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."