Here we are, the day after Mardi Gras/Shrove Tuesday, the day that marks a particularly penitent time in the Christian calendar. It's Ash Wednesday, the day that reminds us of our ultimate destiny: we are dust and ash, the detritus of stars, but ultimately dust and ash, a bundle of carbon and other elements.
Last year, coming home from Ash Wednesday service, I had these thoughts on the brain, and I was stopped at a train crossing, with a particularly lengthy train. I grabbed my camera and experimented with taking pictures of myself in a rearview mirror. A cross of ash, a rearview mirror, a long train--I should think about a poem.
Earlier parts of last year's Ash Wednesday's service were more traditional.
I had forgotten how many cactus elements were part of the sanctuary last year:
Later, one of these cactus pots would hold the baby Jesus as he waited out the Advent season, waiting for his debut on Christmas Eve:
Throughout the service, I worked on this sketch:
Let us remember the promise of the ancient prophets: "Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt" (from the 58th chapter of Isaiah). Let us dream about the best way to rebuild our ruins!
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6 years ago
2 comments:
And hopefully our not so "ancient" ruins.
And hopefully our not so "ancient" ruins.
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