Preparing ash, preparing our hearts

Tonight marks the beginning of the season of Lent. For 40 days, Christians around the world recommit themselves to self-examination, penitence, prayer, fasting, almsgiving, and reading and meditating on the word of God. Tonight we gather to take part in the ancient Christian custom of ashes marked in the shape of the cross on our foreheads. It’s a sign that speaks to the frailty and uncertainty of human life. It marks the repentance of our community as a whole. As ashes are marked on our foreheads, we hear these words: remember you are dust and to dust you shall return. These words recall God as Creator, breathing heaven and earth and all that is therein into existence.

I am thinking especially about ashes this year, having recently adopted two cats. That sounds strange. Let me explain. When our cats arrived home from the SPCA two weeks ago, they chose as their first hiding place, our chimney. We knew they were starting to feel at home when we began to see more and more paw prints around the apartment. On countertops and in cupboards, on baseboards and on bed linens, all around us were these little ash markers of their growing presence, and indeed their growing comfort in our home.

The ashes marked on our foreheads at the beginning of Lent are little markers, little imprints of God’s presence in our lives. In St Clement’s tradition, we prepare the ashes the day before Ash Wednesday. We gather with Deacon Elizabeth around what we’ve come to call “the holy bucket”—a fireproof metal container. The palms returned from parishioners from last year’s Palm Sunday service are placed in the bucket and a fire started. An accelerant is sometimes used if the palms do not easily burn. Once the palms are lit, we let them burn and then smoulder, and then cool. 

Using a spoon, the ashes are sifted through a fine strainer. The larger bits are disposed of in the garden. What remains gets added to a few drops of (chrism) oil to create a paste, so the ashes don’t flake as they are imposed. We avoid mixing holy water with the ash as this can create a basic solution—the chemists in the congregation will know this—which can cause skin irritation. 

I’m giving us this background on how the ashes are made because that’s really what the season of Lent is all about: reflecting on how we, like ash, are made. We, and all the whole earth, are created in the image and in the hands of a loving God, who despises nothing they have made. 

To use the example of preparing ash for Ash Wednesday: Through self-examination, in the season of Lent we bring to mind those things which keep us from the love of God and from loving our neighbour. This is the gathering-of-last-year’s-palms part of the journey. Our neighbours include the people who live in our immediate surroundings, our neighbours around the world, and our neighbours—those whom we experience as enemies. Jesus is very clear that our enemies are also our neighbours and we are called to love them.

Once we have an idea of those things which separate us from the love of God and neighbour, we come to God asking for forgiveness and for help. This is the lighting-the-fire part of preparing our hearts. We do this as a community through (the) general confession at our worship services, or in private, or one-on-one through the rite of reconciliation with a priest. 

Then comes prayer and fasting, spiritual disciplines that help us recall our dependence on God. This is the giving-something-up part of Lent, the reducing to embers those things that distract us from God. I know in recent years it’s become popular to take something on instead of giving something up. There’s nothing wrong with this, of course, but I do think giving something up is what really stresses that dependence on God especially in our doing-obsessed culture where we are inclined always to take on more, to do more. I encourage you to give something up, to in fact do less. 

Almsgiving and reading and meditating on the word of God. I think of reading holy scripture as the accelerant added to the fire that helps the flames grow when the palms we’ve gathered in our lives are having trouble catching fire. Reading holy scripture reminds us who this God is that we depend on—what is their character, what is their nature, and for Christians, who is this God revealed in the person of Jesus of Nazareth.

Almsgiving, then, is the oil added to the ashes so that our witness in the world is meaningful, so that it sticks and doesn’t flake. Almsgiving is voluntarily giving away our money or material possessions simply because we know that giving to the poor is pleasing to God. Almsgiving is not something to be taken lightly, and ought not to be done recklessly or impulsively. Just as it’s a good idea to phone a friend before reaching for your credit card to make an online purchase, so also almsgiving should be done after a period of reflection, after the ashes have smouldered and cooled, if you will. 

May the ashes marked on our foreheads this night be a reminder of God’s presence with us always and of the path God has laid before us as we enter this season of Lent. This is a path where, through penitence and prayer, through reflection and reconciliation, in giving and giving up, our hearts are drawn ever closer to the heart of God. Amen.


Photo by Huebert World: Pexel free images