Ash Wednesday Reflections

(image courtesy of markdroberts.com)

I grew up in the Bible belt among many good protestant denominations. I only had one Catholic friend, and the only time I went to mass with him I felt like I was in an aerobics class.

Stand, sit, stand, kneel. Stand, sit, kneel, stand.

But in 1989 my wife and I moved to Charleston, "The Holy City". It's called the Holy City because it was the first colony where true religious freedom was practiced. The other colonies practiced freedom of religion by practicing the religion of their choosing, but only one was allowed. Charleston allowed you to practice any religion you wanted, as long as you practiced. So Charleston is full of some of the oldest, most beautiful churches in America. The first First Baptist church is in Charleston, SC.

February 28, 1990, my wife and I set out for a romantic dinner at our favorite restaurant in downtown Charleston, Garibaldi's. What a wonderful place: small, intimate, candle-lit and lots of garlic and butter. As we ate, the restaurant filled with people. I looked over at the table next to me and noticed that the guy had a big spot of dirt on his head. He was dressed impeccably otherwise, complete with coat and tie, but he had an amorphous blob of dirt right in the middle of his forehead! How embarrassing! I whispered and nonchalantly pointed so that my wife could see. We giggled.

Then we noticed he wasn't the only one. The restaurant was full of dirty faced patrons. Did they come through a sandstorm? What the heck?

Imagine my surprise when I got to work that night and my coworker walked in with - you guessed it - a big splash of dirt on her head. Being the nice guy that I am, I told her, "Uh - you know you got a spot of dirt on your face?"

"Ash Wednesday", she told me? "Ash what?" I asked? And my Catholic friend proceeded to explain to me what Ash Wednesday was, that it marked a time leading up to Easter where people reflected on their savior and their sins, often by giving up something they valued during that time. It's marked on the foreheads of those who practice by a cross drawn with ash. Cool.

I don't practice Ash Wednesday, or Lent for that matter. Nothing wrong with it, it's just not something I do. But I have one request for those of you who do: Tell your priest to be exact.

I've decided my ignorance was exacerbated by the ambiguity of the placement and shape of the ash on people's foreheads. It wasn't a cross, it was a smudge. Would a good piece of drawing charcoal count as ash? I could do some nice work with some charcoal. Make it big, dark, and pronounced, bordering on a tattoo. Make it loud. At least then us ignorant protestants will know there's some religious reason for your artwork, and won't think you've just been crawling around in your attic or replacing the transmission in your car.