Sermon: Genesis and Ash Wednesday
Indigenous laws are rarely invoked on Parliament Hill, but that’s exactly what happened earlier this month when Jody Wilson-Raybould cited core values shaped by a “long line of matriarchs” in front of a House of Commons justice committee.
Wilson-Raybould said, “I come from a long line of matriarchs and I am a truth teller in accordance with the laws and traditions of our Big House. This is who I am and this is who I always will be.” I will be thinking of Wilson-Raybould’s words this week as I share with you about the meaning and practice of the ritual of ashes in our Christian tradition, since I believe that a teachable parallel emerges between the laws of the indigenous Big House and what forms the practice of Ash Wednesday.
The first parallel has us asking, what would it be like if we imagine the church as a Big House? The concept of a Big House is literally a large structure that, in the past, sheltered up to four extended families of a clan. Today, they are a place for ceremonies, decision-making, and discussions. Many indigenous leaders call it their Parliament building. It’s very important, and very sacred. Chief Joseph Robert of the Kwakwaka'wakw Nation said “It’s the place where we come from and it shows our connections to our origins… All of them have genesis stories and from that genesis story we talk about all of the history… we talk about the laws that evolve from that genesis and we talk about the spirituality that is inherent in all of the genesis.”
If those words sound familiar, it’s because the same is so true to the Christian House, the Church. Our history, faith, spirituality, worship and practices have been marked by the genesis story, the creation stories in our Bible. The words of blessing that we use in the ritual of ashes, come from Genesis. In the imposition of ashes, we pick up a bowl of ashes, turn toward a neighbour and mark the cross, slowly, on their forehead, as the other bends to receive it. And as we do, we tell each other, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you will return.” (Genesis 3:19)
Now, my question is this. If the Indigenous Laws that are the foundational truth that builds the Big House and the life of Indigenous people and nations make such a powerful ‘conflict’ with the ways of the world, including politics, corporate power, the wealth of nations and transnational capitalism, then, what ‘conflicts’ do the Christian Genesis story (its use and its understanding) make when it rubs up against the ways of the world?
On Ash Wednesday, we tell one another, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you will return”, and it seems to me that it has become a little trendy these days that some mainline North American churches decide to take the ashes with them when they go out to the streets. In the busy intersection of traffic and people, in the valley of high-rise buildings and between the sound of honks, the clergy in their white robes meet people and bless them and say, memento mori, ‘Remember our universal mortality.’, or 'We all are from the Earth, and we need to resettle our lives to be aligned with the life of the Earth.'
I believe the ritual of ashes, regardless of where it is practiced, potentially has the power to conflict with the laws of capitalism. I say, 'potentially', because I also see the complacency in the way the ritual of ashes is practiced in the sanctuary and shown in the media. (It doesn't seem to be quite right when you google the images of Ash Wednesday and find that with several exceptions, most images show young women receiving the ashes from male clergy, especially non-White young women, or girls (mostly), or boys.
Only a few images show white young men receiving ashes. What these say to me is the issue may not only be the current demographic of North American Catholics, but the historical hierarchy and colonialism of who gives blessings and sanctions and who receives, embedded in religious and Christian rituals for centuries. I believe we should critically reflect on how we have practiced our tradition before we give out the ashes. Christian rituals need to be rethought and recreated to become less patriarchal, decolonizing, more democratic and good for children.
I imagine that a good ritual is like a big spider who weaves their home with their own organic elements and authentic skills, building something fragile and strong, knowing that a careless world can break it, yet always willing to rebuild. The liturgy of Ash Wednesday is still beautiful like a hungry, female spider. (You don't have to agree with my metaphor! :)) And this spider is willing to create ‘conflict’ with the world (Its sticky web catches what flies into it!) Christian ritual should be an experimental liturgy to offer a full-body experience of God (lungs, thumb, knees, eyes, tongue), not just chatter about God.
The best practice of the ritual of ashes begins with what Amos says, unfurling the scroll. “Let justice roll down like rivers.” On Ash Wednesday, the liturgy continues with the admonition from the prophet Joel: “Return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning.” Then a song of Isaiah’s: “Your holy cities are a wilderness.” The prophet warns his sinful people. “Now pour down, you heavens, from above: and let the skies rain down righteousness.”
Ash Wednesday has an unusual emphasis in Christian liturgy: catastrophe. Massacres, weeping, swords, desolation. These aren’t the kind of events the church usually celebrates. Jewish people might be familiar with making liturgy out of catastrophe, as Jews live, and pray, close to the experience of collective suffering. As Christians, we are more prone to focusing on the positive aspects of faith, ‘personalized faith’, keeping pain private and liturgy uplifting.
However, we still witness and hear the cry of collective suffering in our own country and all over the world and we have to realize that we are part of the worldly system that both causes the suffering and asks us to look away from it. The question Ash Wednesday asks is, “How closely do we want to look?” It is a request to reflect on our sins, which is as risky as asking for the spirit of truth to come. God demands, (in Isaiah) “Is this the kind of fast I have chosen? One day for lying on sackcloth and ashes? Is that what you call a fast, a day acceptable to the Lord? Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter - when you see the naked, to clothe him, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?” To go back to the image of the spider building a web, Ash Wednesday, as one day a year of lying on sackcloth and ashes, would be a pretty flimsy web. Loosing the chains of injustice, setting the oppressed free, breaking the yoke – every day of the year – would be a robust web, beautiful, strong, rebuilt anew every day.
Going back to Genesis, I hope to share one last reflection. “Remember you are dust, and to dust you will return”, is actually the words of one of the five curses God flings at Adam and Eve and the snake after their sin - eating the fruit in the middle of the garden.
Isn’t it interesting that the words of blessing we say to one another as we apply ashes are actually the words of the curses in genesis? The first curse is, the perpetual struggle of the snake to crawl and always be in conflict with the descendants of women. Second, the woman is deemed to be the subject of the man. Third, the woman’s sexual desire will lead to painful childbirth. Fourth, that men will endure hard labour on the land. Fifth. “And at the end of their lives, they will return to the dust from which they were made.” My point is that we really need to critically reflect on our genesis, its implication, how we’ve used it to support patriarchy, control of women’s sexuality, slavery and colonialism, used it as unbridled permission to conquer the world and exploit nature as a raw resource, rather than caring for it as the garden of our origin.
If “Remember you are dust” comes from our genesis, and we know how it has been used in history, we also need to really understand what we mean when we say “Remember you are dust”, especially when we say it to women, people from traditionally non-Christian countries, Indigenous people and children.
Genesis is inherent in our Big House. We need to reflect on how it conflicts with and how it is complacent with the laws of the world. The Good news - the blessing - is, in this story, death is also God’s gift to humanity, so that the harshness of life will find an end. After all, the ritual of ashes affirms the will and determination of our lives. Eve (living, life) and Adam (the earthling) will live on this land in the face of a harsh existence, and Eve will be the mother of life.
The church which arose from those beginnings will always bear the mark of the five curses and the blessing that is still left in their wake; a Big House that is daily rebuilt with repentance, action, and hope.
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