My Perfect Cross

“Wow, your ashes are great—the cross is perfect,” I heard crossing the Grand Patio this past Wednesday, “I could see them from the back of the church!” Twice more, I received this compliment as I returned to my office. So, I must publicly confess: I put them on myself. I was at the cantor stand at the 12:10 Mass and was overlooked. Not wanting to proceed with the rest of the Mass without being in Communion with all of you, I went into the sacristy and using my pinky, all too carefully applied the symbol.

Of course, I was pleased at first: no loose specks on my cheek and a nice even horizontal line. But it didn’t take long to realise that symbol was empty and disingenuous. The mark is meant to be a sign of im-perfection. Others place it on our forehead in solidarity to acknowledge that none of us fall into the same category as Our Mother, Mary.

Then in the afternoon, I found myself resentful, frustrated at others, with little patience or compassion—oh, how quickly we revert! What good is that reminder if it is not demonstrated through action, service, prayer, and giving? I think I’ll just chock it all up to being hangry.

But seriously—it’s day three of Lent and to be honest, I’m just starting now. There will be days when we don’t follow through with our Lenten practice. Or we go through the motions, but it really isn’t reflected in how we live out our lives. Perhaps that is why this season is 40 days. Whether you falter or haven’t even started yet—get back up, get back on. Return to God with all your heart.