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

I looked forward to Ash Wednesday as a kid – not because I understood the weight of those words, but because Holy Days of Obligation meant I could miss part of my school day. Death was an awkward subject. As natural as it was, it seemed like when someone was dying it was easier to avoid talking about it. Like if we prayed hard enough, maybe we could keep it away.

It wasn’t until I was older that I began to appreciate Ash Wednesday’s deeper meaning. The ashes usually come from burning last year’s Palm Sunday branches. The palms that were once waved in celebration are now reduced to dust. When the palms are burned, they don’t disappear, they are transformed. This ritual reflects the greater cycle of all living things: life, death, and renewal.

When we look to the Earth, this isn’t just an annual reminder, but a continual lesson as we see creation’s own embrace of death and transformation all around us. From the cycle of the seasons and the moon to the days that turn into nights and nights that turn into days. We see it embodied in the surrender of animals who know when their own time has come to die. There are so many examples yet it can be easy to forget that we, humans, are also walking along this same sacred path.

The ashes on our foreheads mark the beginning of Lent – a season of fasting, reflection, and walking with Jesus through suffering and death. I grew up being taught that Jesus died for my sins, but the more I observe creation, the more I feel that narrative shift in my heart. Yes, Jesus died. But sin is only part of the story. I believe he knows that his death is part of the same sacred cycle the Earth reveals to us.

The Gospels hold this truth, although it’s often missed. We see Jesus going to the garden to pray. We often see him use nature to teach about who God is. Even his words to Mary Magdalene after the resurrection, “Do not cling to me,” feel less abrupt when we view them through the lens of creation. Mary Magdalene didn’t need to cling to Jesus because she carried him within her. His love, his courage, his spirit lived on through her. This is the deeper truth of resurrection: who we are lives on in those we touch. We can’t cling to the living, hoping that they will lead the way. We become the way, by embodying love and justice – joining the great cosmic dance of interconnected life.

Isn’t this true of love? When we are shaped by those who inspire us – when we take on their kindness, their courage, their way of moving through the world – they live on in us. Their spirit becomes part of who we are, and we carry their legacy forward. One day, we too will live on in the lives of others. Is this not an expression of eternal life? Nothing truly dies, it just takes on another shape. Our relationships transform into something new.

This year, a few days after Ash Wednesday, came International Women’s Day. I read articles and saw photos of women from various races, cultures, and beliefs being lifted up and celebrated. It made me think about how intimately women know the cycles of life, death, and rebirth through our own bodies. Month after month our ovaries let go of an egg, a process that often requires surrendering to discomfort and rest. After a couple of days we are back on our feet with renewed energy. This wisdom isn’t just something we endure; this is wisdom we are all invited to lean into – to know and embody.

Right now, it’s clear that our country is undergoing a collective death. Our current systems that prioritize profit over people, convenience over compassion, and domination over care are unsustainable. The systems are crumbling and people are waking up. And while that feels unsettling, the Earth reminds us that death is not the final word. Rather, death invites us to make space for something new and life-giving. Transformation begins with each us, through our choices, by how we live and love. We can look to the Earth for revelations on what this can look like, similar to how Jesus did.

Nothing in nature stays the same. We are always in motion. We are always evolving. We are always finding our way home to ourselves and to one another. The Earth shows us that this process never ends. Since the beginning of the cosmos everything has been continually recycled, renewed, and reborn.

As we continue celebrating the accomplishments of women, may we also honor this deep feminine wisdom – the wisdom woven into our bodies and into creation itself. It’s a wisdom that reminds us that death is not an end. Death is a necessary step toward new life.

This Lenten Season, I am carrying the mantra of Ash Wednesday with me: Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return. Not as a warning, but as a blessing. These words are a beautiful reminder that we are part of something vast, something holy, something that truly never ends.