Reflecting on Ash Wednesday

by Tara Hurford, IWM serving in Mexico City, Mexico.

Almost three weeks ago, I was blessed to be able to take part in the Ash Wednesday observance here in Santa Fe Colonia.  The morning began with Mass at 9, except this day, it was attended by 200 or more people.  But this was just the beginning. 

Emma and I had decided to invite our Youth Group to join us in our little chapel, Señor de Cañita to distribute ashes.  Actually, to call it a chapel is a bit of a misnomer as it once was a full-sized church.  About fifty years ago, when they widened Vasco de Quiroga (the avenue in front of our house), they destroyed the front of many beautiful old houses, as well as the church – which is well over three hundred years old.  All that is left now is the tabernacle and a colorful life-size statue of a scourged Christ the King, complete with crown of thorns and scepter of sugar cane, of which the entire statue is made.  This little chapel was one of the eight sites around the colonia where people could receive ashes.

 As most of our youth group is in school in the early hours of the day, Father sent a group of ladies from the parish to help out in the morning, as well as Oscar, a man with whom I am working on his reading every Wednesday.  Alexandra, a single mother of three from our youth group, also came over after she dropped her children off at the Guarderia.  As there were several people in the chapel, I decided to make pancakes for the volunteers.  My grandmother, who was like a second mother to me, always used to make pancakes for Mardi Gras, or what she called "Shrove Tuesday," when I was a little girl.  So I decided to continue the tradition (even if a day late!).   Alexandra and I went to pick up a few ingredients and a stereo from the parish so we could have a Taizé CD as background music in the chapel, and then we set to work on the pancakes.  The several people that were there came in to eat in shifts, and when our youth group started to show up, I made another batch.   There were about ten from our youth group in total, and it was great just to spend some time with them talking and laughing, as the people stopped by for their ashes.

By the time 7pm rolled around everyone was getting hungry again, and as the Ash Wednesday fast ends at 1 pm in Santa Fe, we decided to order pizza for the group from a little shop down the road.  Again we ate in shifts.  It was not until then that I distributed ashes, as I thought it better to give our youth group the opportunity.  In Canada, I was used to receiving ashes from the priests thumb, but here in Santa Fe they do things a little bit differently.  Every team received a number of wine corks with a cross cut into one end along with ashes.  These produce perfectly shaped crosses on people’s foreheads (or at least perfectly shaped Xs, if you are not careful!).  However, for the first little while I felt like I was stamping people in an assembly line to be shipped off to their final destination.  I soon found a way to make the process feel more sacramental by putting my other hand on their shoulder or on their head as I gently pressed the wine cork to them and repeated, “Arrepiéntete y cree en el Evangelio.”  After a while of doing this, I went into the kitchen for some water and to see what the rest of our youth group was up to.  To my surprise they were cleaning our kitchen for us and doing the dishes that had been piling up (admittedly for a couple of days)!  Protesting proved useless, as they responded that we had fed them and they wanted to return the favor.  Who knew that admitting you were a sinner and helping others to do the same had such great benefits?

All joking aside, Father estimates that close to 15 thousand received ashes that Wednesday.  Between the hours of 10 am and 8:30pm, we received close to 800 people of all shapes and sizes (and levels of sobriety) in our little chapel alone.  Apparently, this was about twice the number that came the year before.  Emma and I wonder if it was the presence of so many vibrant and joyful youth, but one cannot be sure. We blessed tiny little babies with ashes, saying “Dios te bendiga,” as well as youth,  their parents and the elderly.  Whole families would come, and others would pull over in their cars, hop out to receive ashes and leave as quickly as they came.  We even had the opportunity to visit and give ashes to the house-bound parents of one of our close neighors who runs a convenience store on our little street.   

Reflecting back on it now, I am incredibly touched by this mass acknowledgement of humanity and witness of humility (well,  except for one elderly gentleman, who must be up for canonization, as he kept insisting that he had never sinned!). For me,  someone who is often quite self-critical, it was comforting to share this experience of admitting one´s weakness and knowing I am not alone - not only in my human wretchedness but also in my desire for conversion and change.