

John’s message doesn’t have to be his way of threatening us into good behavior, a New Testament version of “Wait till your father gets home!” Instead, it can be an invitation to make room in our hearts and lives for a God who wants to fill up our empty spaces and doesn’t take no for an answer. But an interpretation of repentance that’s more consistent with the God of love and mercy is less about warning and more about promise. John the Baptist preached repentance, saying, “The kingdom of heaven is near.” It’s easy to see his prophecy as an apocalyptic warning of imminent damnation if we don’t get our collective act together. If Ash Wednesday today can remind us less about death and more about the mystery of vulnerability in life, then does the traditional focus on repentance still make sense? Absolutely! But it may call us to rethink its purpose. The dust of Ash Wednesday is a powerful reminder of the vulnerability that is part of our spiritual DNA as human beings. Being vulnerable is the door through which we must travel to become the best, most authentic versions of ourselves.Īllowing ourselves to be vulnerable is how we accept our brokenness. In accepting our faults, challenges, and pain, we create a space for God’s grace to work its inscrutable magic in our lives. Suffering has a way of stripping us of our ego and false notions of self-sufficiency, which makes room for an experience of the divine. He taught that being vulnerable-in other words, being poor or meek, feeling sorrowful or persecuted-is an opportunity to encounter the divine. In fact, the beatitudes are the blueprint he laid out to help us honor our broken parts as a means of growth and transformation. Jesus had a lot to say about this kind of vulnerability. Never in a million years would we choose these or many other challenges thrust upon us. We are thrown into a terrible, frightening vulnerability when our closest friend moves far away, when our kid drops out of school, when we learn about the affair, when the biopsy results come back positive. Life also forces us into brokenness entirely against our will.

But we aren’t always able to choose the kinds of vulnerability we experience. We can choose to take a chance on a new career path, knowing that we may not succeed. We can choose to share our feelings in a relationship without knowing how the other person will respond. Life affords us many opportunities to choose to accept vulnerability. Have you ever loved another person? You have been vulnerable because you took a chance on the other person not returning that love. Have you ever asked for help? You have been vulnerable because you risked having your weaknesses exposed. Have you ever forgiven someone who betrayed you? Then you have been vulnerable because you opened yourself to being hurt again. Have you ever tried something new without being sure it would turn out OK? Then you have been vulnerable because you allowed failure to be a real possibility. Brene Brown, research professor at the University of Houston and best-selling author, has become something of a cultural icon as a “vulnerability guru.” In her words, vulnerability is “having the courage to show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome.” Being vulnerable means that the parts of ourselves that are not strong and beautiful are visible to others. To be vulnerable is to be exposed, to be open. A simple online search of the word turns up countless videos, articles, and book titles. Vulnerability has become something of a buzzword in recent years. We have another word for this kind of brokenness, one that captures our essence as incomplete all on our own. We don’t set out to come up short, make mistakes, or feel “less than.” But we often do, a reality that is one mysterious thread within the intricate tapestry of human life. Of course, brokenness is never the goal, even if we can encounter God through the process. Being human means being both blessed and broken, and Ash Wednesday is a special invitation to look at our own brokenness in a way that can bring healing, strength, and courage. It’s much more about what it means to be human-on this side of death’s door, not only beyond. If we take a closer look, though, we find that the message of Ash Wednesday has far more to do with life than with death. But “returning to dust” doesn’t sound all that positive, does it? Death isn’t something we like to think about, much less celebrate, in our liturgy and prayer. When we receive ashes on our foreheads, we are reminded that we are dust and to dust we shall return. At first glance, the beginning of Lent each year doesn’t seem to have a very uplifting message.
