Ash Wednesday always draws a packed house. Even here in my parish in Singapore, the attendees came in droves.
This day always brings a smile when I remember how we as tiny Cebuana schoolgirls reacted to Ash Wednesday. Oh, how we looked forward to it. It was such a welcome change from our matriculated routine, and we drove ourselves slightly giddy with the 10-minute walk to the nearby church. (Schoolgirls can be so easy to please.) There was also a certain vicarious thrill to being allowed to have your face slightly grimy for a whole day, when overzealous caregivers were always reminding us to “keep your face clean!” then charging after us with a tissue, face towel or handkerchief. (Aaaaahhhh, the dinosaur days sans hand sanitizers and wet tissues.) And so we would all line up and turn our expectant foreheads to be drawn upon. When Mass was over, we would lift our bangs and compare our crosses: which one was drawn near perfectly, which one looked like a glob and which one looked like a bird of sorts. The merry topic of conversation ensued as to who could keep their mark for the rest of the day. Again, schoolgirls can be so easy to please.
It is a little bit different with adults. The thrills are more of the leisure, travel and gizmo types. We compare different things we own. We measure accomplishments, belongings and fame vis-a-vis with others. Who has the sleekest car? Who has the phone with more bells and whistles? Who has the priciest handbag? Who has more?
That is why, perhaps, Ash Wednesday and Lent ought to have more significance to adults than children. We have become quite difficult to please as “older children.” The best movies have to be the ones with the most dazzle. The best cake has to be the one with the goopiest, most decadent icing. The best house has to have the most rooms, the latest entertainment system and the most manicured lawn.
So our church, knowing and sharing of our highly distractible human nature—leads us in the Lenten season. We embrace simplicity and are encouraged to share the world’s resources with others – for the asynchrony in the distribution of wealth has become all but harrowing. We give up certain items that have become almost addictive—food, clothes, gadgets, bags—to remind ourselves that that is really all they are: things. We give in to prayer more and try not to be afraid of silence, stillness and contemplation. At the end of the quaresma, we hope to discover that our spirits and our souls operate in contradiction with the world. We join many others in this journey of discovery – our Christian siblings who Anglicans, Lutherans, Methodists, Presbyterians, Baptists and some Mennonite denominations.
We give up and give away, but find that we are not lacking. We deny ourselves but find that we are not anymore broken but are more whole, more peaceful. We give in to prayer and reap the gifts of it. We change.
The service had ended and I was at the ladies’ mirror, preening myself for the rest of the working day. I was a bit surprised to find a young lady beside me vigorously scrubbing her forehead and wiping away her cross. She was joined in this activity by other women. On the other hand, other men and women kept them. We all walked out together to start our day. Some of us turned to the left while some congregated and rode the bus to work. The other occupants looked up and looked startled at the dark mark on the widest bare expanse on our faces. We, the marked ones, looked at each other and gave each other a slight smile of recognition, of knowing and of encouragement.
The difficult journey has begun; we are all in it together, and the rewards will be simply beautiful.