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A theological reflection in death and funeral – Dr Lutz Ackermann (Polokwane)
Prologue
At the last session of synod (19 June) of the Diocese of St Mark the Evangelist we spent a substantial
about of time discussing a motion concerning the liturgy used for funerals and, in particular, the phrase
'ashes to ashes, dust to dust' as used in the alternative paragraphs 27 / 28 on page 542 of the Anglican
Prayer Book 1989 (APB). These words, traditionally used in funeral liturgies, in the opinion of the
movers did not harmonize well with a Christian understanding of death, dying and especially with the
hope fore resurrection, that the liturgy also so clearly speaks of.
While the motion failed, the Bishop Martin Breytenbach commented in his closing words on the
discussion that it had revealed a need to address the understanding and theology of death / dying and
funeral / burying. Personally, I took that as a challenge to theological minds to apply themselves and
tackel some of the thorny issues at stake. After all, for Anglicans the liturgy (i.e. The Prayer Book) is,
as it has often been said, a mayor resource and deposit of doctrine. “You want to know, what we believe
about xyz? Well, the APB says...”
To be honest, I don't quite feel up to the job I have set before myself. Requiring aspects of practical
theology (liturgical issues), systematic theology (dogmatics) as well and scripture studies as a lot of
experience I feel less than well equipped at the current stage. So let the following be understood as an
attempt, a first draft to move into a discourse which might take us further at a later stage. If it can
trigger some thoughts, raise some questions, lead to some light being shed in those with abler
theological minds – that would be all I can expect.
Introduction
Death and dying mark a very important stage of transition in the life of Christians. First they are
experienced in others, but as one's beloved depart one is reminded of one’s own mortality, of the fact
that it is the lot of each and every human being to die one day. Humans are the only creatures that can
and do actively reflect on this fact and, looking at the origins of religiosity in the early staged of our
species, burial rites play an important part in the formation of a metaphysical interpretation of life and
death.
Theologically this means that we are dealing with at least three issues, here: firstly the sense of loss
(and even trauma) caused by bereavement in those who were close to the departed; secondly, the effect
of death as the “final stage” (or not?) in common human awareness, i.e. personal eschatology. And,
thirdly, the communal dimension of death and dying, in other words, its role in the life of the church as
a sensemaking body. Trying to address at least some of the questions involved in an adequate way will
require a broad and comprehensive approach, which should include (at the very least) the following
aspects: “What can we say on the basis of scripture?” “What can we say from a liturgical vantage
point”, “How do we experience and interpret death on the background of our culture” and “How does it
fit together, theologically”. I will address these, each in turn, now.
Biblical reflection
If one wanted to trace all the bible has to say about human life and human death, books could be filled.
I would like to narrow the focus considerably, therefore, on the phrase in question, “ashes to ashes, dust
to dust”. Where do they come from and what do they mean in a biblical context?
The clearest connection to the formula used in funerals can be established to Gen 3:1419, where
YHWH pronounces the verdict (curse) first over 'the snake' (v14), then over 'the woman' (v15 / 16) and
finally over 'the man' (v1719) . Both the first and the last of these curses contain a reference to the
'dust' (Heb. 'aphār); but while 'dust' as 'serpents food' (v14) need not concern us further, the reference to
dust (soil) / ground in verses 1719 are of eminent importance to our discussion:
3:17 And unto Adam he said, Because thou hast hearkened unto the voice of thy wife,
and hast eaten of the tree, of which I commanded thee, saying, Thou shalt not eat of it:
cursed is the ground ['adāmāh] for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of
thy life;
3:18 Thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee; and thou shalt eat the herb of
the field;
3:19 In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground
['adāmāh] ; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust ['aphār] thou art, and unto dust ['aphār]
shalt thou return. (KJV)
Here in etiologicalmythological form we are told, why life (earning a living) is so hard, in agricultural
terms. At the same time, this text reflects upon the lowly substance1 of man (read: humans), both in his
(add: her) origin and his / her destiny: dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return. This picks up a
motif from the second creation account (Gen 2:5ff), where YHWH “formed man of the dust ['aphār] of
the ground ['adāmāh], and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.”
