Ashes
Someday, you, too, shall be dead.
“Was that it?” I asked my Wilmington friend the other day. “Is the month of winter over?”
It’s our first winter/spring in a southern state, and I don’t know how to gauge the changing of the seasons yet. Should I expect more days in the 40s (poor me, 40 degrees!), or has this period of “deep freeze” passed on to the 50s and 60s for the foreseeable future?
Is all this brown grass actually dead, or will it rise again?
Death is on my mind today, again, because I did not die before I awoke this morning, which could totally have happened, who knows!
I think I probably think about death just about once a day, not in an “I wish I were dead” kind of way, but rather, in a “Maybe today is my last day here? Maybe this is the last cup of cinnamon tea I’ll ever drink! What a day to be alive!” kind of way.
The monks of old kept a skull on their desk as a memento mori, or reminder of death. The Rule of Saint Benedict includes the call to action, “Keep death daily before your eyes.” Why?
According to mystics and science, people feel happier and more fulfilled when they think about death more often.
When I forget that I will die someday (maybe even today?), all these ways other people are spending their one wild and precious life really grate on my nerves.
The way my son takes forever to get out the door in the morning.
The way my husband loads the dishwasher incorrectly.
The way the car in front of me doesn’t make a brave breakaway turn on red so I can get home a couple seconds quicker.
Don’t they know I am the queen, my way is supreme, and everything is urgent???
But when I remember that I will die someday (probably after I up my pace on the treadmill later), all of the petty grievances I have with the world not going exactly as I had planned melt away because, you guys, I’m alive. I’m not dead yet.
I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive, and for this one day if not for many more days beyond today, I get to experience:
the sun on my face
the wind lifting the pine needles on the trees
the gentle and urgent stare of my dogs
the rustle and clatter of my people in these spaces
the hot cup of coffee my husband makes me
my husband
the simmer of a pot of soup
a cool cup of water
the flicker of a leftover Christmas candle
… and a million other imperfect, beautiful moments, all oozing with love.
Memento mori gives us the gift of a perspective shift. Everything is passing away, including me.
That reality still makes my heart clench in my chest for every living thing I love. Even though I think about death daily doesn’t mean I want death to come for me or anyone else I love anytime soon, as in, ever.
This is why Ash Wednesday marks the start of Lent and not the end.
It isn’t enough to keep death ever before you. What good is knowing you’re going to die if you don’t believe there’s more to the story? Lent is a season of preparation toward Resurrection Sunday. On the other side of the ashes is eternal love, union with the Supreme Being, resurrection life. The brown grass shall once again be green. It’s just going to take some water and sunshine on repeat for a stretch before all things are made new again.
This good news underscores the mark of the cross smeared in ash across your forehead.
Yes, someday, you, too, shall die. But this reality, this awareness, is only the beginning. There beyond the ash is God, holding all things together. There beyond the ash, love remains.
If you haven’t made it a practice of acknowledging your own mortality, today’s a good day to start.
Keep death daily before your eyes.
- from the Rule of Saint Benedict
Ashes
The latest single released by my husband, Davis Wells, is “Ashes.” It is a protest song about politics, power, and the rapid passing away of all things. History’s rhyming the same lines again.
The timing of the release aligned with Ash Wednesday was coincidental on our part but obviously a little joy on God’s part. Please consider adding it to your playlists on Spotify and Apple Music!
A Few Resources about Death and Ashes You Might Like
As I’ve considered Ash Wednesday, a few books keep coming to mind that have been meaningful to me regarding mortality, especially when I was walking with my mom through the early stages of her cancer diagnosis. If you haven’t added these to your to-read list yet, there’s no time like today:
P.S. There’s still time to sign up for the Wilderness Survival for Lent online group! Details are here.