Snow Labyrinth

This week I had the opportunity to walk a labyrinth in the snow and ice at Heartland Presbyterian Center. Was it dangerous? Possibly. Did that stop me? Of course not. I think it made it all the more thrilling. In fact I think of the Labyrinth as a typically safe place to pray and meet with God, so perhaps my excitement was in my desire to have a more “challenging” or “authentic” trip around the maze, because life has many risks we have to meet as we turn and follow and turn and follow.

This may have been the most complicated pathway I have ever taken, and I’m not just talking about the snow and the ice. Some of the labyrinths I have made are simple. The limit of space limits the number of turns, and therefore limits the chance to get lost as your feet easily know where to go. When the labyrinth is simple, the walker must set the limits and complexity to meet with the Spirit, giving the walker more control.  When the labyrinth is more complex, you don’t always know where you are going or how far you are from the center and it seems to be going around and around without going anywhere until suddenly you find yourself at the center. At several points in this labyrinth I had to ask myself, have I been this way before? I kept going back and forth and really got lost in the focus needed to walk. The snow and ice added an extra challenge. About halfway to the center I came to a crossroads, because I couldn’t tell whether the pathway went straight or turned to the right. My practical sense figured it out, but for the moment I felt this great parallel with life. We may come to a standstill, not knowing, and sometimes we may choose the wrong pathway, or a path that leads us further away from our goal, but we don’t have to wait to meet our goal for an encounter with God. God is there at every turn, God walks beside us, before us and behind us at every straight, clear or blocked pathway. 

I continued to the center, I continued praying and all the while I continued listening.

I heard the Spirit say to me, “You cannot and do not know all things. You may find rest in knowing you are loved by the one who does, and that one who controls all things acts out of deep love and hope for you.”

Whether it’s the state of our nation, the concern for our families, the hopes for our relationships or the day to day goals of making an impact on the world, may you also find rest in the unrelenting love of your Creator. 

Amen.

Pastor Kati’s Recipe for Wednesday’s Ashes

You’ve probably seen people with ashes on their forehead in mid February, and maybe you’ve even worn them yourselves.  Have you ever wondered, “Where do your ashes come from?” or “Why do you have soot on your face?  You know that flu powder doesn’t work on muggles.” Okay, maybe only Harry Potter nerds like me think about that.  So, for the curious at heart, enjoy my personal process and response for our congregation to the question, "Where do your ashes come from?"

The short answer is that most of the ashes we use are from palm branches used in last year’s Palm Sunday service at First Presbyterian Church in Manhattan, Kansas.  This use of the palms connects our yearly tradition of remembering the events that lead up to the crucifixion, death and resurrection of Jesus.  The ashes in the shape of a cross mark the beginning of our time of remembrance, as we set aside this time to draw closer to Jesus through acts of sacrifice like fasting and giving of our time for study or service.

The long answer holds more significance for me.  So much of our faith seems like a mental or emotional exercise, and I feel like Jesus calls us to be more physical.  I want to experience Jesus in my bones, in my hands, right here, right now.  So, I love this physical way to remember why we are here on earth and what is to come for us in the future.

Ingredients

A Bit of Earth

The faithful who told the story of our creation said that God formed us from the dirt, calling us literally earthlings or mud people. So, when we say “From Ashes to Ashes” we are saying we are connected to the earth, we come from the earth and when we die, we will return to the earth.  Why were we created?  The faithful said we were created to keep God company and to care for God’s creation.  The soil and the ashes remind us that we were put on this earth to be in relationship with God, with each other and with the land, the animals, the oceans the universe, everything we see and hear, our purpose is to enjoy it and be a part of it.  So, we begin with some soil from the ground.

Ashes ground from burnt palm fronds and paper

As fire consumes the leaves and paper, Jesus absorbed all of the betrayal and suffering of the world when he died.  During his ministry, Jesus consistently asked people to leave their old life behind, and pick up the new way of being and caring for others.  In earlier times, when people would cry out to God they would cover themselves with ashes and rip their clothing to show the intensity of their anguish and struggle.  Centuries before Jesus walked the earth, the prophet Joel instructed God’s people to “rend their hearts and not their clothing,” meaning that if they want their lives to change, they should tear or transform their hearts instead of just focusing on their outer selves.  

