A Verse A Day (Day 12)

For the last five days, the daily psalm reading for Lent has been the latter part of Psalm 22. The beginning of Psalm 22 is the most familiar part, the painful lament that Jesus utters from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? … Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning? O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer; and by night, but find no rest.” “I am ... scorned by others, and despised by the people.” Those who scorn say, “Commit your cause to the Lord; let him deliver – let him rescue the one in whom he delights!” It’s easy to see how the gospel writers found the 22^nd Psalm in the crucifixion. 

 

By the time we get to the end of it, this Psalm has traveled a long way. The psalmist has moved from lamenting God’s absence in a time of distress to giving God praise for not ignoring the afflictions of the afflicted; from “Why have you forsaken me?” to a God who “did not hide his face from me, but heard when I cried to him.” 

 

The change of tone is curious. Did the psalmist lose nerve? Was the psalm written in retrospect, capturing both the angst of the moment and the composed reassurance of the aftermath? I have known folks whose perspectives have changed dramatically – sometimes as a result of a conscious or religious experience, and sometimes finding what Karl Rahner called “consolation without a cause.” Is that what’s happening here? Or, maybe this psalm is just a snapshot of life. 

 

Sometimes we live at the beginning of the psalm, when the most faithful thing one can do is to express doubts, anxieties, and questions. The rawness of the lament psalm is the liberty to howl that Western theology and culture have refined out of us. At other times we look back and see how far we have come, how many things we have been able to do, despite ourselves, and how patiently God has been at work among us. Perhaps then we need the liberty to rejoice without caution, without having to account for our earlier words. Maybe it is simply the case that sometimes we live in the hope of new life and sometimes we tremble with the prospect of death. What startles me about this psalm is how both are simply sewn together without hesitation or apology. 

A Verse A Day (Day 11, I write other things on Fridays so I skipped day 10)

I’m still digesting the 22nd Psalm’s recognition of both the specific location of the psalmist – self-identifying as part of the people of Jacob/Israel – and the universal scope of the psalmist’s outlook – “all the ends of the earth,” “all the families of the nations.” Of course, the psalmist’s own location between the local and the global corresponds with the theology at play here. God is, for the psalmist, both “our God” before whom the “offspring of Jacob” stand in awe, and the God to whom dominion over the nations belongs. So universal in breadth is God that even the dead and the yet unborn will offer praise as part of the “great congregation.” 

If we can describe the life of faith as “us before God and God before us,” then there seem to be four quadrants at play in the life of faith. There is (1) the human in both the specific location; (2) the human in the general location; and there is (3) God as specifically perceived; and (4) God as universally perceived. 

(1) European idealists strove mightily to explore the specific location of the human identity, beginning with Descartes’ famous dictum, “I think, therefore I am.” 

(2) The African philosophical concept of Ubuntu offers a counterpoint to the extreme subjectivity of the European quest. Ubuntu means, “I am because we are.” 

(3) The existence of different religions, different sects or denominations within different religions, and the personalistic experiences of salvation, contemplation, prayer, commitment, and so on – all point to the possibility of God or the divine being experienced by and expressed from a specific perspective. 

(4) Almost every religious expression has a universal scope in view, either implicitly through its language regarding the divine or explicitly through its mission or witness to the world. 

Many things have been and can be said regarding these four quadrants, including questioning whether “quadrant” is the right term to express them. It strikes me that the 22nd Psalm does not presume to select one over the others, but struggles to live faithfully by fluidly moving in and out of each of them. That will be my thought throughout this day. 

A Verse A Day (Day 9)

The daily reading guide that I am following has shifted from the 77^th Psalm to the 22^nd Psalm, particularly vv. 23-31.

 

Psalm 22 speaks to a fundamental part of the religious experience – or, I think one could say, the human experience. In v.23 it seems addressed to “you offspring of Jacob” and “you offspring of Israel.” As such, it is speaking to people with a particular history, a particular heritage, and so a particular identity. To be an offspring of Jacob/Israel (the same person whose name was changed as a result of “wresting with God,” which is what “Isra-el” means), is to be part of a tradition that knows God in a particular way. God is the God of the covenant, whose faithfulness is never-ending. And that way of knowing God is the source of much wrestling, especially when one feels forgotten and unseen by God in times of personal distress or communal catastrophe. The old adage is that a man went to his rabbi and said, “Rabbi! I can’t pray anymore. I just don’t believe there is a Gd in this world!” The rabbi replied, “Oh my! You should pray about that.” Some seasons of prayer are exactly that kind of questioning of God’s presence, God’s reality, or God’s love. But, the beauty of the story is that the covenant tradition welcomes those questions and sees prayer as the place to enter and hold those questions. That speaks to a very deep identity, beyond just birthright or national affiliation. 

