Last year, Ash Wednesday found me on call as a chaplain at our local hospital. Early afternoon brought a call from a maternity ward nurse requesting ashes for a patient.
Gathering ashes in a makeshift container (I’ve since upgraded to something more fitting), I ventured across town, a touch of nervousness accompanying me, unsure of what awaited.
Upstairs in the maternity ward, I was directed to a room down the hall. A soft knock, a faint invitation, and I stepped inside. A young woman lay in bed, cradling her newborn son, surrounded by family – aunt, grandmother, cousin, sister.
Introducing myself as a chaplain with ashes, I was met with elation. She explained her overnight labor and her distress at missing Ash Wednesday rituals. She desired ashes for herself and, touchingly, for her infant son, wanting to give him “a good start.” One by one, ashes were placed on each family member, including the tiny newborn just hours old.
Leaving the room, I was approached by another staff member, aware of my mission. She asked if I could share ashes further, and a quick phone call later, I found myself in the bustling emergency room. Nurses and doctors, momentarily released from urgent duties, approached for a cross of ashes and the words:
“Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”
In a place where life’s fragility is starkly evident daily, these words resonated deeply.
While the tradition of Ash Wednesday ashes is rooted in ancient mourning practices of sackcloth and ashes, I’ve been considering another connection – ashes as a cleansing agent. A quick search reveals ashes’ surprising versatility: laundry cleaning, odor removal, even hair washing.
Perhaps, beyond the stark reminder of mortality we often associate with Ash Wednesday, this cleansing aspect is what draws people back year after year. Maybe this resonated with the young mother and her family, and the dedicated emergency room staff seeking ashes. Perhaps it speaks to a deeper, shared human experience:
- We recognize our fragility, intertwined with our mortality.
- We know, if honest, our lives could be better, kinder, more aligned with our values.
- We are aware, deep down, of the broken hearts we’ve caused – others’, our own, and perhaps, in a spiritual sense, a higher power’s.
And in receiving the ash cross, we yearn for the promise it embodies: grace, forgiveness, a fresh start. As that new mother articulated, “a good start” for her child.
When we falter in remembering these truths, we can turn to the plea of today’s Psalm, one etched in my heart:
Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from your presence, and do not take your Holy Spirit from me…
These ancient words resonate not just from liturgical repetition, but because they speak to a universal human longing – the need for inner cleansing.
This Ash Wednesday, I will again join my congregation in this ritual, and return to the hospital, offering this reminder, this gift, this promise to all who seek it. To those who yearn to hear Christ’s promise of grace and forgiveness in the touch and symbol of ash.
My prayers join yours this season, as we yearn for clean hearts, good starts, and fresh starts. May God’s grace and forgiveness be received as gifts that transform our lives and ripple outward into the world. May it truly be so, especially this year.
- How does Ash Wednesday resonate with you? What role does it play in your spiritual journey?
- Do you perceive ashes as a symbol of a ‘fresh start’ or a ‘good start?’ Why or why not?
- If you have administered ashes, recall the individuals who have received this gift from you. What stories stand out? How do they shape your understanding of this day, this ritual, and God’s gifts?
