Can This Dust Live?

 My 2023 reflection on Ash Wednesday:

Though I was not raised in a Catholic or Orthodox tradition, I have always been fascinated by the mysteries of God uncovered by women and men who create spiritual rhythms (even seasons like Lent and Advent) to help us step into these mysteries by giving us handles to guide us along the way. 

Most guides I have read and experienced emphasize this idea of dust and connect Ash Wednesday to Genesis 3:19 speaking the words, "For you are dust and to dust you shall return." (NASB) 

Every living organism, be that human, animal, or plant is made up of earthly matter - matter which has its origin on earth. All living organisms, likewise, return to dust, as the author of Genesis eloquently states at the end of its lifespan.

We live in a closed-ecosystem in which no matter has left. The elements that made our earth billions of years ago are the same elements at work today. Yes, they change shape and purpose, but all the pieces of this place are the same. Similarly, the elements of every human who has ever lived, from the small miscarried baby to a dying 100-year-old, is still present on earth. 

When I ponder the significance of dust and ashes on Ash Wednesday, I can't help consider the magnitude and importance of our closed-system and wonder how this concept connects with the story of Jesus. 

During most Ash Wednesday services, participants are invited to receive the imposition of ashes - a time when ashes are wiped on a person's forehead or hand in the form of a cross accompanied by the words from Genesis, "For you are dust and to dust you shall return." In a very tangible way, this sign of the cross on our foreheads is an acknowledgement of our humanity and finitude. We all will again be dust. 

Five years ago I was given the gift to bestow the ashes for the first time. As a recipient, what we hear is the reminder that we will again return to dust - not necessarily words of comfort. But as the giver of the ashes, what I see is the cross. 

The Good News of Ash Wednesday is not in the ashes, but is in the sign of the cross.

These 'words of comfort' we so readily speak over people on Ash Wednesday are dooms-dayish and might possibly leave the participant hopeless and discouraged if separated from the work of Jesus. Our Ash Wednesday observances must be experienced through the cross.

Oftentimes, creative pastors (like myself) enjoy guiding people into these dark spaces of reflection to best feel and identify with our frailty and brokenness. Especially in contexts where the dark, hard, and ugly things of life are swept under the carpet, intentionally stepping into these spaces is good.

But what about people who live surrounded by darkness?

What about people who already feel hopeless?

What about people who are discouraged and don't have much hope for tomorrow?

How do our Ash Wednesday Services help these people? 

Our creativity to step into these dark places can be crippling to people already in the dark. I know we creative-types often enjoy the dark and the strong emotions those places bring, but we also need to be aware of the people we bring into these places and be sure to guide them back out - not leave them in darkness for 40-days. 

40-days is the time Jesus spent in the wilderness fasting and praying.

40-days is the time between Ash Wednesday and Easter (not including Sabbath/Sundays). 

But 40-days is a long time in the dark. 

As I reflected on the tension I was feeling between Ash Wednesday being a melancholy tradition and our hope found in Jesus Christ, the Spirit brought my attention to Ezekiel 37. In this text, the Spirit of God brings the prophet Ezekiel out into the desert and shows him a valley of dry bones. The Spirit asks Ezekiel the question, "Son of man, can these bones live?"

Being smarter than us 21st-Century theologians, the wise Ezekiel answers, "Sovereign Lord, you alone know." 

Within the next verses that transpire, the Spirit of God lifts these bones and ashes up from the ground. The Spirit attaches sinews, tendons, and muscle; covers the bodies with flesh and skin before finally breathing life into this giant army. 

Jesus also died. Jesus let go of His Spirit on the cross and succumbed to the curse of death that all of us will one day confront. Jesus' body was laid in a tomb to endure the slow decomposing into dust - but something tremendously different and wonderful occurred.

Just like the army of bones Ezekiel saw in the Old Testament, Jesus also experienced the breath of God breathing life back into his bones.

The Spirit of God used Jesus' material matter of this earth and recycled him into a New Creation. One that looked like a gardener with fresh dirt under his fingernails; recognizably Jesus one minute and unidentifiable the next. The tomb was empty because resurrection uses up our earthly matter to transform us into a New Creation in Jesus Christ.

As I reflect on identifying with my humanity and the ashes to which I will one day return, I also must connect the hope I have in the resurrection and New Creation found with the salvific work of Jesus as part of my narrative. Celebrating Ash Wednesday, separated from the cross, is hopeless. Honoring Ash Wednesday as a way to lean into our humanity with the comfort of the Cross tempers our fear of tomorrow and gives us a grounding hope that returning to ash will not be the end of our story just as it was not the ending story of Jesus. 

As you may have received ashes yesterday, please remember the hope of the resurrection we have in Christ Jesus. Let's remember to enter the barrenness and darkness of the desert with Jesus as our guide.

From dust we shall indeed return - but that is not the end of our story anchored in Jesus.