Living in coronavirusword 249: Ash Wednesday

 2/17

2/17

Central Park

Ash Wednesday

After a warm day, the temperature has dropped again. It is the longest winter we have experienced in many years. Snow and ice cow much of the country. Thousands of people in Texas without light or heat. Their Senator Cruz has taken his family to Mexico for a vacation. Beverley Church has asked me to lead an Ash Wednesday service. Here’s what I had or say:

Today is Ash Wednesday,….the beginning of Lent. What do you remember about Ash Wednesday?  I remember that when I was a little kid in school, most all of the kids in my class would get up and leave and I’d be stuck there with only 2 or 3 others. Then an hour or so later, all the other students would come back with smudged crosses on their foreheads which I always found kind of scary. 

My parents when I was growing up always viewed Catholics as next to pagans. Ash Wednesday and ashes was especially suspect and “giving something up for Lent” superstitious at best. In fact recognizing Lent itself was thought of as idolatrous.

I didn’t mark Ash Wednesday for the first  time until I was at Yale and Henri Nouwen, author of the Wounded Healer,  led a service where he placed ashes on the heads of those of us who didn’t want to have a visible cross on our foreheads. From that point on I began to reevaluate the whole idea. Having special seasons to focus on different aspects of the faith began to make sense to me. 

It was always a special day for me at West Park. We would begin by taking the palms from last years’s Palm Sunday and turning them into ashes…We’d have a service at noon then be available to distribute ashes up until 6 o’clock when we had a second brief service. I was always moved by the people who would  walk  in all day long seeking ashes. The moment to be in private prayer with them. My favorite was when a bus driver jumped off his bus at the stop in front of our door, came in, received ashes and went back to his bus. It has come to mean something me, And over the decades, it has become important in our church as well.

For me, I don’t think our focus should be on “giving something up.” Rather, I like idea of taking something on, taking on a spiritual discipline for the 40 days. (Although back home in Pittsburgh, we always looked forward to the “season of fish fries” where every Friday our neighbor Catholic Churches held fish fries…)

In our Gospel for the day, Jesus has some pretty specific advice for spiritual disciplines:

1. Never be doing anything just to be seen by others. (That might seem to be an argument against ashes on your forehead…unless where everybody seems to have them…)
2. Charity too should be anonymous. The best charity  is when the giver and the receiver are not aware each other…like a deacon’s fund, fo0r example.  And it’s sure an argument against wanting your name on anything…
3. Once again, prayers are not for public shows of flowery flowing words…it’s about you communicating privately with God in your own language, own words…intimate….
4. Fasting. Jesus is all for fasting. It’s part of all our our Abrahamic religions…the total fast in Judaism on Yom Kippur, the fasting from leavening during passover, the daylight fast for Muslims during Ramadan….our tradition was meat…the very word for carnival has as its root the Latin word for meat, carne…it’s literally putting away meat, so last night was Mardi Gras…the last time for meat, for “fatness”….I always love that Catholic cultures celebrate with parades, music  and revelry and Episcopalians cook pancakes…Jesus says how and what you do should be between you and God that’s it…what gets in your way? What distracts you? Try and set that aside…
5. Finally…and this is the bottom line…where your treasure is, there your heart will be also..take these 40 days to evaluate what you treasure…where you heart is …try to get where you put your time an energy more where your heart is….what’s really and truly important….strip away all that isn’t necessary…

Even as restaurants reopen, maybe even  soon our churches, spring will come.. Let us begin this journey tonight so that we might greet Easter prepared for a true rebirth, a true new beginning….let us begin tonight…

When we reach the part of the service where we begin Lent, you  can have with you ashes, dust, or taking from Matthew…oil or just a bit of water…

Let those with ears  to hear, hear.

Amen.

I have created a service where we can use ashes, dust, oil or water, water is as comfortable or convenient in our own homes. Ashes and dust from tradition…you are dust and to dust you shall return.  Water from our baptism. Oil from anointing for healing.

And so we begin our Lenten journey in  coronavirus world

Gospel Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

1“Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.

