Ash Me Anything

Yesterday I presided over the Ash Wednesday Liturgies for the fourth time as a pastor: three Masses and two Liturgies of the Word. It was a busy day.

It was also my first day off social media. In my previous post, Theophilus, I clarified my distance from social media as posting only (mostly for the parish), and not commenting or viewing any notifications. Messaging remains open, and blogging may even increase. Today’s experience suggests this modified approach should work to reduce drastically my online time and content, blog posting notwithstanding.

Even while away from the F*c*b**k and Tw*tt*r the urge to reflect and speak and be heard remains. I gave photo ops for the local paper and TV news, and really looked forward to them. That showed me how attached to self I am. Didn't it turn out that the news station didn't have time for the entire evangelistic dissertation I gave them?

I use the more traditional English declaration over the ash recipient, "Remember, man [you participant of the human race, male or female, and humanity as such], that you are dust, and unto dust you shall return" (Memento, homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris). I think the Roman Missal omits "man" (homo), so I should refrain from being disobedient. What kind of Lent would that portend?

Every so often an ash recipient may say, Amen, and maybe even cross herself. Neither is indicated, but neither is discouraged--except that the Sign of the Cross might muddle the artwork.

It's not really artwork. A few years ago I may have posted on here my friend Bill Donaghy's compendium of ash patterns. I run the gamut. Few are perfect as our heavenly Father is perfect.

And then a recipient might say, "Thank you." A venerable priest in our diocese used this retort with people who thanked him (likely not in this scenario, but others): "Don't thank me, thank God!" He made you from dust, not I.

After my last Mass I had Stations of the Cross, using the version written by Emily DeArdo in her recent book, Living Memento Mori, which I highly recommend. We recently became "mufos" (mutual followers) on Tw*tt*r.

Mutual following doesn't happen exactly simultaneously; usually the fan follows the star, so to speak, and the star may or may not follow back, for any number of reasons. Given my egomaniacal inferiority complex, I am truly saddened when not followed back. I must remember that there may be people out there who are waiting with more or less bated breath for me to return their favor. Vade, et fac similiter.

When I log on again, at Easter or so, I must make a point of thanking Emily for her insightful book and the journey of suffering and compassion that prompted it. Perhaps our guardian angels can make the communication sooner and more reliably.