 

Soon the psalm starts speaking in much more universal, global terms. V. 27 says, “All the ends of the earth shall remember and turn to the Lord.” Now we’re in a realm of religious experience that transcends particular national, familial, or even a specific religious identity. The earth has ever been a large place, full of diversity and differences. Among those differences are not just the cultural habits, languages, or locations, but religion. And yet, in a world with religious difference, which is the basis for using such specific language as “offspring of Jacob/Israel,” there is also a deeper unity. Because God is one, because God is the God of heaven and earth, because God is eternal and omnipresent, the psalmist – out of his particular experience – can also speak of the ‘ends of the earth’ as well as the dead (v.29) and the yet unborn (v.31). 

 

Because we are human, religious experience is specific to some kind of order, tradition, or lineage. Because God is God, religious experience is larger than our minds and imaginations can conceive. What shall we call it? That’s today’s quest. 

A Verse A Day (Day 8)

 I continue to be taught by the 77^th Psalm, much to my chagrin. 

 

I had originally thought, and stated, that the psalmist begins with expressing present misery, then, strangely, turns to remembering the past as a way of finding encouragement. That was the source of my struggle with this text and began my reflections on the relation between the past and the present. Along the way, I’m realizing how culturally-driven our assumptions about past and present are and, all along, I am remembering how such terms are unavoidable and powerful for us, but not for God. Since God is eternal, then for God every moment is what one theologian called “The Eternal Now.” 

 

But, my beginning premise was not exactly right. Before the psalmist turns to the past to remember (vv.10-20), and while the psalmist is expressing his present misery (vv. 1-10), he looks backward (vv.5-6), saying, “I thought about the former days, the years of long ago;  I remembered my songs in the night.” Oh, those songs in the night! Those odes that call us to remember, that find their way into our dreams, where we connect with our ancestors and who we are beyond the simple horizon of our lifespan. The everpresence of the past – not the dead weight of things that matter no more, but the cumulative presence of our identity – the past! It’s not something we can turn off and on like a spigot. If we feel despair now it is because something wells within us from of old, that life is meant for joy and meaning, not something to be blown back and forth with every wind. 

 

The past, it seems, can be a source for encouragement. But, the past, it seems, is equally a source for our present misery. The past – whether we can remember it clearly or whether it is simply buried into our mitochondrial DNA – the past tells us that whatever befalls us does not define us. Even in our most wretched state, there is a vestigial remnant of that original glory, the breath of God that enlivened the dustling into life. In revealing our brokenness, the past shows us our path. 

A Verse A Day (Day 7)

 I continue to hold, and to struggle with, the 77^th Psalm. 

 

Yesterday, I wondered how the psalmist could find hope in remembering God’s great deeds of the past when he was experiencing God’s absence or unresponsiveness in the present. It reminds me that my American-trained notion of the past, present, and future is not necessarily what every other time or culture assumes. A friend told me recently that in Japan, when they refer to the past, they often gesture in front of them, not behind them. For the future they gesture behind them – which is the opposite of what we do in America, where aspiring politicians always declare, “The future is right in front of us!” The Japanese gesture suggests that the past is where we can see it, know it, learn from it, and honor it. The American gesture suggests that the past is behind us and we’re moving on. 

 

The same kind of different perspective is at work in the story when Jesus questions why the scribes refer to the Messiah as “Son of David.” Jesus argues that David himself, in Psalm 110, refers to the Messiah as “My Lord.” Jesus’ argument – which is not fleshed out because his audience took this for granted – makes sense because for David (and the scribes, I presume), the elder is always greater than the younger, the parent greater than the child, the ancestor greater than the descendent, the former greater than the latter, the past greater than the present or future. (Jesus will defy that assumption on occasion, but his argument here relies on this notion of the past being greater than what follows as what his audience believes.) 

 

As one who is trained differently from both the Japanese gestures and Jewish assumptions, I have to recognize and then bracket some of my own assumptions in order to appreciate how the psalmist is able to start this psalm with his present misery and find hope in God’s past deeds. What I initially want to dismiss as nonsensical may be the place where I need to learn anew. 

