By the sweat of your face you’ll eat your bread, up to the point of turning back toward the dirt.
From the dirt you were conceived (taken, received), indeed to the dirt you will depart.
Genesis 3:19, based on the LXX
Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt.
John Muir
As I prepared to officiate the Ash Wednesday service for a group of faithful followers, I once again was reminded of the Lord God’s words describing (not prescribing) the consequences of the couple’s (and the serpent’s) unfaithfulness in the midst of the garden as captured in Genesis 3.
John Norman
To the serpent, “Upon your belly you shall go, and dust you shall eat all the days of your life.” To the woman, “I will greatly increase your pangs in childbearing.” To the man, “By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”
The first part of the proclamation to the man takes me back to my childhood and, around this time each year, heading to the field with family members to plant the upcoming summer garden.
A few of my extended family still farmed for income (although that number continued to dwindle) but it seemed “all” the Normans had a garden. And we “all” planted at the same time — when Granny Norman said so. This “saying so” included nothing being planted until after Easter, and only then when the “sign was right.”
“We all planted at the same time — when Granny Norman said so.”
To be sure, I did “labor” at this assignment (even as a child), as I dropped “seed potatoes” to the ground with their eyes facing up (another important instruction from Granny) so they could see which way to grow. Mostly though, I played in the dirt with my cousin Joel until every inch of our selves was covered with a veneer of red clay dust — heads, shoulders, knees and toes. And for some unknown reason, especially behind our ears and the backs of our necks.
The importance of this gardening ritual fell flat on me then, but to my Granny Norman, and I assume to others in the family, it was a wonderful reminder of our connection to the land — both in livelihood and in life. We are dirt, plain and simple. And the closer we are to dirt, the more rooted (literally) we are in our understanding of self and in our relationship to God and others (including creation as a whole).
Now, I don’t recall attending an Ash Wednesday service in my youth, and I’m unsure if my family members knew the ritual associated with the imposition of ashes. But they did know their Bibles, and the creation story (stories) at the beginning of Genesis. And they knew the first couple lived in a garden, which produced life out of the dirt.
And that’s where the second part of God’s proclamation to the man comes in, as the part of Scripture from whence the words connected to the service of Ash Wednesday proceed, “From dust you came, and to dust you shall return.”
Death on (or around) a farm isn’t so much talked about as it is observed and experienced. Death is at once a part of life (as cattle and pigs and chickens are slaughtered for food) and the enemy of life (when animals that are a part of the family die and one generation gives way to the next). Death is on the one hand a resting from labor in the arms of Jesus and, on the other hand, a victory for the evil one in the present moment. And death is viewed as departing to be with the Lord forever and at the same time being buried in the earth.
But this story from Genesis isn’t only about dirt and death, ground and grave. It also has to do with what it means to be human and what it looks like to be inhumane.
“This story has to do with what it means to be human and what it looks like to be inhumane.”
As I prepared to officiate that Ash Wednesday service for a group of faithful followers, I was once again reminded of the Lord God’s words describing (not prescribing) the consequences of the couple’s (and the serpent’s) unfaithfulness in the midst of the garden “and” I also was reminded of John 8 and the story of the woman accused of an illicit encounter. I was reminded that Ash Wednesday and Lent aren’t just about mortality and finitude, Ash Wednesday and Lent are also about repentance, forgiveness, reconciliation and personal culpability. And that the story the Gospel of John (and only the Gospel of John) includes a part of the re-creation theme which runs throughout the book (and Easter is viewed as the eighth day of creation).
I won’t take time to retell the whole story but instead invite you to read (or remember) it for yourself. Suffice it to say, Jesus comes walking (presumably) in the morning to the temple (the place where heaven and earth meet) and there is brought to him the woman “caught in adultery.” The woman is made to “stand before all of them.” And suddenly, the eyes (and the weight) of the world are cast upon her.
This is not hyperbole. For the woman, according to Jennifer Bashaw, is a scapegoat. And so it is that here, the stories of John 8 and Genesis 3 overlap.
You will recall in Genesis 3, when God inquires of the man about his whereabouts, the man obliges to tell God of his fear, and his nakedness, and his hiding. When God asks how the man knows all this (did he eat of the tree?), the man assigns blame to the woman (and God for giving him the woman to be with him), who in turn assigns blame to the serpent, thus “passing the buck” of responsibility.
The man scapegoats the woman, the woman scapegoats the serpent. So could it be that the “sin” in the garden isn’t just about the act of disobedience, but also the act of assigning blame for the act of disobedience?
Now back to John 8, where the woman is brought by the scribes and Pharisees and Jesus is asked about her judgment (to test him). But before judgment is meted out there must first be condemnation. And, to me, this is where this story gets very interesting. Instead of at first responding verbally, Jesus (like a good prophet) responds embodied-ly, when he “bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground.”
He stands and issues the “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone” pronouncement. Then, again, “he bent down and wrote on the ground.”
The Greek word used for “ground” here is γῆν. In the New Testament, it also can be translated as “earth,” “land,” “land of” and “soil.” The exact phrase, in both places, is εἰς τὴν γῆν, which is “into the ground.”
Now, although there remains a great deal of uncertainty on whether or not the author of the Gospel of John relied on the Septuagint (Greek translation of the Old Testament) as a resource for scriptural quotations within the Gospel, it is interesting to note that when the Septuagint translates Genesis 3:19, “till thou return unto the ground” the same phrase is used — εἰς τὴν γῆν that is “into the ground.” And even though the next part of Genesis 3:19 in Hebrew (“you are dust and to dust you shall return”) uses another word for “dust” differentiating it from “ground,” the Septuagint continues with the same Greek word, γῆ and γῆν. The second an accusative singular form of the first.
So, what has this to do with anything?
When it comes to “what?” Jesus wrote in the dirt that day, no one knows. But, could it be that when he bent down, stood up and bent down again, he was writing with his finger something akin to what we hear on Ash Wednesday, “From the dust you came, and to dust you shall return?” That, in this instance, with the woman before Jesus and the scribes and Pharisees looking on, those words were not so much a reference to mortality (although that is true too), but that when it comes to sin, we should not lay the blame on someone else? That we shouldn’t blame an individual (or a group) for what is wrong with us, our congregation, our community, our nation, our world? That we shouldn’t scapegoat?
Before Jesus stood up again, little by little, the crowd began to disperse, until “Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him.”
With no one to condemn (not even Jesus), no judgment was necessary. The woman was released, set free to live into the future shaped by this experience with Jesus. Is it any wonder this amazing story is included in the Gospel of John? Isn’t it incredible what can come from the ground? Isn’t it amazing what a little dirt can do?
John I. Norman Jr. serves as director of partnership development at Campbell University Divinity School. During this time of year, you can find him riding one of his Harleys, trout fishing in a mountain stream or playing in the dirt. The views expressed are the author’s alone and do not represent the views of Campbell University.