Ash Wednesday at the Cecil
A Season of Return
Lent is all about return — returning to what matters, to who we are, to the God who never stops reaching for us. At the Cecil this Ash Wednesday, that theme felt especially real.
We started the morning with a private Mass for Cecil residents, a quiet space to mark the beginning of this season of reflection and renewal. Then we took to the sidewalk in front of the hotel, where almost 100 people stopped to receive ashes. Residents, neighbors, folks just passing by—all pausing for a moment of grace. Some asked for prayers. Others just nodded and moved on. But for each person, the ashes carried the same message: You are seen. You are loved. You can begin again.
We weren’t alone in this work. Our friends from the Immaculate Heart Community joined us, standing with us in the simple act of offering blessing and presence. And really, that’s what’s been happening at the Cecil beyond just this one day. Slowly but surely, there’s been a return—a return to stability, to connection, to hope. The sense of community is growing. Calls to the police are down. There’s still so much to do, but healing is happening.
At the same time, we can’t ignore the reality outside our doors. As this article from Pasadena Now points out, the number of unhoused and vulnerable people dying in Los Angeles has stopped rising, but it’s still heartbreakingly high. “Plateauing” isn’t the same as improving. People are still struggling, still being left behind. At a recent community meeting with area leaders, we learned that police calls to the Cecil are down by an amazing amount. But we are still seeing calls for paramedics at the same level as last year.
This led to the start of a conversation with my guests from IHC about prevention and education — not necessarily about the heavy issues like addiction and mental health treatment, but about healthier living, through diet, exercise and self-care.
Lent is a season of hope. It reminds us that return is always possible—not just for individuals, but for whole communities. This work isn’t finished. The healing isn’t complete. But things are moving. People are finding their way back—to each other, to safety, to a sense of home.
And we’ll keep showing up, standing on that sidewalk, offering ashes, prayers, and whatever else we can. Because return is real. Renewal is real. And the story isn’t over yet.
If you believe in renewal, in second chances, in the power of community to change lives, we invite you to become a Friend of the Cecil. This isn’t just about charity—it’s about solidarity. It’s about showing up, in whatever way you can, to support a place where healing is happening. Whether through donations, volunteering, or simply spreading the word, your presence makes a difference. The Cecil isn’t just a building; it’s a home for people trying to rebuild their lives, and they deserve all the love and support we can offer. If you want to be part of this work, reach out.
Thanks, Reverend Dylan. It's a blessing to get these insights from you about our neighbors at the Cecil.