PHOTO: Mary van Balen
But when you pray, go to your private room and, when you have shut your door, pray to your Father who is in that secret place, and your Father who sees all that is done in secret will reward you. Mt 6:6
I slid into the pew at my old parish church, choosing to sit where mom and dad had in the latter years their life. Looking over the sparse congregation, I smiled realizing that I had become one of the “gray-hairs,” a euphemism we had used as teenagers to indicate the preponderance of older people in the church.
When Mass began, I looked to discover who was responsible for the emotive singing and powerful notes pouring from the piano. After Mass I learned he is a student soon entering law school.
“He is wonderful,” my old friend said. “He is looking at different schools and will probably go where he gets the most financial aid. We want to keep him here, though. He is the choir director now…”
For the parish’s sake, I hope a local university makes him an offer he can’t refuse. The hymns he chose were familiar and I enjoyed the feeling of pushing strong, clear notes out from my heart. Most of the people were timid when it came to singing, but that didn’t stop me. I belted out the notes, hanging them in the air with abandon.
One of the hymns sung was Tom Conry’s “Ashes.”
“We rise again from ashes, from the good we’ve failed to do.
We rise again from ashes, to create ourselves anew.
If all the world is ashes, then must our lives be true,
an offering of ashes, an offering to you.
We offer you our failures, we offer you attempts,
The gifts not fully given, the dreams not fully dreamt
Give our stumblings direction, give our visions wider view
an offering of ashes, an offering to you.
Then rise again from ashes, let healing come to pain,
Though spring has turned to winter, and sunshine turned to rain,
the rain we’ll use for growing and create the world anew
From an offering of ashes, an offering to you.
Thanks be to the Father, who made us like himself,
thanks be to the Son, who saved us by his death;
thanks be to the Spirit, who creates the world anew,
From an offering of ashes, an offering to you.”
As we sang, I looked at the stained glass window across from me. One of many circumscribing the round nave, it depicts the Holy Spirit, the power within that enables us to “rise from the ashes.”
The combination of song, sacrament, and community worship reached into my depths and stirred a weary soul with hope: Hope for renewal of faith. Hope for prayer. Hope for knowing God in my present place.
As the Gospel reminds us, we are called to go to our private room and pray in that secret place. What more private place than our heart? There, without pretense, we can meet God and open ourselves to conversion of life. Whatever discipline we choose, may it lead us to deeper faith and willingness to offer ourselves for others as Jesus offered himself for us? May we emerge at Easter a clearer reflection of the Holy Presence to the world.
Part of my Lenten practice will be, as it was last year, posting a reflection each day on this site. This Ash Wednesday, I give thanks for the liturgical season that reminds us of God’s outpouring of Grace that enables us to grow in love and relationship with the Holy One. The Grace that enables us to “rise from the ashes” time and time again.
© 2011 Mary van Balen
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