Dust and Ashes

 

At least some of my friends are doing that today, because it’s Ash Wednesday. They smear ashes on their foreheads and wear them to remind themselves that they are dust, and to dust they shall return.

Lent is a weird season. Lots of people think it’s all about penitence. Such a Latin word!

I looked the etymology up, and the basic meaning, derived from the root word, seems to be “something missing” or “lacking.” It’s all about regret, and the bereavement that slams home when you miss the boat. (Or the bus, as I’ve learned recently from riding the ski bus.)

I don’t mean to be flippant, but as my sister told me recently, at least some of my worth appears to stem from my peculiar outlook on things. It seems that this odd sideways angle has occasionally prompted new insights in other folks. That’s pretty cool.

Anyhow, today it’s all about words. I’ll just briefly revisit my journey into the word “Lent” and it’s meaning of “lengthen” as it refers to the seasonal cycle and the coming of spring. Lent is the time of lengthening days and the return of daylight.

“Fast” is even more cool, as its primary meaning is to “hold firm,” as in words like ‘fasten,’ ‘steadfast,’ and, from the Online Etymology Dictionary:  "to make firm; establish, confirm, pledge," from Proto-Germanic *fastanan "to hold, guard," extended to the religious act "observe abstinence"…

The point is that the root word is the same: To “fast” is to hold firm, to guard, to keep faith, to be steadfast, to ‘fasten’ one’s intent on a singular purpose.

So, it’s clear that Lent isn’t really about missing the point (or the bus) and feeling all sorts of regret about not being ‘good enough.’ So, what are we doing when we fast?

I think we are practicing resolve; teaching ourselves once again how to ‘keep calm and carry on’ in the midst of turmoil and adversity. I don’t think it’s really about food, though. It occurred to me that we might look at what ground is under our feet, before we decide to ‘stand firm’ on it. Maybe there’s a reason behind the practice of abstinence that has more to do with clarity of mind, than it does with self-punishment, or the attempt to achieve expiation for our sins.

Maybe having an empty stomach is helpful in our endeavor to empty our minds of distraction, worry, and confusion. Seems reasonable.

On the other hand, there is plenty of room to jump sideways here, and go cavorting off on a wild tangent of etymological and semantic antics.

Oh, and for some reason this morning I decided to look up the meaning of my name, “Leah.” It means “weary; grieving.” Wow! It also can be interpreted to mean “wild cow.” Also, wow!

Oh, and I can’t leave out Isaiah, that old Wild Man:

⁶ “Here is the sort of fast I want —
releasing those unjustly bound,
untying the thongs of the yoke,
letting the oppressed go free,
breaking every yoke,
⁷ sharing your food with the hungry,
taking the homeless poor into your house,
clothing the naked when you see them,
fulfilling your duty to your kinsmen!”

 

So, this Lent—

 

 

I guard the gates of emptiness;

hearing the dusty hinges squeak,

swinging in the wind.

 

All these gates—

must they be attached to something?

I don’t know.

 

This gate here

has some hairs from a wild cow

stuck in the latch.

 

Oh, and look!

A broken yoke, lying in a pile of cold ashes.

Don’t trip over it.