| Note: No sermon is quite the same when you read it. You miss the inflections, the expression that you gain in the hearing. The words below are only a close approximation of the sermon, taken from handwritten notes. Nevertheless, the words (as best as can be deciphered!) are shared with you here. The Webmeister |
"REMBER THAT YOU ARE DUST, AND TO DUST YOU SHALL RETURN. For some of us, those words might instill a sense of fear or dread. Because those words, words which you will hear again shortly as a cross is made on your forehead out of ash, remind us of our mortality. And they also remind us that no matter what we've done, what we've accomplished, how successful we've been, all our bodies will one day return to the earth as dust and ash. For some, those words might be words of comfort, because even though our bodies become dust, we know that in the world to come, we will have a new body, a different resurrected body, as Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 15. Though our bodies return to dust and to ash, we need not fear death. And yet so many of us do. And while we may not fear the actual moment when we die, rather we fear being alone at that moment. We fear a slow, long, and drawn out death that robs us of our dignity. And we fear death because it is for all of us the ultimate surrendering of control. And because we live in a culture that fears death, that looks at death as a disease, rather than a rite of passage into heaven, death is kept at a great distance. Before World War II, wakes, those times when a body was viewed by family and loved ones, occurred at homes. In houses all across America. Now they occur in nondescript and generic funeral homes. And in so doing, the presence of death is removed out of our houses and relegated to a funeral home parlor. And at cemetery burials, it used to be that the casket was lowered into the earth and dirt shoveled upon it as everyone stood by watching. Now at a graveyard burial, green Astroturf covers the dirt that will be placed over the casket once the family departs. It's not their practice to even lower the casket into the ground with the family present anymore. We've become so uncomfortable with death that we have developed creative euphemisms for it, in an attempt to somehow lesson the impact of the word. Instead of a person dying, we speak of that person transitioning, passing, or moving on. These attempts to rename death fail to capture the significance and the weight of the event itself. Without realizing it, our culture has attempted to domesticate death by leaving our final matters and arrangements in the hands of funeral directors. If we push the reality of death as far away from ourselves as we can, if we put off thinking about our own mortality until the very seconds before we die, then we are no better off than a preschool child attempting to take a graduate level philosophy exam. We must, while we are still alive, contemplate our mortality, otherwise when our moment comes we won't be ready for it. I believe all of us are greatly impoverished by our culture's preoccupation with keeping death at a safe, manageable distance. And I also believe that we are also impoverished by a consumer culture that places youth on a high pedestal, along with the maintenance of a youthful image through plastic surgery, make up, and other physical enhancements on the market. Why are we so afraid of death? Why can't we look at death the way Paul, quoting Hosea, does when he writes "Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" Why do we have such a difficult time making friends not only with our eventual death? We are gathered here tonight, because we realize that life is more than just staving off death. Life is more than keeping death at an arm length's distance. Life has to be more than that. We are gathered here tonight because our Christian faith has taught us that it is only through accepting our own death that we begin to truly live. In Ash Wednesday, we are reminded of our death, reminded that we are mortal, reminded that we are but dust. And it's through knowing those things, knowing that we are but dust, knowing that we are mortal, that we can truly appreciate our life. The words "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return" are not meant to frighten or to cause one to be anxious. They are spoken out of love. And those words are spoken by our Creator, our God who formed us from the dust of the earth, who first breathed the miracle of life into our nostrils, and who promises that there is life in the world to come. Ash Wednesday invites to make peace with our eventual death. To see our death not as a terrifying, existential, and ultimately unexplainable event that makes our lives meaningless. Ash Wednesday challenges us to see our mortality not as a limitation, but as a gift, a gift from God. When we own our own death, when we ready ourselves for it, then we find we are truly able to live. Death is not the end, nor is it the beginning. It is becoming. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Amen The Reverend James M. L. Grace March 1, 2006 *Past sermons may be found here. |
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