Ashes, Ashes: A Look at Symbolism
Interestingly, aside from Christmas and Easter, Ash Wednesday is often one of the most frequently attended Masses. And why is this? Something catches our attention in this liturgical practice of tracing ashes on our forehead. In a world filled with so many bright colors and endless noise, the grey ashes present a stark contrast. This year, of course, ashes will be sprinkled instead of traced, but their meaning for us is unchanged, or maybe even more pronounced, given the mid-pandemic reality of the world today. The ashes of Ash Wednesday are a great symbol for us, holding significance all throughout both the Old and New Testaments, and to the present day. With these ashes in mind, the celebration of Ash Wednesday offers us the opportunity to reflect on the importance of symbol in our participation in the life of the Church.
In our present time, when we use the word “symbol,” what we usually mean is “just a symbol” — it’s a physical representation of an idea, or it points to something else that it means to say. We can say, “Oh, a heart-shape is a symbol for love,” or “scales are a symbol for justice.” What we’re doing here with these images is saying that meaning is extrinsic, that it is coming from outside the thing. We’re giving these things their meaning, using them to represent something else. The Church’s idea of symbol is a little different — just look at the sacraments, for instance, as symbol of God’s grace. We find that physical objects and human actions, in our experience with them through our senses, can directly convey the grace of God through things, in their materiality. The meaning of the sacrament is not something arbitrarily imposed on it from outside, but comes from within, as God makes use of the “thingness” of those things used to convey the grace of the sacrament.
For instance, the water of baptism. The water has meaning and value simply because it exists — it is some thing. We experience it with our senses, and with our reason. What do we think of when we see water? What does it feel like when we feel its coolness running over our hands? When we drink water on a hot day when we’re really thirsty? Thus when water is used in the baptism, we are bringing the reality of what water is to the sacrament — God uses the water, as it is, being water. The meaning of water isn’t something we can entirely explain away — it is water and we can only really know water through our experience of it, as something physical and real.
Back to Ash Wednesday. The use of ashes as a liturgical symbol is a unique occurrence in our church calendar, and offers us one of the most potent symbols we have access to. Actually, we call these ashes a sacramental. The Church defines sacramentals as “sacred signs which… signify effects, particularly of a spiritual nature, which are obtained through the intercession of the Church. By them men are disposed to receive the chief effect of the sacraments, and various occasions in life are rendered holy” (Sacrosanctum Concilium 60). To rephrase that, sacramentals are symbols that, while not sacraments, help us to live the life of grace that we do receive in the sacraments. As we hear the words, “Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return,” the ashes we receive on Ash Wednesday help us in all their gritty materiality to reflect on our reality as human beings and as children of God. We are reminded once more of our own mortality and our call to humility.
The ashes are a symbol, something really present to us in a way that we are called to reflect upon. There is something more than can be explained away with words. They draw our attention; we see them, we feel them, and we recognize that they tell us something true about ourselves and the world. How do I experience the ashes on my head? What do they remind me of? Who do these ashes call me to be? In a way, we are the ashes we receive, the dust— what does that mean for us? What does it mean that I am marked this way? Especially in this time of pandemic, how do these ashes call us to live in solidarity with those, both in and outside of the the Church, who are suffering? These are all questions to keep in mind as we celebrate this holy day, and throughout the rest of Lent.
Personally, I’m feeling both so ready for Lent to begin, and yet so unwilling. I think we all feel like we’re recovering a bit from last year’s Lent, which has seemingly never ended— our communal experience of Easter was muted, almost nonexistent. This year, my hope is that after these forty days of Lent have passed, we will all be able to fully celebrate the joy of Easter, whether in person with the parish community or at home and spiritually united with all those throughout the Universal Church. Best wishes to all as we begin this beautiful season together.
