As our tradition, I was the last man out of our workplace last night, and subsequently strolled by my lonesome to Jaro Plaza sans fright. The Jaro Plaza, despite its being a historically rich site, is still pitifully bereft of adequate street lights. It was as if I was back to good ole days of giving darkness a fair fight, despite failing then to join Fred Guapo’s group named “Walk By Night.”
Upon reaching the spot near the Cathedral, I was initially shocked and turned pallid, when I met a throng engulfing me all having a single mark on each forehead. I thought I was already in the end times like what was written and prophesied about the mark of The Beast. But after my eyes checked the design and found not any sign of a Six-Six-Six, only then that I had managed to heave a silent sigh of relief.
Suddenly I remembered it was for “Ash Wednesday,” and that was a symbol of obedience given by a priest, done after the ritual signaling the start of “Lent” season by the Roman Catholics. It could mean too as their sign of pride and bravery for of a religion they should boast, as they are all head up high after receiving the mark like newly commissioned wartime commandos.
But I think when it comes to such kind of mark of obedience in the “faith,” far better are the beggars and children of the streets. Day in and day out, they all have their symbols on foreheads, on faces and their bodies, as if un-washable and fixed.
Somebody told me it’s also for the “faithful,” that “dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return” (Gen. 3:19) for a yearly reminder. Like the way the folk-rock Kansas reminded our generation that all we are is dust in the wind, to be blown away forever.
The ironic grossness of which is manifested only when Filipinos of all status and geographic class uphold their tradition of kissing their folk’s forehead after the “mass.” Yes, it is in our culture with the olds in showing them respect and love, but we have to beware, remember that kissing their forehead is also kissing their ash.#
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