Ash Wednesday and Memento Mori

Posted by stpauls on February 25, 2009 under Sermons | Be the First to Comment

During the height of Roman rule, the Roman Empire and all connected to it seemed to be invincible. Roman armies conquered nations that some had never even heard of. In ancient Europe, Roman roads connected people from one corner of the “world” to another. Roman trade provided for income, economic growth and luxury that earlier generations could not imagine. Roman law ruled over people too many to count. Rome operated on a scale that could only be termed in superlatives. There was nothing that seemed to threaten Rome’s power. There was nothing that seemed to endanger the privileges of Roman citizens. There was nothing that seemed to jeopardize the wealth and status of Rome. To top it all off, the Roman Emperor was seen as invincible, as a god living among mere mortals.

Yet, even during these times of experienced superiority, there were moments that put question marks around the supposed omnipotence of the Empire: When a Roman general – after a victory for the Empire – was parading through the streets of Rome, a slave would be standing behind him, holding a Laurel Wreath above his head for all to see the general’s power – and the power of Rome. Into the ear of the general, however, the slave would whisper: “Respice post te! Hominem te esse memento!” – “Look behind you. Remember that you are but a human!” Or, sometimes the slave would be even more crass and would just say: “Memento mori”- “Remember that you are mortal!”

When a general and his army were drunk with victory, when they seemed invincibile, the slave’s role was clear: Remember that you are a mere mortal, that one day, you will have to die. Remember that you cannot add a single hour to the span of your life¹. Remember that you are not all-powerful, not almighty, not everliving. Remember that even the mighty Roman Empire can fall.

And it did. Eventually, the armies of the Empire could not hold back the rage beyond its borders. Eventually, the wealth and luxury could not be maintained. Eventually, it all collapsed taking with it a huge human carnage. The Empire did not last for ever.

Memento Mori. Remember that you will die.

Memento Mori. This was a genre of artistic creations that served to remind people of their own mortality. Painters, for example, would add skulls to their pictures. In the Middle ages, churches would erect statues of a man who on the front was young, vibrant, and luxuriously clad, yet from the back was a decaying corpse. The most famous Memento Mori is “the Dance of Death” or Danse Macabre: a painted allegory to remind us all of the universality of death: In the Danse Macabre, skeletons would lead humanity – including emperors, popes, princes, bishops, damsels, merchants, priests, farmers, monks, nuns, beggars, and children – would lead them all to the grave.

Memento Mori. Remember you will die.

Today, we will engage in something that is not dissimilar from Memento Mori. In a short while, I will invite you to receive an ashen cross on your forehead. During the imposition, you will hear these words: Remember that you are dust, and to dust you will return. Eleven simple words that serve the same purpose as the words uttered into the ear of a Roman general: Remember that you are a mere mortal and that one day will be your last.

But, let’s be careful! It would be far too easy to make this a rather morbid and depressing moment in the liturgical life of the church. Can we have one nice Lent for crying out loud?! This is not an occasion where we should be handing out Prozac instead of bread and wine!

The Memento Mori is not an enemy of life, celebrating death for death’s sake. This is not a morbid streak within Christianity, no secret death-wishes. What the Memento Mori is trying to do, and what our Ash Wednesday imposition of ashes is trying to do is this: To counteract any sense that we are in charge; that we are the masters and mistresses of our own life; that we are indeed invincible and can maintain our power bases for all eternity; and that money, success and other worldy goods are the things that matter.

Ash Wednesday and Memento Mori teach us to look for the foundations of our human existence. What the words spoken at the imposition of ashes are trying to do is to turn us away from things that one day will vanish and to re-focus us on what really matters. And on the one thing that really does matter, which is life, the most precious of all the gifts from the Creator. By acknowledging that we are mortal, we acknowledge that life is precious – in both meanings of the word: life is “precious,” because it is fragile and can end at any second. And life is above all “precious,” because it is beautiful, and wonderful, and awesome, and special, and it is to be lived in ways that do not accumulate possessions, that do not focus on success as the world defines it, and that do not wait for the big fulfillment in the future or even in a life hereafter. Life is indeed a precious gift from God to be celebrated with gusto and to be embraced with intent.

This is why I believe God became one of us in Jesus Christ. The incarnation, God’s coming into human flesh, validates the preciousness of the human experience as it embraces human life, as it embraces even human death. Both our lives and our deaths do not remain God-less anymore. Both our lives and deaths matter to God. And both our lives and deaths should honour the one who was willing to live and die as one of us.

Today, we acknowledge that God is with us, both in our living and in our dying. Today, we are reminded that we cannot just go on as if our lives or as if the lives of those around us do not matter. Today, we acknowledge that God is in control and that life, this most precious gift from God, is to be lived in such a way that it celebrates the Creator, that it celebrates all of creation and all creatures great and small, and that it celebrates life itself.

We live, yet again, in times that are uncertain, that are scary and that cause much pain around the world. We are in the midst of the demise of yet another empire, and God only knows when this will end. But as Christians we cannot just turn away, stick our heads in the sand, and ignore the responsibilities we have for the preciousness and the beauty of life all around us. We know that the world’s power cannot claim us forever. It has no eternal power. It is dust, and to dust it will return. Our God, though, has overcome death and has gifted us each with life in all its beauty. As we begin this journey of Lent, let us not give up on this beauty, let us not give up on life, and let us not give up on God. Let us remember instead that life is God’s precious gift, and that God is with us, in life, in death, and beyond our death.

[Reverend Markus Duenzkofer delivered this sermon on Ash Wednesday, February 25, 2009.]
Footnote 1 cf. Matthew 6.27