once with the right
stimulus. That’s what fire is. Fires burns so bright because all of the sun
energy that the plants have bit by bit absorbed gets let out in a brilliant
blaze that can light up the darkest night.
As a fire burns, ashes are created.
Ashes are a side-effect of fire.
But, while a fire is ablaze, we rarely notice the ashes.
Friends:
today is a day to notice the ashes. God
has poured his love into us, shone his sun upon us. Little by little, day by day, we have grown,
growing towards the full statue of Christ.
We’ve known what it means to be ardently passionately on fire with love
of God; we’ve known how God’s powerful work of grace can be disclosed in our
fire; that we can be the Light of the World that Jesus calls us to be. Maybe that was long ago; maybe that’s how we
feel right now and that’s what drew us to this Mass. But, regardless, today is a day to notice the
ashes.
Because
normally people only notice the ashes when the fire is all but gone out. Today is the day to put them front and center
on our foreheads. Today is the day to
display on our faces that God has blessed us, God has shed His light upon us,
God has been working to kindle sanctification in us. As the prophet Joel puts it, he has been rich
in kindness towards us. But we’re not as
brilliantly aflame as God calls us to be.
We’re not setting our world ablaze.
There are dark corners in the world… in our neighborhoods… in our
families… in our hearts. We’re at that
stage of a fire when people start to notice the ashes. So, we rend our hearts, giving God space to
enter. We gather in assembly, and we
lament. We confess: we aren’t that
brilliant at being light of the world.
We aren’t sufficiently aflame. We
are so beloved, and yet our love is limited.
We are ashes, not flames.
And
God will do with us what He does with ashes, what he first did right at the
start of Genesis. We’ll read this story
on Sunday, the story of God taking ashes, forming them into human shape and, in
a messy act of intimacy, breathing His own breath, His own life, into the earth
creature’s nostrils! God brings ashes to
life. God will light up the world
through fanning the fire that’s still alive in our hearts. Joel says ‘perhaps’… perhaps God will bless
us. He prays that God might give
offerings and libations so as those can be turned back to God in worship. The psalm prays for God to open our lips that
we might proclaim praise.
We don’t
have to settle for ‘perhaps.’ Jesus
Christ, Our Lord, suffered and died for us and rose to die no more. He will bring us into his marvelous
light. This Lent, we can walk where he
beckons, to the eternal life he has prepared for us. We can accompany him in fasting, we can
encounter him in the poor through almsgiving, we can embrace him in
prayer. We can walk his Way of the Cross. We can carry our own. We can die to sin, and rise with him in
glory. We are ashen. Through Lent, God prepares us to be set
ablaze by the great Easter fire of resurrection.
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