Reflections from the Ash Heap
Like many people in the world, I received the imposition of ashes. But today was different. The words seemed louder. The ashes seemed more imposing. And the tears that welled up in my eyes felt hotter. I received my ashes at my workplace, in the state hospital. I sat among patients and staff. All of us participated in the service and then received the imposition of ashes. And I heard those words--"You are dust and to dust you will return." I was no longer a chaplain, no longer a seminary graduate working toward more letters to put after my name, no longer a woman, no longer anything that mattered with regard to performance or success or notoriety or wellness or unwellness. In the moment, I was ashes. And I felt it. I sensed it. I knew it to be completely true in my inmost being. And I knew it was true of everyone else in the room, and I knew it was true of all those who weren't in the room. I knew it was true of those who stared at my forehead as I left the chapel. It was true whether they knew it or not. The ashes on my head looked just like the ashes of those on other heads. Ashes are ashes no matter who wears them. And in that sense they are the great equalizer.
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