...and to dust you will return.

These words are spoken by priests (RC/Anglican/Orthodox) as they daub the foreheads of the faithful with a blend of burned palm cross and oil, as part of the ritual of repentance that marks the start of Lent.  Other Christian traditions don't 'do' ashing, we find it a little odd, sometimes even a bit macabre.  Certainly it is sombre, reminding people of their mortality and smallness in the grand scheme of things.  I do wonder, though, whether there are less depressing and more uplifting ways of reading/hearing that without ending up being accused of heresy.

You are dust, and to dust you will return.  That's a fact.  Every molecule, every atom in my body was once part of something else, they are borrowed by me (or for me) and after me they will be dispersed to await incorporation to someone or something else.  When I first became conscious of that, many years ago, I found it rather scary, it did seem to stress yet further the nothingness and unimportance of 'me'.  But these days, having been confronted with my own mortality, I find it rather comforting and reassuring.  That my interconnectedness with the earth, and the continued worth of the chemicals that compose me, is very positive and worthwhile. Recognising my own inherent and indestructible place in creation has to affect the way I view it, and how I live within in it.

This is not the whole picture.  The unique 'I' is far more than a random collection of chemicals carefully configured.  I am not, as our ethics lecturer used to express it, 'a computer made of meat'.  The personality, the intellect, the soul, the spirit, these are - for me anyway - not merely the result of chemical reactions or electrical impulses, but something that both arises within and somehow transcends creation.  For me it is not enough simply that I am dust and will return to dust, I need more - I need the hope of 'sure and certain resurrection to eternal life' not as some kind of literal remaking of me as I am now (or was at 17 or 36 or might be if I live to 60) but as a continuation of the unique 'Catriona' who, whilst shaped by a physical creation, exists beyond it. 

'Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life in Christ our Lord.'  These words I say at the end of every funeral carry with them both the reality of our earthiness and the hope of our eternity.

Remember that you are dust, and to dust you will return... child of earth, inextricably bound with all creation, loved into being by God.

One day I will hand back my borrowed chemical elements, in much the same way as a borrowed garment; on that day when they are no longer nedded to protect and contain me, a new kind of life will be mine.  Until then, I will cherish the life I have, and try to be more aware of my true place in creation.