Some years ago one of our then ministers, Ron Buford, introduced a new Ash Wednesday undertaking: ashes to go. While we invite and encourage folks to attend our Ash Wednesday services, robed clergy stand outside under the Portico arches offering prayer and the imposition of ashes to any passersby. This has proved to be a most unexpectedly tender ministry. Some ten or twelve clergy related to Old South (staff or members, as well as students in discernment concerning ordination) don black robes, brave the weather, and take turns from 8am through 6pm providing an outdoor ministry of ashes.
Below are reflections from two such "imposers of ashes" from this Ash Wednesday.
FROM THE REVEREND BILL RAGAN:
Summer, a law student, is grateful for the opportunity to give free legal aid to those in need. She asked for prayers for her pregnancy.
One woman, eyeing two clergy in front of the church, exclaimed, "Oh crap! It's Ash Wednesday!" She then looked a little embarrassed, laughed, and gladly received ashes.
Several people driving by, came to a halt, double-parked on Boylston Street and ran over in order to receive ashes.
Joe asked for prayers for his job interview at the Boston Public Library.
After imposing ashes on a woman's forehead, I asked if I could pray for her about anything. She teared up and said, "It's been a really good year. I just got married."
A man grieved the loss of his mother, Belinda, who died recently at 68 years old.
A Snowden High School student asked for prayers to get into a good college with a good financial aid package.
A man reported that another man had punched him, but that he did not retaliate. He turned the other cheek. "That's what I'm supposed to do, right? That's what Jesus did, right?"
Recipients included a Boston police officer, a woman from Colombia, several Snowden High School students, Old South Church Preschool parents, and quite a few people who spoke only Spanish.
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FROM EMMA BREWER-WALLIN:
Remember, O mortal, that you are dust and to dust you shall return. But for now, you are alive, so go out in the peace of Christ. If ever there were words to carry while darting out into oncoming traffic, it would be these.
I was standing with my small bowl of ashes watching pedestrians walk by, earnestly trying to make eye contact with anyone who would look my way. Just then I made eye contact with a truck driver who was stopped at the light several cars back. I held up my little bowl. Ashes? I mouthed. He nodded eagerly.
With the impending turning of the light looming in my mind, I took off at a run, leaping over a snow bank and darting between parked cars to reach him. With his head sticking out of his rolled-down window, I marked the sign of the cross on his forehead. Together we intoned, "you are dust and to dust you shall return."
His passenger looked over at me. "Do you want ashes too?" I asked. He leaned way over in the truck, but there was no way I could reach. I could hear engines starting up; the light must have turned. In the way people's lives flash before their eyes, I saw - for an instant - how touches of grace in this world are too often denied. I ran around the front of the truck. Indeed, traffic was starting to roll toward me. I squeezed up toward the passenger door. With horns honking, the passenger stuck his head out the window and again I intoned the ancient words:Remember, O mortal, that you are dust and to dust you shall return. But for now, you are alive, so go out in the peace of Christ.