On the sixth day of creation, God made man from the dust of the ground. The dust that was taken from the earth was formed, fashioned, and enlivened by God’s own breath, glorifying the dust through its transformation into the man. This glorification was intended to continue. Glory was man’s beginning. Glory was man’s destiny. In between, he was moving from glory to glory.
We are given a hint as to how man would be glorified on the same day of creation. When God declared that it was not good for man to be alone and brought the man to that recognition, God put the man to sleep, ripped open his side, and from his side made the woman. The woman is the glory of the man (1Cor 11.7). Man would become more than he was in the beginning. More humans would fill the earth and man would assume control over and shape more of the world. Creation would continue to multiply, blossom, and become ever more beautiful.
That relentless movement forward barely got off the ground before the mission was hamstrung by sin. Sin caused man to fall short of the glory of God and, instead of moving from glory to glory in an ever-upward spiral, the mission would experience de-creation or death from which it would not recover … at least for a long time. After the fall, God graciously restored some aspect of the original creation power to the man and woman, but the effects of sin would still be experienced. Man would still plow the ground and the earth would yield its fruit, for instance, but the sin-cursed ground would fight back with thorns and thistles; death would grow from the ground. Man himself would experience death, not like the death sleep that God used to create the woman, but a complete de-creation, a return to the dust from which he was made. This was the anti-glorification process. God proclaimed to Adam, “… for you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” (Gen 3.19)
Later, when standing before God interceding for Sodom and the cities of the Plain, Abraham, acknowledging the Adamic curse, proclaims himself to be “dust and ashes” (Gen 18.27). Ashes became associated with dust because they are the same thing for all intents and purposes. Ashes are simply substances returning to the dust after being consumed. The curse consumes our bodies and turns us to ash. This is represented in part at the altar of the Temple. Offerings offered on the altar represented the worshiper and, sometimes, the labor of his hands. Whether it was some type of grain offering or the offering of an animal, every offering drew the worshiper himself near to God. The fire of the altar transformed the worshiper into smoke that would ascend to God as well as ash that would be disposed of outside the camp. There was a collection place at the bottom of the altar along with special utensils and ceremonies to deal with the ashes that were the perishable body of the offering. (Ex 27.3; Lev 1.16; 6.10)
In part, animals were turned to dust because they represented the worshiper who was destined to become dust once again. This is why at the committal of the body to the ground in a Christian funeral you will hear something to this effect, “Now we commit this body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust….” Dust is our origin and ashes our destiny. They speak of our mortality, the certainty of our deaths.
Throughout Scripture, dust and ashes are associated with prayer, mainly with prayers during fasting and mourning and many times expressing repentance. During the time of Esther, when the wicked decree that originated with Haman went out to the provinces that would doom the Jews, beginning with Mordecai, the Jews put on sackcloth and ashes, mourning, fasting, and weeping (Esther 4.1, 3). When everything was taken from Job, he sat in ashes (Job 2.8) recognizing that he was a dead man (Job 30.19). When confronted by God, he repented in dust and ashes (Job 42.6). When it was time for the Jews to go back to Jerusalem, Daniel set himself to fast and pray with sackcloth and ashes (Dan 9.3). When the Gentiles in Nineveh heard the message of Jonah, they sat in ashes (Jon 3.6). When God pronounced destruction on Jerusalem, he instructed his messenger first to go and mark on the foreheads those who mourned the sighed and groaned over the wickedness of the city so that, like a Passover mark, they would be spared when the death angel moved through the city (Ez 9.4). Exactly what that mark was or with what it was made, we don’t know. However, being associated with mourning and groaning over wickedness along with Passover, it has some connection to death and, thus, to dust and ashes. Jesus told the cities of Chorazin and Bethsaida that if the mighty works done in them had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes (Mt 11.21; Lk 10.13).
The Psalms as well as our Christian hymnody pick up on this theme as well. We are singing a few of these songs tonight on this occasion. In Day of Wrath, we sing in verses 1 and 7 about heaven and earth turning to ash as well as ashes of contrition. Lord, Teach Us To Pray Aright, picks up Abraham’s phrase before God recognizing that we are “dust and ashes” in verse 1. Psalm 113, which echoes Hannah’s Song, speaks of the poor being in dust and ashes.
