Glenn Beck (32:50)
Episodes wherever you download podcasts. So let me just start with Ash Wednesday, because my favorite part of Lent is Fat Tuesday, but that's passed. So let's start with. Let's start with today. It's amazing to watch people go on television and see this and you see the sign of the cross on their forehead in ashes, ashes. There's something haunting about ashes. You know, every year, people from all different walks of life, from all over the globe, stand up moms, presidents, plumbers, teenagers, to stand in line and get a. A mark on their forehead and hear the words that, you know, most of us are trying to live our lives not to hear. Remember your dust, and to dust you will return. And that's where the story of Ash Wednesday begins. Ash Wednesday didn't begin as a holiday. It was really starting as a shock. You know, in the earliest centuries of Christianity, long before there were stained glass windows and grand cathedrals, those who had fallen badly were brought forward publicly. And then they were told they had to wear sackcloth, rough. You know, like bags of flour come in sackcloth. And then they were covered in ashes. And they had to stand outside of the community as a visible reminder that human beings fail and that only with humility comes restoration. And that practice echoes something even older. In the Hebrew Scriptures, figures like Job and Daniel sat in ashes as a sign of repentance. Kings humbled themselves in dust when they realized, or they were forced to realize, that their power is temporary. Ashes have always been the universal language of mortality. But late in the first millennium, something profound happened. What once only marked the worst sinners began to be given to everyone. Now think of that. The Church looked at humanity and said, we are all sinners, everybody. No one stands outside the need for repentance. So the ashes moved from the few, really, really bad to everyone. And by the 8th century, the day of Ashes appears formally in liturgical books. And by the 10th century, the entire congregation received them all over. The ashes are what remains after a fire is finished. You can't fake ashes. They're the only thing that's left when everything else burns away. Wealth, titles, ego, clothing, certainty, everything. And here's the little known part that most people don't talk about. The ashes are traditionally made by burning the palm branches from Palm Sunday last year. And that's the day that people were cheering and waving branches because the victor was entering, Christ was coming into the city. So yesterday's celebration becomes today's reminder. Triumph turns to dust. History folded into this one simple ritual that most people don't even think about. Ash Wednesday became really widespread during a time when Europe was building empires and kings were imagining themselves nearly divine. Remember? I mean a divine right of kings. Who gave you God, appointed me king. Yet once a year, even the powerful bowed their heads and heard the same words that the peasants did. Dust your dust, you'll return to dust. No exceptions. It was perhaps the first and most radical equalizers in all of human history. Imagine the medieval rulers who believe the bloodline came from God, kneeling with ashes on their head, and the public declaration that you're going to die. This guy, he's just like you, and he's going to die just like you. No law forces humility like mortality. When you hear from ashes you came and to ashes you'll return. You know, from dust to dust. We hear that today as pessimism, but it's not. It's realism. The message is not you're nothing. The message is you are temporary. And if that is in the right context, that truth does not lead to despair, it leads to clarity. When you know the clock is ticking, you stop wasting time pretending it isn't. Pope after pope have repeated the same idea. Ashes remind us of our fragility, but also of the hope Dust, according to the tradition, is not worthless. It's dust touched by God. We came from dust, so it's not worthless. History turns when people forget they are dust. Empires collapse when leaders believe they are beyond dust. Markets crash when investors believe growth is eternal. It will always be this way. From dust to dust. Ash Wednesday is this amazing historic counterweight that that changes human arrogance. It's one day each year a group of people in a civilization pauses to admit, we are not God. How great is that? How much would change if we would all humble ourselves and say, we're not God? I know I am not God. There's things that I can do and there are lots of things I cannot do because that's in the realm of God. It's a warning and a promise if you stand far enough back. Ash Wednesday looks less like a religious ceremony and more like an annual corrective to human amnesia. It's once a year being reminded, hey, you're fragile, dude. Time is really short. You know, you don't understand until you get older how fast and how short your life really is. I mean, it's gone in a blink. And you can only understand that to when I think you get to be about my age, where you're like, wow. I mean, it's almost over and I still have the mind of a 20 year old, but my body reminds me. No, it's, it's coming and it's coming for you. And when you start thinking that way, you realize, wow, whatever I build is not going to last. The only thing that survives is character. That's it. Honor, integrity, how you treated others. I think this is why this has lasted a thousand plus years in its current form. Because every generation it's normal for humans to think, well, there is an exception. I'm an exception to history. They didn't know I know until the ashes remind them otherwise. Think about what this was, what this was like then, and really what it's like now. People lining up, not to be praised, but to be reminded. No applause, no spotlight, just dust. And I think that's why this ritual endures. Because we live in a world obsessed with proving we matter. Ash Wednesday does not care. It does not. It is not asking. It asks a better question. Your life is short, dude. What are you going to do with the very limited time that you have, that you have been given before you return to dust and ashes? History waits for your answer, Nana.