The tradition of ashes on Ash Wednesday is not something that I was familiar with before coming to Houghton. This year, after two previous years of Ash Wednesday services, the significance struck. During chapel Wednesday I had the privilege of putting ashes on people as they came for communion, and as the service progressed I became more and more deeply impressed with two thoughts: mortality and equality. These two combined to form a third thought: humility.
One of the first people to come for ashes was an elderly gentleman, who leaned forward to indicate he would like ashes on his forehead. Then later, one of my professors did the same. My friends that I see daily in class and around campus held out hands for ashes. A college administrator was in line with students. As I took pinches of ashes and made the sign of the cross, I was struck by how similar each of us is. While for some mortality and death is a daily thought, for me—and, I imagine, the majority of my college-aged friends—it is not that high on the agenda. Yet in the process of receiving ashes, we are all reminded equally of impending death and mortality. The words of receiving ashes are eerily similar to those of a funeral service, ashes to ashes and dust to dust.
My insignificance in the scope of eternity was almost as tangible as the dish of ashes I was holding. I was standing there as a college student, giving ashes alike to my peers and those who are my seniors in age, experience, maturity, wisdom, and knowledge. What right did I have? Partway through I started wondering if I was actually qualified for the job. After all, I do not have a degree in giving out ashes. Who was I to remind others of their mortality? Then it struck me: that was the point exactly. It wasn’t that I was ‘good enough’. It wasn’t a degree that I had; on the contrary my very lack of ‘worthiness’ was the whole point. Giving ashes is not a top-down action that I do because I have somehow attained the right. Instead, it is something that I do as an act of service to those who are receiving ashes in humility, and in humility I receive the reminder of my mortality from someone else.
The words from Micah 6:8 ran through my head:
“He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God.” (NIV)
Here at Houghton we talk a lot about justice and mercy. We take classes on international development and bringing Christ to all people through humanitarian work, defense of the defenseless, and being relevant leaders in a changing world. Certainly I am not saying anything negative at all about this work, but sometimes I wonder if in our focus on some of the things that are good we forget that there is more as well.
In Philippians 2:3, Paul says “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves” (NIV)
Do we focus on justice and mercy and conveniently forget humility? Houghton people, in my observation, are fairly good at being good at what we do. What is more challenging in some cases is being good at not needing to inform others of how good we are at what we do. Are we pushing ourselves to excel at our work so that at the end of the semester we can smugly inform everyone we know about getting another 4.0? Or are we pushing so that we are better equipped to glorify God through our lives? In this season of Lent, I challenge and encourage you—as I do myself—to examine your heart and motives before God.
Remember that you are dust, and to dust you will return.