Ash Wednesday 2026

Ash Wednesday

The Rev’d Charles Everson

Church of the Atonement

February 18, 2026

On this Ash Wednesday[1], as we kneel to receive ashes and hear the words, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return,” the Church does not leave us in despair. She does not simply remind us that we are sinners and then send us home. She places before us concrete paths of repentance – tried and true paths that lead not to shame, but to life.

Repentance is not a vague feeling of regret. It is a way of walking. And the first step on that path is the honest acknowledgment of our own sins.

Before healing can begin, the truth must be spoken. Not the carefully curated version of ourselves. Not the version in which we compare ourselves favorably to others. But the simple, uncomfortable truth: we are sinners. We have chosen ourselves over God. We have loved selectively. We have ignored suffering that was inconvenient to notice. We have failed to see Christ in the poor, in the stranger, in the one whose life or identity unsettles us.

When we accuse ourselves of our in a moment in the words of the Ash Wednesday litany, our conscience becomes not our enemy, but our ally. An awakened conscience spares us something far worse: a heart that has grown numb, and a soul unprepared to stand before the Lord. And when we name our sins honestly, we discover that God’s mercy is already waiting.

A second path of repentance is forgiveness.

If we desire mercy, we must become merciful. The wounds we carry are real. Some of them are deep. Some of them were inflicted by those who should have known better. Forgiveness does not mean pretending the harm did not occur. It does not mean abandoning the pursuit of justice. But it does mean refusing to let resentment shape our souls.

Anger, when we hold onto it, becomes its own form of bondage. What we refuse to release begins, slowly, to rule us. To forgive is to entrust judgment to God. It is to loosen our grip on the injury so that it no longer defines us. And in that loosening, we discover that our own hearts begin to heal.

A third path is fervent prayer – careful, intentional prayer that rises from the heart.

Lent is not meant to be spiritually decorative. It is meant to be disruptive. We are invited to pray more deliberately, more honestly, more consistently. To kneel even when we feel distracted. To open the Scriptures even when we’d rather be binge watching our favorite show. To sit in silence long enough to notice how restless we truly are. To let our legs carry us to church, perhaps even more often than we normally come.

Prayer reorients us. It reminds us that we are creatures. That we are dust animated by the breath of God. And that without that breath, we wither.

The fourth path is almsgiving, or giving to those in need.

There is a reason the Church pairs repentance with generosity. Our attachment to what we possess often reveals the true condition of our hearts. To give sacrificially is to confess that everything we have is gift. It is to recognize Christ in the one who asks for help.

In a city like Chicago, we do not have to search far to encounter the poor – the unhoused neighbor on the corner, the migrant seeking safety, the family quietly struggling to make rent. Lent calls us not merely to notice them, but to respond. Almsgiving is not condescension. It is solidarity. It is dust sharing with dust.

Finally, there is humility.

Humility is not self-hatred. It is clarity. It is standing before God without illusion and saying, simply and honestly, “I need mercy.” The one who approaches God with an empty heart leaves filled. The one who insists on self-justification leaves unchanged.

Humility is what the ashes teach us. We are not in control. We are mortal. We are dependent.

These paths – confession, forgiveness, prayer, almsgiving, humility – are not abstract ideals. They are medicine for the soul. When we begin to walk in them, something shifts. Our hearts soften. Our vision clears. We become capable once again of love.

And then, having begun this work of repentance, we approach the altar not with confidence in ourselves, but with confidence in Jesus Christ. For it is through his grace, his mercy, and his kindness that any of us attain eternal life.

So begin tonight. Receive the ashes. Confess your sins. Forgive. Pray. Give. Walk humbly.

And let the mercy of Christ meet you here – at this altar – where repentance always leads to grace. Amen.

[1] This sermon is largely based on St. John Chrysostom, “Homily on Repentance,” in Celebrating the Seasons, ed. Robert Atwell (Norwich: Canterbury Press, 2001), Shrove Tuesday.  I kept his main points, but made it my own.