Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. Although not a day of holy obligation, for many Catholics – myself included – it’s still treated as a must-attend event, to begin preparing our hearts and minds for the Lenten season. However, I’ve had a challenge with Ash Wednesday for years – ever since I became a Catholic, really – and I decided to begin this Lenten season by devoting my prayerful reflection to sorting it out.
In today’s Gospel selection from Matthew, Jesus tells his followers to avoid ostentatious displays of religion. He tells us, “[W]hen you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, so that you may not appear to be fasting, except to your Father who is hidden.” He also warns us, when we give alms, “do not blow a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets to win the praise of others.”
We hear these words from Jesus every Ash Wednesday. And what I always found so curious is that Jesus’ message to avoid appearing religious in public comes on the one Catholic day when we can’t help but appear religious in public. If a non-Catholic were to see us directly after we were baptized, they probably wouldn’t notice anything (or may observe, at most, that we are wet). If an outsider were to see us after we had Holy Communion, they would not detect any outside difference in our appearance. Yet on Ash Wednesday, the expression of our faith is front and center, on our foreheads, seemingly showing off for the world to see.
So what’s going on? Are we somehow violating Christ’s message on the one day he tells us not to?
I spent a fair bit of time reflecting on this, and talking with my wife about it. I came up with an answer that’s both comforting and revelatory (to me), which I hope will help me in my future Catholic endeavors.
First, why do we have ashes on our foreheads on the first day of Lent? Obviously, it’s to remind us that we come from ashes and we shall one day return to ashes, and so we should do what we can to turn our lives over to the one who has made us. But that’s a lesson we could stand to reflect on lots of times; why only do it on Ash Wednesday?
Well, like so many things related to our faith, it boils down to tradition. Ashes are a sign of repentance in the Bible (see Daniel 9:3 and Jeremiah 6:26 as two examples), and the ashes worn on Ash Wednesday have been part of our universal tradition since 1091, when it was ordered by Pope Urban II.
Once Ash Wednesday became widespread in the church, pretty much everyone in the community would have worn ashes; towns were much more homogenous than they are nowadays, so seeing a neighbor with ashes on her forehead would have been no more unusual than seeing a neighbor wearing clothing; it’s just what everyone did.
This ties into what Christ said in today’s Gospel selection. He is not against giving to charity, or fasting, or prayer; quite the opposite! Rather, he’s speaking out against doing so in a showy or pretentious manner. And a great truth about the ashes of Ash Wednesday is that they’re egalitarian; we don’t apply the most ashes to the foreheads of the wealthiest parishioners, nor do we snub those who are the poorest or most downtrodden. Rather, everyone who attends an Ash Wednesday mass will receive more-or-less the same ashes. Indeed, that’s one of the underlying messages of today! No matter how mighty, or powerful, or rich, or famous you are, you are still destined to die and return to dust . . . so you’d better get your spiritual affairs in order while you have time on this mortal coil.
Thus, at the time the Church began with ashes to mark the beginning of Lent, it would not have been ostentatious. Everyone would have done it, and no one person would have seemed to be greater than another in how they wore their ashes.
So what changed?
Well, the rest of the world did. Today, in many parts of the world, Catholics are not the majority or even a significant plurality, so those who wear the ashes from today stand out from their peers, so much so that they may wonder if they are acting against Christ’s words in today’s Gospel.
But we aren’t! Our reasons for doing so have remained unchanged for centuries. We wear the ashes for valid religious and philosophical reasons (to remind us of our own mortalities), and we do so because they are part of the tradition of the Church. We are not wearing them because we wish to show off or prove how much better than our neighbors we are. (At least, we shouldn’t be; if you are, cut that out! If you’re unsure, Lent is a great time to get your spiritual affairs back in order.)
As Catholics, we need to understand and realize that this is a symptom of a larger issue we face . . . and it will likely only get worse. Regardless of what the rest of society says or does, we need to remain true to our core Christian values and our traditions. Thus, although the rest of the world encourages us to eschew regular gatherings to worship God, my family attends Mass every week, wherever we are. As the world drifts away from marriage – with more people living together and even raising children without the bonds of holy matrimony – my wedding ring will continue to serve as an outward expression of my continued devotion to the Sacrament of Marriage. While much of the world gives no thought to the true source of their daily sustenance, I continue to say grace with my family before meals . . . even in public, if that’s where we happen to be.
My public prayers, my wedding ring, and my efforts to attend all weekly Masses are not attempts to “blow a trumpet before” me nor “win the praise of others.” They are reflections of my own faith, and if society has changed enough that these gestures seem grandiose or unusual, that’s a problem with society, not my Catholic expression. Similarly if we wear crucifixes, or have Christian memorabilia at our desks, or whistle a favorite hymn while in public, we should be doing so because it feels right to us personally, not because we’re attempting to show to others how wonderfully pious we are.
Let us, then, wear our ashes with the personal humility and contemplation called for by this season, secure that we are doing so as our Catholic brothers and sisters have done for almost a millennium, and which are part of a larger tradition that dates back to the Old Testament. The ashes are one facet of our Christian heritage, and they reflect the change in our hearts and minds of this season. May this earnest return to God in our hearts bear spiritual fruit this Lenten season, so that our “Father who sees what is hidden will repay you.”
(Jl 2:12-18; Ps 51:3-4, 5-6AB, 12-13, 14 and 17; 2 Cor 5:20-6:2; Mt 6:1-6, 16-18)
