Imposition

                                                         Imposition


Imposition.  Its Ash Wednesday and it doesn't sound right. I look it up. Okay, imposition means to apply or place but it is usually used with the idea of force, to compel as by an authority; to obtrude or pass off on someone. Do I really want to compel, force, or pass off on others the ashes? The Latin roots help. The word imposition has its roots in the Latin word imponere meaning to put on or to place.

So the ashes are placed, they are applied. But to what end? The ritual isn't mentioned in the Bible, not even hinted, yet millions of Christian receive the ashes to their forehead or hand yearly. There is nothing in the ashes that brings you closer to God, how can ashes do so in light of the blood of Christ and the presence of His Spirit? But they can remind; they can point; they can bring a tactile sense of a spiritual reality. In these ashes are the reminders of mortality but in the sign of the cross they help us see the promise of immortality for true repentants. In these ashes are the black grit of the dirtiness of sin and the remains of a burning desire in God's heart to win back the fallen and raise from the ash heap of sin, new life.  In these ashes are the sooty reminders of what was once alive (palm branches) is now burned, changed and yet re-purposed.  Through the cross Jesus takes our burned out lives and re-purposes them for eternity. When the ashes are applied one feels the grit, but not the guilt; one feels the sign of the cross but without His forsaken-ness, one remembers His journey but receives His joy.

It is easy enough to point to the calendar and say, "Easter draws near, let us think and prayerfully reflect on the price, the sacrifice, the sin Christ took (mine) and the death He died (mine) but also the coming joy of a broken tomb." To prepare for Easter what is really needed is the Bible and maybe a calendar. But some may want to feel the ashes, feel their grit, feel the cross drawn on their foreheads as it helps them think, reflect, and pray. No, there is neither magic nor miracle in ashes no more than a plastic cup with crangrape juice and a tiny stale wafer. Yet, they point, they remind, they help us feel, they help us think and help us thank.

Imposition. Late at night the mirror sees it all.  I must wash. The hands become black with ash. The washcloth is smudged. The sink runs black. The mirror sees. The mark remains for a time on the skin as I stare back at the mirror. "Jesus, was it an imposition? The birth, the life, the loneliness, the blood, the pain, the death?" The skin is clean, scrubbed, exfoliated. "Was it an imposition, Lord?" A scripture comes to mind. Hebrews 12:2, "Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God."

The ash stained cross on the forehead has faded now. I sense the ones in my heart have too.

Cos
Lent 2014