At the Light last Sunday we wrote down the parts of our lives that are pulling us down, absorbing all of our energy like darkness and shadows, keeping us from receiving the “Light of Christ.”  So, the second ingredient will be ashes from our struggles in this world.  The ashes of the palms signify the struggles of our ancestors of faith, and the ashes from our papers on Sunday signify the struggles of our modern day.

Olive Oil

Oil makes the ashes stick, so there is a sort of practical need for it, but at the same time, God’s people loved to use oil as a symbol of blessing from God. So, when I see the ugly dirt and ashes reflecting the light around us, I am reminded that through all of the struggles and death and pain that we endure on this earth, God promises blessing, renewal and most of all resurrection. Sometimes I add a little scented oil to extend the feeling of blessing to one more sense.

Mix ashes and dirt and then add oil to desired consistency.

Then we mark the symbol of Christ’s suffering, the cross, on our hands and foreheads. This cross, combined with the evidence of our suffering and the promise of hope, becomes a visual representation of God's power to bring new life out of death.

So, why do I looking forward to wearing ashes on Ash Wednesday? Every day I live to tell of God’s power to bring life and renewal out of suffering and death. On this day, I get a special excuse to help more people literally wear this promise on their skin.  So, meet me on Ash Wednesday, or visit your local pastor, priest or congregation.  

May the glistening ashes remind you of the mysterious and majestic power of God. Amen.

The One Who Chose Me

Robbie and I truly had a religious experience at Universal Studios, and I say that because I believe the Holy Spirit was there, present with us, sending us words of hope and knowing.  As soon as we arrived in Diagon Alley at the Wizarding World of Harry Potter we went straight to Ollivander’s to get a wand.  We weren’t quite sure what to expect, but inside the shop someone told us we could either select a wand from the shelves or visit the Wandmaker and the wand would choose you.  So, we went to the Wandmaker, of course.  

We waited in a hallway with other people for about ten minutes, and my mind started to wander…”Would they come get us one at a time?  What wood might I expect? What kind of power would I want?  What am I looking for from the wand?”  Hope.  I wanted something to embody hope for new beginnings.  I played around with the idea of unicorn hair, but part of me felt like unicorns were too pretty and happy for the kind of authentic hope I’m looking for.  Then I thought about Harry’s Pheonix feather in his wand.  The pheonix could be a great metaphor for our lives as we have risen with life out of the ashes of death.  Then something inside me thought about the dragons, and their passion and fire, and something struck a chord with me. The love and power of a dragon could display the kind of hope I want.

Suddenly the assistants were leading us down the hallway… “so we’re doing this as a group,” I thought.  We turned a corner and there was the Wandmaker, writing in his book by the dim light of his magical lamp next to him in a room filled with wands all the way up the very tall walls.

I started to step up to him, and one of the assistants pulled me aside.  “Everyone please fill into the room with the shorter people in front, so everyone can see.”

I don’t remember what happened next, but before I knew it, the Wandmaker was looking at me and called me forward to receive my wand.  He measured my arms and talked about character and the many ways a wand would choose you.  I knew he was an actor, but he felt more like a sage wizard.  The room, his voice, the air, it all felt real…so magical.  He pulled out a wand of rosewood and unicorn hair and gave it to me. “Give it a flick,” he said.  Shelves popped out all over the place…just like in the books!!! When Harry was trying out wands!  “No, no, no, that won’t do.”  Then he pulled out a wand of oak with a phoenix feather, “Ok,” I thought, “This could be it.” He asked me to say, “Wingardium leviosa.”  With my best Hermione impression, I waved my wand and said the words. LOUD BANGS, and flickering lights.  “I wonder…” said the Wandmaker….I almost jumped out of my skin. “Here is a wand made of ash wood with dragon heartstrings.”  When I took the wand in my hand the light shone all around me.  It took everything within me not to burst out crying and weeping, because here in my hand was the true embodiment of the strength I desire—the heartstring of fire which rises from the ashes.

I never thought I would own a wand, and yet how many of us are yearning for someone to choose us and offer us a physical and metaphorical gift of meaning in life.  I have chosen and held many instruments in my hand: flutes, conducting batons, kazoos, books, paintbrushes.  This gift feels different.  I know it has no physical power outside of the park, and yet, in my hand I am reminded of the dragon heartstrings that God fixed within my soul.  

“I am fearfully and wonderfully made,” says the Psalmist about our Maker. I have been chosen by God to do big things, and so have you.  The magic comes when we believe in the Maker’s ability to love us, know us and do marvelous things through us.