A few months ago, our family visited the SAC Museum in Ashland. All of us were impressed by the planetarium and the sheer number of stars and galaxies within our universe. As I sat in the dark and watched constellations upon constellations surround me, I thought about humanity, and I thought about God.

I also thought about this book, The Stuff of Stars. This is a children’s book I bought Camille a few years ago. I am passing around a copy of the book that I invite you to look through because the words are stunning and the hand-crafted images on the pages are breathtaking. My preaching about them will not do them justice.

The book reminds us, the reader, that we are made of stardust. The Stuff of Stars is in fact us. All of us, the book says, the stuff of stars.

Our bones are made with carbon, the stardust of the earth. In Genesis, God took the carbon dust of stars and formed human beings in the image of God. Since then, again and again, as the book says, stardust gave birth to stardust. God took on our carbon dust of stars in the humanity of Jesus, giving us the gift of the Incarnation.

Today is Ash Wednesday, which for the Episcopal Church marks the beginning of Lent. For much of Christian history, Lent has been a period of preparation and reflection on the death and resurrection of Jesus we remember and celebrate at Easter. In a few moments, we will come forward to receive ashes on our forehead and we will hear the words: “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

Another way we might hear this prayer, in light of the book The Stuff of Stars I have been talking about today is: “Remember you are stardust, and to stardust you shall return.”

I don’t know about you, but when I contemplate the cosmos and the complexity and multitudes of stars contained in the heavens, I sometimes feel overwhelmed. Like a drop in the ocean or a grain of sand on the beach. This sense of overwhelm and indeed awe is natural, and I would argue, healthy. Contemplating our place in the universe helps keep things in perspective and invites us to consider the answers to questions like, “Who is the leader of my life?” and “Where do I place my priorities?”

Lent is also an invitation to reflect on these questions. As some of you know, I grew up Roman Catholic, which meant for me, Lent was a time of sacrifice, denial, and giving things up. In our Book of Common Prayer, the service for Ash Wednesday includes an invitation to a holy Lent “by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God’s holy Word.”

This year, I invite you to think of Lent in a new way, not about giving up Diet Coke or chocolate, but rather, as a season in which we are encouraged to examine the order of things in our lives and where God falls on that list. To ask questions like, where am I putting my energy and focus, and in whom am I placing my trust?

For some, Lent might be a time to re-evaluate our social media consumption and take a break from doom-scrolling and the attention economy driven by clicks, likes, and shares. For others, Lent might be a time to fast from anger or harsh words, either in our everyday relationships or our digital relationships online. For some of us, it may mean learning to trust God when facing things beyond our control like a diagnosis, job loss, or economic uncertainty.

For still others, Lent could be a time of reprioritizing, choosing to engage in new practices that place God and our relationship with God at the center, whether that is attending Morning Prayer on Zoom with Fr. Keith, participating in the Stations of the Cross during Lent, or carving out time each day for reflection, gratitude, and prayer either individually or as a family.

We may make changes during this season, not out of a sense of guilt or fear of divine retribution, but as a way for us to experience a transformation within ourselves. God is not an angry parent and Lent is not like some kind of divine punishment because we have been bad. God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love and relents from punishing, as we hear in both our Old Testament reading and Psalm today.

What God desires from us is a change of heart, a refocus on our relationship with God and with each other. God desires us to rend our hearts, not our clothing, the prophet Joel tells us, and to return to God with all our hearts.

Yes, the ashes we are about to receive remind us of our mortality and our place in the universe; however, they are also an invitation to reflect on our utter dependence on God and God’s grace, mercy, and love in our lives.

Lent is a time of reflection on our priorities and where God, our loving creator, sustainer, and redeemer, falls within those priorities. As you come forward to receive ashes today, I invite you to join me in a holy Lent as we consider our place in the world and God’s place in our lives. Amen.