Down to Earth - Ashes, Dust, and Life
Forever
by Bill Musser, Northeast Iowa Unitarian Universalist Fellowship
I recently turned 50, and the day of my birthday was a comedy of errors, what I would call a real "Uff da" day, due in part to my own clumsiness (a large cup of hot coffee spilled on a new shirt) and forgetfulness (a dinner date forgotten). I took these episodes to be omens of all that is to come, signs of my aging self, the beginning of all things "going south," with gravity eventually getting the best of me. Though the words "gravity" and "grave" come from different etymological backgrounds, they both have to do, ultimately and literally, with coming down to earth. And in the end, I reminded myself, I, too, will be ashes and dust. A little melodramatic, perhaps, for a 50th birthday, but accurate, nonetheless.
Today I had a different attitude as I walked outside to witness northeast Iowa in all its springtime glory. It was an emerald Oz, and birdsong was a din at dawn. I breathed in the scents of overturned earth and blossoms of all kinds and I considered the miracle of a seed, planted deep in the "ashes and dust," a great reminder of life forever, the kind of eternal life that is very much down to earth. I thought about my birthday melodrama and took heart in the message of the seed, that remarkable little natural gizmo.
I was amazed to learn that in 2005 some Israeli researchers successfully germinated a sapling date palm from seeds that were 2,000 years old, the oldest seeds ever brought back to life, found in an archaeological site. Given ideal storage conditions, sorghum grains can remain viable for 20,000 years! Imagine a life so resilient that it can lie dormant as long as 20,000 years and still burst forth from that hard little coffin. What a powerful statement about the persistence of life!
Not so with us humans. We are not built to last like a grain of sorghum. We are far less hardy, and we become ever more conscious of that fact as we age, become infirm, lose our faculties, face the reality of gravity. It is a time when faith-however we define it in our various religious traditions-seems to become ever more precious.
I am reassured by the humble example of the seed, an example Jesus was fond of and one that fits my own rural roots. Death doesn't need to be "the Enemy," or a punishment, or something to fight against; it can be something to embrace as a beautifully designed means for the earth to renew itself. Though the challenges of aging, the reality of human frailty, and the inevitability of "gravity" frustrate all of us, there is good reason to look at a seed and remember that from the "ashes and dust" of our human remains comes the perpetual transformation of life, the new life coming from death. Beyond our individual life on earth we may believe there are other great things -- a bodily resurrection or a heavenly life in a hereafter, perhaps. But we will always participate in "life forever" as the seeds of new life spring from what we leave in the earth when we give back our breath to the wind. It is a good thing to be home, "down to earth."
Pete Seeger, another Unitarian Universalist, expresses
this faith so beautifully in his song "To My Old Brown Earth":
To my old brown earth, and to my old blue sky
I'll now give these last few molecules of I.
And you who sing, and you who stand nearby:
I do charge you not to cry.
Guard well our human chain.
Watch well you keep it strong
As long as sun will shine.
And this our home, keep pure and sweet and green,
For now I'm yours and you are also mine.