Ashes

Not to get morbid, by any means, but yesterday’s look at dust tempted me to look more closely at a close relative of that, as in “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” The phrases is too well known to need much explanation, but its source is interesting. No, it doesn’t come from the King James version of the Bible, or at least not word-for-word. The phrase appears in the Book of Common Prayer. Ashes and dust, however, are linked in three Old Testament verses (Genesis 18:27, Job 30:19, Job 42:6) and always in the same context. That’s what we—or at least our physical we’s—are.

Much of my adult life I spent in the study of technology. Today’s noodling reminded me once more that no subject is exhaustible. I discovered a technology I’d never heard of before, cremulation. It is the final stage of cremation. After bodies are burned in refractory-brick-lined retorts—using, these days, natural gas and propane; we’re energy-consuming even as corpses!—what remains is bone fragments and ash. If the corpse had a pace-maker installed, it is first removed. It has been found that such a device can produce explosions that damage the furnace: a clash of technologies. The remains are then gathered and ground to a powder in the cremulator. It is just a grinder, of course, but interesting to note that after we’ve long fled this vale of tears, the grind keeps going on.

So what is left? Wikipedia’s article on this subject (link) tells me, citing and article in the Journal of Forensic Sciences, that adult women leave on average a residue weighing 4 pounds, men 6 pounds. So much for our average gravitas.

I might use this occasion to note that Catholicism permits cremation but evidently with a great lack of enthusiasm. The grounds for this arise from the Christian view of the body as the temple of the Holy Spirit and belief in the resurrection of the body. The Church lifted the ban on cremation in 1963. Certain restriction apply. The funeral mass must be held with the body present; cremation may then follow. The Church frowns on such practices as scattering the ashes and holds that these must be interred. For more, see this article from the American Catholic (link).

The largest Catholic Church near us is St. Paul on the Lake. On its grounds resides a quite extensive columbarium  (link). That word means dove-cote, and columbaria have small niche-sized but sealed places where ashes are held. That columbarium is a favorite destination for Brigitte and me, the weather permitting. We sit on benches there, silence all around us, surrounded by the ashes of those departed.

Communing With Future Colleagues

Last September I posted some pictures of a large columbarium associated with St. Paul’s Catholic Church in Grosse Pointe, Michigan. The pictures are here and here. I discovered the meaning of the word, columbarium, and its use for ceteries, at that time: a “dovecote for the ashes of the dead.” St. Paul’s columbarium is on the extreme eastern edge of our suburban area. It is nearly on the shores of Lake St. Claire—and over there the dim dark line visible beyond the blue-grey waters is Canada. By that time, of course, I’d already encountered a much smaller columbarium at the opposite side of the Pointes, as we call these towns around here (Grosse Pointe Park, Grosse Pointe, Grosse Pointe Farms, Grosse Pointe Shores). The extra e’s come from the French. The French settled this area and also named the big city here d’Étroit—the city of the strait.

The other day I happened to carry a camera as I once more passed by Grosse Pointe Congregational Church and stopped for a moment to commune with people who would relatively soon be my future colleagues. While taking some pictures of this small columbarium, I also discovered an old marker stone for the Jefferson Avenue Baptist Church right next to the mini-cemetery, almost as if it marked the presence of a “dearly departed.” Curiously, Jefferson Avenue is where St. Paul’s columbarium is actually located. History is tangled here. I assume that the Baptist Church, once on the shores of Lake St. Claire, had later built a new structure more inland—and that the structure had later been passed into the care of the Congregational Church. But the elders of that church had kept the original marker stone and made room for it among the dead. The rest in images: