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You are dust and to dust you shall return (Genesis 3:19).
Atoms in our bodies trace to the remnants of exploded stars. We are stardust. We are alive in the universe. And the universe is alive within us (astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson).
I’m never prepared for the beginning of Lent. For one thing, the date moves around each year. Ash Wednesday is always 46 days before Resurrection Sunday, but it can be quite early (Feb. 4) or very late (March 10). There are years when people wear shorts along with their forehead ashes, and years when Easter egg hunts are preempted by snowstorms.
Beyond the calendar confusion, I never feel quite ready for the Lenten season in general. While I understand that it is the time to focus on reorienting myself toward God, I’m not always inclined to do that heart and soul work.
I used to be the queen of Lenten sacrifice, spending six weeks in chocolate withdrawal, reading books instead of flipping through TV channels. But I’ve stopped giving up soft drinks and snack cakes and have faced the fact that my real motives have always been ulterior: weight loss, cleaner teeth, clearer skin. Curbing social media time and getting more sleep were likewise selfishly undertaken disciplines. Recently, I’ve committed instead to a deepening of my spiritual practices—but that’s still very much a work in progress, and I’ve been looking ahead to this Lent as more of the same old struggle.
This year, Ash Wednesday falls on Feb. 18, just four days after Valentine’s Day. This seems like an odd coupling at first—polishing off big, heart-shaped boxes of Godiva chocolates may not be the best way to show repentance for our sins. But the more I think about it, the more the two observances fit perfectly together.
The ashy reminder of our mortality that begins the Lenten season doesn’t just mean, “Hey, you’re dying a little more every day!” Likewise, Valentine’s Day isn’t only about flower deliveries and exchanging mushy greeting cards. Love is the core meaning of both special annual events.
On Valentine’s Day, we celebrate the people we care about most, grateful for their continued presence in our lives. Love is also a vital part of the imposition of ashes: Not only did God love us into existence—and throughout our earthly lives—but God gives us the ultimate gift of love: eternal life.
The demise of our bodies, our return to dust, is just the beginning of a glorious next chapter for us. The Genesis verse repeated to us as our foreheads are being smudged doesn’t tell us that we are doomed—quite the opposite. We will be free, someday, of our bodies, and our souls will soar. That makes death something to think about, but not to fear.
A shining trail
Stars have been connected with love stories for thousands of years. There’s the mythological pair of Eurydice and Orpheus, whose lyre was flung into the sky after his death, creating the constellation Lyra. And, of course, there’s the Shakespearean “star-crossed lovers,” Romeo and Juliet. The twinkling stars are considered romantic, beautiful things to gaze at and wish upon.
The stars in the February night sky appear unusually bright and sharp due to the colder air. The light we see from them has traveled thousands of light years—far beyond any human lifespan. And that soul-light, that stardust, will continue to shine long past our earthly deaths.
There are times in human history that are exceptionally difficult and challenging. Times when affection and compassion seem to be in short supply, when the voices of hate and division drown out a kinder, gentler response. There’s no question—we are living in one of those times right now. How do we keep hope for a brighter future alive when the forces of darkness are advancing all around us?
We need to recognize that we ourselves are the hope we’ve been wishing for on our special star. God has given us all we need to transform our world. Clouds may obscure the stars for a while, but then they gloriously sparkle once more. It’s up to us, here and now, to live in love and leave a shining trail of love arcing through the sky. It’s a trail that anyone and everyone can follow. Our light can lead one another out of the dark.
So let’s celebrate love on Valentine’s Day and then again on Ash Wednesday—and again and again throughout Lent, to Easter and beyond. Let love forever be our purpose and our guiding star. And may we enter this Lent joyfully, with love-filled, star-dusted hearts.
