Do Something That Scares You

Every now and then, do something that scares you. Good advice. Today I went for it.

Today was Ash Wednesday. I'd never attended a service. This was the day. First time.

I'm a social anxiety suffering introvert (INFJ-A), so going places with people in them is always work. Especially if I don't think I'll know anybody there. Especially if I don't know what will be expected of me when I arrive.

I know, everybody experiences that kind of thing, but I always start at a deficit because... people.

I have some notes I leave on my office door when I'm going to be out so folks know more or less when to expect me back. Didn't have one for "going to a midweek service at the church down the street" so I went with 'memorial service.' Seemed appropriate.

As I walked the few blocks through downtown, I had time to remind myself that this, as well as being one of the touchpoints of the church calendar, was a refresher on what it might be like for someone attending my church for the first time. New to the forms, not knowing anyone there, walking in the door looking for cues and hints as to what to do, or where to sit. Looking for signs of impending weirdness. Good medicine for the pastor.

When going somewhere unfamiliar, you want to time your arrival well. Not too early, but early enough to get a seat near the back so you can watch what everyone else is doing and follow suit.

I was perfectly on time... at the wrong door. By the time I'd walked around to the right door, I could hear that the service had begun. 

I walked into the little lobby space and there was a helpful sign telling me what books to pick up off the cart. So far so good.

I opened the inner doors and looked around. Oh dear.

The place was pretty full, and everyone was reading aloud in unison from their service books. Between actual attendees and their coats, most of the seats were taken. The person sitting nearest the door who saw me enter nodded me toward the (oh dear) front. 

Front row, aisle seat. Which meant that when it came time for the Imposition of Ashes and for Eucharist, there wasn't anybody in line ahead of me. Nobody for me to follow and imitate. Which meant I heard about half of the homily. Thinking I should have left my office earlier. Thinking I should have watched a video of an Ash Wednesday service before coming. Like, what am I supposed to do? Or, more importantly, absolutely never ever do? 

When it came time to step toward the altar to receive the ashes, I whispered to the person beside me, "I'm new. I'll follow you." Managed to find a place 5 or 6 back in line. Which helped.

Thoughtful music filled the air, feet shuffled in the salt and sand on the floor, cloth rustled, voices murmured. I could hear the deacon, knowing her people, call each of them by name and say, "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return" as she traced on their foreheads with her thumb the ashes of last year's celebratory palms. When I got to the front of the line, I told her my name. She said, "Ruth, remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return." She smoothed the dark onto my forehead.

We returned to our seats as the table was prepared for Eucharist. We stood again to receive the sacred meal. Again the lining up. Again the music. Again the quiet and the body sounds of people moving together forward.

The wafer in my hand. The cup at my lips. The crisp of the bread. The tang of the wine.

His body broken for me. His blood shed for me.

I don't often simply receive communion, so this was a blessing for me. To be served. To be reminded. To be humbled.

At the end of the service I put on my coat, and pulled on my hat. By the time I got back to the office my cross of ash was a smudge. No selfie. But that's ok.

I'm really glad I went, to spend time blending my voice with brothers and sisters who I know, in theory, are out there but don't really ever see. To be reminded of what it feels like to be an outsider. To be reminded that I am dust, and to dust I shall return.

Particularly, the last bit. To be reminded that anyone who thinks that ash is the last word... hasn't met my God.

______

What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul!
What wondrous love is this, O my soul!
What wondrous love is this, that caused the Lord of bliss
to bear the dreadful curse for my soul, for my soul,
to bear the dreadful curse for my soul.

When I was sinking down, sinking down, sinking down,
when I was sinking down, O my soul!
When I was sinking down beneath God's righteous frown,
Christ laid aside His crown for my soul, for my soul,
Christ laid aside His crown for my soul.

To God and to the Lamb I will sing, I will sing;

to God and to the Lamb, I will sing.

To God and to the Lamb who is the great "I AM,"

while millions join the theme, I will sing, I will sing,

while millions join the theme, I will sing.