Ash Wednesday

"Remember, O child of God, that you are dust and to dust you shall return"

As this prayer is recited, a bit of dust is rubbed on your forehead. This dust is from palm branches that were used for the previous year's Palm Sunday. St. James' arranged with a local mortuary to burn its palm branches in the mortuary's crematorium each year. As I understand it, there was no way to guarantee that the ashes of "Uncle Joe" were not mixed with the palm ashes.

Which is appropriate, when you think about it. After all, the ashes are a memento mori (reminder of one's death).

In like manner, I have posted this picture for the past couple of Ash Wednesdays. The picture in the background is a painting by my high school friend Michael. At the time it was painted (c. 1975), this was the oldest human skull that archaeologists had discovered. Anthropologists are certain it is a woman's skull.

In the foreground is a distorted image of your correspondent. I claim kinship with that ancestor. I embrace my advancing years, with my receding hairline, and grey beard. I boldly face the one St. Francis named "Sister Death".

I remember Ash Wednesday services at St James very well. Deacon Pierce was well past retirement age, but was in good health and continued to serve the community. He would move around the altar rail, marking the foreheads of these people he had come to know and love. It was especially moving when he would come to a child. Something in his voice - or perhaps in his eyes - made it clear that he did not want to remind the child s/he would die. This is a fact of life we normally hide from our children.

I was always touched by this interaction between the generations. The child - if s/he understood any part of the ritual - most likely understood best of all that s/he was loved by this man.

We were formed from dust - from swirling motes in our parents' eyes. With age, our bodies weaken; with time, we die. More years pass, and (assuming no chemical interference) our bodies decay and return to the dust.

Remember: you are dust. To dust you shall return.

[Correction: Alexandria corrected my spelling of memento mori]

Post 1436