Start with the first Sunday after the first full moon of the Spring equinox.  Easter.  Drop back 46 days toward the first of the year—not including Easter day—and you’ll arrive at a day centering indigenous within Christianity: Ash Wednesday.

We could certainly talk about Christian structure and the Council of Nicaea using the vernal equinox to set Easter day or Pope Gregory, in 601CE, using 46 days to fix Ash Wednesday.  However, while setting Easter on the first Sunday after the first full moon of the Spring equinox serves Church structure, there is a hint of the indigenous.  Strain Christianity through a fine sieve and the mystical of indigeneity is revealed.  Grind the Lenten season down like acorns, leach it with a little water, and the indigenous surfaces.

I like this rhythm, “The spirit sent Jesus into (είς) the wilderness and Jesus was in (έυ) in the wilderness forty days.”  The rhythm of words into (είς) and in (έυ) allow us to learn Jesus did not wander the wilderness but became wilderness.  Wilderness’ simplicity is as a space where the unknown becomes known.  As we live our unknown, our fear subsides, our interior awakens, and we begin to recognize wilderness’ commonality from within.  The mundane of the first Sunday after the first full moon of the Spring equinox is the awe of the season.  For it is in this moment of 40 wilderness days that grace allows our insight to deepen and our attention to have clarity.  It all begins with Ash Wednesday.

When we hear those old words saying, you are dust, and to dust you shall return, the wildness of indigeneity awakens within.  There is grace in becoming landscape and remembering; we are ancient dust; we are the dirt of our birthplace; our communal people are of that same ground; plants and animals rose from dirt alongside us; the voice of our ancient people finds us upon wind’s wild breath.

This Wednesday begins an indigenous season of remembrance and connectedness.  Gather with your people and begin a season of close attention, amble into (είς) your natural landscape, practice the virtue of attentional listening, and open your interior to unexpected growth.  There in (έυ) the wildness of your place you will find an ancient welcome.