A Verse A Day (Day 6)

 I don’t know what to make of the 77th Psalm. 

It starts out provocatively, with the psalmist, identified as Jeduthun, speaking frankly about God’s troubling unresponsiveness to prayers. It may not be as profane, but this kind of disarming honesty is similar to the lament that Levee Green makes in “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” remembering how his mother cried out, “Help me, Jesus” when being raped by a gang of white men, and Jesus was nowhere to be found. If that kind of questioning feels uncomfortable, then the psalmist’s question will as well: “Has God forgotten to be gracious?” If God forgets to be gracious, is God even God? It would be like water that isn’t wet. 

To that extent, the 77th Psalm really speaks to human experience in a way that most pious folks would never do aloud. Finally comes the declaration: “It is my grief that the right hand of the Most High has changed.” Water is not wet; God is not just. It grieves the psalmist/us to say it. 

Then, the psalm takes a very curious turn. The psalmist, in response to God’s present absence, looks to the past and remembers the powerful deeds of old that God once did. God did this, God did that, clouds poured out water, thunder crashed, the sea parted. It all ends abruptly, “You led your people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron.” Fini. Caput. Show’s over. 

What I cannot understand is how the remembrances of the past tense resolve questions in the present tense. I need to hold this psalm for a long time and quiz myself about my own reactions. It’s not going to be fun. 

 A Verse A Day (Day 5)

The 25^th psalm has a puzzling line: “God instructs sinners in the way.” 

 

Taken in isolation, this snatch of the psalm could imply many things, since the phrase “the way” is left ambiguously undefined. But, the phrase is only undefined if we take it apart from the rest of the psalm. The psalmist has already said, “Make me to know your ways,” “Teach me your paths,” adding that God’s mercy and steadfast love have been God’s manner from of old. And the psalm will go on to say, “All the paths of the Lord are steadfast love and faithfulness.” So, the itty bit of the line is much clearer when we put it in its full verse: Good and upright is the Lord; therefore God instructs sinners in the way.” 

 

It’s an interesting theology, considering the competition. There were competing doctrines, largely gathered under the idea or personification of “fate,” which argued that us “sinners” were more or less destined for wealth or destitution, greatness or servitude. There were competing theologies of the gods who were angered by “sinners,” and therefore required some kind of appeasing sacrifice, whether a prized bull or a selected virgin. There were competing visions of the good life, mostly through hedonistic, misogynistic, and intensely violent exertions of power against others. 

 

The development of theologies and doctrines is an interesting subject in itself, but will have to wait for another day. Suffice it to say, though, that these competing doctrines of fate, appeasement, and power as proof of divine pleasure all find their way into the Scriptures along the way, because even competing theologies are grounded in the same mess of human experience and encounter the same questions that arise from it. But, those doctrines do not ultimately define the God of this psalm. 

 

The 25^th Psalm simply presumes that God is good and upright, that God’s love is steadfast, and that, therefore, God’s manner with sinners is not to leave them to their fate, to lash out in anger, or to equip them to fight it out, but to change them with instruction. We can be taught! – says the psalmist. And God teaches. That brings me hope. 

A Verse A Day (Day 4)

In the 25th Psalm, the psalmist says, “Do not remember the sins of my youth and my rebellious ways; according to your love remember me, for you, Lord, are good.”

We often imagine that, unless otherwise attributed, David wrote all of the psalms. Reading his story, however, it seems pretty clear that he saved his most egregious sins for the latter part of this life. The writer of this psalm looks at his youthful years with regret – as I do so often. I remember how blithely I went along with racists assumptions 7th grade, even though my best friend was black. I remember how thirsty I was for attention in High School, causing me to barely notice some of my classmates who, it turns out now, seem like terrific people. I remember how crassly I tried to live into the cis-gender, heteronormative ideal of a stud as a young man, while barely recognizing the full humanity in the others that I saw. And I remember vividly how cocksure I was in my faith that I ran roughshod over the other ways that God was at work in people’s lives, in order to force my experience on them. I’m sure I left a far greater trail of tears behind me to which I am still blind, but these I remember all too well.

