This Post May Piss Off Some of My Friends: Reflections on Glitter+Ash
You may have heard that some churches were participating in a movement called Glitter+Ash this Ash Wednesday. You may have heard that it was created as a partnership between Parity, Liz Edman (the author of Queer Virtue), and Metropolitan Community Churches, to be a progressive witness of support and inclusion of the LGBTQ community.
You also may have heard varying opinions about said movement from Christians of different colors and stripes. I know I have.
As far as “opposition” goes, a joke from a friend/colleague seems innocuous enough; not even worth mentioning. Except, the more I saw seemingly harmless objections to Glitter+Ash Wednesday, writing it off as if it were so ridiculous the only possible response was, “Um, no,” the more upset I became.
I wondered if I, too, would have had a similarly dismissive response if I had just happened upon this year’s newest-edgy-liturgical expression and known nothing else about it, other than some people were putting glitter in their ashes. Oh, and it’s in support of LGBTQ folks. Well that’s nice, but why do they have to mess with another liturgical tradition!? And in a way that some could find cheeky and disrespectful?
I must admit, when my co-pastor Jenn first suggested that we (the Slate Project) think about doing Glitter+Ash this year, my reaction was dubious. We had just been saying how “Ashes to Go” was almost mainstream now and maybe after four years it was time for us to do something different. Was Glitter+Ash just the newest fad for churches trying (too hard) to be relevant?
Before posting any of these hasty conclusions on social media, I decided to do some research (what a novel idea!) and find out what Glitter+Ash was really about. Turns out, it is freaking amazing and in my opinion, theologically well thought out.
“Glitter+Ash is an inherently queer sign of Christian belief, blending symbols of mortality and hope, of penance and celebration. Ash Wednesday is the beginning of Lent, a season of repentance. During Lent, Christians look inward and take account in order to move forward with greater health. At this moment in history, glitter ashes will be a powerful reminder of St. Augustine’s teaching that we cannot despair because despair paralyzes, thwarting repentance and impeding the change that we are called to make.”
Sounds good to me. Need more?
“Glitter+Ash exquisitely captures the relationship between death and new life. We do not live in fear of ash — of death — we place it on our foreheads for the world to see. We know that fear will rise, cramping our hearts. We also know that God specifically calls us not to project that fear onto the Other, the alien, the stranger in our midst. God insists that we look for the spark of life, of hope, in ourselves and one another. This Ash Wednesday, we will make that spark easier to see. We will stand witness to the gritty, glittery, scandalous hope that exists in the very marrow of our tradition.” (http://parity.nyc/glitter-ash-wednesday)
Damn. I can’t argue with that.
I get that it is hard for straight people to think about “queering” Christianity. It is hard for some Queer people to think about “queering” Christianity! We have all been conditioned to think that certain things are “normal” and therefore “right.” But who says?
No seriously, this is not a rhetorical question. Who says certain ways of worshiping God and performing liturgical acts are right and others are wrong?
It is important to know where and from whom your cherished beliefs come. Because, and I hate to tell you this, they did not come straight from God — they passed through a person (most likely several persons) to get to you. This is not a bad thing, it is just important to realize.
For most of Christian history (certainly the history of the Anglican Communion of which my church, the Episcopal Church, is a part) the people who decided what was “orthodox” or “heresy” (i.e. right beliefs or wrong beliefs) were (presumably) straight , wealthy, cis-gendered men of European descent. In other words, a very small portion of the population of the children of God. And let’s face it, it is highly likely that mixed in with their honorable motivations for determining and then normalizing what could be considered “right worship” were elements of power and control. So, it’s possible that while meaningful and spiritual, what many of us hold dear as the “right” ways to worship are also infused with colonialism, racism, sexism, heterosexism, I could go on.
One thing to consider is: “Why we are so protective of the way we worship God?” Another way to think about it is, why it is so difficult for us to allow others to worship God differently without needing to condemn it, or at least publically name our disapproval?
Really, nobody asked! You do not have to like Glitter+Ash. You do not have to put glitter in your ashes.
When the Slate Project offered ashes yesterday we had two “regular” stations and one with glitter. I offered the ash with glitter. As a priest who is bisexual, who has been told (like actually told) by people in positions of authority over her in the church not to publicly talk about being bisexual, it was no small thing to wear ashes mixed with glitter on my own head and to impose them on others saying, “Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.”
The point of putting ash on our foreheads as we enter the season of Lent is to remember our mortality and our finitude as human beings. Lent (the Christian season that begins with Ash Wednesday) is often thought of as a “penitential” season. We have taken this ball and run with it so far into the field of solemnity that many believe we should spend the entire season flogging ourselves.
As a friend reminded me yesterday as I put Glitter Ashes on her forehead through her car window, Lent, like Christian faith, is all about transformation. It’s not about giving something up, trudging through the 40 days, and then picking up where we started again, but being changed — “changed from glory into glory.” Or as Queen B so marvelously says it, “If we are going to heal, let it be glorious.”
As Christians, we know that reality exists beyond binaries, the human and divine co-exist, that God is transforming and renewing this world each cell and atom at a time. Many things can be true, whether you like it or not, whether it works for your liturgical sensibilities or not. All is I know, we need more love, more “gritty, scandalous hope” right now than we need to get our backs up about some damn glitter.
For you it may just be glitter. For someone else, it might be redemption.
We are stardust. We will become stardust. That is worthy of some sparkle.
