Sermon for Ash Wednesday

In the casket business, if you want to go for something unique, something unlike anything else, you can do no better than calling the Cistercian monks of New Melleray Abbey. For about $2000, a real steal in the market, you can get a hand-crafted Walnut box in which to live out your days of rot and decay. And they're beautiful, really. And there is a long tradition of Cistercians making caskets.

For in the Medieval era, an entering brother in the Monastery would have, as his first official task, the construction of his own casket. He is to "prefer nothing to Christ." And, in this, he is to be constantly in preparation for his own death. In this tradition, the monk carefully hand-crafts his casket, smoothing out rough edges with his chisel, and when he is finished, he carries the casket up to the dormitory, where he places the casket among those of his brothers. At night after Compline, he climbs in, and renouncing all earthly pleasures with a sign of the cross, he goes to sleep.

You may think that entirely morbid. You may be shocked that you have even heard such a thing.

But, think of the comfort. Every night, you habitually prepare for a holy death. Every morning, you wake up. In a sense, you are surprised that it has even come, and so, you make the most of this new gift, knowing and understanding that it has come from God himself, and that He has deigned it necessary for you to rise from the ashes, so to speak.

Some of you have already picked out a niche in the columbarium. And isn't it comforting to know where your remains will be kept, facing East, awaiting the coming of Our Lord?

Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

The God who breathed life into a handful of mud still breathes life into you now. Were it not for sin entering the world through disobedience, man would be everlasting - he would have staying power.

The transgressions which bring death are clear - idolatry, worship of foreign gods, blasphemy, lack of sabbath observance, dishonor of father and mother, murder, adultery, theft, deceit, and covetousness. Were it not for these, we would have no need for caskets, no need for columbarium niches.

In short, it is pride which kills, but humility which heals. Primarily, it is the humility of Our Lord Jesus Christ, who humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross. (Phil 2:8)

Humility comes from the Greek word for earth or dirt, or hummus, and by Descent among the dead, by a very real death, Jesus Christ lowers himself to the earth.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

But, when it seemed that man had no staying power, the Everlasting Man, Jesus Christ rose from the dead.

In a secondary manner, self-humiliation and self-mortification can bring healing and life to the parts of us which are dead or in decay. In the Old Testament, because the King Ahab humbled himself, tearing his clothes, weeping, and fasting, God did not bring decay upon the kingdom during his lifetime.

God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble.

He scorns the scornful, but to the humble he shows favor.

Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

Back in the early 80s, there was a forest in the Pacific Northwest so thick and lush that it was unrivaled in beauty. That was until a certain dormant volcano by the name of St. Helens blew hot ash and lava all over it. A few years later, tiny saplings were arising from the dust. If you go there today, 25-year-old evergreens cover what once was desolate.

As it turns out, volcanic ash is high in nutrients, and perfect soil for new growth.

That is what humility is for the Christian - perfect soil for new growth. By putting to death that which is prideful and overgrown, by inviting God to love those things about ourselves which even we cannot love, by humbling ourselves with real honesty, God uses this soil to plant in us the work of redemption, planting seeds for good fruit rather than the seeds of wrath.

Friends, let us prepare for a holy death this Lent, asking God to plant new life in our ashes.