(2:7) In a sense, 'the man' (human being), Adam, taken from haˉ'adāmāh is presented to us as an
“earthling”, a “creature of the earth”. While this, on the one hand expresses a deep sense of
connectedness of the human being with the earth / soil from which s/he obtains his / her food and
sustenance, there is certain ambiguity that lies in the identification of humans as earthbound creatures:
after all, Cain the murderer, was by profession “a tiller of the ground ['adāmāh]” (4:2) 2. Neither Gen
3:1719 nor the story of the brothers (Gen 4) speak of a comfortable relationship between the “earth
creature” and the earth / ground / soil. It is ambivalent and full of strive and toil. A similar tension can
be felt in other places, where Gods as the Creator and the mortality of humans are contrasted3:
1 A connection, which is also reflected in the etymologies of words stemming from the Latin “humus” (earth): humor,
humility, humus, and human!
2 [aside: Which, by the way Luther correctly translates in his German bible as “Ackermann”]
3 Compare also Ps 103: 816
“Before you created the hills // or brought the world into being
you were eternally God // and will be God forever
You tell us to return to what we were // you change us back to dust
A thousand years are to you like one day
they are like yesterday already gone // like a short hour in the night.
(Ps 90: 24, Good News Bible)
There are other places in the Old Testament, where the ‘dust’ ['aphār] is associated with death (Job
17:16, 21:2326), primarily as the place of rest for the dead. Ecclesiastes 3:1821 stresses the way in
which humans are, in this respect, not different from other animals “all are of the dust, and all turn to
dust again” (3:21). That is not surprising, because like ‘Adam’ they are formed out of the ground (Gen
2:19), a clear sign of God’s economy in God’s ecology. As their beginning so is their end, and
“[t]hen shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return unto God
who gave it.” (Eccl 12:7).
These insights from scripture can point us in two directions. One is the indeed rather somber –
memento mori that resounds in Sirach4 7:40 “In all thy works remember thy last end, and thou shalt
never sin.” and in Ps 90:12: “So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto
wisdom.” The awareness of mortality here dynamically links back to the way one lives in the here and
now.
But the other hand the “earthenness” of humans that was touched upon earlier does not need to be
seen as something negative in a biblical context. That is not, what we find in Gen 2:7, and certainly not
in Ps 139:15: “My substance was not hid from thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought
in the lowest parts of the earth.” This has a very warm and positive sound, especially when read in
conjunction with the earlier verse 13 (“…thou hast covered me in my mother's womb.”) Maybe it the
fear of death, much more than the biblical testimony, which lets the formula “ashes to ashes, dust to
dust” appear so threatening to some? Maybe, if we would rather start embracing our nature as one of
“earthen vessels” (2 Cor 4:7) we could see ourselves as one with the rest of God’s creation, not only in
death but already in life. Only then, I believe, we should join in the more triumphant biblical message
of Daniel 12:2: “And many of them that sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting
life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt.”
Liturgical reflection
Does it make sense, liturgically, to bury our departed with the words “ashes to ashes, dust to dust”?
{one should here trace back the prereformation roots, too. I am fairly sure, they go back to much
earlier times – and to a Latin equivalent}
In the Common Book of Prayer of 16625 we find tis prayer:
4 Apocryphal, also called Ecclesiasticus (not Ecclesiastes!); sometimes deviating verse counting: 7:40 or 7:36!
5 http://www.eskimo.com/~lhowell/bcp1662/occasion/burial.html , accessed 3 Sept 2009
“FORASMUCH as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself
the soul of our dear brother here departed, we therefore commit his body to the ground;
earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the
Resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ; who shall change our vile
body, that it may be like unto his glorious body, according to the mighty working,
whereby he is able to subdue all things to himself.”
Clearly, the current prayers, section 27 and 28 (page 542 of APB) take this as their model. While both
contain the central (and contested) words “we [...] commit his/the body [...] to the ground; earth to
earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust”, the former retains the reference to Christ's resurrection, while the
later picks up the eschatological component of the original formula6.
These prayers are part of the “committal” which, according to the general rubrics “may immediately
follow the funeral in the church only when the body is to be cremated. Otherwise the Committal takes
place at the grave [...]” (APB p528). In this liturgical act a twofold thing happens: the Church commits
the deceased as a dead body to the ground; simultaneously she commits the deceased as a human
person7 to the living God; and both of these are connected, deliberately so, one would think.
The Prayer Book speaks about the “solemnity” of a funeral: “For there is natural human sadness at
parting from one who is loved (see John 11:35). There is also the sobering reminder that for every one
of us death is inescapable, as is the certainty of judgment.” (from the Preface, APB p525) It further
explains that “[a]n assertion of faith in the resurrection life which leaves no room for grief or which
ignores the fact of death and certainty of judgment does no service to those who mourn, even if it
spares their feelings for the time being.” (APB, p526)
From this vantage point one would tend to say that the formula “ashes to ashes” does make sense as
part of the funeral rites. Not only does it reflect the “fact of death” in the irreversible transformation of
a living body into dead, inorganic8 substance (which, for the mourner may be an important pointer to
reach a sense of closure); but it also emphasizes the aspects of solemnity, inescapability and judgment.