So, what’s the point of retrospection with regret? Is the psalmist, and am I, simply reaching that stage of life when we look back with either a feeling of accomplishment or regret? Well, with apologies to Erik Erikson, I think there’s more to it than that. The reason I remember those expressions of sinfulness so powerfully is because they are still me. Despite maturations, born again experiences, getting woke, or lessons learned, there is a thread of identity that connects the me that regrets with the me that is regretted. The psalmist prays for God to see him/her apart from that part of life, and I echo the hope.

What a balanced, nuanced, keenly and refreshingly honest expression of humility is presented here. Just as we are and as we have been. God have mercy.

A Verse A Day (day 3)

 In the 25th Psalm, the psalmist writes, “No one who hopes in you will ever be put to shame, but shame will come on those who are treacherous without cause.” 

Shame, hmm... Is this a viable term today? 

For many years, “shame” was the taunt of racist, sexist, hetero-normative, cis-gender, or commercially-driven images of “normal” or even “perfection.” The phrase “Shame on you” rightly administered, perhaps, to a child who did some kind of willful misbehavior became “You should be ashamed” of someone who simply did not fit the manufactured mold of perfection. Too many lives have been crushed under the weight of the unwieldy accusation of “shame.”

Today, the tide has changed, at least with regard to explicit comments if not internal opinions. In the circles where I live, one is more likely to hear someone criticized for “body shaming” than for not fitting into the mold of perfection. The term “shame” has become associated with being judgmental. Curiously, it seems an acceptable form of shaming to shame someone for shaming someone else. 

The psalmist invites us to remember an older, different way of thinking about shame. It is the feeling of guilt that one suffers when they have, in fact, committed wrongdoing. For the king of old or the politician of today who exploits their office for personal gain – shame! For the powerful to oppress another, the wealthy to exploit the poor, a caregiver to neglect the patient, a pastor/priest to harm young children – shame! It was a protest, the declaration that called out treachery and demanded justice. It relied on truth as its authorizing power, not power to create “truth.” And it meant something, but only in a world where one believes in justice that is rooted in the eternal. 

There is both a need to set aside accusations of “shame” that are based on a manufactured mold of perfection; and a need to call out shameful behavior when it destroys life and community. Discerning the difference is part of the Lenten journey.

A Verse A Day (day 2)

 In the 9th chapter of Daniel is a prayer of confession that includes: “We have not listened to your servants the prophets, who spoke in your name to our kings, our princes and our ancestors, and to all the people of the land.”

Most of us think that Daniel himself is a prophet, especially in these last six chapters when he says things that we think are predictive of the “end times.” But, Daniel is speaking of a more powerful way of hearing and either accepting or rejecting prophets: Prophets are those voices that speak God’s truth to power, that is, to kings, princes, ancestors, and even the popular sentiment of the people.

Prophetic voices continue to speak truth to power: to kings and king-makers who gather their power by pillaging the earth; to princes who inherit their authority and imagine themselves great; to those ancestors who slaughtered Native Americans, enslaved Africans, belittled African-Americans, exploited LatinX, dehumanized Asians, and left a legacy of White Supremacy; and to the people who now live within that legacy, often blind or callous toward it.

The prophet is not the point. The prophecy – the word of truth, the naming of sin, the disclosure of that which is often hidden, the call for genuine change of direction – is what matters. My prayer today is a broken confession that we still do not listen to God’s servants, the prophets. God, have mercy.

A Verse A Day (Day 1)

“You are dust, and to dust you shall return.” What stirring words of honesty meet us here in the 3^rd chapter of Genesis. “You are dust” literally connects us to the genesis of the created order, not just in the imaginative story of Genesis, but also in the scientific theory of the Big Bang, which spread stardust particles throughout the universe, bearing the carbon that became the resource for what we know as life. The science gives us some degree of satisfaction, that our minds are free to explore, to question, to allow the evidence to affirm or rebut our theories; while the stories offer an avenue of wonder, allowing our minds to soar to the heights and depths, then beyond. 

 

“You are dust.” What a glorious, global, universal, multiversal connection! 

 

Ah, but “You are dust” is also humbling. No matter our blandishments, conceits, or fame; no matter if we are influencers, superstars, on the spectrum, rich, poor, struggling, or sliver spooned; we are never more than dustlings that bear the breath of life. When we add the second piece, “to dust you shall return,” we slam up against the conundrum that has discomfited thinkers and intuitives alike – we die. We die and we decay back to the elemental dust. We may lie in a sealed tomb, a lavish pyramid, a bronze coffin fit within a concrete vault, or an urn. No matter – we die and we return to the dust, our native state. 

