The Stamford train station is a ghost of itself at 5:30 AM. I pulled into the parking garage at this time yesterday and made my way to the station proper as a part of an Ash Wednesday ministry. The Rev. Kate Heichler, the Rev. Joan Breckenridge, and a group of about eight seminarians from Yale Divinity School gathered at Stamford's commuter hub to distribute Ashes on the Go.
The clergy wore collars and a stole and the seminarians were robed in black cassocks. Sandwich board signs informed passersby about the Ashes on the Go. And we grouped in pairs along the walkways and the platforms of the station to distribute ashes to those who desired them.
The seminarians were a very eager group and there was a noticeable excitement at the prospects for the morning. (Full disclosure: I was encouraged by the energy of the seminarians, but soon learned that they may have been a little overeager. We didn't need to be at the station at 5:30!!)
The activity that morning was, in a way, alot like waking up: slow and slumbering at first, building into more and more activity, and then quickening into the normal pace for the day. There was little activity in the station when we arrived. Those waiting for a train napped or sipped on a cup of coffee. Cars trickled slowly into the station. And the Ash Wednesday pairs were able to talk about the morning, classes at Yale, family histories, and whatever else passed the time.
More on the Ashes to Go
Then, as the sun rose above the horizon and showered the city and station with light and unseasonable warmth, the pace began to pick up. People would pass us by. Some would look stolidly ahead and not make eye contact. Others would glance at our sign--Ashes on the Go--and either smile, shake their head as if such a thing was unconscionable, or do a double take to make sure they actually were seeing what they thought they saw.
And then one person came over to us.
"Is this for real?" she asked. And we assured her that, indeed, it was. To which she responded, "Well, then, give me some." And we obliged, asking her name, and then etching on her forehead the sign of a cross with the declaration, "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return."
Sort of a strange thing to say and certainly more strange, I suppose, to ask for it in a train station. Yet, there we were, and there they were, and what was offered was graciously received. People--not all and certainly a minority, but people nonetheless--wanted this. They wanted to have ashes placed on their forehead and those words spoken over them.
That, to me, is amazing.
Even more on the Ashes to Go
Of course, many of the exchanges were uneventful. People simply came to where we were standing, put out their foreheads, and then moved on to catch their train. And, I suspect, that I will never meet Len, or Marty, or Adele again. Yet, for a very small moment in time, we shared a connection. We participated in the truth-telling of this day and of our lives--that we are dust and to dust we shall return--and we were able to take that awareness into the day and the world that is so very big and crazy and filled with so many competing messages and claims.
What I found satisfying about the morning was the simple human contact and acknowledgment of another. We were not demanding people stop. The posts were set up inconspicuously, and short of greeting passersby with, "Good Morning," we said very little. Yet, even the "Good Morning," was a change in the routine of many I would guess. And for those who stopped, there was an acknowledgment of reality, a reconnection to some past practice or event, something that stirred within them for just a moment and moved them to receive ashes.
Many would reject what we did as a stunt or, God forbid, not a complete service (replete with confession, etc.). Yet, the moments that we do have are limited, and the opportunities that we get to remind people of God, of their value in the eyes of God, and the preciousness of life is so very fleeting. So, for this Ash Wednesday, Ashes on the Go seemed like the right thing. Or, in the words of one person, "This is awesome!" Amen.
Blessings.
Mark
The clergy wore collars and a stole and the seminarians were robed in black cassocks. Sandwich board signs informed passersby about the Ashes on the Go. And we grouped in pairs along the walkways and the platforms of the station to distribute ashes to those who desired them.
The seminarians were a very eager group and there was a noticeable excitement at the prospects for the morning. (Full disclosure: I was encouraged by the energy of the seminarians, but soon learned that they may have been a little overeager. We didn't need to be at the station at 5:30!!)
The activity that morning was, in a way, alot like waking up: slow and slumbering at first, building into more and more activity, and then quickening into the normal pace for the day. There was little activity in the station when we arrived. Those waiting for a train napped or sipped on a cup of coffee. Cars trickled slowly into the station. And the Ash Wednesday pairs were able to talk about the morning, classes at Yale, family histories, and whatever else passed the time.
More on the Ashes to Go
Then, as the sun rose above the horizon and showered the city and station with light and unseasonable warmth, the pace began to pick up. People would pass us by. Some would look stolidly ahead and not make eye contact. Others would glance at our sign--Ashes on the Go--and either smile, shake their head as if such a thing was unconscionable, or do a double take to make sure they actually were seeing what they thought they saw.
And then one person came over to us.
"Is this for real?" she asked. And we assured her that, indeed, it was. To which she responded, "Well, then, give me some." And we obliged, asking her name, and then etching on her forehead the sign of a cross with the declaration, "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return."
Sort of a strange thing to say and certainly more strange, I suppose, to ask for it in a train station. Yet, there we were, and there they were, and what was offered was graciously received. People--not all and certainly a minority, but people nonetheless--wanted this. They wanted to have ashes placed on their forehead and those words spoken over them.
That, to me, is amazing.
Even more on the Ashes to Go
Of course, many of the exchanges were uneventful. People simply came to where we were standing, put out their foreheads, and then moved on to catch their train. And, I suspect, that I will never meet Len, or Marty, or Adele again. Yet, for a very small moment in time, we shared a connection. We participated in the truth-telling of this day and of our lives--that we are dust and to dust we shall return--and we were able to take that awareness into the day and the world that is so very big and crazy and filled with so many competing messages and claims.
What I found satisfying about the morning was the simple human contact and acknowledgment of another. We were not demanding people stop. The posts were set up inconspicuously, and short of greeting passersby with, "Good Morning," we said very little. Yet, even the "Good Morning," was a change in the routine of many I would guess. And for those who stopped, there was an acknowledgment of reality, a reconnection to some past practice or event, something that stirred within them for just a moment and moved them to receive ashes.
Many would reject what we did as a stunt or, God forbid, not a complete service (replete with confession, etc.). Yet, the moments that we do have are limited, and the opportunities that we get to remind people of God, of their value in the eyes of God, and the preciousness of life is so very fleeting. So, for this Ash Wednesday, Ashes on the Go seemed like the right thing. Or, in the words of one person, "This is awesome!" Amen.
Blessings.
Mark
