Ash Wednesday, the dawn of Lent, and
I’m riding my bike to church to receive
my emblem of embers—
a small cross of damp ash, marked on my forehead
by the rector. I signal,
turn off Dogwood Drive toward a trail I take.
From a car behind me, through a rolled down window,
I hear a curse, guttural, venomous,
amplified and aimed,
I HATE YOU!
It takes, on average, half an hour to ride to Chemainus Anglican.
For most of the way you ride on a groomed trail
that runs along the abandoned E&N railway. Through forest,
over a bridge, up from Stocking Falls,
along the farms and gardens of the Cowichan Valley,
then views of the ocean, and on a good day, Mount Baker,
and for that half hour, despite the setting, I try to work it through—
that blind bullet of hate. On balance, a mere thing;
in my small world, something larger.
And I churn within, wrestle with my angel badger.
I turn off the trail, cross Chemainus Road, coast down
Mill Street, past Mural No. 12, which reflects First Nations’
heritage of Chemainus, Tsa-meen-is, meaning, “broken chest.”
I veer right at Willow Street, lock up my bike beside Owl’s Nest Bistro,
and walk the half block to St. Michael’s.
Kneeling at the railing I receive the bread and the wine;
then the ash, where I’m told, with perceptible empathy, Remember,
you are dust, and to dust you shall return—told—
as though the mark of expiration was a blessing of perception,
and kneeling at this altar was assenting to the invisible;
and believing in Easter was subscribing to the impossible: a faith
in One so outlandishly human, that, while cursed, while hated,
reciprocated with an outpouring of love—as if
there were some other way to make a world, as if there is
another kind of world.
The Resurrected One said, ““If the world hates you, know that it has hated me before it hated you.” Poignant contrast between the driver behind you and kneeling at the railing.
On reflection, I think I also have been an irate driver…..
I appreciate you noting the contrasts, thanks Sam.
A beautiful reflection once again, Stephen. Believing, subscribing to the impossible, only accomplished through His grace and mercy.
Thank you, Marcia, for your kind response.
A poignant poem. On this day, Good Friday, it brings to mind the words of Jesus on the cross as he exemplified another way: “Father forgive them for they don’t know what they are doing.”
Thank you, Dan, I appreciate this. Those words were not far from my thoughts.
Stephen,
I have been pondering all of the hate that is so evident in the U.S. right now (and around the world). I cannot wrap my head around the ugliness of it – be it towards immigrants, people of color, women, members of the LGBTQ+ community, anyone that is “other”…Why someone would yell that exclamation to you is beyond comprehension.
Interestingly, according to Online Etymology Dictionary*, the origins of the word “hate” also has connections to sorrow, mourning, grief, pain, and anger. Perhaps I can try to reframe my sadness towards the state of society in those other terms and wonder what grief or pain has led so many to respond by spewing hatred.
I wrestle internally between trying to show grace and compassion versus having very strong negative feelings towards one false prophet whose reprehensible behavior and dreams of vindictive power turn my stomach.
Anyway, thanks for sharing this and have a blessed Easter weekend.
*”The Old English hatian “regard with extreme ill-will, have a passionate aversion to, treat as an enemy,” from Proto-Germanic *haton (source also of Old Saxon haton, Old Norse hata, German hassen, Gothic hatan “to hate”), from PIE root *kad- “sorrow, hatred” (source also of Avestan sadra- “grief, sorrow, calamity;” Greek k?dos “care, trouble, sorrow, mourning, funeral rites;” Welsh cas “pain, anger”). Related: Hated; hating. French haine (n.), haïr (v.) are from Germanic.”
Diane, we wrestle together. Thank you for bringing to my attention the full definition of, “hate.” There’s some interesting unpacking there. And thank you for adding your insight to this post. Again, I grieve and wrestle with you, and I know many others do as well. May it bring change.
It seems you received the ash before you entered the church. Arrgh. This week I felt I dwelt in possibility and what a breath of fresh air … This morning I took a hard fall on the ice. Always to remember both side by side. Ash/ breath
Oh ouch! Hope you’re okay. Yes, to hold both/and. Thank you, Valary.
I recently read we all have an equal amount of love and hate inside us and what we spew out mainly depends on our life experiences.
It goes on to say that we can’t judge anybody without being in their shoes and if we were we would probably act/do the same.
Maybe that’s what Jesus meant “Father forgive them for they don’t know what they are doing.”
Food for thought….
Thanks for this, Ken. There’s no question that we are shaped through experience. Nature and nurture are our parents, so to speak. And still, there’s always the added dimension of mystery, spirit.
“ subscribing to the impossible: a faith
in One so outlandishly human, that, while cursed, while hated,
reciprocated with an outpouring of love—”
Oh that in my faith subscription to that One would continue to reflect the same love!
Thank you, Kellie. My prayer as well.
Amen
Thank you, Ken.