A Reflection for Ash Wednesday
Find today’s readings here.
I am a hypocrite. At least I often feel like one—especially when it comes to matters of faith.
That’s a problem because in the Gospel reading for a day as important in the liturgical calendar as today is, being Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent, Jesus basically begs his disciples not to be like the hypocrites. Three times over he asks them to avoid following this model—in almsgiving, in prayer and in fasting. He doesn’t say not to engage in these things, but each time he offers a suggestion for a new way to approach acts of personal piety, to separate ourselves from the habits of the hypocrites and instead to cultivate a spirit of humility and quiet closeness with God.
I’m with Jesus on all that. But here’s why hypocrisy is tricky: Imperfect people trying to live a life of faith are not always going to live up to what they say they believe. They won’t always practice what they preach, even if they’re trying their very best. When the demands of faith are so difficult, falling into hypocrisy is easy. Sometimes it even happens by accident.
In our heart of hearts, most of us who try to follow Jesus know we’re messing up—and that we’re likely to keep messing up. With our best intentions, we resolve to try even harder. This is where Jesus’ warning to us matters most; as our efforts increase, we might be tempted to be bigger, louder and more demonstrative with our acts of devotion. Instead, we have to strike a balance that might feel uncomfortable and even contradictory: We strive to be ever more devoted to God, but we do it first and most importantly in the quiet of our own hearts.
Ash Wednesday is a fascinating day to be in the Catholic Church. It’s not a holy day of obligation, but many churches are packed. It has always surprised me that in an increasingly secular world, so many people show up to church to get ashes, to wear a physical sign of their faith on their forehead. As Lent begins, many Catholics who have drifted or disconnected look for ways to step back into the fold. I see it at my parish, but I also see it year after year as readers return more earnestly to the pages of America, hoping for spiritual nourishment during this season.
As we join together to begin the Lenten season, in person or in these pages, we’re reminded not to neglect personal piety, even as we seek faith in community. Spirituality is personal, and remembering that is key to fighting the temptation toward hypocrisy. Lent can be a time to align our prayer life with our outer life, our desire to love God with the way we move in the world. It begins with you and God, in the quiet of your soul, attuning your inner life to God’s call to action made specifically for you.
When I follow Catholic news every day at work but struggle to make time for prayer, I feel like a hypocrite. When I say I’m sorry for my sins but then fall into the same flawed patterns of behavior, I feel like a hypocrite. When I call myself Catholic but know in my heart all the ways in which I fall short, I feel like a hypocrite. This Lent, I’m not likely to cure myself of that nagging feeling. But I can take up acts of personal piety that Jesus suggests, and I can work on deepening the quiet spaces of my own heart so God can burrow there.
