The Journey of a Thousand Miles

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. . .or so the proverb suggests. And so, this Lenten season begins - amid the threat of snow (yikes, it is March in Southern Illinois, there should not be talk about snow), in a season of grayness (even though this is nearly as late as Lent can start) – and we start walking with our Lord to Jerusalem. One hopes that for those who follow in the way of Christ, this walk with our Lord is but an extension of what we already do. But this season we specifically talk of journeying with Christ to Jerusalem. And that distinction makes all the difference. We know where the journey leads – we know the sacrifice freely given. And yet, we hesitate to take the first step. We hesitate because we know that once we take one step, we will have to take another. Once we start the journey, there is no turning back. Once we take the step toward loving our enemies, we’ll need to pray for those who give us a hard time, as well. Once we love God, we’ll need to love the whole world – the whole of creation. Once we put our hand to God’s plow, we cannot look back, nor will we really want to. . . .really. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Welcome to the Lenten Journey.

Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down - Ash Wednesday Meditation, 2011

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down. Ain’t it the truth. I can no longer remember the childhood rhyme to which the phrase belongs, and yet the truth of the statement lives on. We all fall down. You are dust and to dust you shall return. Every year we repeat these words, like a childhood rhyme, sometimes to remind ourselves, but mostly because we know it is true. You are dust, Carolyn, Robbi, Mary – three we remember well in our church – three who lived this life in faith, and who now rest from their labors. You are dust. . . we will say it again this year. . . to the one who is waging war against cancer, to the one who has just lost a loved one, to the one who is simply lost in the chaos of life in these strange days. You are dust. I can no longer say the words without the voice breaking, without a tear pooling. . .you say the words long enough, and they do become real for you. And yet. And yet, I remember the words which follow in the Service of Witness to the Resurrection, words which make the voice break and a tear pool, and which are real for those of us who have repeated them year after year after year: All of us go down to the dust, yet even at the grave we make our song – Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia! Give rest of Christ to all your servants who seek to follow this Lenten Season. Amen.