"What's That Sh*t on Your Head?"

Rich writes:

A few years ago, I started my morning like most other mornings. Except that morning was Ash Wednesday, so I made sure to get to Mass before heading into work. After Mass, I pulled up to the nearby Starbucks and saw that the drive-thru line was insanely long, so I decided to quickly run inside instead. As I approached the counter to order my usual grande americano with an extra shot, I noticed a group of teenagers in the corner looking in my direction and laughing amongst themselves. When I realized there was nobody else behind me, I suddenly recalled the ashes on my forehead. I stood there waiting for my americano as the group got up, still laughing. As they passed me by, one of them said, "What's that shit on your head? A cross?" My mind raced in a million different directions as I tried to come up with the right thing to say. I simply stuttered, "Yes, yes it is," and that was it. That was the encounter.

I remember getting back into my car and feeling totally ashamed - not because of the ashes themselves but because of my knee-jerk reaction and embarrassment of the cross. This experience has never left me. In fact, it has forever changed my view of Ash Wednesday and the posture I now embrace when branded with the sign of our faith, the cross.

Do I really know what this sign means? 

More than a symbol or a custom, it signifies the start of an important journey. It says to the entire world around me that I am making a commitment - that I am undertaking Lent, a season of prayer and penitence. It shouts that I am a follower of Jesus Christ. I am a Christian. I bear the sign of the cross.

It also describes my human condition. It says that I am broken in need of repair, a sinner in need of redemption. As painful as it is to face, it reminds me of the brutal reality that I am a hypocrite - we all are to more or less degrees. I know what the Lord expects of me and I am also aware that these expectations are hard. It's so much easier to pretend to be a disciple, reaping the benefits of appearance, rather than to sacrifice all the surface-level glory in order to actually be one. 

The reality of who I am, what I have become, what I have done and what I have failed to do is all so necessary to face. Without such a reckoning, I would remain in the dark place of denial, and in that dark place, I would languish in misery. But this reckoning is meant to bring me out of the darkness, not deeper into it.

Today, as I accept the mark of ashes on my forehead, I will distinguish myself publicly as a sinner. What I know privately about myself in the closed chambers of my heart, I now reveal to the world. 

During this cold time of year, when the ground is frozen and the trees still bare, I openly acknowledge the reality of my human condition. I acknowledge my mortality. I wear it on my forehead. It says that I am dust. It says that in these freezing temperatures, these last days of winter, I intend to make myself ready for that springtime moment of rebirth, the resurrection. It says that I intend to make myself right with God and with my neighbor, by renewing my commitment to the faith and renewing my commitment to the cross.

The cross is my calling card. It proclaims what I believe, and the one I choose to represent. The punk in Starbucks read the mark correctly. But what about tomorrow, Rich? When the ash is washed away, will people know? Will anyone be able to tell that you are marked with the cross and that you have been claimed for Christ? Will they sense it by how you live, what you do, the sacrifices you make, the quiet acts of penance you perform? Will the invisible tracing left at your baptism, and reinforced this day, be clear to those you meet? 

I strive not to make this a one-time, passing event. In the days to come, I hope to remember what happened today and how my Lenten journey began. And when I take one last look in the mirror tonight before washing my face, I will not be ashamed of the mark I bear. I will not be ashamed of the cross.