Terrapin Station

Stations of the Cross in Lent

Yesterday I was worship leader for Stations of the Cross at St. Martin's. This is offered on Friday nights in Lent. 

I got there early to open the building, vest, and choose a liturgy (we have several). While I did those things, I chatted with members of Narcotics Anonymous, whose meeting in the building started at the same time as the service. 

I've written about Stations  many times. Briefly, I never encountered it in the Diocese of Texas where I grew up. It feels foreign to me, and I just don't resonate with it. Heck, it's not in The Book of Common Prayer! Ever since I've been active in higher church dioceses, I have tried attending Stations during Lent, feeling that there must be something there for me. Frankly, though, it's very much penal substitutionary atonement, which is not how I understand the point of the Gospel of Christ. I keep trying. 

It's a very small service, and sometimes no one shows up but the worship leader and the acolyte. Last night, I didn't even have an acolyte. But I did have three people attend. 

We entered and left in silence. We circled the church, looking at the beautiful wood carvings that represent the fourteen events on the Via Dolorosa, from Christs's condemnation to his body being placed in the tomb of Joseph  of Arimathea. We read responsively from the booklet containing scripture and the ancient Trisagion. 

I was mindful, during our procession, of the group meeting in the chapel just behind us. They were a lively bunch, laughing and talking as they got started. After the service, as I hung up my vestments and prepared to leave the church, I could hear their sharing become quiet and earnest. 

It occurred to me: they were sharing their stories as if their lives depended on it. Because their lives DO depend on it. As someone who's spent a good bit of time in 12 step rooms, I have great respect for the Program. 

I locked the church, extinguished the lights, and left them there. I realized that the four of us in the nave had, also, been sharing a different "story of our lives" and both types of story surely had the grit of ashes to them. 

I don't like Stations. But I am pretty sure that's not the point. I'm going to keep listening. 

 

 

 

Ash Wednesday

For Lent I will be joining with a group of friends on Facebook to follow a Living Compass production, Living Well through Lent: Listening With All Your Heart, Soul, Strength, and Mind. I am also renewing my commitment to daily prayer and meditation during Lent. I look forward to it! 

My Ash Wednesday was different than usual, though. I kept my precious granddaughter during the day, so was unable to make a noon service. Instead we ran in the front yard,  watched the movie Trolls, danced and sang, read books, and played Barbies and other games. It was all very alive and lively. We looked at lots of evidences of Spring: tall grass, redbuds budding, trees putting out leaves. 

In the evening, I went to visit a friend who's being assessed in a local mental hospital. It's absolutely the best place for this person to be, and I desperately hope that the assistance provided there will be taken into account and a path toward wellness and healing be reached. 

I hated to miss the evening Ash Wednesday service with my community of faith. But afterwards, I thought that the place I had been was also a place of ashes, in a way. Present there were much hope and possibility (my friend is young! so much potential! so much ahead!) with the gritty taste of seeing people who were probably not going to get better, or who had lived terribly hard lives, or were in very bad places yesterday. 

I'll be trying to hold on to this balance throughout Lent.