The Liturgy of the Dead Rubber Tree
In between writing my Sunday message and my Ash Wednesday service, I finally had time to get outside and assess the damage to my garden from the "historical" Florida frost. The evaluation was worse than I had imagined. Our rubber tree plant hung solemn in the warm morning sun—less of a proud tropical statement and more of a cautionary tale. The flowers that had once stood straight and proud were now shriveled and fallen, looking remarkably like they had already undergone their own private Ash Wednesday service without waiting for the rest of us. This front garden had been in the making for almost two years. Two years of planting, moving things, weeding, and coaxing life out of the dirt. And now, in a single night, it had been seemingly reduced to dust. The irony of the moment wasn’t lost on me. I had literally just been typing the words "to dust you shall return" as we call ourselves to repentance and surrender. I was sitting in the Scriptures, thinking about...