"Remember, Man, that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."
Such are the familiar words of the ceremony, as the priest or deacon traces the ashes on the faithfuls' foreheads. Memento, homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem revertis. "Remember that you are mortal," the slave used to whisper in the ear of the triumphator even as he was hailed as a god by the Roman crowds for his victories.
Even today, there are those who seek to deny this fundamental truth of human existence. The alchemists and sorcerers now wear lab coats, the philosopher's stones replaced by centrifuges and smoking draughts replaced by enzymes. And yet it's the same misdirected imperative — the desire to live longer rather than live better.
Such are the familiar words of the ceremony, as the priest or deacon traces the ashes on the faithfuls' foreheads. Memento, homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem revertis. "Remember that you are mortal," the slave used to whisper in the ear of the triumphator even as he was hailed as a god by the Roman crowds for his victories.
The hand of the king that the sceptre hath borne;
The brow of the priest that the mitre hath worn;
The eye of the sage, and the heart of the brave,
Are hidden and lost in the depth of the grave.
Even today, there are those who seek to deny this fundamental truth of human existence. The alchemists and sorcerers now wear lab coats, the philosopher's stones replaced by centrifuges and smoking draughts replaced by enzymes. And yet it's the same misdirected imperative — the desire to live longer rather than live better.





