Ash Wednesday
I'm reminded of the story The Immortals by Borges. In the story, a visitor to the land of the immortals finds individuals of extreme lassitude. After living for hundreds of years, they are bored, lacking any sense of urgency. Time is, after all, meaningless to them - and they have seen everything and done everything. Their work is, finally, worthless. They are spiritually dead.
Ash Wednesday is one day which affirms a fact that everyone understands: we die. This sense of finality is what makes our work important. And this knowledge, this ultimacy, is not a horrible event for us.
Our engagement with death can be met by fear, or this fear can be rendered impotent. Some handle fear by asserting the power they have in this life: and if that is important to them, they will have their reward.
But we affirm that our public acts are altered by death's presence. You think you are pious? You'll die. You think you are great? You'll die also. Not a thing you can do for us can change this. Perhaps this is why we get such satisfaction when terrible leaders die. Before God, they are as frail and whithered as anyone else.
During Lent we have an opportunity to discern how our work matters. As the devil tempts Jesus, he discerns what is truly important. What matters? Our insatiable hungers? No - what matters are the ways we allow ourselves to be transformed into the sorts of human beings that are beautiful in God's sight: generous, patient, magnaimous and joyful. During Lent, we try to restore this sense of balance, finally recognizing the resurrected, the living Lord of Love that is among us, even as where are publically misrepresenting ourselves.
Remember that you are dust. That's the first step to recognizing that you have a life to live. But remember, also, that you have been raised. That the work of love has its rewards, even if they are in secret.