Liturgy on the Streets

By Rev. Elizabeth M. Magill 


     In her blog “Telling Secrets” Elizabeth Kaeton looks at the “Ashes to Go Movement” and asks an important question: What does it mean when we take liturgical actions to the streets?

     Is it worth the risk that the action will be separated from its meaning—not just from its immediate meaning, but from the bigger story that surrounds it? Is it worth the risk that people will accept ashes and yet not understand the meaning behind the words “remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Or, even if they do understand, that they will not have heard the bigger story of Christian salvation, will not get a handle on how Ash Wednesday is a small part of the Good News of Kingdom of God. Is it worth the risk that someone will see it is as magic symbol of something trite?

     Elizabeth’s question is one of the right questions. She decides that she will take her ashes “to stay,” that she will be part of the whole liturgy, that she will experience that liturgy with the community where she is an integral part. She’s not getting ashes and moving on, she’s getting ashes and being sent out by a community.

     This leads to another right question: what do we, as active Christians, take with us when we are sent out by our worshiping community?

     Certainly it begins with our love, patience, and kindness. Certainly we take our community organizing knowledge, our passion for justice, and our love of our neighbor.

     But can’t we also take our palms and our oil and our ashes? Our bread and our drink and our baptismal waters? Can't we take these out with us into the world?

     I know that these things may communicate less outside the context of the place that we worship. These things are only signs of something bigger, deeper, more powerful, and more wonderful. All of the gifts that we bring to the world are not fully understood in the world, nor, I must add, are the fully understood by any of us. 

     However, in fairness to the conversation, I offer the following experiences I have had working with Worcester Fellowship, an outdoor church offering worship to homeless and at risk adults. We offered a quick Ash Wednesday service followed by an hour hanging out, offering ashes to people walking through Worcester Common.

     First, there was the woman in Worcester Common who turned to me and said “Ashes? I haven't had ashes since I was a kid.” She then shared stories of her life since the last time she’d been to church, how the church had hurt her, and how she was now thinking about God again for the first time in a long time. When I put ashes on her, she understood what was happening in that ritual as well any other person receiving ashes inside or outside.
     Then, there was the young man who said, “No, thanks” when I first offered ashes but then came back and said, “Can I change my mind?” He told the story of the fight he’d had last night and how he was ruminating about that when I offered ashes. He realized that he has to “get right with God” if he thinks he is going to “get right with his girlfriend.” He understood enough to accept ashes without going inside.
     And there was the older woman who said nothing, but cried. Then she asked for a hug.

     And then the people who said yes, and accepted ashes with a quiet amen. And the people who simply took off their hats and said nothing. I don’t know what they understood.

     I am glad I accepted the gifts the church community gives to me, and that I took the risk to take those gifts with me, outside. Perhaps the value of taking the gifts of the church outside its walls is the gift the giver receives from the people in the world.

The Rev. Elizabeth M. Magill (EDS ’02) is called “Pastor Liz” on the streets of Worcester where she offers lunch, worship, and pastoral care every Sunday at 1pm. Her blog is outdoorchurch.livejournal.com.