While these, clearly cannot be the only (maybe not even the main) focus of a Christan Funeral, and
while they certainly need to be counterbalanced by the reference to our glorious hope; they certainly do
have their place.
But a liturgical justification for using the contested phrase can also be found in other parts of Anglican
liturgy. The most obvious intertextual connection, of course, would be to the Ash Wednesday service.
At the beginning of the Lent / Holy Week / Easter cycle stands this act of penitence. The symbolic
action of the laying on of ashes, which accompanies it, is preceded by the words
“Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.” (section 7, APB, p163)
6 although instead of linking it to the implicit reference to Phil 3:21 (“ he is able to subdue all things
to himself”) it “commends him to the just and merciful Judgment” of the Lord.
7 Could we say “as an ancestor” in Africa?
8 I am using the word “inorganic” here not in a strict chemical sense but more or less as synonymous with “inanimate”.
which are then repeated immediately after this act (sect 8, APB p164). Obviously one would miss an
important dimension of the meaning of this ceremonial without knowing the implicit reference to
Funeral Rite9.
Finally we can go right into the center of the Eucharistic Service: as the elements of bread an wine are
brought to the altar and prepared, the celebrant speaks over them a Christianized bracha, specifying the
bread as that “which earth has given and human hands have made” (APB 116, emphasis mine). The
“grain of wheat” from which the bread is made can, according to John 12:24, only bring its fruit when
“it is dropped into the ground”. I can hardly imagine a more positive basis for a Christian earth
spirituality that sees the human being / the grain / bread / the Christ / the ground/earth as closely
connected, both in life and death.
Cultural reflection
If we talk about culture, we need to ask: which culture? Is it the [western] culture of modernity (or even
postwhatever)? Is it the African culture? Can we (especially in South Africa) separate them? Let's
quickly try to look at each of them in turn and ask: From a cultural point of view, does “ashes to ashes,
...” make any sense?
In the framework of a modern, scientific GodLifeandWorldview we can say: in a universe that
consists mostly of hydrogen and helium (which is pretty boring stuff), our home planet earth provides
such interesting elements as oxygen and carbon (and a couple of others), that form the basis of organic
life. On the other hand, looking at the cycle of stars, their “birth”, their development and their “death”
we know, where such elements are produced: in the nuclear fire of stars! They literally are the ashes of
stars. It would be scientifically correct to claim that we human beings are made of stardust! While our
scope may be wider than in biblical times – we speak of stars and galaxies and the whole universe, not
just the earth – we can clearly draw the same line of belonging: we are part of this creation and we
remain part of this creation. We share its life and its death.
With respect to African culture {here I need to add some bits on African creation mythologies (e.g.
Bushman), especially human origins from “a hole in the ground”)...}
{Another cultural issue: “ash” conjures up the association of cremation – which many Africans reject}
Theological reflection
How do we speak theologically about death and dying? And does it, in this context, make sense to think
(or speak) of human beings as those who come from and those who return again to earth, ashes, dust?
9 One could draw this line out all the way to the other “end of the liturgical arc” from Ash Wednesday, where the palm
crosses of the previous year are incinerated to produce the ash for the imposition of ashes; all the way to the Easter Vigil,
where another fire is lit, but not one of destruction; one of hope, symbolized in the new light; over this light we sing the
Exultet which brings tu us again very “earthen” images: “Rejoice, o earth, in shining splendor...” (APB p205) How can
this be? Only in the mystery of this special night it can happen, “when heaven is wedded to earth and the world
reconciled to God!” (APB p206)
As we saw above, with respect to human origins we are on good biblical ground in doing so (Gen 2:7).
The human being can understand him/herself as part of creation, as part of the earth. But while the dust
is inanimate, humans like other animals are alive. And beyond that, the cited verse allows us to give yet
another perspective: humans are inspired by the breath of their creator! The one who remains the “Lord
over all the Earth” – even long after an individual human being has died. The “earthenness” of the
human being allows him or her to adopt a sense of belonging: belonging to the earth, belonging to
God’s good creation10. As a “living soul” the human being, however, experiences yet another dimension
of belonging: belonging to the Eternal One, to God. Exactly at this is the theological place for
incarnation. In Christ, God submits himself (or rather “Godself”) to the very process and condition that
human experience: God becomes one of us, made of earth and ash and dust; and: a living soul.
