Photograph by Mitchell Luo via Unsplash

One of the things that I find so perplexing as a pastor is that people seem to be afraid of talking about death. It’s almost that, if we talk about this reality, it will make it realer and more tangible. We seem to be living in a death-denying culture. There is probably no better touchstone for this than the fact that billionaires are racing to find treatments that can preserve them in a state of perpetual youth, even as the average life expectancy hit a 25-year low in the United States in 2021 and has only slightly increased since then.

According to a 2024 survey for the National Funeral Directors Association, about 27% of adults are afraid to talk about death, and a further 31% are uncomfortable with simply pondering their own mortality. There is some good news, however, as we age, we get more comfortable with talking and thinking about death, with Baby Boomers leading the pack in their comfort levels with the topic.

Our present approach to death is in sharp contrast to one of my favorite stories from the Roman Empire. At a great triumphal entry of a conquering army into the Eternal City, there was someone placed in the chariot with the honored dux to whisper in their ear, “memento mori (remember, you will die).” Even in the midst of greatness, pomp, and enduring victory, the reality remains that it is all fleeting. We are here for a moment, and then we cease.

It is also in opposition to Ash Wednesday, which presents us as Christians with perhaps our boldest reminder that death is an unavoidable part of our life cycle. When someone puts ashes on our foreheads and says, “remember you are dust and to dust you shall return,” they are saying an ancient truth, but it is also a simple fact. We were created from earth, and when we die, our matter will return to the earth, enriching it. If there is any point of hope in the above survey, it is that millennials and Gen Z are both increasingly interested in green burials that make tangible this spiritual reality.

Once a year we hear this message proclaimed and even mark it on our bodies, and it strikes me that this is the perfect antidote to our present culture. It speaks plainly about what is to come for us; it pulls no punches. It is able to do so precisely because it comes from a time when death was unavoidable. It seems possible to run from death in some ways in our modern moment, but there were not many avenues to escape its grasp in the Middle Ages or Late Antiquity. It was easier to speak plainly about something that could not be forestalled.

While there is no doubt about what era I’d prefer to live in, a frank assessment of our mortality might be just what we need in the present era, or at least that’s what I’ve benefited from over the years. Being reminded that we only have one life to live has helped me align my beliefs and values with the present moment. In short, it’s a mistake to think that pondering our own mortality is morose; when we realize that our time here is short, it’s an invitation to assess what we most value and orient ourselves to pursue it. Memento mori is more about living in this life than it is pondering the next one. Ironically, the much-lampooned phrase “Yolo!” is unavoidably right on this account.

Ash Wednesday reminds me where I’m going every year, and more than that, it makes me ponder where I am right now and whether I’m making the most of the time I have before me. That’s an invitation to discipleship, and I’m grateful for it. Especially in these trying times, it might be exactly the message we need to hear. Are we pursuing the ends that God would have us pursue? Are there better ways to spend our lives than we are currently pursuing? Somehow these questions have more power when someone has just smudged a little ash on your forehead.