It was a normal Wednesday morning, and I was getting ready for work in our apartment bathroom with a big, black cross on my forehead, trying to give myself a pep talk. “Should I leave this on or take it off? This is dumb. I’m washing it off. No, wait! I’m not. Ok. Deep breath. I’m going to leave it on. I’m going to look weird all day, and people are either going to stop and stare, or ask me what it’s all about. I can do this.
Thus began my internal monologue on 22nd of February, 2012—Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, as well as the one year anniversary of the Christchurch Earthquake.
If you aren’t familiar with Lent, it’s a time in the church calendar when Christians prepare to fast before the “feast” of Easter-tide. There are 40 days (not including Sundays) that precede Easter, mirroring the 40 days that Jesus was tempted in the desert and the 40 years the Israelites roamed the desert before entering the Promised Land. Like Jesus and the Israelites, the Christian Church marks this time as a way of fasting from things that are potential distractions from us responding to God’s voice. Overall, as one woman who spoke to me recalled, “it’s a day of penance.”
I personally love Ash Wednesday for a few reasons. Namely, because it is an outward sign of my beliefs, it quite literally “marks” me with a cross. At 7:30am with six other people, I received the sign of the Christian cross on my forehead, marked by ash mixed with holy water. This anointing is called the “imposition of ashes.”
Most years I’m at the end of the “Ash line” so my cross is usually just a bit of a smudge. Most people that I see during the day just assume I accidentally got some newsprint on my head and keep walking. (I can hear them saying in their heads: “Someone will tell her eventually….”) But this year, I guess because it was so early in the morning and so few people at the cathedral, there was absolutely no mistaking it. I had a big, black line cross-sectioned with another big black line. BIG CROSS. And, unlike most years, it was NOT going to go away anytime soon.
I’m never quite clear about the bit of Christian tradition that follows the Ash Wednesday service. What are you supposed to do with the cross on your forehead? Leave it on? Wipe it off? For me it’s a tangible reminder of who and what I am marked by, shouldn’t I leave it on just this one day? Or do I spare others and myself the embarrassment?
I don’t where a gold cross around my neck, and I don’t have a “What Would Jesus Do” bracelet. I look like any other normal Christian. That is to say, there is nothing that is remarkably “Christian” about my appearance. Except on this one day of the year. Am I willing to let the world know there is something different about me?
Well, I wasn’t sure, but I decided to give it a go and leave my cross on. I’ve called it my “Ash Wednesday Experiment” and here’s a bit of a reflection on my day. A few things you should know first: 1) I don’t work at a Christian organization, non-profit, or anything that is religiously affiliated. 2) I don’t sit at a desk all day, and I don’t have a computer at work. In fact, I am a florist and I manage other florists in different shops all over Auckland city. I am in and out of super-markets, malls, parking garages, and traffic all day.
So here’s what I experienced and reflected upon after my “Experiment.”
People fell into a few different camps when they saw me. The first camp saw me and just ignored the cross. The second camp saw me, watched me a lot, and then felt the need to either tell me what was on my forehead, or if they recognized it, to connect with me about it. The third camp didn’t even see me—they literally DID NOT SEE that I was actually a person in front of them. I was simply an obstacle.
Now I can make assumptions about the first and third camp. I can say that they were embarrassed, or confused, or sentimental, or whatever. But neither one of them engaged me. I was mostly intrigued by the second camp—those people that actually wanted to know what was going on, and I have to say, the responses were diverse, overall.
My co-worker immediately asked me – “What is that thing on your forehead? Is it about Christchurch?” My response was mixed – Yes! And No… not really.
A lovely young Indian man ran up to me as I was walking toward him, “Are you Catholic? Because I’m Catholic!” And later continued to ask me a lot of questions about what thing I was giving up this year.
An older man gasped and said— “You just reminded me! It’s Ash Wednesday! I haven’t been to church! He smiled and playfully slapped his hand for being so forgetful. Later, he continued to engage me and asked me where he should go, what service was the one I would recommend, etc.
Another quiet young Maori man slowly approached me and said with gentle eyes, “Hey, Ash Wednesday today, eh? I went this morning, too.”
Some people were quite shy, or confused, or simply didn’t want to hear my explanation. I reckon it was a “religious” thing that they didn’t want anything to do with, but most people were kind and curious when I explained to them what Ash Wednesday was.
Those that knew what it was either congratulated me for “doing a good thing.” Or welled up with excitement about our shared “secret.” No matter how short or long the conversation, if another Christian who really believed in their faith approached me, we felt a palpable sense of friendship and camaraderie. I didn’t know this person, but we felt connected to the same thing in a mysterious way. It was hard not to feel a companionship with them and realize that for all my fears, I really wasn’t alone.
After coming home and making dinner that day, I decided I should take my cross off. Without even thinking about it, I stood over my kitchen sink, amidst the dirty dishes and vegetable peelings, and wiped my forehead with some cool water and a dirty kitchen teatowel. “Oh!” I thought to myself. “Maybe I should think about how I should do this a bit better.” Then I realized as I smiled at myself. “Nope. This is the holiest of places I’ve got in my house. A place where friends gather, food is prepared, and the table is spread.”
That seems about right.
