Remember You are Dust
As Lent begins I have made a commitment to myself to write in this blog again as a seasonal discipline. I have noticed lately that I have more to say than I did last semester when I got b(l)ogged down. I'm really back, and I pray that I will keep this discipline.
It is Ash Wednesday, and it has already been a remarkable day. I started with morning prayer at 8:00 this morning. After our usual service, the Dean gave one of three meditations for the morning, helping us to hold this day holy.
At the 11:45 Eucharist I was the precentor, leading the singing. It is always an honor to help lead services in our beautiful Chapel of the Good Shepherd. I had a bobble or two, but overall it went well.
After lunch I went with two other seminarians to Trinity Church, Wall Street. We imposed ashes for an hour and a half to a continuous stream of people. It was a remarkable and moving thing to do.
Imagine: Into the church from the busy intersection of Broadway and Wall Street in downtown Manhattan came a countless stream of people, all looking for something. They came to us at the front of the church, and dipping a finger in the inky-black ashes, we made crosses on their foreheads, saying those powerful and humbling words: "Remember, you are dust, and to dust you shall return."
The line of people was amazing to witness: every color; every age; short, tall; wide and skinny -- all coming to be reminded of their mortality. There were cooks, businessmen, mothers, construction workers, firemen, policemen, tourists, and school kids. Each stepped forward to receive the mark of the cross and to have those words whispered in their ear: "Remember..."
What struck me most? First, what an intimate experience it was. As I placed ashes on each forehead, my hand rested lightly on their heads, and I was struck by how vulnerable people were willing to make themselves to me. I worked hard to make eye contact with each person, and to never allow the words to be rote, but to try to express their meaning to each person who stood before me. I had a smile on my face for the entire hour and a half (which FLEW by).
I also found myself a bit dumbstruck by the first person who said to me, "Thank you, Father." Of course there were many Roman Catholics in the crowd, and this was a natural thing for them to say. But for me it was profound. Even though I have not yet been given that title, I got a glimpse of what it might feel like - both the honor and the awesome responsibility. All I can say is "Wow!"
Finally, what a privilege it was to undertake this task in that church. I could not forget that only a little more than five years ago this holy site was covered in ash -- 9/11 brought to this place a literal reminder of the profound words of this day. But still the church stands - as does God's promise to us of everlasting life beyond our death. And so in years to come, as I recall my standing before that grand altar and being a reminder of God's action in all our lives, I think I will remember it as one of the first and most important experiences of my priesthood. Thanks be to God!
It is Ash Wednesday, and it has already been a remarkable day. I started with morning prayer at 8:00 this morning. After our usual service, the Dean gave one of three meditations for the morning, helping us to hold this day holy.
At the 11:45 Eucharist I was the precentor, leading the singing. It is always an honor to help lead services in our beautiful Chapel of the Good Shepherd. I had a bobble or two, but overall it went well.
After lunch I went with two other seminarians to Trinity Church, Wall Street. We imposed ashes for an hour and a half to a continuous stream of people. It was a remarkable and moving thing to do.
Imagine: Into the church from the busy intersection of Broadway and Wall Street in downtown Manhattan came a countless stream of people, all looking for something. They came to us at the front of the church, and dipping a finger in the inky-black ashes, we made crosses on their foreheads, saying those powerful and humbling words: "Remember, you are dust, and to dust you shall return."
The line of people was amazing to witness: every color; every age; short, tall; wide and skinny -- all coming to be reminded of their mortality. There were cooks, businessmen, mothers, construction workers, firemen, policemen, tourists, and school kids. Each stepped forward to receive the mark of the cross and to have those words whispered in their ear: "Remember..."
What struck me most? First, what an intimate experience it was. As I placed ashes on each forehead, my hand rested lightly on their heads, and I was struck by how vulnerable people were willing to make themselves to me. I worked hard to make eye contact with each person, and to never allow the words to be rote, but to try to express their meaning to each person who stood before me. I had a smile on my face for the entire hour and a half (which FLEW by).
I also found myself a bit dumbstruck by the first person who said to me, "Thank you, Father." Of course there were many Roman Catholics in the crowd, and this was a natural thing for them to say. But for me it was profound. Even though I have not yet been given that title, I got a glimpse of what it might feel like - both the honor and the awesome responsibility. All I can say is "Wow!"
Finally, what a privilege it was to undertake this task in that church. I could not forget that only a little more than five years ago this holy site was covered in ash -- 9/11 brought to this place a literal reminder of the profound words of this day. But still the church stands - as does God's promise to us of everlasting life beyond our death. And so in years to come, as I recall my standing before that grand altar and being a reminder of God's action in all our lives, I think I will remember it as one of the first and most important experiences of my priesthood. Thanks be to God!
posted by Sam | 5:18 PM
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