From Dust You Are, To Dust You Shall Return

Remembering our death on Ash Wednesday

“From dust you are, and to dust you shall return.”

I’d bet I said those words over a hundred times throughout the day on Wednesday. It was Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent on the Christian calendar and a day in which we take time to reflect on our mortality, the sin that leads us there, and the hope we have in Christ.

And so over and over again, at three different services, I used my thumb to put ashes in the shape of a cross on each person’s forehead, while looking them in the eyes and reminding them that they are dust, and one day they will return to dust. Reminding them, that they are going to die.

Those words carried new weight with each new person who stepped forward. Older men and women, with a look in their eyes that tells me this isn’t the first time this week they’ve thought about death. Young children, who after putting ashes on their foreheads I so desperately wanted to finish the sentence with “But not for a long, long time!” And as the weepy wreck that I am, I said it through tears as I put the ashes on JoBeth’s forehead, Griffin nestled safely in her arms.

Why do we do this? Why do we put ourselves through this strange practice of spending a day being reminded of our death? Why do we take a visible sign on our forehead to drive the point home? Do we just like wallowing in sadness?

Well for one, we do it because we want to be honest about our condition. It doesn’t need to lead us to despair, but we also shouldn’t pretend like it’s not true. No amount of denying death can bring down the death rate. Even Stoic philosophers, who don’t think much of an afterlife or anything supernatural, would say that there is a benefit to thinking about your death. They have a phrase for it: memnto mori. “Remember that you are mortal.” For the Stoics, this is meant to bring a sobering bit of perspective. And it certainly does that for Christians too.

But that’s not primarily why some Christians take part in this practice. We don’t just meditate on our impending death. We believe that there is more to the story. We believe that though we come from dust, and will return to dust, in Christ we will live again. It’s a wild, outlandish idea. Apart from Christ, it makes no sense. But this is the hope that we celebrate on Easter. So when we remember our death, we don’t do so to lead us to despair. We do it to enhance our joy.

What do I mean by this?

8 years ago, when I bought JoBeth’s engagement ring, I remember going into the jewelry store and seeing row after row of beautiful diamond rings. They are all displayed under a glass case, resting on a black, velvet backdrop. It doesn’t necessarily change the diamond - it doesn’t give it more clarity, carats, or whatever the other Cs are. But up against that black backdrop, the diamond shines all the more brilliantly.

We don’t do Ash Wednesday or Lent because we want to be sad. And we don’t do it because we think it can change or add anything to Christ’s perfect work. We remember that from dust we are, and to dust we shall return because against the bleak backdrop of sin and death, we can see Christ’s resurrection life shines all the more brilliantly. The hope of Easter starts in the darkness of Ash Wednesday.