Visio Divina is a way of meeting God through images such as this photograph by Bill Brandt that I have chosen for an Ash Wednesday prayer.

1. Ensure that you are in a space where you can see the image clearly and read this script. Pray in quiet with your eyes closed. Bring yourself towards stillness.

2. Gaze at the photograph. Let your eyes rest on the scene. Note your feelings as you explore it. What do you notice? Consider the coal miner, the coal miner’s wife, the room the tub.

3. Consider these words from Pope Francis:

Lent is a path: it leads to the triumph of mercy over all that would crush us or reduce us to something unworthy of our dignity as God’s children. Lent is the road leading from slavery to freedom, from suffering to joy, from death to life. The mark of the ashes with which we set out reminds us of our origin: we were taken from the earth; we are made of dust.  True, yet we are dust in the loving hands of God, who has breathed his spirit of life upon each one of us, and still wants to do so. He wants to keep giving us that breath of life that saves us from every other type of breath: the stifling asphyxia brought on by our selfishness, the stifling asphyxia generated by petty ambition and silent indifference – an asphyxia that smothers the spirit, narrows our horizons and slows the beating of our hearts. The breath of God’s life saves us from this asphyxia that dampens our faith, cools our charity and strangles every hope. To experience Lent is to yearn for this breath of life that our Father unceasingly offers us amid the mire of our history.

The breath of God’s life sets us free from the asphyxia that so often we fail to notice, or become so used to that it seems normal, even when its effects are felt. We think it is normal because we have grown so accustomed to breathing air in which hope has dissipated, the air of glumness and resignation, the stifling air of panic and hostility.

Lent is the time for saying no. No to the spiritual asphyxia born of the pollution caused by indifference, by thinking that other people’s lives are not my concern, and by every attempt to trivialize life, especially the lives of those whose flesh is burdened by so much superficiality. Lent means saying no to the toxic pollution of empty and meaningless words, of harsh and hasty criticism, of simplistic analyses that fail to grasp the complexity of problems, especially the problems of those who suffer the most. Lent is the time to say no to the asphyxia of a prayer that soothes our conscience, of an almsgiving that leaves us self-satisfied, of a fasting that makes us feel good. Lent is the time to say no to the asphyxia born of relationships that exclude, that try to find God while avoiding the wounds of Christ present in the wounds of his brothers and sisters: in a word, all those forms of spirituality that reduce the faith to a ghetto culture, a culture of exclusion.

Lent is a time for remembering. It is the time to reflect and ask ourselves what we would be if God had closed his doors to us. What would we be without his mercy that never tires of forgiving us and always gives us the chance to begin anew? Lent is the time to ask ourselves where we would be without the help of so many people who in a thousand quiet ways have stretched out their hands and in very concrete ways given us hope and enabled us to make a new beginning?

Lent is the time to start breathing again. It is the time to open our hearts to the breath of the One capable of turning our dust into humanity. It is not the time to rend our garments before the evil all around us, but instead to make room in our life for all the good we are able to do. It is a time to set aside everything that isolates us, encloses us and paralyzes us. Lent is a time of compassion, when, with the Psalmist, we can say: “Restore to us the joy of your salvation, sustain in us a willing spirit”, so that by our lives we may declare your praise (cf. Ps 51:12.15), and our dust – by the power of your breath of life – may become a “dust of love”.

Source: https://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/homilies/2017/documents/papa-francesco_20170301_omelia-ceneri.html

4. How does this reading resonate with the photo?

5. We imagine ourselves in the room with the miner and his wife. What do we see? What do we hear? What do we sense? How is the holy present here?

6. Now imagine ourselves receiving ashes on Ash Wednesday. How do you feel? How does the photo resonate with the experience of receiving ashes?

7. Let’s consider the context of the photograph. Bill Brandt was a pioneering photography in the social realism mode. He portrayed poverty in unsentimental images that showed the quiet dignity of the working class. This photograph was taken in Chester-Le-Street in County Durham in the late 1930’s. Coal miners at this time would come directly from the pits to clean up at home. They were covered in coal dust after working hours underground, sometimes in unsafe conditions. Yes, the air was sometimes asphyxiating. This photo was taken just before pithead showers became common. There was rudimentary indoor plumbing, so baths had to take place in tin tubs. Boiling water from kettles was mixed with cold water on the range that doubled as the main source of home heating.

8. What Gospel scenes does this image evoke?

9. Consider the ashes we receive on Ash Wednesday and the dust that covers the miner. How is it similar?

10. In his reading Pope Francis looks to Lent. How does the photo evoke Lent?

11. Pause now to contemplate the image again without thoughts or judgements. Abide in its power and beauty.

12. How have you experienced the sacred in this prayer? Give gratitude for this experience.

13. How has this Visio Divina helped you towards a holier Lent?