SERMON: Ash
Sermon preached at a brief Ash Wednesday service at Wesley Church Melbourne.
Blessed be our God,
speaker of light
former of dust
mother of all living — Eve for the world
God be with you
And also with you.
Today we remember:
“You are formed from the dust … and to dust you shall return.”
Today we are invited into a deep place. A place of ash and grief, darkness and daring. In a moment we will be invited to be marked by ashes — bearing on our bodies a sign that we are formed from dust, and to dust we shall return.
This ritual recalls one of the deep stories shared across the Jewish and Christian traditions: the first human was formed from the dust. In Hebrew Adam was formed from the adamah; the human from the humus; earthlings from the very earth.
When we remember that we are dust we are invited to remember that we are part of this world. Bound to the cycles of seasons, and the unfolding, evolving processes of the universe itself. As the scientists say, “we are made of star stuff.” Bound to the cosmos itself.
And yet, we are dust that is formed. As a shape is defined by its edges, our lives are defined by our finitude — by the limits which make us who we are. Reveling and wrestling with the gift of our own existence, and the jagged edges and limits of our lives.
We know this clearly when we love. When we profess our love for those most close to us it is the intimacy which defines our bond. We do not love in generalities, we love in the particular.
I do not love the general idea of a wife. I love my wife, in particular. The person I proposed to in our favourite spot in the park. For the way she thinks, the way she cares for others in the world. For the particular shape her life takes as it flows alongside mine.
The ash reminds us that just as life is fleeting and finite, and so it is that we are given this particular life to live; these particular people to love; this particular world within which to strive for justice and peace. It is to these ends that our ritual points.
This is the gift and tragedy at the heart of human existence.
“You are formed from the dust … and to dust you shall return.”
Today, for some, death will be close. We may be carrying loss heavy in our hearts — or feeling in our throats the anxious wait for difficult news. Alongside this we are invited to know that our love for those we have lost made them who they are, as their love for us is making us who we are. We are defined by the hard edges of our love for fleeting lives.
This is the gift and dance at the heart of human existence.
“You are formed from the dust … and to dust you shall return.”
So it is with the ash, so it is with the dust, so it is with each of us.
We are all formed from the dust, and so we belong together. The deep yearning of loss is a reminder that we shall all, one day, return to the dust and be again together.
And so, today we are invited into a deep place. A place of ash and grief, darkness and daring. A place of remembering that we are dust — dust which has been formed and given shape, filled with life and breath most holy.
And so, today, we receive this as a gift from God:
“You are formed from the dust … and to dust you shall return.”