That is not a pleasant-sounding word. We think of grease or some other tough stain on our clothing that can only be “Shout”-ed out. When we need to do a background check for a job which invariably includes that embarrassing, debasing fingerprinting. When they take your thumb and roll it across the ink because you’re, like, two years old and can’t be trusted to do it right yourself.

Or, the smudge of ash on the forehead, reminding us that we are dust, and to dust we shall return. Would you believe some people have the audacity to complain if it’s not a perfectly shaped cross? Too much? Too little? Too runny? Too caked on? I tell you, the pressure a pastor is under….. It is intended to be a humbling moment.

Like all other instances of church and worship, you can always opt out. “See you at Easter.” “Don’t need all the doom, gloom and guilt of Lent, thank you very much.” Strangely, Ash Wednesday is one of the few times in worship that I feel the closest to God, and to my brothers and sisters in Christ. Maybe that shouldn’t feel strange, but perfectly natural. We are all the same – smudged by the cross. Convicted in our sin. Sharing our common, fallen human-ness. We are all on the same page. We all start with the cleansing water of baptism on our foreheads, that same anointing seal of the promised Holy Spirit. I think of how even the Holy Father (the Pope) will on Ash Wednesday bear the smudge of brokenness. We cannot escape our condition. But the Good News is that neither can we escape, or be separated, from the One who always loves us unconditionally.

Pastor Art (Originally posted on Ash Wednesday 2018)