Today is Ash Wednesday, but although I am Catholic, I will not be getting ashes on my forehead. I have received ashes many years in the past, and I have even been one of the lay ministers helping the priest distribute ashes, but it is not a ritual that appeals to me.
I recently read two opinion pieces by writers expressing their appreciation for the distribution of ashes on Ash Wednesday. In The Wall Street Journal, T.R. Reid, in “Ash Wednesday and Our Shared Dust,” dwelt on the poignancy of mortality in this shared religious ritual. And in The New York Times, in “Ash Wednesday and the Burden of Living Your Beliefs,” Christopher Beha linked Ash Wednesday and belief to broader questions of faith and existential meaning.
The image of a cross drawn in ashes on one’s forehead, together with the words “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return,” carries emotional resonance for many, and I think it has become a more visible marker of the coming of Lent in recent years. Or perhaps I have had more time to notice people with the cross on their foreheads since I retired.
But unlike the articles I’ve read and the people I’ve seen with ashes, I’ve never felt it was important to participate in this ritual. Both personally and professionally, I have never wanted to wear my religion on my sleeve—or rather, on my forehead.
On a personal level, I’ve never been one for conspicuous displays of faith. I go to Mass regularly, and I try to follow the “rules” of the Catholic church, but I generally view faith as a very private matter. The idea of making an outward show of something so personal has always sat awkwardly with me. I view spiritual life as inherently internal and reflective. I don’t need to tell others I’m a believer through the outward symbol of ashes one day a year.
Professionally, I have always been equally circumspect—if not more so. My career was spent as an attorney representing a corporation in employment discrimination matters, including religious discrimination cases. I always felt that my role required a clear separation between my personal beliefs and the image I presented at work. Even displaying Christmas decorations in my office felt inappropriate. If I was to represent the company, and be an advocate for fairness to employees of all religions (or no religion), then the optics of how I behaved mattered to me.
I was afraid that attending a court hearing, a deposition, or a mediation session while displaying a religious symbol—be it ashes, a cross, or anything else—could be misinterpreted. Worse, it might be weaponized by the opposing party. The last thing I wanted was to be misunderstood as advancing my personal creed in the workplace. Others in the workplace might feel free to show their faith—or even feel compelled by that faith to proselytize (those were challenging cases)—but I felt I should be more circumspect.
Genuine belief isn’t measured by one day’s display of ashes on a forehead. Instead of such conspicuous acts, I believe our spirituality should be shown in the quiet routines of our lives—in how we treat others every day.
What are your opinions on religious observances in the workplace?
