To Spot or Not

So today is the start of Lent -- the 40 day count down to Easter (less Sundays!) and we Catholics start it off with Ash Wednesday. My friend Lady Steele and I went to mass together over lunch and after the service we both turned to each other and said -- "How long do we leave them on?"

This question is one I deal with every year. The first reading during mass is all about not "showing off" your sacrifices, commitments and your suffering. Don't boast about your fasting and yet I leave mass with a big black mark highlighting my trip to mass and my journey into lent.

I feel like the ashes are just a beacon for people to mention that I have dirt, grease, or a smudge of the unknown on my forehead. Then I have to tell them "Oh no it is supposed to be there -- it's not a spot-it's a cross...of ash. It's Ash Wednesday." That then leads to the question I HATE the most -- "So what are you giving up?" If I am giving something up, that is definitely between God and myself. My sacrifices or commitments to do something are very personal even if it is just chocolate or not listening to the radio on the way to work to spend time in prayer. Not really your business. But I am wearing this very obvious black mark on my head that will make people ask.

So that leads me again to the reading -- don't boast or show off -- and yet I wear a big mark that says asks me why this is on my head.

Lady Steele pointed out that we are also to minister and share our faith and this is a perfect time. Explain what Lent is about and how we take time to become closer to God during this season. While she is utterly and completely correct, it doesn't take away that we will get asked "What are you giving up?" Dodging that question doesn't make me popular either. I try in the nicest way possible to say Not Your Business and people either continue to goad - "come on -- what is it?" Or get huffy and say - "I am just asking."

So back to the original question: How long do we leave these on? Mine made it to about 4 pm when a co-worker snickered in my doorway. He said it looked like a giant target on my forehead.