Wednesday night at 7pm I attended a Catholic Ash Wednesday service at a local church. The service attracted a wide variety of worshipers. Two rows in front of me a mother sat with her severely autistic son, the muffled woosh of her rubbing his back throughout the service to pacify him was a constant background melody to the preacher's sermon. She moved her hand in a circular motion over his canvas jacket, which created a ripping sound in sets of three beats. At points in the hour and a half service the heater would click on and hiss as warm air traveled through the filter. The radiator was clearly an older model, the sharp metal clicking would snap five or six times before the air filled the room. A sort of personal pep talk. The heat itself was released in a satisfying hiss, like a deep breath out when you've been holding it in. The warm heat was a welcome change to the almost hail like snow that fell outside and the sound of the wind rattling the windows warning the biting cold that waited for the service to end. Despite the muffling sound of snowfall, the flakes created a weighty thudding noise on the roof and windows. Not loud enough to hear all the time but at intervals when no other sounds could be heard. The wind was even less constant but overpowering and demanding attention. Once or twice during the service the sound of the wind tearing at the windows screamed above every other sound, drowning out even the sound of the sermon. The church was modest in size, which kept the sounds close and magnified even the littlest sounds. Out of context the sounds would not seem particularly spiritual but the nature of the holiday and the contrast of the night really added to the meaning of Ash Wednesday.