Today is Ash Wednesday, which marks the start of the season of Lent for Christians. At some point today, many Christians will be going to their churches to share in a service of Holy Communion and to receive a symbolic cross made with ash on their forehead.

What a lot of people might not realise is that there was no official form of words for such a service in the Church of England until 1986 when Lent, Holy Week, Easter Services and Prayers was published. Until then all we had for Ash Wednesday was a normal communion service with collects and readings for that day. Of course, there were churches borrowing material from elsewhere for their services.

The result of this was that a lot of faithful Anglicans had no experience of the "Imposition of Ashes" in their churches until this new book became established. When I started training for the ministry in 1987 I had never witnessed it, despite attending C of E churches since I was 7. Initially I must admit to being a bit reluctant to take part, but it has come to have significance, reminding me of my mortality, my shortcomings and my dependence on God.

However, there is one thing that has always bothered me about the Ash Wednesday service, and it is this. One of the set readings for today is a section from Matthew 6 (the Sermon on the Mount) including these words

16 ‘And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. 17But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, 18so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.  (Mt 6:16-18 NRSV)

and I have always felt a discomfort about that. We walk out of the service with a very visible and obvious sign on our heads that we have just been there. Surely the text is suggesting we should be more discreet. I have quietly solved this dilemma by removing the cross quickly afterwards, but it doesn't quite seem in the spirit of things.

I was, therefore, very interested to come across this from Rev Bosco Peters, a priest in New Zealand, which echoed my own reservations. 

"There is an Ash Wednesday tradition quite different to the conspicuous cross of ash on the forehead – it is sprinkling ash on top of the head. Read more: https://t.co/OE1QwJmf6R "

Apparently it's good enough for Pope Francis, However, it will require a rethink. A lot of people mix oil with their ash to make a nice gloopy smear.

Whatever you decide to do today, I hope that you find space over the next few weeks of Lent to reflect on what you believe, your priorities, and perhaps to take some action or some steps to make a change you feel is needed in your life. You don't need ash to do that, although it can help to mark a boundary and a beginning.

Have a fruitful Lent.

Do we believe in change?

The recent case of Jared O'Mara has prompted me to think about what we as Christians mean by repentance or making a new start. Mr O'Mara is the Labour MP who famously unseated Nick Clegg from his Sheffield Hallam constituency. He recently resigned from the Women and Equalities Committee following the discovery of online posts he made back in the early 2000s which are homophobic, derogatory about women and also about people who are overweight.

Mr O'Mara is now 36 years old, so these posts were made in his early 20s. He's clearly embarrassed about them, and has very publicly disowned the views he articulated then. Those who are standing by him say that the change is sincere and real, and that he should not be judged now on the views he articulated then. However, social media and the press are often much less forgiving, and there will doubtless be plenty of people saying he's only sorry because he was caught out.

Now I don't know Mr O'Mara or his innermost attitudes and feelings, but his predicament asks us all some interesting questions. I have no doubt that no-one reading this post would like every view they have ever articulated to be replayed. I am sure we have all said or even written things which we would certainly regret, and which we would now disown. It's all too easy to join in the vilification of a public figure on Facebook or Twitter, but what if all of our own faults and foibles received the same scrutiny. It's always worth pausing for thought before being carried along with the crowd. 

The second question it poses for me is whether we ever really believe in change. What would be sufficient proof for me to believe that someone had indeed put their past behind them? If we are too naive in accepting someone's word about their change in character, that has the potential to be very damaging. This has been seen acutely in the way abuse allegations have been handled in church circles in the past. Once offenders have been dealt with by the law, there have to be safeguards in place to ensure that the risk of a repeat offence is minimised and everyone involved is protected.

On the other hand, we know from our own experience that we do indeed change in other respects, whereas the media (and especially social media) can be very unforgiving, particularly if the person under scrutiny holds the opposite view politically to those making the comments. 

All anyone can do to prove that change has really occurred is to be consistent and develop a track record of speaking and behaving in ways that demonstrate that. That may mean making certain decisions about the situations we place ourselves in, or the influences we expose ourselves to. In Christian circles, we call that repentance, which is turning round from walking one path, and walking a different way - the way of Jesus. We may sometimes be met with scepticism, cynicism or complete disbelief, but the possibility of change offers us all hope that our mistakes don't have to have the final say.