In the pre-dawn darkness, we crunch and slosh through wet snow toward the warm, yellow light that glows from the window of the basement suite where we meet each Wednesday morning for neighbourhood prayers. As we approach, other friends are converging on the same red door. Inside, we gather in a circle around the roaring gas fire with our steaming mugs of coffee, we pray a brief liturgy together, and then we spend time in silent reflection, writing prayers for forgiveness and healing.

One by one, we then roll our prayers into paper cones and brave the cold of the morning once more to kneel in front of a low table, where we light the paper cones from a candle and watch our confessions burn down to ashes in a clay bowl. Then the bowl is brought back inside, and we pass it around the circle.

We turn to each other, one at a time, dipping our fingers in the ashes of our collective prayers and drawing the sign of the cross on each other’s foreheads with the words, “Turn away from sin, and be faithful to the gospel.” Live in the hope of the good news that God is remaking the world and remaking each one of us. Choose to participate in the transformation. 

The ashes on our faces remind us that we are dust–that we will die someday–so that with the humble knowledge of our mortality and dependence on God, we can live well in the finite space and time we have been given on this earth. Ashes are also a sign of repentance: an acknowledgment that the injustice and pain we see in the world has its roots in our own hearts, and that the greed, corruption, and violence we see writ large in our society is mirrored in the selfish individualism of our private lives. On Ash Wednesday, we stare reality in the face: I am not separate from the racism, the environmental destruction, the refugee crisis, or the social inequality I see around me. I am complicit. I am part of the problem.

This year, Valentine’s Day and Ash Wednesday fall on the same day. It’s an unlikely combination.

In popular culture, Valentine’s Day is a holiday to celebrate romance: the day to take your lover out for a candlelit dinner, or make a statement by buying chocolate or flowers or jewelry or a card. It’s a private, inward-looking affair, and somewhat exclusive. But still, the vibe is supposed to be light and fun, even sappy. No one talks about death on Valentine’s Day–they talk about undying love.

Next to all that candy-coated glitz, Ash Wednesday is a bit of a bummer. Most of us would prefer not to contemplate the uncomfortable truths that we are going to die, and that while we are alive our own brokenness means that we harm others in myriad ways, intentionally or not.

However, I believe that this humbling, brutal honesty with ourselves and this commitment to addressing our own faults and failings comprise the necessary starting point for cultivating authentic love.

Experiencing God’s forgiveness and healing for ourselves allows us to truly see and love another person, a community, or an entire world, with all of its shadows and imperfections. Living in the awareness of our own fragile humanity inspires compassion by connecting us with the suffering of others.

So this is my valentine to the world: to commit to that hard, loving work of turning from sin and living faithfully into the vision of God’s kingdom. Happy Ash Valentine’s Day.