 

How profound that we begin our Lenten journey with this reminder, “You are dust, and to dust you shall return.” With such magnificent, yet humbling news, we step into this journey.

 

A Verse a Day

 A Verse A Day 

 

“You are dust, and to dust you shall return.” 

What stirring words of honesty meet us here in the 3^rd chapter of Genesis. “You are dust” literally connects us to the genesis of the created order, not just in the imaginative story of Genesis, but also in the scientific theory of the Big Bang, which spread stardust particles throughout the universe, bearing the carbon that became the resource for what we know as life. The science gives us some degree of satisfaction, that our minds are free to explore, to question, to allow the evidence to affirm or rebut our theories; while the stories offer an avenue of wonder, allowing our minds to soar to the heights and depths, then beyond. 

 

“You are dust.” What a glorious, global, universal, multiversal connection! 

 

Ah, but “You are dust” is also humbling. No matter our blandishments, conceits, or fame; no matter if we are influencers, superstars, on the spectrum, rich, poor, struggling, or sliver spooned; we are never more than dustlings that bear the breath of life. When we add the second piece, “to dust you shall return,” we slam up against the conundrum that has discomfited thinkers and intuitives alike – we die. We die and we decay back to the elemental dust. We may lie in a sealed tomb, a lavish pyramid, a bronze coffin fit within a concrete vault, or an urn. No matter – we die and we return to the dust, our native state. 

 

How profound that we begin our Lenten journey with this reminder, “You are dust, and to dust you shall return.” With such magnificent, yet humbling news, we step into this journey.

 

On Lent and Worship

 Today’s message has two Big Topics and begins with a Quick Note: 

Our Ash Wednesday service will be an interactive one! Pots, soil, and seeds are on a table outside of the church’s sanctuary doors ready for you to pick up and take home, so you can join in the work. For more information, see last week’s Friday Blast here. 

Big Topic #1: Lent

Ash Wednesday begins the season of Lent, a journey of 40 day (not including Sundays) prior to Easter. This year, our theme is “Again and Again,” using worship and educational materials from a wonderful group called “A Sanctified Art.” There is a Daily Lenten Reading, Powerful Artwork with reflections by the artists, and lots of materials that we will be using in worship. Our friends at New Hope Presbyterian Church will be walking alongside of us for the journey, including a weekly zoom meeting of our two congregations, to share responses to the daily readings.  From 6:30 – 7:00PM each Tuesday of Lent we will have time to share ourselves with one another. The zoom information will be on the calendar of the church’s website.

The theme “Again and Again” triggers a number of thoughts. I used to teach youth groups that the tri-fold plot of Scripture is “God is faithful; We are not; God loves us anyway.” The fact that God is faithful, again and again and we fail, again and again, is reason enough for a season dedicated to introspection, confession, and repentance. Nonetheless, I do not hear the phrase “Again and Again” as a circle, endlessly going but ‘round and ‘round, but getting nowhere. I hear it as a spiral, where each experience of falling and rising moves the process to another plane. I think of that phrase from Leonard Cohen’s marvelous song, “Hallelujah” that names the “minor fall and major lift.” That’s what enables the circularity to be upwardly spiral in nature. 

Big Topic #2: Worship 

The Supreme Court recently handed down a decision striking down some of Governor Newsom’s ban on gathered worship for churches in California. The decision came down last Friday. On Saturday I had several inquiries of whether we would be “open for worship” on Sunday. Right now, the answer at the moment is “no.” I want to lay out the process that we are following to make decisions about gathering. 

A. The ultimate decision rests with our Session. We will not get a directive from the Presbytery or any other higher governing body of the Presbyterian Church (USA). Our church constitution makes it quite clear that this decision falls to our Session, since you elected them for moments like this. They are the ones who will listen, consider, discern, and decide. Pray for them. 

B. Early on, the Session authorized a “Faithful Phasing Team” that meets periodically to assess the science and healthcare aspects of the pandemic, in order to offer guidance to the Session’s decision-making. This team looks at the numbers and trends, particularly of hospitalizations, deaths, and now vaccinations – all guided by an epidemiologist on the team. We give less attention to ‘testing’ and ‘infection’ rates, because they often fluctuate due to many non-health-related reasons. Frankly, when Governor Newsom began color-coding each country according to the same kinds of numbers, our job became a lot clearer. We consult this page quite often, and you can too. It is a summary and springboard for more information.

