Ash Wednesday - 2021

Ashes in a square rubbermaid container, placed in my palm

handed to me outside

Gloved hand, masked face.
Given by a pastor preparing for a second year of an empty sanctuary in  Lent.

Burnt and ground palm branches, from last year’s Palm Sunday service, when branches were lifted and solo shouts of Hosanna were livestreamed

In the nursing homes, locked down 11 months, families scheduled window visits and zoom calls
No chapel services, no liturgy.
But patients still lay on their death beds,
feeling as if the separation is infinite,
while longing for the cross that is eternal.
Ashes and oil combined, my gloved thumb taking the muddy mixture to apply to their brow.

“You are dust” placing the WORD firmly on a Child of God

Arm aching as I try to hold an IPad over us, so separated family, feet away at the window, worshiping  with us.

“And to dust you shall return” 

Spoken to a beloved one on their deathbed.
Eyes meeting mine

Masked lips whisper “amen”

Stepping outside, I repeat the words to separated family.

“You are dust” my thumb, which moments ago traced ash upon the brow of their loved one, now touches their brow. 

The residue of dust connecting those separated by 20 feet and 11 months.

“And to dust you shall return.”

The fleeting dusting of ash reminding of the cross that is eternal

This Story Needs to Be Told

As we move into the endemic phase of this pandemic, I write to capture the stories of the frontline years of Covid. Yes, I write with the voice of a chaplain and ELCA Lutheran pastor. But I write first, foremost and ALWAYS as a baptized Child of God. Strengthened by God’s hope. Wounded and battered by 2 years of battles, loss and grief. I share my experiences because I believe this story needs to be told. It is in part cathartic and healing for me–if people know, and these stories are told, perhaps the pain and suffering weren’t in vain. If people have a glimpse of the moments we experienced on the Frontline, maybe others who felt isolated and alone will know they too were seen. Perhaps we will all recognize Christ was FULLY present in even the most isolated and horrifying of places.

I don’t want these stories to die with the million souls who perished in this pandemic. But, in my calling, it is always central to me that Christ’s resurrection is proclaimed. That I use every single Ruach breath within my soul to say “Death does not win. Christ is Victorious.” This, of course, is not always easy. Especially when surrounded by death and loss that seems as if it may swallow up every aspect of life as we knew it. I don’t write with naive platitudes–I write with the gritty, raw, resurrection hope that is strong enough to show its presence on the Covid unit during a pandemic. The stories shared are Truth. They capture my personal experiences over two years (2020-2022) working as a hospice chaplain on an end of life Covid Unit as well as in nursing homes and homecare. All identifying details, such as age and gender, as well as some nuances in the stories are changed to ensure confidentiality. Some characters are composites. If you weren’t on the Frontline, I hope these writings offer a glimpse of life caring for those dying of Covid. If you are a Frontliner, these stories are YOURS. God’s HOPE is YOURS. The restorative power of Christ’s love is YOURS. 

—Chaplain Tracy Paschke-Johannes, MA, MDiv, BCC

ELCA Clergy and chaplain in Cincinnati, Ohio