Ash Wednesday February 14, 2024
Fr. Alexander Albert St. John the Evangelist, Jeanerette
What a day this is, this Ash Wednesday. It fixes itself in the imagination, stands out. Many non-Catholics and even non-Christians have picked up on it as something special, and rightly so. For what other day would millions of people eagerly wait in line to be reminded that they are going to die? “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.”
But they do. Apart from Christmas and maybe Easter, Ash Wednesday Mass has the highest attendance of the year. Why? You tell me. Why are you here? Because you “get” something? To fit in? To look lie everyone else with their dirty foreheads?
Or is it perhaps because that reminder of your mortal frailty is a refreshing splash of truth in a world full of lies? We are constantly bombarded by messages we can’t really trust: ads designed to sell us something, political movements that just want our vote, social media influencers that simply want our attention and approval. How many of these tell us the straight-up truth for no other reason than that it is true?
But come to Ash Wednesday and there is no doubt. Someone is going to tell you that you will one day be dust and ashes. You will die – you know it’s true. Everyone knows it’s true and it’s kind of nice to see a whole bunch of people writing that truth on their foreheads.
But it isn’t all that is true! Yes, you are dust and you will return to dust. But we use a specific kind of dust – ashes – for a reason. This kind of dust doesn’t just happen… it is made and made by fire. So, we’re not just telling you that you’ll die, we’re inviting you die in a specific way. Not to set yourself literally on fire – of course not! No, we’re reminding that you will die and become dust, but telling you that if you let yourself be consumed by the metaphorical fire – the fire of love, of course – you will become ash.
Why is ash different? Because ash can make the ground fertile. Though dead itself, it becomes a valuable part of the recipe for new life. We too – if we let ourselves be burned up – can become part of the recipe for new life, not just for others but also for ourselves. That’s the promise of Ash Wednesday: that you will die, but that if you embrace that death in the right way, you will live again.
How, though? What’s the right way to be burned up? I already said love, but Jesus is more specific than that: almsgiving, prayer, and fasting. That’s why Ash Wednesday is only a beginning… the start of a whole season of Lent. If you only begin but do not continue, it isn’t much good. So begin!
Notice Jesus says when you give alms, when you pray, when you fast, not if. Give to those in need and do it in a way that does not benefit you. No service hour forms, no social media posts, no bragging. See a need, fill it kindly and lovingly, and then move on and never mention it.
Pray. Pray a lot. Some of that has to be in public, out loud, and with other people. Jesus himself prayed out loud at some times and places, so the problem isn’t with public prayer, it’s with a lack of private prayer. Pray privately and personally every morning and night, in the car, in quiet moments. Take the time and effort to meditate on what Jesus has done, using your imagination to put yourself with him in his ministry and sacrifice.
And of course, fasting. Today and Friday are days of fasting – only one meal – and no meat. No meat on Fridays. But your fasting needs to also be personal and regular. Not because the things we give up are bad, but because they are good and we need to remind ourselves that there is something even better. We need the practice of self-denial so that we can use that strength when things are difficult. When you fast from tv or drinks or deserts or whatever, don’t just leave it there. Take some of the money you would have spent and give it to those in need. Take some of the time you would have spent and dedicate it to prayer. That way we are directly translating our self-denial love of God and neighbor. And take to heart Jesus’ words about not calling attention to your sacrifice. Do it as cheerfully as you can. Ultimately, this day is not just about death and repentance, but about hope. Not a mere wish like “I hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow,” but an active hope that motivates our decisions here and now. It is the hope that faces the truth about death mortality with the fire of love, that motivates us in giving alms, praying, fasting so that rather than turning to dust and staying that way, we might instead become fertilizer for the kingdom of God and eternal life.