Examples could be multiplied through Scripture as well as hymnody. The question is, What is this saying? What is going on with the dust and ashes while we are still living?
First, when mourning is focused upon with dust and ashes, for example, at the death of loved ones, they express participation in the death. We are united to one another so that when someone else dies, we die with them. We understand this experientially whenever we say, “A piece of me died that day.” Dust and ashes are the confession that we died with the person in some form or fashion.
Second, dust and ashes acknowledge our mortality due to sin. We are dust and to dust we shall return. In dust and ashes, we are confronted with our mortality. This is not a bad thing. In fact, Solomon says in Ecclesiastes that it is a wise man who accepts and meditates on his death (Eccl 7.2, 4). You and I will die. No matter how much we try to keep ourselves healthy, we will all die. Dust and ashes remind us of our mortality and push us to consider whether we are prepared to die in such a way that we will inherit glory on the other side of death. If all men die (and all men do die) and I am a part of mankind, then I will die. What then is my purpose in this life? How do I live so as to die well? Consider your end and adjust your life accordingly.
Third, the use of dust and ashes as a part of prayer is a voluntary taking on death as a plea for mercy from God for deliverance. Prayer is not merely a mental exercise, nor is it limited to the words we speak. Prayer takes different forms through the Scriptures and is a whole-body activity. Our postures are not only expressions of prayer but a form of embodied prayer. In kneeling, we humble ourselves before God. In standing, we come confidently by the invitation of God. In lifting our hands, we offer ourselves and all that we do to God. Again, these are not mere “expressions” of prayer as if the bodily gestures don’t matter. They embody our prayer because we are embodied creatures.
When we fast, this is also a form of prayer. Fasting is cutting ourselves off from food, God’s means for our life. We are willfully taking death upon ourselves, saying to God, “We deserve death.” “We deserve to be cut off from your mercy, swallowed up by the curse.” We fast, not only in pleas for God’s mercy toward us, but, as Jesus fasted, for the sake of others; that is, we fast saying, “They deserve death, but we are interceding for your mercy on their behalf.”
Ashes have been a part of this embodied praying for a long time … much longer than the Roman Catholic Church has been in existence. This is one reason this first day of Lent in the Western Church is called “Ash Wednesday;” it is the beginning of a season that focuses on sin, its effects, and, in repentance, pleads with God for mercy for me and others. Dust and ashes are a form of prayer.
Whatever you think about the imposition of ashes, there are good biblical-theological reasons for it. I’m not saying that we will start doing it, but we need to be careful about condemning things for which there is a good biblical rationale. The way people do it may be suspect or flat wrong, but that it is done as proper application of a practice approved by God himself is undeniable.
I sometimes wonder if people reject it because of the silly superstitions that have crept up around it or the disdain for the humiliation that comes with it. The first is legitimate. The second is not.
Lent is a time that embodies prayer, whether through the physical application of ashes, fasting, giving of alms, taking our verbal petitions to God, or all of the above. It is a time when we recognize and mourn our mortality due to sin, that we and the world around us are worthy of death, and will, indeed, die, so we pray for God’s mercy.
During this Lenten season, I call you, church, to focus on your own mortality. You will not live forever. You are dust and to dust you shall return. What are you living for? Let that focus draw your focus in prayer to a fine point as well. What is it in my life for which I need to cry out for God’s mercy? Where do I need to deepen my repentance? What in the world around me needs intercession for God’s mercy? Is it our city, region, or state? Our country? Persecuted Christians in other countries? What are the atrocities that make us sigh and groan? Make those matters of special focus for yourself and/or your family.
Do all of this with the light of the resurrection shining on us from the future. That Christian committal liturgy that I quoted earlier continues, “We now commit this body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, who will change our lowly bodies so that they will be like His glorious body, by the power that enables Him to subdue all things to Himself.” We are not stuck in perpetual Lent. Lent, like the totality of our lives, is a journey to Easter, the resurrection. The hope of the resurrection makes Lent a bright sadness because we mourn, but we do not mourn as those who have no hope. We willingly take on death because we know that God will not allow us to stay dead. Resurrection is coming.
We are dust and ashes. We are dust and to dust we shall return, but God will make new bodies out of the dust once again.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
