Ash Wednesday

On Wednesday morning I went to class, knowing somewhere in the back of my mind that Lent was coming up but not aware of when. In class, I noticed that one of my classmates had an ashen cross marked on her forehead. Upon seeing it, a surprising sense of urgency flared up inside of me even causing me to be more awake and alert than before. It was Ash Wednesday. Despite not participating in this holy day since I was a little girl, I found myself nearly in panic mode over the realization that this day was suddenly and unexpectedly upon me. My reaction surprised me such that I felt unfamiliar with myself. “Why are you freaking out about this? Why do you want to go so bad?” I asked myself. No answer came, only the persistent feeling that I needed to partake in such a service.

I went to a service later that night, participated in the liturgy, sang the songs, and went up to the altar to kneel and receive the ashes. As the priest put the ashes on the heads of those present, he said “dust you are, and to dust you will return.” It must have rung in my ears seventy or so times, “dust you are, and to dust you will return.” After a short sermon, the congregation went up to receive communion, something I looked forward to as I rarely partake of it. The service was incredibly structured, every detail outlined in the bulletin. Such structure, liturgy and priestly attire reminded me of the church my family attended for so long.

Upon later reflection, I  asked myself what it was that made me want to go. Maybe it was structure that I craved, or maybe it was the aspect of contrition and penitence that I found appealing, or maybe it was an intense inner desire and hunger to know God that directed my steps to that place. When wondering these things I was reminded that rituals provide structure, orienting us to the world around us. Thus, ritual in a way is comforting. Ritual acts, as we defined them in class, are so much more a part of my life and important to me than I’d realized prior to coming to this understanding. This realization causes me to feel a kind of kindredness to oral peoples that place such import on rituals, as through them they act out and sustain their livelihoods.