2“So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. 3But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, 4so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

5“And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. 6But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

16“And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. 17But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, 18so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

19“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; 20but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

It was Ash Wednesday

2/10

When I got to the church to prepare for Ash Wednesday, no one was there. It was all on me. So I went into the chapel, brought a small table into the sanctuary, strained to get it up o the table then decided it was better on the floor. Laid red and purple cloths over the table.

Then gathered the leftover palms from last year’s Palm Sunday. And a small metal pot. Went out on the steps. Filled the pot with an old page from the Times and then the balled up dried out palms. Lit a long match. And watched the flames rise.  A child watches, mesmerized. An old black man says So that’s where the ashes come from, And I say Yes, And he says, All these years, I never knew that.

Awhile later, there were ashes. I took a small amount of olive oil, added I to the ashes and stored. I was ready.  My Presbyterian ancestors in the hills of western Pennsylvania would never understand why I do this.

My first visitor comes around noon. A Latino construction worker in a hard hat. I button my white clergy shirt. Put on my red stole. The one from the Buddhist manifestation of the light ceremony.  I dip my thumb in the ashes. Make the sign of the coss on his forehead. Mi hermano, se recuerda que se viene a polvo  y al polvo se va regresar…And he nods. En el nombre del padre, del hijo , y el espirito santo. Amen.

There’s an intermittent stream throughout  the day. Individuals. A whole cadre of Hispanic women. I greet two Koreans who only want  to rent space. An old black woman who juts wants  to sit and pray. At the end of the  day, one of the counter guys from Barney Greengrass comes in. I get my coffee from him every day  and we exchange greetings and have a good afternoons. One time I heard him singing a song absent mindedly and I finished his line. He’d been in earlier. Told me he’d wondered where he’d find ashes, what with his work schedule and all, He’s wearing his counter  guys white. As I put the ashes on his forehead, I say, Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return…in the name  of the father, the son and the holy spirit, Amen.

I remember the time a bus driver raced in form the bus stop in front of the church, asked for ashes, received them and raced. back to his bus.  It means a lot to me, to be able to  do this for people. To take my part in a ritual that goes back centuries. In this city.  My city. And to dust we shall return.

Ash Wednesday: We all got to die

2/18

Ash Wednesday. In  the middle of a deep freeze tat doesn’t want to let go. I don’t even want to do my usual walk after lectionary and take the bus to the church.

Time to get ready for Ash Wednesday. I open the communion table. Take out the dried palms from last Palm Sunday. Find my metal pot. Take them out to the front steps..yes freezing cold…and light the palms…they hesitate a moment then burst into flame. When they die down, the pot cools, I take olive oil and mix it in to make the paste we use for imposing ashes. Like that phrase….imposition of ashes….

At noon, I bless the ashes and wait. I always look forward to this day. One of my favorites. It’s supposed to remind us of our mortality. And that is what it does.  Through the steady stream of people who come through seeking ashes. Mostly people I don’t know. Some members, like Deacon James who comes in late in the day and gets his cross right beneath his African cap.

There’s the African nanny and the little girl in her charge who gets ashes too. The college girl on her way back to Connecticut. Latinos young and old. People waiting for the bus who stop in. People from the projects. I ask their name. I read the prayer over the ashes from the Book of Common Worship. Place my hands on their head and say their name and then ..remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return…As Jeremy sings in his song, ..and we all got to die…Mortality. We’re all in this together.

                                                        ****

Jed and his creative partner Mima. It’s great to be working with him again after lo these many years. Remembering his year as guest musician in residence and the liturgies we created. He’s got some intriguing projects coming up. And will do Make Music New York for us. And some Sundays.

Martin comes in. We’re getting close to putting this contract to bed. But we will.

The Center board meets. Yes, we’re coming close to getting enough groups in to close the budget gap, but some are not good ideas. Do we really want to be identified with a groaner of a French comedy piece permanently in our sanctuary? If every inch is rented, how do we live out a vision? And there’s this catch 22…West-Park cannot afford the upkeep of the building. The only way to do this is a community coalition that sees the building as part of the community’s cultural heritage. But they would only do that if they see a vision, an identity to the building beyond the church. And to establish that identity in a public way takes money which….Again, the pieces are there, where’s the plan? That is the question…And also to get session to agree…

Pat asks if I can go out for a drink, or if I’ve got an Ash Wednesday prohibition. Well, I’ll stick with wine tonight when we head to the B. As we’re leaving, we run into the producer of tonight’s fashion show in the chapel. He’s brimming with happiness over his night. He loved the venue with its distressed chic. (Sigh). So we stop to share a glass of wine with him before heading out into the cold. Wish I could have seen the show.

