Ash Wednesday

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday. For the first time in my life, I went and got ashes. It was a day of surprising contrasts, and of observing my own inconsistent attitudes. It was also a day of experiencing God's grace!

I was raised as a non-believer, and then became an evangelical Christian, so I've never attended a church that did ashes. I didn't really think much about it, other than a vague sense that is was a weird ritualistic thing that Catholics do. But a few months ago, in the context of the VLI class on missions, and the Evangelism mentorship, I was meditating on what I could do to communicate with my Indian co-workers, and it suddenly occurred to me that wearing ashes might be a visible act of faith, and a conversation starter, especially since many of them are Hindu, and wear various marks on their foreheads. As the time grew closer, I felt pretty strongly that I was supposed to do this.

So instead of going straight to work, I detoured to Manhattan to go to St Bart's. It didn't really make sense to do this, from a logistic point of view, but it didn't even occur to me that I could probably go to the Catholic cathedral at home, on my way to the train. I had a feeling of connection with St Barts, because that's where I had gone on 9/11, when waiting to find out whether the whole city would burn.

Walking down the aisle at the church yesterday, I was pretty self-conscious. Was I supposed to say or do anything? The actual imposition of the ashes was a little creepy, but within a few seconds I was touched by the Spirit, and actually in tears, filled with the awareness of Jesus's sacrifice for me. A ritual had suddenly turned into a moment of grace, transforming self-consciousness into gratitude. This was a total surprise to me. I felt that I was acting in obedience, but never dreamt that the Spirit would dwell in the ritual.

The next contrast came when I stepped out the door. In an instant switch from the sublime to the ridiculous, I felt totally conspicuous. Did I mention that the style of ashes at St Barts is applied in a HUGE cross that covers your entire forehead? And mine was especially big. And I felt silly carrying my hat in my hand, because I didn't want to pull it down on top of the ash. More self-consciousness.

When I got to work, I noticed that although there are 170 people on my floor at work, 169 were not wearing ashes. Not even the Catholics! More self-consciousness. My Indian co-workers were fascinated and speechless. As each one saw me, they exclaimed "Ann!" and then fell silent, looking worried. So I helped them out by saying "Oh, are you looking at my ashes?" which gave them an opportunity to ask what it was about. So I then was able to explain that the purpose was to remind us of three things: that God created us out of ashes; that we should repent of our sins; and that we should prepare our hearts for the season of Lent, and meditate on the sacrifice of Jesus. Good thing I looked this up on the web beforehand!

My co-workers asked some follow-up questions, especially about the timing of Ash Wednesday, and whether this was just one day. Their punchline: "We get ashes every time we go to the temple. And our ashes are white".