Lent Days 3 and 4: Ritual and Meaning

[I was too busy/tired to write last night, but remembered my thoughts for the day vividly.]

The day began with the usual routine, with NPR's Morning Edition blasting just louder than the spray of the shower nozzle. I had mentally tuned out at the end of a story and almost missed their 'tag' between stories, about Joe Biden having a mysterious bruise on his forehead. Actually, it was NPR reporting about how a Sky One News correspondent forgot it was Ash Wednesday and that 'bruise' was mark left by the ashes imposed as part of the Ash Wednesday ritual. Her embarrassed response was quite amusing: "I know that I am a very bad Catholic. I know now that it is Ash Wednesday and I know that those are ashes on his forehead. I hang my head in shame. I'll be back in just a moment." (Link to NPR transcript)


It reminded me of my own Ash Wednesday experience this year. I used to try to attend the morning service at my church and would wear the ashes all day. Recently I've settled into going to the evening service. But this year, while attending the funeral of a friend's father (see my Lent Prologue), the family asked that the imposition of ashes be included in the memorial service, using ashes that were blessed at an earlier mass. I thought it was a deeply moving and beautiful gesture.

When I returned to the office that afternoon, I realized how much times have changed since I used to attend the morning services on Ash Wednesday. For some reason, my forehead's ashes were super-conspicuous, reminiscent of my worst teen acne memories. Most people just looked, did a double-take, then recognized what day it was (unlike the news correspondent above). But there were many others who simply asked. And all of those were from folks from India, because that's the nature of IT demographics these days, especially when hiring contractors on a temporary basis just for merger work. They very curiously and candidly asked me what was on my forehead.

But it's from answering simple questions like "what is that?" and "what does it signify?" that reminds me, again, of my teen years. Growing up outside the church, I learned the answers to those questions in a very academic sense from teen friends. It's not dirt or a bruise, but rather, the ashes that mark the beginning of Lent, the time for somber reflection and giving up something because of Christ's sacrifice. Not being steeped in religious tradition, I've often felt (and sometimes still feel) like an outsider, and need to know why (in church) we do the things we do. Otherwise it's just superstition. And to a casual observer, all the rituals and signs may still appear as superstition.

But if I understand the meaning, the reason we do these things, then it's not superstition to me. On that special Wednesday it's not just ashes and dust that that are supposed to remind me that I came from dust and to dust I will return. The ashes are imposed in the mark of a cross -- the shape of the structure on which Jesus died, and made the ultimate sacrifice. But it's not just that Jesus sacrificed his life -- it's that Jesus did it FOR me, and FOR anyone who believes. It becomes part of me, who I am right now. It makes me closer to whole, and some would even say becoming holy. Or at least as close to holiness as I can get.