. . . and unto dust you will return. A salutary consideration in the midst of things.
And me? Here I was at this time yesterday, compliments of Deacon Paul, so generous with the ashes:
AND: He gave out the time-honored “Remember” thing, which not all ash-givers have done for me, instead “Jesus loves you” or some happy variation of that in tune with watered-down post-Vatican 2 over the decades.
And why not? It’s his feast day!
Born to the Welsh royalty, the son of King Sandde, Prince of Powys, and of Saint Non, the daughter of a chieftain of Menevia (western Wales). Grandson of Ceredig, Prince of Cardigan. Uncle of King Arthur. Priest. Studied under Saint Paul Aurelian. Worked with Saint Columbanus, Saint Gildas the Wise, and Saint Finnigan. Missionary and founder of monasteries.
Following his contribution to the synod of Brevi in Cardiganshire, he was chosen primate of the Cambrian Church. Archbishopof Caerleon on Usk, he moved the see to Menevia. Presided at the Synod of Brefi which condemned the Pelagian heresy. Encouraged and founded monasteries. First to build a chancel to Saint Joseph of Arimathea‘s wattle church at Glastonbury.
After a vision in his monastery in the Rhos Valley, he set out next day with two monks to Jerusalem to aid the Patriarch. While there his preaching converted anti–Christians. Legend says that once while he was preaching, a dove descended to his shoulder to show he had the blessings of the Spirit, and that the earth rose to lift him high above the people so that he could be heard by them all. Another time when was preaching to a crowd at Llandewi Brefi, people on the outer edges could not hear, so he spread a handkerchief on the ground, stood on it, and the ground beneath rose up in a pillar so all could hear.
Whence comes such another?