Before continuing this thought it is important to steer clear of the dangers of dualism. Huge is the
temptation (e.g. also in view of certain biblical passages like Eccl 12:7) to split the human being into
parts: the body as an outward enclosure that can be discarded when no longer needed (and which, at
worst can be experienced as “prison” for the soul); and the invisible, inner part, even that “living soul”
(or “spirit” in Eccl 12:7) which makes the human race so “godlike”: little lower than the angels,
crowned with honour and glory (Ps 8:45).
Looking at the history of ideas and the development in theological thought, however, we should be
extremely weary of this danger. While as a mode of speaking (as a metaphor, that is) “body”, “soul” or
“spirit” may well make sense, a lot of confusion can be created by taking them all too literally. One way
of exercising such caution can lie in the way one speaks; instead of saying “Humans have a body and
have a soul” we can say “The human being is a body” (taken from the ground) and “The human being
is a living soul” (inspired by divine breath).
In doing so, we propose a mode of looking at man (woman) in a way that that describes well their life –
and their death. If I can say “I am a mortal human being of body and soul”, I know and accept that one
day I will be no more no more than ashes and dust. And simultaneously, if I can say “I am a divinely
inspired creature of body and soul” I can hope and believe that with the one who is the “firstborn of the
dead” I will be raised to new life.
From what has been said it should also be clear, why dealing with death and dying as Christians can
create a certain tension. On the one hand there is the hope of resurrection, of which we gladly speak.
On the other, there is the continued experience of death. In fact, Oscar Cullman states that this “tension
between ‘already fulfilled’ and ‘not yet consummated’ constitutes the essence of the Christian faith.[…]
the decisive battle has been fought in Christ’s death and Resurrection; only Vday is yet to come.”
It would seem adequate, therefore, to express this tension also at the open grave:
“We now commit his body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust;
in the sure and certain hope of resurrection to eternal life” (sect 27 APB p542)
10 This should not be confused with pantheistic, (neo)Gnostic or neo-heathen ideas underlying e.g. certain forms of Gaia-
cult. A spirituality that will be able to capture this “belonging to the earth” in a truly Christian way could be found in the
Franciscan tradition (see below)
It is not a contradiction to say these two things together. We do not need to deny the reality of death and
the earthenness and dustlikeness of our existence to affirm our hope of life eternal. In fact, the
opposite is the case: only where we acknowledge death as a (sometimes grim) reality, it makes sense to
say: “and yet…because of Christ!”
To move forward from here, from intellectual insights to life itself means translating theology into
spirituality. While I do not intend to do this at any length here, I would like to present a helpful
approach (which had been brought forward at the last session of synod by one of the speakers opposing
the unlucky motion). It is the spirituality of Francis of Assisi that allows him to speak not only of
“Mother Earth, who feeds us and rules us” but also of “Sister Bodily Death, from whose embrace no
living person can escape” (from the Canticle of the Sun). Like friends they are to him; creatures of God
that praise their creator. If death is like a sister to us, we may be scared and even horrified to follow her;
but we will so in the wonderful hope that even death cannot but join in the choir of God’s praise.
{one could here add another theological trajectory, trying to make a connection to Gerald West’s paper
at the Joint Conference on Job 1:21 and his critique of it’s use in funeral services, but that might be a bit
difficult to integrate…}
Conclusion
As a church that confesses and proclaims the faith in “resurrection of the dead” we cannot think of
funerals as something entirely sorrowful and gloomy; but as a church that also believes in the reality of
incarnation, that believes in a Christ who transforms all realities, even that of death (drastically spoken
of in the words “earth … ashes … dust”) we can afford to speak of these realities openly. And they do
hurt; there is no question about that. But they also heal.
While we, as a church commit the dead person to the earth and into God’s hands, we are also, by the
very mentioning of “dust to dust etc”, reminded of our own frailty. May this memento mori become for
us – like for the psalmist – the incentive to “apply our hearts unto wisdom”.And may thus be changed,
not only in the future, in death, but also in the present, while still alive and kicking. As we begin to
understand that we are dust and to dust we shall return, we will be able to see ourselves as belonging:
belonging to the good earth, God’s own creation; belonging to the New Earth that we await; and
belonging to the living God. Then truly, neither death nor life nor anything else can separate us from
the love of God.