“What is that smudge on her head?” I wondered, as I carried my cafeteria tray past a woman in a booth. “Oh yeah. Ash Wednesday.” It was the largest smudge I’d ever seen a priest leave and looked a little like she had fallen on a coal scuttle. Guess he felt she needed a little extra.

Funny how the Mardi Gras season goes full tilt right up until midnight, then shuts down abruptly at the stroke of 12, and everyone goes home. The street sweepers come out, and by Wednesday morning Canal Street looked as clean as it ever does. Lent has arrived, and with it a full slate of religious observances. Yessir, we can go from the flesh to the spirit at the stroke of the clock!

The text message I received from Greg Hand this morning at 1 am was one for the books. His Vieux Carre’ Baptist Church, one block over from Bourbon Street, was hosting friends from around the country who came to bear a witness for Christ during this weekend. The message read: “Four baptized Wednesday a.m. Five total for the holidays.”

Greg wondered if his little church in the French Quarter had ever actually baptized anyone in their building before. It’s not the typical Baptist church in any sense of the word and perhaps never was. I doubt if they’ve ever had much of a membership, but have existed more as a preaching/witnessing post. I promised to check.

I apologize in advance for this, but it was too good to keep. Last night, as they were baptizing, the preacher asked one fellow who had just come up out of the water if he had anything to say. He did. “Yes!” he called out. “(Blank) the devil!!!” The exuberance of the new believer who has not yet learned the language of Zion.

The planes leaving our city today are filled with tired merry-makers. But some who spent their time here have left us stronger and better than they found us. We thank all who came to New Orleans during Mardi Gras to help the city and bless the people. God knows who you are, and we thank you.