This Ash Wednesday service is focused on prayer. The rhythm of the service is Readings + Prayer + Ritual + Singing. As worshippers enter into service, instruct them to grab a pot, seed paper, and a pencil.
welcome
call to worship
(Written by Lisa Frenz. Congregation sings the sung response.)
In the softness of evening,
in the solace of silence we come to you, O Lord.
We come for acceptance;
we come for community;
we come for forgiveness and love.
Sung response:
O Lord, hear my prayer, O Lord, hear my prayer;
when I call answer me. O Lord, hear my prayer,
O Lord, hear my prayer; come and listen to me.
In the serenity of day’s end,
in the restfulness of worship, we come to you O Lord.
We come to you for respite;
we come to you for completion;
we come to you for forgiveness and love.
Sung response: O Lord, Hear My Prayer
In the quiet of the night,
in the comfort of darkness we come to you, O Lord.
We come for peace;
we come for comfort;
we come for forgiveness and love.
Sung response: O Lord, Hear My Prayer
We come, O Lord of Light,
seeking the illumination of your Word.
We come for the path we can’t find;
we come for the life we don’t have.
We come to you for our lives are death
and you alone have breath and being.
Sung response: O Lord, Hear My Prayer
A reading from Psalm 51:1-17 (The Message)
Prayer of Forgiveness
(Written by Lisa Frenz. The BOLD is the congregational response.)
In the dark of night God calls to us;
beckoning us on,
seeking us out,
calling us to peace,
to quietness,
to wholeness.
The world is dark around us,
filled with coldness, terror and restlessness.
It is a darkness of our creation:
greed, hatred, envy: brokenness.
Take us and heal us of every evil.
Bring us back into the comfort and closeness
of your embrace, O God.
Your cleansing love, O God,
purifies our darkness restoring it to us:
warm, comforting, restful: complete.
In the dark of our night we hear God call,
offering love and strength and forgiveness.
With God the darkness brings comfort not fear,
love not hatred,
righteousness not punishment.
Walk in the darkness of your life as in the light,
for both the dark and the light belong to God,
as do you. Amen.
ritual
Write on the seed paper what you want to ask for forgiveness. Choose a pot to place your seed paper.
(As worshippers are writing on their seed paper, they are invited to sing and listen to the following song.)
song
Create in me a clean heart, O God
And renew a right spirit within me
Create in me a clean heart, O God
And renew a right spirit within me
Cast me not away from Thy presence, O Lord
Take not Thy holy Spirit from me
Restore unto me the joy of Thy salvation
And renew a right spirit within me
A reading from the Gospel of Matthew 6:1-6 (The message)
prayer of silence
(Written by Lisa Frenz. The BOLD is the congregational response.)
Into the silence of the void the Creator spoke,
and the world came into being.
The Word of God in the vastness brought light from darkness,
matter from nothing,
flesh from dust,
life from lifelessness.
In the quiet of a small town in Palestine
the Word of God came to us.
Even though of one being with the Creator,
Jesus our Christ, taking on human form, was born,
lived and walked among us,
speaking the words of life.
He was crucified, died, and was buried.
He rose from the dead and speaks to us today.
He is the one who saves us from ourselves.
In the stillness of our souls the Spirit of God,
who is one with the Creator and the Christ,
whispers the Word,
and calls us back to the Creator,
back to the Christ,
back to the wholeness of everlasting life
in the unity of the Creator, Christ and Spirit.
ritual
In silence, come to the center with your pot and touch the dirt, the dirt from where we come from. As you touch the dirt, say whatever prayer is on your heart. Scoop a handful of dirt in your pot to cover your seed paper. As you return to your seat, let the silence speak to you.
song (to come out of the silence)
(A soloist sings the verses. The congregation sings the italicized response.)
For you, O Lord, my soul in stillness waits,
truly my hope is in you.
O Root of Life, implant your seed within us,
and in your advent, draw us all to you,
our hope reborn in dying and in rising.
For you, O Lord, my soul in stillness waits,
truly my hope is in you.
Come, let us bow before the God who made us,
let ev’ry heart be opened to the Lord,
for we are all the people of his hand.
