Third Sunday of Easter
Temple of Dirt
The clay stretches and thins as it starts to take the shape of a bowl. Hands away, I slow the wheel down to have a look. Levered back against the wheel, getting a better perspective, I see it’s almost there. The bowl needs more volume, and the shape could be a more consistent curve downward toward the narrow base. One last pull. I use a sponge to mop the water out of the base, then upcycle the water inside the portion of the bowl that needs expansion. The bowl will sink a little bit as the clay thins further and takes the final shape. The sponge and a wooden straightedge give the burnished look that makes the clay look silken, even if it still feels more mud. Running the cut-off wire under the base, the pot separates from the wheel to rest on the drying rack.
A heavy hand, a bubble in the clay, even a clumsy wind is enough to spoil any vessel at any moment, but it’s just dirt. The star-stuff that everything is made of, that received God’s life-giving wind, it’s all just dirt. We are just dirt.
The time and dedication necessary to craft the beautiful vessel, to be a servant to our neighbors and enemies, to follow The Good Shepherd—they are all made of delicate moments and gentle care in the midst of constant, even violent, entropy. We will all suffer pain; the stones of our lives may fall and break on one another until it seems there is nothing that will give us life again. And yet the dirt that we were made of can be lifted up again, because we believe that a life of service to one another is enough to make a temple of everyone.
Andrew Craver, pastor, Rural Hall Moravian Church,
Rural Hall, North Carolina