C. Orange County is still in the “Purple Tier” of this pandemic, the worst tier, with numbers that none of us imagined we might be seeing a year or even six months ago. Since the numbers have gotten worse gradually and in “surges,” we have not felt the shock that we probably should feel about these numbers. They are as bad as we wished they would never be. 

D. So, from a science and healthcare perspective, the Faithful Phasing Team is not recommending that we begin gathered worship at this time. The Supreme Court ruled, not on the wisdom, but on the constitutionality of banning worship, based on the 1st Amendment. Rightly or wrongly, their ruling is just one aspect of our Session’s decision. They have said that, legally, we can gather; the Session decides when we, wisely, ought to gather. 

GOOD NEWS: I feel that there is light at the end of this tunnel and it is growing brighter, although it has nothing to do with the Supreme Court’s ruling. Between the expanded number of folks who have received the vaccine (including a lot of you, for whom I am glad!), the number of folks who have already had COVID-19 and have developed some degree of immunity, and the continued practice of wearing masks, practicing distance, etc., we are beginning to see the numbers trend in the right direction. And while there may be setbacks (like a post-Super Bowl surge), the directional trend is good. So, we are in the “heartbreak hill” phase of this marathon, where the last portion is the most challenging and we are already exhausted. But, if we run this race with perseverance, we will get there. Together. 

Mark of St. Mark

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

Most years it seems like Ash Wednesday impatiently arrives too early - just after we get the baby Jesus born we start plotting his death. This year feels a little different. Since Christmas we’ve had New Years Day (good riddance 2020!); a failed palace coup; Martin Luther King, Jr. Day; an inauguration; ordinations and installations; and a vaccine rollout starting to actually reach people. January was an eventful month. 

But, as predicted, Ash Wednesday is coming soon – February 17, in fact – and with it comes the season of Lent. We’ll have more to say about Lent in future Friday Messages, particularly how we are taking that journey alongside of our sister churches New Hope and Canvas this year. For today I want to focus on Ash Wednesday itself. First, with a little history and second with some very important information for you. 

Getting smudged with ashes seems like a very exotic, deeply religious, once-a-year kind of phenomenon, but it was not always so. In biblical times – as well as later church history – ashes were fairly common parts of every household. Cooking and heating were based on wood-burning and the deposition of ashes was typically some unfortunate child’s household chore. Sometimes the ashes would be scattered, but sometimes they were put to more practical use. (I can testify from a small, disastrous Ash Wednesday experience that mixing olive oil with ashes makes for some very effective, hard-to-remove stains.) During biblical times, one would put ashes on themselves as a sign of mourning or fasting and, in many cultures, ashes symbolized death, since many persons were cremated after dying. Somewhere along the line the church started the practice of taking the palm branches from Palm Sunday and burning them to be the ashes for the following Ash Wednesday. These days if you want that kind of authentic ashes, you have to go to a Catholic Liturgical Supplies store. 

My point is that while ashes seem to be an exotic, religious symbol today, they were initially a common part of everyday life. Ashes were so common that they were associated with dirt, the ground, the humus of creation, the “dust of the earth” in the phrase, “From dust you have come, to dust you will return.” 

This year, since we will not gather for Ash Wednesday worship and the imposition of ashes, we decided to use different common items as our symbols for the Lenten journey, namely dirt, seeds, and water. Along with New Hope and Canvas, we are going to produce an Ash Wednesday video that will lead you in interactive worship. 

Here’s what you want to have on hand by February 17 to actively engage in Ash Wednesday worship: 

A pot – Any size or quality, from a Dixie Cup to an ornate vase. We have some available at the church. 

Seeds – We will have Wheatgrass, Easter Egg Radish, and Mung seeds available at the church. Of course, you can use your own seed. We encourage you to choose something that will grow visibly during the Lenten season. 

Dirt – Any old dirt. We have some organic potting soil in quart-sized bags at the church. 

Water – in a pitcher, a jar, glass, cup, or watering can. We’ll let you get this yourself. 

If you have these items ready in a place where you can make a little mess, you will be ready to join us in worship on Ash Wednesday. And, as I said, we’ll have the supplies you need at the church on a table by the front doors of the sanctuary. You don’t need to make an appointment, just come and get ‘em!  

Mark of St. Mark