Of Pancakes and Ashes

By 
 on February 20, 2026
Photography:
Unsplash/ Thays Orrico

Shrove Tuesday, the day before Ash Wednesday, began as a day when many people would visit their confessor to be shriven. That is, to confess their sins, receive penance, and be absolved. This was the first half of the beginning of a reconciliation process that continued on Ash Wednesday. Shrove Tuesday was about private confession of personal sins, while Ash Wednesday was, and still is, when the church gathers to make a public confession of its common sins. These confessions are the beginning of the Lenten season of preparation and reconciliation. For centuries, many would be preparing to be baptized at the Great Vigil of Easter. Those already baptized shared in their preparations, encouraging the baptizands and readying themselves for the celebrations of Easter.

If Shrove Tuesday is about confession of sin and reconciliation, what do pancakes have to do with it and the ashes of Wednesday? Traditionally, Lent is a season of fasting. Certain foods are set aside as a spiritual discipline, reminding us to remove other distractions and focus on what is important. Meat, dairy, eggs, and fats like butter or oil were among the foods commonly set aside in Lent. (The day is also known as Fat Tuesday in many cultures.) Pancakes, often with a side of sausage or other meat, were a great meal to use up all of those ingredients that would be off-limits for the next seven weeks or so. Nobody wants to celebrate Easter with rancid oil in the pantry. In many communities, this Shrove Tuesday meal has taken on a celebratory character: One last hurrah before the fasting of Lent.

When Jesus entered Jerusalem on a donkey, it was seen by many as a thumbing of the nose at the great processions of Roman military leaders. Instead of the expensive laurels and silks of a Roman procession, Jesus is met with common palm branches and the garments of his followers. We remember this event on Passion Sunday each year, when many communities have their own procession, waving palm branches as they walk. Passion Sunday is also the day when many people take home palm fronds and palm crosses to use as focuses for prayer and devotion. These are the same palms that will be burned to make the ashes for Ash Wednesday.

The ashes which are imposed on us at the beginning of Lent are a sign of our mortality. “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.” It is not an accident that this moment echoes our funeral rites. The ashes are fragile and dry. One can easily imagine them as dust whipping up from the valley of dry bones in Ezekiel’s vision. And the ashes are made from the symbols of what we believed would be a great triumph: Jesus’ entering Jerusalem was supposed to be the turning point. The Romans would be ousted, the kingdom of God would appear, and all would be set to right. How little did the cheering crowds waving palms expect the Crucifixion on the horizon. Palms of victory turned to the ash of mortality.

The fragility and fleeting nature of the ashes remind us that we are finite. Suddenly, we share the fate of the eggs, butter, and oil of Shrove Tuesday. We will, one day, go off and return to the stuff of which we were first made. Or, rather, we would crumble away were it not for God’s great love for us.

Standing at the edge of the valley, God asks Ezekiel if the valley of bones could live again. If Ezekiel had tried to make them live himself, surely he would have failed. But when Ezekiel gives over the question to God, the bones are knit together, filled with breath, restored to life and purpose. In the same way, we begin our journey through the Lenten valley with reminders of our mortality and the finitude of this life. But on the other side of the valley lies Easter morning and the water of baptism. There we find refreshment in the water that slakes our thirst forever. There we find new life, beyond the life of dust and ash, being given a share in the eternal life of Christ.

Our Lenten journey is meant to be one of preparation and reconciliation. We prepare by setting aside distractions, making room in our lives, and looking for ways to draw nearer to God. Both of our observances, pancakes and ashes, remind us that, without God, we surely will crumble away, helpless in our efforts to give life to ourselves. They also remind us that God waits patiently for us to, once again, turn our hearts and minds and return to our trek toward the water of life.