Ash Wednesday...and to dust you shall return..

3/5

Ash Wednesday

Ash Wednesday. I oversleep so have to race to the church to get ready. All on me. I get out the purple for the table. Take the whole white board and chairs and table away. One important thing  left.

I can’t find the palms from last year’s Palm Sunday. I’m scrambling  to figure out what else I could do. I’m considering dried out leaves from last Christmas’ poinsettias. Not exactly palms, but still liturgical, no? I’m almost ready to go there when I look in the communion table drawer for my olive oil and lo and behold, there are my palms.

I find my very small decorated metal container and fill it with dried out palms. Take it to the front steps, take a lit piece of paper and add it to the  palms. A flame bursts forth, rises up and I watch as it burns. People walking on Amsterdam turn and watch as the pot offers up flames. I wait until  the last embers die down down. Then mix in my olive oil.

Almost as soon as I’m done, the people seeking  ashes begin. There’s a woman with a child in a carriage, a nanny and then…

Cressida, an actor come in looking for space for a theatrical performance. A couple, who’ve been here before he comes in, he wants ashes. And to play the Beckstein. He has quickly become familiar with our piano.

A steady stream, alone, or in pairs, comes in seeking the ashes. And I acknowledge the community nature of this.My friend Elise has stopped doing this. Feels she’s encouraging an almost superstitious approach to the ashes. As for me, I see the need, acknowledge the need , feel compelled to respond. To me it goes way beyond  the  once upon a time anti-papist undrerpinnings of my teenage ,years. I acknowledge primal spiritual needs for symbolic actions more than theology or doctrine. Which is why I connect with the Grotowski scions so well .

David S comes in looking for RL and his next assignment.

My ashes are interspersed with conversations. Like Sonny, in to talk about the big picture of his life. It seems Sarge (Keith) is now behind bars. (He'd been looking sketchier and sketchier. 

Rachel comes in, upset that the mice have destroyed the stuff in her one cart. I try to explain   what the   mice  she has brought in have cost me. And will continue to. She’s convinced that they were here before.  I point out that in 19 years, I’ve never seen anything like it. Never saw mice in my office or scampering across the sanctuary floor. She tells me its only because of the cold weather.  I tell her what the exterminators said. With the mice hopping in and out of her cart, I regret ever having granted her permission to bring her cart inside. (The contents of which she then tripled.) I tell her every bit of it, every last bit, must go.Sanitation department. Fire department, its got to go.

She points to the daamge the mice have dome. Actually you're  lucky, she says, Look at this. If my cart were not here, the mice would have dome the same thing in your office. You are very lucky.

I think of the exterminators’ estimates and respectfully disagree.

A woman is here very upset that thee are no flamenco classes. I come all the way here from Brooklyn ,she says,three times , they’re never here. I’m not coming back.

I regret being short with Rachel.I invite her in for a conversation. As she describes her younger life on the Upper East side, the skating parties in Central park, the young  men and women, I can almost see it. Seems so real. Wish I could see pictures, No, she says, I’ve lost everything…

 Tell her I don’t want her on the street. Try to work out solutions. She won’t give up her information, doesn’t want anyone to know who  she is  despite the fact that random people recognize her from her professorial  day.

The last person who arrives, just as I’m wrapping up, is Arcadia. It is a joy…and a privilege…to put the ashes on her forehead. And pray. It’s the fitting way to end the day.

My prayer, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return. May God walk with you and sustain you throughout these 40 days so that you might grow to fully understand yourself and be prepared to greet the day of resurrection. 

I talk with MArtin’s ballet teacher. He asks me about ashes. I say, It’s about mortality. Facing the inevitable reality  of our own death. And coming to know and accept the reality of who we are. He asks why I have no ashes on my own head and I answer that I need a colleague to put them on, not to do for myself. 

I'm left wondering how do I understand what happened to Rachel? I wish I could have seen pictures of her as a college student. What happened?

Remember that you are dust.From dust you came and to dust you shall return.