when i was a kid, we generally went to the 7pm service, so walking around all day with a big smudge on the forehead wasn’t really such an issue, but catholic kids in my classes at school who went to earlier services often left it on because they thought it looked cool.

it’s perfectly acceptable to wipe or wash it off after the service, though; it’s more the act of the smudging than the leaving-it-on, and it’s meant to be part of the service, not an all-day thing. i’ve certainly seen people leave the smudge there, but most i’ve known past middle school or so wash their faces after, or wipe it off with a tissue after they’ve left church.

some of the glances might have been of the “huh, what’s that?” variety, because it stops looking cross-shaped pretty quickly and starts looking either like a dirt smear or a bruise. and some of the averted eyes might have belonged to the less-than-observant, i might guess. not all of us lapsed types are completely at ease with themselves about it. threats of hellfire from early childhood and all.

Those seem like sensible precautions to take, and of course the focus of the rite is as you described it. But I saw lots of people about with the smudge on all day (very few at the law school). Is the Church giving us a convenient way to spot modern Pharisees? It certainly seems to be giving many of us a temptation to be so.

This is my first post and it isn’t at all helpful, but it is interesting to note- we Orthodox have an entirely different tradition to mark the beginning of Lent, sans ashes. Our Lent begins with a Sunday vespers service where (among other things) we circle around the church asking each individual for forgiveness, while joyous Easter music is sung. “Bright sadness,” to describe it in a nutshell.

I mention this here because “Forgiveness Sunday” has always been one of my favorite services, and it is difficult for me to imagine a more appropriate way to begin Lent.

So, getting back to the question…how ‘bout them ashes?

Is the Church giving us a convenient way to spot modern Pharisees? It certainly seems to be giving many of us a temptation to be so.

that’s likely overthinking things. i can’t recall much emphasis being placed on the readings, i must admit, and i certainly wouldn’t think of it as a trap. my experience is a bit limited, but scripture itself played a surprisingly small part in the experience i did have. the church tends to be very clear when warning you away from things important to avoid, so i don’t think the smudge is a trick question here.

those leaving it on may be looking for a sense of kinship with others for the day. ash wednesday lacks the end-of-day shared meal that other religious fast-days often have, and showing others that you’re celebrating it, even if you just see them in passing, might be considered a way of giving the day a more communal feel. also, sometimes people just forget, and don’t happen to look into a mirror for a while. if the priest happened to be particularly heavy-handed with the ash, it stays on longer than you’d expect.

Charlene,

Great to see you here, and your comment is indeed helpful. Here I was, thinking the Orthodox did something similar, but instead it’s completely different! I must admit I’m more constitutionally suited to “man, remember that thou art dust, and to dust thou shalt return,” than to forgiving people joyfully.

So, do the Orthodox have something akin to mardi gras, then? Or does forgiveness get all the joy in that one needs?

HB,

Keep in mind that the imposing of the ashes is a sign of liturgical penitence, and not an act of personal penitence. I think this is an important distinction: having ashes on your head is not fasting but a sacramental sign of one’s duty to fast. It certainly doesn’t mean that one is fasting.

As has been noted, keeping the ashes on one’s forehead throughout the day is not envisioned by the liturgical rite itself. I think there may be legitimate reasons to do so. For one, it keeps unusual an important day that has no other ritual or celebratory custom to mark it, except those negative in character: not eating, etc. For another, in our culture at least it has become a rare occasion to publicly self-identify, not as penitent, but as Catholic. Many or most non-Catholics who even know what the smudge is really know or care what it signifies or why it’s there, which makes it unlikely to be a source of temptation to boast of penitence. But many people know that Catholics and only Catholics “get ashes” on Ash Wednesday.

Again, the ashes aren’t a sign that one is more holy or more diligent than one’s fellow Catholics, the way a pale, stubbled, mopey face on a fast day might be. The latter says “I’m observing Lent in a more pious way than you—see how miserable I am?” The ashes simply say “I’m Catholic and it’s Lent, when I’m supposed to fast.” For my money the temptation to hypocrisy comes not from wearing the ashes but from asking and answering the all-too-frequent question, “What are you giving up for Lent?”

Unfortunately, we don’t have anything quite as festive as Mardi Gras… indulgence comes in the form of a fast-free week when informal all-out meat fests take place, followed by a week when everything except meat is allowed- it is at the end of this week that the Russians have their version of mardi gras known as “Maslenitza,” which includes blini, fish, caviar, butter, dairy and anything except meat (sadly).

Don’t get me wrong, our Lent has its full share of “Thou are dust,” I just like the fact that this very long period of remembering our own condition begins with an abundantly clear reminder of the context, solution and end of it all- the Crucifixion and Resurrection of Christ.

Doing some Ash Wednesday reading today and I came across a beautiful passage, thought I’d share. Forgive my hasty translation:

Today we enter the holy time of Lent, the time of Christian warfare. This observance is not undertaken by us piecemeal: it is one and the same for all, for whoever convene in the same unity of faith. And why should the fast of Christ not be common for all Christians? Why should the members not follow the Head? If we receive good things from this head, why should we not receive evil ones? Should we refuse sad things, and share in the pleasant ones? If so, we prove ourselves unworthy of participation in this Head. For all that he suffers is for us. Shall it irk us to collaborate with him in the work of our salvation, in which we show ourselves to be co-helpers with him? It is no great thing if we fast with Christ, we who are to sit with him at the table of the Father, it is no great thing if the member suffers along with the head, with whom it is also to be glorified. Happy the member who cleaves through all things to the Head, and follows him wherever he goes… . It is good for me to cleave wholly unto you, O Head glorious and blessed forever, whom even the angels long to behold. I shall follow you wherever you go: if you pass through the fire, I shall not be torn from you, nor shall I fear any evil, for you are with me. You bear my griefs, and you grieve for me; you first cross through the narrow passageway of suffering, that you might provide the broad entryway to the members following you.

—St Bernard of Clairvaux, In Quadragesima Sermo 1

A: I found Michael’s explanation of the ashes as a liturgical sign rather than a mark of personal virtue rather convincing. Thank you, Michael.

B: I found the beauty Michael described in St. Bernard’s quotation rather inaccessible. He takes Paul’s bodily parts metaphor and brings it to strange new places. It’s hard for me not to envision strange octopus-like organisms “cleaving” to a Futurama-like “Head”. (“O Head glorious and blessed forever”?) I imagine, however, that this is primarily an illustration of how removed I am from the poetical memes that were important to people of St Bernard’s time.

C: Thanks for stopping by Monadology, Charlene!