“There will be two virtual Ash Wednesday services, but no imposition of ashes.”
My heart sank as I read the message in my inbox. How can we have an Ash Wednesday service without the imposition of ashes?
This feels like the hardest loss of them all.
We did Maundy Thursday at home. We read the story of the Last Supper and drew pictures of Jesus. We washed feet and shared bread and wine. We prayed the Lord’s Prayer and asked for Your will to be done.
Then we did Good Friday at home. We turned off the lights and stripped our mantel and remembered the darkness and sadness of the day.
We celebrated Holy Saturday—planting flowers, cleaning the house, and decorating the mantel for the celebration to come.
And we cried our way through Easter Sunday. We woke up in the dark to drive to the beach to wash the sun rise above the ocean. We talked about the beauty and stillness of that morning. The majesty before us. The hope in the midst of our darkness.
We dressed up for church and sat around our coffee table and heard the story of that first Easter morn. We had scavenger hunts in our backyard and pulled out all our best ideas to make Easter a day full of happy memories.
Summer came and went.
We had a small Thanksgiving celebration and gave thanks for the good in the midst of the bad.
We had Christmas Eve snack dinner and sang Christmas carols around candles and made a Holy Communion table of our own.
And now here we are … Ash Wednesday less than two weeks away … and we’re finding ourselves having to figure out how to do this on our own too.
It is painful for me to think about observing Ash Wednesday at home, away from my beloved Church Community. Ash Wednesday, more than any other worship service, is centered on confession and public absolution. In a normal year, we’d worship in the Sanctuary, singing together, hearing scripture together, praying together—all things that we’ve been able to do together virtually thanks to Zoom. But in a normal year, we would also walk to the altar together to share Holy Communion and remember the promise that Christ has gone before us. Remember his command to remember Him as we eat and drink this bread and wine. Later in the service, we would walk up to that very same altar and receive ashes on our forehead and be reminded that we are dust … and to dust we shall return.
In a year like this one, that reminder that we will all return to dust is so important. In a year where we’ve seen so many challenges, so much strife, so much isolation and so much death, it’s almost a breath of fresh air to remember that we all, eventually, return to dust. But not being able to do that in the presence of other believers is heart-wrenching.
So I did what we’ve all done so many times over the last eleven months. I found my resolve and dug into my faith and put my creative juices to work. I put together a Family Worship to guide us in observing Ash Wednesday at home. It’s designed to be short and intimate and is adaptable for your family, whether you are 0 or 99+.
Maybe your church community has found a creative and safe way to hold a traditional Ash Wednesday service. Or maybe your church will have a quiet, pensive virtual service that will include a time of confession and absolution, but no imposition of ashes. Or maybe you just don’t have the energy for either of those.
Wherever you are, I feel you, friend. I’m holding you close as we embark on this weird Lenten journey together. I gift you the Ash Wednesday Family Service we will use in our home. Wherever you are, I hope this Family Service is a blessing to you.
remember you are dust …. and to dust you shall return