You’ll have to pardon the alliterative and rhyming nature of this post title, but it just came so easily, I couldn’t help but use it. As I try to get back in the saddle of blogging after a week long bout with writer’s block, I’m also feeling the strong pressure of another busy week. While preparing to make the move from Associate Rector at a Pastoral-Leaning-Pastoral/Program size congregation to Rector of a Program-Leaning-Pastoral/Program size congregation, there were many who warned me of the busyness that would come, and boy weren’t they kidding. Some of it is startup stuff: meeting parish leaders, attending programs events, learning names, etc., some of it is just the pace of play in a congregation that should really have two priests working alongside a rock-solid lay staff, but a lot of it is just the way things work when you are the first phone call and the last desk upon which the buck stops. I’m enjoying the work, please don’t get me wrong, but I’m learning that there will always be more to do than hours in the day.
Having gotten that trademarked Long Steve Pankey Aside out of the way, here’s my point. In the midst of the busyness of life, we are staring down the barrel of a season that invites us to slow down. Lent will be upon us in two short days. Ash Wednesday, though quite late this year, is here. As I work on preparing my homily for one of my favorite services of the year, I am reminded of the last time it fell on the same day as my wedding anniversary. It was March 1, 2006, and I was in my middler year of seminary. SHW and I planned to go out for Indian after the Ash Wednesday service in my Field Ed parish, and we struggled quite a bit about the right thing to do. Would the staff at the restaurant think we were mocking their culture if we came in with black dots on our foreheads (my Rector was keen on the Blob)?
Added to that concern, was the reality that in the Gospel lesson appointed for every Ash Wednesday, Jesus makes a clear injunction against showy acts of piety. It seems that Jesus would have us return to our seats and immediately remove the ashen smudge from our foreheads. What is a faithful disciple to do about practicing their piety in a pluralistic society? The more I’ve thought about this in the eleven years since that last March 1 Ash Wednesday, the more I’m beginning to think that maybe none of us should be afraid of being faithful to our faith tradition. In the same way we shouldn’t be fearful or self-righteous about a Muslim woman wearing a hijab or a Sikh wearing a turban, neither should we be fearful about wearing the ashen cross on our foreheads on Ash Wednesday. Rather than asking anyone to water down their own faith tradition, we should honor the other just as we are faithful to our own.
With two kids in tow, we probably won’t be going out for Indian this year, but the question will remain every Ash Wednesday. Will you wear your cross this Wednesday?