Ashes
In a tiny plastic packet looking ever so much like a miniature Ziplock sandwich bag are the burnt remains of something that had once been alive—green branches dried to brown and then incinerated. They are the cinders to be ceremonially smudged on foreheads: the ashes of Ash Wednesday notoriety. When purchased commercially, in case you were wondering, a pouch weighing a mere .6 ounces promises to provide up to 100 applications. The sachet’s contents are milled to such a fine consistency that they feel silky to the touch, like baby powder. When burned in a tin can set out on the driveway and run through an old coffee grinder, the results are less refined.
I’ve learned these things by trial and error over the years as I’ve fumbled around, when requested, to offer “imposition of ashes” as a way to literally mark the beginning of Lent. Although it has been a meaningful practice for countless Christians since the 6 th century, I’m not aware of it being widely observed in the Moravian churches I’ve been a part of until relatively recently. I don’t mind that there has been rising interest in the ancient custom, or that we draw inspiration from our ecumenical siblings. I’m just saying that making preparations for the ritual is not second nature to me. The meaning and purpose, not to mention the rubrics, are not something I know by heart like, say, the whole routine that goes with getting myself to a cemetery—God’s Acre—before dawn on Easter Morning. That I can manage on autopilot. Its message of resurrection hopefulness is woven into the fibers of my being.
But ashes? I have to think hard about what they represent.
Ashes are remnants—leftover dregs of something that used to be. To get to an ashen state, the thing itself has to be destroyed. The matchstick? The axe-split log in the fireplace? The whole forested hillside? To result in ash, the thing must be ruined to a point where it cannot be put back the way it was.
The idea behind Ash Wednesday is the notion that we carry within ourselves things that would best be given up as kindling to the flames—attitudes, thoughts, and recollections of actions that cause separation between ourselves and other human beings, and between ourselves and God. The shorthand word for this sort of stuff is “sin.” When we intentionally choose to reduce such stacked-up kindling to rubble and endeavor to stop collecting it, the short hand word for this is “repentance.” The soot of Ash Wednesday is a reminder of the process. The shape of the cross traced with the ashes is a reminder that, in Christ, the person who undergoes the process will never be the same again! And neither will that person ever be beyond the graceful love of Jesus Christ. Ever.
After a fire—after destruction–ashes contribute to a hospitable environment in which new growth can begin to flourish. In nature, ashes rebalance the soil and allow for healthy development of life going forward. Of course, this is what we desire from a life enriched by faith!
Now it’s time to change your ways! Turn to face God so he can wipe away your sins, pour out showers of blessing to refresh you, and send you the Messiah he prepared for you, namely, Jesus. ~Acts 3: 19-21 (The Message Bible)
If you would like to spend a moment in penitent prayer and receive a tangible daub of ashes upon your forehead, I will station myself in the church parking lot this coming Wednesday—Ash Wednesday—from 12:30 to 1:30 p.m., and again from 5:30 to 6:30 p.m., weather permitting. I will be located near the exit. Please pull up, remain in your vehicle, wear your mask, and lower your window. I’ll impose the ashes with a single-use cotton swab. If you would prefer to engage in prayer only, that will be fine, too.
Whether or not you stop by for a drive-through observance, I do hope you’ll set aside some time on Wednesday to be thoughtful, to list those particular things you’d like to surrender as kindling to fire, and to contemplate the nourishing possibilities Jesus has in store. It might just be through trial and error that we come to appreciate practices that deepen and develop us as people of faith.
Fanning Flames,
Pastor Chris
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Worship Opportunities at College Hill Moravian Church
February 14, 2021– 10:00 AM
Livestream on YouTube by searching for College Hill Moravian Church
Parking Lot Worship
Virtual Activities
Virtual Fellowship Time on Zoom – Sundays at 11:30 a.m.
Everyone is welcome! Whether you’ve become a “regular” at these gatherings, or you’re thinking about dropping by for the very first time, please use the Zoom link below, or join by phone if you do not use a device with a screen.
To join by computer, tablet or smart phone, please go to
To join by phone (no video), dial:
+1 646 558 8656 US (New York)
Meeting ID: 998 3134 7702
Zoom Prayers–Sundays at 6:30 p.m.
We offer Zoom Prayers on Sunday evenings at 6:30. We come together to share simply in intercessory prayer on behalf of our congregation, community, and world. We usually conclude by 7:00 p.m. All are welcome!
To join by computer, tablet, or smart phone, please go to
To join by phone (no video), dial:
+1 646 558 8656 US (New York)
Meeting ID: 919 6174 3369
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