Am I getting grumpy, or is Lent getting me down?

Over the past several days, I have noticed a kind of annoyance creeping into my daily life.  I find myself making nasty comments during commercials, yelling at politicians on the news, shaking my head and mumbling smart-ass comments while listening to talk show hosts seriously interviewing twerts about their tweets. I even felt myself engaging in some passive-aggressive behavior at my local gym when the lady who checks me in began to instruct me on how to hold my ID card so she could scan from her preferred seated position.

The commercial for hiring contractors, plumbers and other craftspeople with the guy who claims since he is now a father he no longer wants to spend his Saturdays fixing a toilet annoys me to no end.  Fatherhood is not a valid reason to engage in a job that should always be handled by a professional. Why would you ever attempt this if you are not schooled in the skills needed? Just call the plumber, for heavens sake!

The young couple who bought a time share in Maui after their honeymoon who went there "...all the time!" for two years until they had a child.  These poor folks could not handle juggling an infant and a vacation at the same time. Can they walk and chew gum?  One would think a vacation is something they all needed. I can recall packing up three children, one of whom was in a stroller, and driving to Florida, picking up Grandma and gong to Disney World for a week. It is called organization. Get organized!

Yesterday I caught the tail end of one of those court TV shows where disputing parties can go and get a very public sort of justice. A tall, slim elegantly dressed young twenty-something in stiletto heels and a pencil skirt was suing a rather rag-tag street hustler for selling her a knock off designer bag at the outrageous price of $1,200!  Seems that cost of that bag, as outrageous as I thought it to be, was really a bargain-basement price. She insisted that it was really a phony that he passed off onto her as real. She was incensed that her friends would know she fell for a fake. She needed them to know she only bought the best. To prove her point she produced two of her wide collection of bags by the same designer so Judge Judy could compare and contrast the qualities of genuine and fake handbags.  Why anyone would need a $1,200+ handbag is beyond me, but to own three of them is simply beyond my power of understanding. I can hear my Mother's voice repeating over and over, " If it seems too good to be true; it is." Simple advice, rings true every time. I guess pouty-girl's Mama didn't tell her that one.

I have to admit, I find that I am becoming more and more difficult to live with under this cloud of grumpiness. Some how it must be shaken off!

In order to deal with this creeping feeling of grumpy,  I have turned to a Lenten discipline that I am sharing with a group.  Using the materials from the Society of St John the Evangelist, "Meeting Jesus in the Gospel of John", I spend some time every day listening to a brief video, reading pieces from scripture, and meditating on the words written so very long ago. The word that is sticking with me is "abide". In its modern translation, "abide" means "to accept , put up with or endure". The archaic meaning is probably the one most close in meaning to its Biblical use, " to reside or live with". So I have decided to "Abide" a bit with my cloak of grumpiness, and see how long I can really live with it.

I suspect as the dark days of Lent recede and I can begin to see the Easter Dawn over the hill, I will soon emerge from these forty days and shed this darkness of the soul, and begin to think about moving into the light. At that point I hope to rejoice with the Dad who wants to spend more time with his child; I hope to nod with great approval for the couple who are saving money and spending more quality time with their son.

But...... I can't promise I will even begin to understand the multi-purse girl. Ever.


https://www.last.fm/music/Thelonious+Monk/_/Abide+With+Me

Ashes to Ashes, redux....

On a rather cold February evening five years ago, I sat stoic and silent through yet another Liturgy Committee Meeting at the Episcopal Church where I was then serving as deacon, when, as the meeting droned on to its ultimate end, an interesting thought crossed my mind. Ashes-to-Go...I had seen an article about this new movement in the Episcopal and other mainline churches that brought the distribution of Ashes out of the church building and into the streets, byways and intersection of sacred and secular so that the people of God on their daily journey, could slow down and have a moment, a mere moment, in which to contemplate the fragility of life and to seek to embrace more closely and dearly the juxtaposition of the Divine and mundane in all of us.  I suggested we distribute ashes on the upcoming Ash Wednesday at the Staten Island Ferry Terminal about a mile from our church.

To say my suggestion, Spirit-inspired, I thought then and still do, was wildly embraced would be a gross understatement.  The jaw dropping looks and silent stares on the faces of the participants of that committee who had just complied a month long list of liturgies, hymns, rites, and rituals for a most penitential of penitential seasons hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks.  

"Hum," I thought, "That went over well." I headed home and figured that was the end of it, but I was, thank God, wrong.

Half an hour after arriving home, I got a very late night call from my then rector. "That was the most exciting thing I have heard at a Liturgy Committee meeting since I arrived here. Do you think we can do this?", he inquired.  I responded that I thought we could. And he put me in charge (Thanks, Chuck!), noting that if we got arrested, I would be the one to call our parish lawyer and explain.

That Ash Wednesday we proceeded quietly and cautiously setting up near a coffee shop just outside the ferry waiting room. We were joined by a layman from our parish who counted the number of people we imposed ashes upon; he give everyone a card with the name of our church and the prayer for the day. We gave over 225 people ashes that morning: commuters mostly, but policemen, cooks, construction workers, mothers with babes in arms, students, lawyers, clerical workers, teachers, and many others. And we prayed with others, folks in need of prayer for themselves or loved ones.

And we did it the next year expanding our footprint we joined with our neighboring Lutheran congregation and increased our numbers to close to 300. We found that people were asking where we were going to be; some actually waited for us to get there and set up shop.

Over the years I have had all kinds of assistance: postulants for ordination have assisted, as have clergy from other denominations.  Some of the priests and pastors that assisted have moved on to other calls or to their eternal rest. I think of them each time we engage in this ministry.

One year we were required to get a permit and were moved around the terminal. We were always polite and followed the directions of those in charge. The interesting thing was they apologized to us over and over again for the inconvenience they were causing us. Sometimes it is tough being a bureaucrat.

This year we arrived on the other side of the ferry at 7:30 am and stationed ourselves just beyond the jurisdiction of the municipal authority for marine and aviation. It was cold and windy, but there were four faithful servants imposing ashes on, praying with and being blessed by the presence of so many children of God, a total of 238, who took a moment out of their busy day to acknowledge their mortality and the immortality of their Creator: "Remember, thou art dust, and unto dust thou shalt return."