Love Holds Us Still
Table Talk
Setting the Table
You are welcome here. The Spirit of God is gifting you great joys in little things. May your eyes and your body soften for a few moments to receive the wonders of being fully present.
Take a moment to consider the beauty that comes with acknowledging the transformative vulnerability of our own mortality.
“What if I stopped thinking [of mortality] as something that needs to be numbed, fixed, dodged, and protected against? What if I tried to honor its presence in my body, to welcome it into the present?”
- Suleika Jaoad, Between Two Kingdoms
Genesis 3:19b
…you are dust,
and to dust you shall return.
Food for Thought
The community I co-pastor, Emmaus Way, did something surprising. We curated a worship series on death this past fall. What makes this surprising? Well, besides the fact that our society often runs from death, our community isn’t regularly confronted with death – we’re composed of one hundred folks under fifty-five, ten folks in their sixties, and one nonagenarian.
We spent six weeks intentionally, albeit shakily at first, bearing witness to one another’s fragile bodies and welcomed mortality into the present. We embraced Jan Richardson’s assertion that, “Life will continually lay us bare, sometimes with astonishing severity.” We also held onto her understanding to see what is most elemental in us, what endures: the love that cannot be destroyed, the love that is most basic to who we are. Each week, as we let death and mortality draw near, we more fully trusted that drawing near to death means drawing near to love, too.
It was not an easy space to enter, and yet, week after week, our people kept coming. As one of our interns said, “I’m honestly surprised everyone is still here!” Being a part of a community willing to settle into the often painful, mysterious reality that we are dust and to dust we shall return – as well as come alongside the mutual solidarity of a God who intimately knows death – changed us.
Since this series happened in the fall, we didn’t partake in the dusty ashes of an Ash Wednesday, but we did partake in our weekly practice of coming around God’s Open Table – the eucharist. As we came around the Open Table, we remembered that at the first Open Table long ago, Jesus gave us a communal practice to not only remember one another in life, but also to remember each other in death. As we broke bread and poured wine for one another, we found a wide welcome in being able to bring our whole selves – not just our life, but also the death, mortality, and the dust composing who we are. At the Open Table, we bore witness to the transformative vulnerability that comes from welcoming one another’s mortality into the present, remembering that in life and in death – God remembers, we remember, love holds us still.
Ash Wednesday is the time in the church year when we are most clearly invited to welcome mortality, our very deaths, into the present. As Emmaus Way did throughout our death series and especially around the Open Table, when we come to the ashes this Ash Wednesday, we’re given the space to bring our whole, dying, mortal, fragile selves to God and to one another without fear. No matter how we show up on Ash Wednesday, no matter what we’re feeling, dreading, or hoping, no matter if our congregation is young or old, no matter if we’re running from death or sitting with it like an old, worn friend, as the dusty ash is marked upon our foreheads and we hear from dust you came and to dust you shall return, may we trust this intimate truth, too: in life and in death, God remembers, we remember, love holds us still.
Ash Wednesday can be a time of remembering our own finitude. What is something you hope to be remembered for? Who has inspired your heart toward that hope? Remember them and how their story shapes your own. Write down one way you plan to live more fully toward (or in hope of) your own remembrance.
Our “Love Holds Us Still” Journaling Page provides seven daily thoughts of reflection and journaling prompts that tie back into this week’s story. You can print it, forward it to a friend, use it as inspiration for your own journaling practice (or group conversations), or maybe just use it as food for thought in your own quiet time!
For a printable version of today's reflection Click Here!
Blessing
Creator of our creaturehood,
Show us how to turn toward this seeming void of death
with honesty,
with hands to hold,
with hope against hope that you are a God who remembers,
with assurance that no depth has ever been unfit for your love.
- Katie Mangum, adapted from “A Litany for Life and Death”
A little Table Talk for your table...
Consider your particular feelings that surround the idea of mortality, yours and others. Share those together as a group or take a few moments to journal about them.
How does openly discussing death change your feelings about it?
What do you think it means for us to “remember one another in death”?
Try taking it to the Kids Table...
Teach your child about the meaning and traditions of Ash Wednesday.
Ask your kiddo something they would like to be remembered for.
If you need a little help talking to your children about death, together watch the classic episode of Sesame Street that honors the passing of Mr. Hooper.Meet Our Welcoming Voice!
Meet Our Welcoming Voice!
Molly Brummet Wudel has been fortunate to pastor Emmaus Way, a quirky, progressive community, in Durham, NC since 2015. When not pastoring, she and her spouse, James, are attempting to keep up with their very active toddler, George Eden, and their slightly less active, very old pup, Greta.
To hear more from Molly throughout the week, follow along on our Instagram!
Here are Five Things to Remember When Setting Your Own Welcome Table!