Dr. Gerry Turcotte

FIGURE OF SPEECH

February 8, 2016

"I am but dust and ashes!"

Psalm 49.9

During Lent last year, Bill Donaghy of the Theology of the Body Institute posted a graphic on his Facebook page entitled "A Catholic Guide to Ashes." What follows is a series of examples of the signs priests place on worshippers' foreheads during Ash Wednesday services.

These include a pristine cross labeled First in Line, a massive cross entitled Father's Revenge, a messy little blur called The Hasty, and a barely there impression that says simply Load Toner.

I will leave it to you to discover The Hindu, The Mini, The Hipster and the Rorschach, though I'm sure you can guess what they might look like.

Over the years I have had any number of queries from non-Christians about the messy smudge on my forehead, and like many I suspect, my explanations about these have ranged from the cryptic to the comic, but as with so many things, I never really sat down to understand where this tradition came from.

In the Bible, references to ashes are plentiful, although the most famous such example, "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," only appears in The Book of Common Prayer.

USED WITH PERMISSION

The application of ashes to foreheads has been a common practice for more than 1,200 years to mark the dies cinerum or day of ashes.

The Gregorian Sacramentary, dating to the eighth century, refers to this practice where the faithful are marked with ashes derived from the burning of the previous year's palms. Typically the practice is linked to the idea of penance.

Even though Ash Wednesday is not referred to in the Bible, there are nevertheless more than 40 references to ashes in connection with the practice of mourning and penance. As Job says, "Therefore I reprehend myself, and do penance in dust and ashes" (42.5-6).

For me, Ash Wednesday was always connected to fasting since it marked the beginning of Lent. And it was a strangely popular gathering time at Mass even though it wasn't a holy day of obligation.

Even as a school-aged child, I found the ritual meaningful, and once I even replicated the practice by dipping my hand in the long dead remains of a fireplace.

To say my parents weren't impressed with the resulting charcoal carnage that covered not just my forehead but also every article of clothing I was wearing would be an understatement.

In my heart of hearts, however, it seemed like the right thing to do. And perhaps my seriousness was appropriate, because that's what Ash Wednesday is about.

It's about acknowledging our Lord and it's about preparing for a sombre 40-day journey towards Easter, where our hope, through the resurrection, inevitably rises from the ashes.

(Dr. Gerry Turcotte is president, St. Mary's University in Calgary.)