To Dust You Shall Return
Author: Pastor Mike Gutzler
Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return. Every year we come here to our sanctuary in the evening hours of a winter night and walk forward to receive black ash pressed into our foreheads in the shape of a cross as we hear these words – you are dust and to dust you shall return. These words are an ominous reminder of the fragility of life and our own mortality.
When we hear these words as a citizen of a developed western nation, they may not always resonate with us on a deep level. For us it is easy to assume that if something were to go wrong and cause us to be ill or sick our doctors and hospitals will be fully capable of making us feel better, or do whatever it takes for us to heal, be cured and extend our life. We really do have a deep faith in our American medical establishment.
But this year is different. This Ash Wednesday there is something on all of our hearts and minds that seems to be outside our control and making us less comfortable to hear – you are dust and to dust you shall return.
This weight on our shoulders, the elephant in the room, the heaviness in our chest is of course the Coronavirus – a lethal virus that seems to pass between people like the common flu. It cannot seem to be contained or isolated. In the words of the Director of the Centers for Disease Control "It's not so much a question of if this will happen anymore, but rather more a question of exactly when this will happen and how many people in this country will have severe illness. We are asking the American public to work with us to prepare in the expectation that this could be bad."
This Ash Wednesday, for the first time in a long time, the reminder that we are dust and to dust we shall return seems just a bit more real. It is almost as if we stand at the watch looking out and waiting for the inevitable to arrive. We may be prepared as best as possible – but we cannot know how life will change once it arrives. We watch, we wait, we pray and we worry.
Knowing coronavirus, and its impending arrival to our community is on all our minds, we need to talk about our response as followers of Christ. What are we as a group of faithful people called to do in this unique situation?
To answer this question, I have been doing a little rereading of one of Luther’s lesser known treatises: Whether One May Flee from a Deadly Plague. Here is a bit of background.
In August of 1527, a full decade after the Reformation, the Bubonic plague (also known as the black death) was discovered in Wittenberg – Luther’s hometown. The university was immediately closed and the students were sent home, but Luther remained in the city and was busy providing pastoral and practical care for the sick. He was urged by fellow clergy in the region to give advice on what a Christian’s responsibility was at such a time. In November Luther finally got around to responding to their pleas and wrote an open letter to the general public.
Interestingly, Luther starts by pushing back on the notion that faith would protect one against the plague, but instead he urged those who could rightly do so to leave. But, Luther did say some must stay, including doctors, pastors, public officials, and any person on who an afflicted person is dependent.
Luther also shows a great deal of interest in practical reforms that could help the situation, from locating cemeteries outside the town, to the provision of hospitals for the care of the sick, to having cautious behavior when being around those who were exposed to the plague.
But, the part of the letter this is most clearly stated is in his appeal for Christians to care for the sick despite any aversion and fear of the disease. In his typical blunt way, Luther writes:
This I well know, that if it were Christ or his mother who were laid low by illness, everybody would be so solicitous and would gladly become a servant or helper. Everyone would want to be bold and fearless; nobody would flee but everyone would come running … If you wish to serve Christ and to wait on him, very well, you have your sick neighbor close at hand. Go to him and serve him, and you will surely find Christ in him.
Luther’s point here is well taken. If our Lord and Savior was in need of care and attention, at a time of great sickness and contagion, would we more likely be willing to stay and provide care to him knowing we too might fall ill and die? Hmm.
Luther’s comments reminded of Christ’s own words where he says “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” We should not forget that no matter what the situation, every day or grave, when we care for someone in need we offer a loving gesture to Christ himself.
Luther is trying to emphasize the point that we Christians have a special calling in such situations. He knows moving into action with acts of healing care is much harder than just walking on the other side of the street like the priest and rabbi did and avoided the stripped, beaten and left half dead man. We are called into the Samaritan life and to take action. But how, we of little faith, can we act. The key is having an awareness of God’s presence.
This time of Lent is our opportunity to look, for and hold tighter to, our lord Jesus. Jesus himself lays out the spiritual practices of this life that help remind us of our God walking by outside right here in the Lord’s prayer read just moments ago. These “Lenten disciplines” or healthy yearlong spiritual practices, are basic, but retain real value: such as:
- Offering what we have to God in a significant and substantive way
- Participating in an active prayer life with time for quiet listening
- A regular evaluation of what we consume, purchase and even more so today – waste
- And finally, a regular check up on the condition of our heart. Not only in the cardiac sense, but also the treasures we seek that pull us away from God.
Adding these elements of a healthy and full spiritual life to our existing faith and trust in Christ reinforce within us the awareness that God is right here. These practices do change our perspective and, God willing, give us the energy and power to act in love when we are called to do so.
And maybe that is the final point, especially for this unique Ash Wednesday, standing at the watch and waiting for what is coming: to say you are dust and to dust you shall return is a statement of faith. The gift of life, and the faith we share, is not only for our time on earth, but for all eternity.
Our God that takes dust from the earth, creates life, finds it beautiful, and then lets it return it to the earth only to be resurrected. The dirt we receive tonight is the reminder that death has no power or control over us. We are able then stand up straight, look out with confidence at the future at whatever is coming our way and say with confidence and without fear – my God and my Lord are greater than this. My God and my Lord are greater than any virus. I am in very good hands, and I shall not fear.
May our prayer this Lenten season be to have this confidence and lack of fear come to us when we need it most.
Amen.
Watch the performance of the Gospel of Mark Chapter 8 performed by Max McClean.