Dinner With Alex Baldwin

No, I did not!

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday. For those who do not follow the liturgical ordering of the year in the Christian Church, Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of Lent, a time of introspection and penitence leading up to the Easter celebration.

And pray to God to have mercy upon us

As I drove to my church for an early meeting, my radio was tuned to my favorite WFMT, the classical music station in Chicago. The station tends to observe on air fundraising far more often than I observe Ash Wednesday. So yesterday, a bleak, cold, grey day in Chicago, was filled with the bantering about contributing to WFMT. For $25,000, I could have dinner with Alex Baldwin in New York City.

Wow, my ears perked up!

The dinner would take place at a fine restaurant (not named) and the recipient would be housed in a top New York Hotel (also not named.) If the New York Philharmonic was in town on the mutually agreed upon date, it would also include tickets to the performance. Now with the performance in the mix, this means that your time with Alex would be greatly diminished unless he is one of those who whispers during concerts. That, depending upon your interests, could be a plus or a minus. Not the whispering, but the amount of time with Alex.

I would assume that since it was to take place in a top-rated restaurant, there would be a good wine. Would this mean you would wind up hearing the “nitty-gritty” of “the divorce” once Alex was oiled? Would he tell all about Tina Fey?

This could be like living in a tabloid.

In the course of Ash Wednesday afternoon, I got a message from a dear friend who discovered he had lost his job: a victim of the economy. This news was disheartening. His spouse had received the same news over a year ago and was still looking for a brighter economic future. He too, would now join in the seemingly hopeless search. The day became darker and it was more than just the passing of time toward dusk.

May the judgement not be too heavy upon us

I knew that the Ash Wednesday service would provide no moments of rejoicing. It is somber. It is quiet. We gave up Alleluia last Sunday. You hear phrases about ashes and dust. You think about your mortality. It is dark outside and it is dark inside and you have friends who are hurting. You have friends who are seriously ill. There is death among the church family.

It is now more about cactus than about roses, except for the thorns.

The service began.

The ashes, derived from the burning of last year's palms waved jubilantly the week before Easter, were imposed upon my head. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” Later, at home, looking into the mirror, the mark was more of a blur than a cross.

Is this symbolic? Has my faith become blurred?

Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit still.

I recall many years ago making a promise to myself to never become jaded in my expectations for the best in all I was involved; to never give up hope. Life is more than taxes and rabid conservatives. Life is more than Democrats and Republicans. Life is greater than all this.

Ash Wednesday is a reminder of mortality and at the same time a promise of light.

So, Alex, I will pass on the dinner. I will use that meal to spend time with those who form the world I most treasure. I will try to listen. I will try to learn. I will try to support. I will try to be complete.

Suffer me not to be separated
And let my cry come unto Thee.
Ash Wednesday, T. S. Eliot