Ash Wednesday: Wearing Ashes

We started Lent, yesterday, a beautiful day to begin such an important time in our spiritual year.  With it a time of denial, of abstinence from some things that we enjoy.  I have a sweet tooth so this year I am giving up dessert and soda pop.   In years past this was the extent of my observance, though mom would always bring a little extra ashes from church to mark us all.  When it was her turn to get ashes at church she would play on the pity of a kind priest and ask for a little extra to pass on to her rebellious children.  At home she'd come to each of us personally and draw the cross on our foreheads repeating, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”  I, the agnostic who cringed at any sign of religiosity, would let her mark me thinking I was doing it for her so that I would spare her feelings.  Now, I see that something happened in that small gesture, her pious action connected me to my family, my Catholic community.  This invisible thread gave me a glimpse of hope a light that maybe, just maybe Nietzsche was wrong. 

Though in the privacy of my home, I allowed my mom to pass on a tradition important to her, after returning to God it took me many years before I grew comfortable going up to receive the Lenten cross.  I just didn’t understand why I had to be marked and to wear the sign so publicly made me uncomfortable.  Though, I would accompany mom to Ash Wednesday service when it was the time to go up for ashes I would remain in my pew or leave the parish.  The ritual stirred conflicting emotions inside me.  A lot of opposing views, unanswered questions and negative feelings arose that usually I could dismiss since Ash Wednesday only happens once a year.   What I remember most is that my mom never rejected the initial stages in my conversion, she didn’t push me – she accepted that God was not done with me yet (smile).

Eventually, I had to confront the chaos inside me and put some order before I could truly celebrate Lent as a good Catholic should strive to.  It meant answering questions like why do we get ashes on our foreheads? What does it mean? Where does the tradition come from?  Why do we wear them publicly? Knowledge answered my questions, but my growing Catholic faith and love for my Catholic Church helped eliminate the shame.  Wearing the cross of ashes is not like Hester wearing the Scarlet Letter, more like a knight carries his crest with honor.  In order, to reach the point of honor I needed to discover the beauty and more importantly the truth of my faith.  Now I try to go to the earliest service so that I can wear the ashes on my forehead the whole day because it’s my emblem, my crest connecting me to my religious family – but also tracing my lineage leading back and moving towards God (the circle of life).  The ashes reminds us of our mortality, that our lives are but a brief moment.  It helps us to not fear death because we have eternal life in Christ and motivates us to repent and change in our journey towards heaven.  Yesterday, I wore my cross all day long happy to be a witness of my faith and to share my knowledge with others when Lent talks spread throughout the office.  Many were encouraged and told me they would make the time to go to Mass, a little ash cross can be the best evangelization tool if we allow ourselves to be agents of the Good News.