Ash Wednesday Poem

In Western Christianity, mark Ash Wednesday the first day, or the beginning of the season of lent, which began 40 days before Easter (Sundays not included in the count).Slow is a time where many Christians prepare for Easter by observing a period of fasting, repentance, moderation and spiritual discipline. Some of the Ash Wednesday services, the Minister will be slightly rub the sign of the cross with ash on the front of the faithful.

Not all Christian churches observe lent and Ash Wednesday. Occur primarily by the names Lutheran, Methodist, Presbyterian and Anglican and Roman Catholics also. The Eastern Orthodox churches observe lent or great lent, for 6 weeks or 40 days preceding Sunday shoots with continuing fasting during Orthodox Easter Holy week. For Eastern Orthodox churches lent begins (called Clean Monday) Monday and Wednesday ash is not observed.

The Bible does not mention Wednesday ash or the custom of lent, however, the practice of repentance and mourning ash is found in 2 Samuel 13: 19; Esther 4: 1; Task 2: 8; Daniel 9: 3; and Matthew 11: 21.

Ash Wednesday Poem

Although I do not hope to turn again
Although I do not hope
Although I do not hope to turn

Wavering between the profit and the loss
In this brief transit where the dreams cross
The dreamcrossed twilight between birth and dying
(Bless me father) though I do not wish to wish these things
From the wide window towards the granite shore
The white sails still fly seaward, seaward flying
Unbroken wings

And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices
In the lost lilac and the lost sea voices
And the weak spirit quickens to rebel
For the bent golden-rod and the lost sea smell
Quickens to recover
The cry of quail and the whirling plover
And the blind eye creates
The empty forms between the ivory gates
And smell renews the salt savour of the sandy earth

This is the time of tension between dying and birth
The place of solitude where three dreams cross
Between blue rocks
But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away
Let the other yew be shaken and reply.

Blessèd sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the
garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated

And let my cry come unto Thee.

Ash Wednesday
T.S. Eliot