The first person who came up to me was a woman pushing a carriage with one-year-old twins. She smiled as I spoke to the children and offered a brief prayer, in lieu of the ashes, asking God’s blessing.
An unusually animated woman came up to me with glitter on her face. She said that she had just come from “my art program” somewhere nearby. I told her that while the ashes might seem to be the opposite of glitter, Lent leads onward to Easter, which means that the “glittering power of God’s Love” is what gives full meaning to our mortal lives.
A woman announced that she had come from Texas and that it was her first spring in Boston. She told me that she was working in a gerontological field at a major hospital. She asked me what disciplines I would recommend for Lent. I said to her, “Add something, subtract something, multiply something, and/or divide something.” She seemed taken with the thought. I said, “Come and tell me next year what you did during Lent this year.”
A mid-life man, well dressed and most likely on his lunch hour, warmed to the idea that the Valentine’s Day emphasis on love can be understood as having its source in the love of God. So as we receive the ashes of mortality, we can nonetheless be embraced by God’s love and the promise of Easter. He bid me a cheery farewell.
A woman who looked like she was navigating much difficulty in life raised her parka hood to receive the ashes. I offered a brief prayer that God would meet whatever her needs might be. As she moved away, she said, “God be with you.”
A very earnest young woman received the ashes with her eyes wide open. She told me that it was her first year in college in Boston, and that she is still uncertain of what her career path will be.
Two young men, perhaps very early twenties, wheeled around when they saw me. One of them said, “I forgot it’s Ash Wednesday!” They solemnly accepted the ashes and thanked me for being out on the street, then moved on at a rapid pace. (“Ashes on the Way!”)
A young woman received the ashes after telling me how special this Lent is for her. “I’m due to have my first baby the day before Easter.” I offered a prayer for the baby, and of course for her, and affirmed that the promise of Easter surrounds all of our lives.
All in all, approximately twenty people received the ashes in the hour I was out there, and my partner Karin Wetmore probably administered an equal number.
* * * *
What strikes me the most each year is how real these encounters always are.
People present themselves in absolute trust, and with an attitude of true humility before the God of their personal faith.
It is a distinct and unique PRIVILEGE to be ministering in such a way! Thank you for making it possible for me to do so.
In Faith,
Rand Peabody