For you, O Lord, my soul in stillness waits,
truly my hope is in you.
Here we shall meet the Maker of the heavens,
Creator of the mountains and the seas,
Lord of the stars, and present to us now.
For you, O Lord, my soul in stillness waits,
truly my hope is in you.
Reading from This Here Flesh by Cole Arthur Riley
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” When God spoke those words in the garden, did their voice crack? Did their hands tremble as the ten knelt to make clothes that would cover the glory they birthed? These words came to us as shame entered the world – and out of shame, all manner of suffering. They were not a proclamation of punishment but a reminder of Eve and Adam’s finitude. It’s a poem of grief and memory. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. There is beauty in our humanity. Peer down in the cool, dark ash; there is death there. Watch the particles lift and sway in the wind; there is yet life . . .
On Ash Wednesday we are marked on our foreheads with a reminder of our mortality. The same palms we raise up and wave on Palm Sunday each year are made to know the sting of death – we burn them. And the following year, in an ever-curious act, we pick up the ashes and we mark ourselves with them.
What does it mean that we don’t just talk about the ashes, or even reverently observe them, but that we physically smear them across our faces? Perhaps, in the marking, we approach solidarity. We remember that the same fate that haunts you, haunts me. The same beauty that birthed you, lives in me. And that this comes as a mark on the body. I think, reminds us that the Lenten journey of self-examination is deeply entwined with the physical world. As we mark ourselves with these ashes, we remind ourselves that no grief is solitary. That what has stricken you is also carried by me. We begin our Lenten journey together, reminding one another that we are those whose flesh grows back. We are those who remain. It is not easy, but we cling to this: God has always seen sacred potential in the dust.
prayer of Breath
God of the Ashes,
Today, let us hold the tension of the story of our making – born of the dirt, beautifully connected to the earth we walk on. And yet, possessing the knowledge of our own mortality – that our common decay cannot be escaped. As we begin Lent, help us to become honest about the ways our societies and selfhoods are marred by injustice, cruelty, neglect, and greed. Help us to see our own role in the degeneration of the world; that as we push back evil around us, we might also admit those secret evils that dwell in us. As we name how we’ve been complicit in the ashes of this world, help us to bear them in solidarity and hope. Amen.
breathe
Inhale: I will carry the ashes.
Exhale: God, bring rest to the suffering.
Inhale: There is breath in these ashes.
Exhale: No death is final.
Ritual: Imposition of Ashes
From dust you came, from dust you shall return.
songs (to be sung as people come to get ashes)
Take, O take me as I am
Summon out what I shall be
Set your seal upon my heart
And live in me
Come & fill our hearts with your peace.
You alone, O Lord, are holy.
Come & fill our hearts with your peace, alleluia!
My soul is at rest in God alone, my salvation comes from God.
Reading from 2 Corinthians 5:20b—6:10
song
Trees We’ll Never See by Amy Grant
prayer of blessing
(Written by Jan Richardson)
All those days
you felt like dust,
like dirt,
as if all you had to do
was turn your face
toward the wind
and be scattered
to the four corners
or swept away
by the smallest breath
as insubstantial—
Did you not know
what the Holy One
can do with dust?
This is the day
we freely say
we are scorched.
This is the hour
we are marked
by what has made it
through the burning.
This is the moment
we ask for the blessing
that lives within
the ancient ashes,
that makes its home
inside the soil of
this sacred earth.
So let us be marked
not for sorrow.
And let us be marked
not for shame.
Let us be marked
not for false humility
or for thinking
we are less
than we are
but for claiming
what God can do
within the dust,
within the dirt,
within the stuff
of which the world
is made,
and the stars that blaze
in our bones,
and the galaxies that spiral
inside the smudge
we bear.
closing ritual
As you ready yourself to leave, take your pot to any of the flower stations. Choose a flower to plant in your pot. During the Lenten season, take care of this flower and let it remind you to nurture yourself in prayer. Water your prayer. Feed your prayer. And watch it continue to bloom in hope, blossom in joy, and grow in love.
Still Waters 