Remember you are dust; I come, I come.
By Allan Roy Andrews
Lent began this week with one of those denominational surprises.
Episcopalians don’t bask in their memories of walking the altar-call path to repentance and forgiveness to the strains of “Just as I am, without one plea,” the 19th-century evangelistic hymn that has become an unofficial anthem of the Billy Graham Crusades (Text by Charlotte Elliott, 1789-1871, and music by William B. Bradbury, 1816-1868) .
Nevertheless, we sang all six stanzas of the hymn as the hundred or so Ash Wednesday evening parishioners sauntered down the aisle to the altar rail and knelt to have a cross of burnt palm branch residue streaked across our foreheads and be reminded: “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”
Back in the pew as the music and the imposition of ashes continued, I read carefully the words of the hymn. “I come, I come.” The credo of “I believe,” is overwhelmed by the venio of movement—“I come”--toward the altar. The verb come is repeated 13 times in the singing of the six stanzas in The Hymnal of the Episcopal Church; the 13th sneaks in describing the bidding of the savior.
But the gracious wonder resides in how I come: Just as I am. No garments of morality; no sacrifice of doves or chocolate denial; no sackcloth; no swollen or scarred knees; no promises or pleas on my tongue; no because clauses; no self-assertions.
Just as I am: unemployed, underemployed, bought out by bonuses, crushed by balloon payments; fighting off the creditors; avoiding the turn to Chapter Nine; rescuing the resume; remembering unreturned favors; thinking seriously about ebay; mining for a family nest-egg.
Just as I am: Joining others who recognize their dust-ness. I come. I come.
