The Difference Between Dust and Ashes

There is a 1973 film titled Ash Wednesday. It stars Elizabeth Taylor, who plays an aging woman who wants to return to the heights of her beauty. In pursuit of this obsession, she boards a plane to Switzerland, where she undergoes extensive plastic surgery. The doctors promise her that afterwards she will look twenty years younger.

Following the surgery, with her bruised face wrapped in bandages, Taylor dons dark sun glasses and decides to go for a walk. Slowly, in great pain, she strolls the streets of Geneva. Seeking a place to stop for a rest, she enters an old stone church.

Hidden in the back row of the nave, she is like a new woman waiting to emerge from a gauze cocoon – until she is approached by an elderly priest making his way through the congregation. It is Ash Wednesday. And carrying his bowl of cinders he pauses in front of Taylor and intones the ancient words, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.’”

Talk about a reality check. Seeking to look a few years younger, and the ancient liturgy reminds you that any improvement, no matter how striking, is only temporary.

Ash Wednesday reminds us of our mortality. That’s part of the symbolism of the ashes which will be placed on our foreheads this day. We like to fancy that we will live forever. Some day we shall. But not in this world. This world is but a fleeting image of the world that is yet to come. Ash Wednesday puts it all into perspective.

Of course, the subject of our mortality is not a popular one. One man knew it was a difficult subject to bring before his aged mother, but he felt that he must:

“Mom,” he said, “you’re no longer a spring chicken and you need to think ahead of what’ll happen in the future. Why don’t we make arrangements about when . . . you know . . . when . . . you pass on?”

The mother didn’t say anything. She just sat there staring ahead.

“I mean, Mom, like . . . how do you want to finally go? Do you want to be buried? Cremated?”

There was yet another long pause. Then the mother looked up and said, “Son, why don’t you surprise me?”

Yes, death is a difficult subject. We would prefer to disguise it, ignore it, pretend it doesn’t exist. We do not want to admit that it can happen to us.

Most of us prefer the attitude of Woody Allen, who once said, “I don’t want to live on in the hearts of my countrymen. I want to live on in my apartment.”

Ash Wednesday is a reminder that this isn’t possible. It is a reminder of our mortality. “You are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

It is also a reminder that we are flawed creatures. “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,” writes Paul in Romans 3:23. The amazing thing is that even when we are aware of our flaws, we often refuse to let go of them.

There’s the story about a boy who jumped on the back bumper of his dad’s truck in order to hitch a short ride across the yard. His dad didn’t see him. The truck hit a bump and the boy accidently slipped down the bumper and was being dragged for several yards before his dad heard him screaming.

The father ran around behind the truck where his son was still holding on to the bumper. He could see that he was not seriously hurt. Still, the boy’s knees and legs were scraped up pretty badly. The father asked the obvious question, “Son, why didn’t you let go?”

That’s a question which God will probably one day ask us. Why didn’t we let go of our bad habits? Let go of our pride? Let go of our fear? We place the ashes on our forehead as a reminder that we are mortal creatures and that we are flawed creatures. Ash Wednesday is a time to especially think about repentance for our sins and missteps. It’s a time to examine our behavior, our ethics, our speech, our use of money and time and our willingness to love our neighbors as we love ourselves.

However, the news is not all bad. There is another side to Ash Wednesday.

Ash Wednesday reminds us that we are creatures who have been redeemed. That is why St. Paul writes in our Epistle for today, “We entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. For our sake God made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.”
Pastor Warren Wiersbe tells a story about a man who came by his office one day. The man said he needed help. “My wife and I need a re-cancellation!” That’s an interesting word, “re-cancellation.” Wiersbe knew the man meant “reconciliation.” But in one sense, he writes, “re-cancellation” was the right word. They had sinned against each other and the Lord, and there could be no harmony until those sins were canceled.

In a sense, re-cancellation is what the cross is all about. All our sins were canceled by Christ’s death on our behalf.

That is the Good News of Ash Wednesday.

John Wooden was a legendary college basketball coach known as The Wizard of Westwood. He led UCLA to ten national championships in a 12 year period, including a record seven in a row. Unlike many of his counterparts, though, Wooden always maintained his composure no matter what happened on the court.

A reporter once asked him how he managed to keep his cool under the great pressure of coaching college basketball. Wooden reached into his pocket and took out a wooden cross.

“When the pressure is on I hold that cross in my hand,” he explained. “Not as a good luck charm. I just hold it there to remind me that there is something more important than basketball.”

That is what Ash Wednesday and Lent are all about. To remind us what is really important in our lives and in our faith. As the ashen cross is placed upon your forehead today, let it be a reminder that you have been redeemed.

And remember that there is a difference between dust and ashes: dust represents something that has never been of value, but might one day be of value. You can sow plants in dust, or make pottery from it.

Ashes, on the other hand, are of no value in the future, but represent something that has had value in the past, before being reduced to ashes.

Sure, we have the ashes of our past. But we are as the dust of the earth. For if we let him, God will plant in our dust something that will grow and flourish.