We Are But Dust
When I sit down to create a clay vessel on the potter’s wheel, I am often reminded how this simple, unassuming material is the foundational substance of my being.
As I ponder, the Judeo-Christian creation story comes to mind. Genesis 2:7, NRSV states, “Then the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the man became a living being.” This is the first moment in which God reached down and physically formed something into existence. The Hebrew word “formed” is translated to mean a potter pressing clay.
As a potter, this holds special significance to me, as I physically wrestle with clay to form pots. My own creative acts making earthen vessels are reflections pointing me towards God’s act of making humankind. I ponder the meaning of being formed by God, the Potter and His hands; I ponder clay’s transformation through the hot breath of fire in the kiln as it mirrors God’s breath of life; and then, finally, what it means to be made alive in Him as the scriptures point out.
Forming the Clay
In the first part of Genesis 2:7, God forms mankind out of the earth: “Then the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground...”—The prophet Isaiah specifically says this is like a potter forming a vessel out of clay: “Yet, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand” (Isaiah 64:8, NRSV).
I have dwelled on this prophetic verse while forming pots in my studio over the last five years. I continually strive in my practice to understand God’s creative spirit and to learn what it means to commune with Him as a potter. Sitting down to the potter’s wheel with a lump of clay, I can see a divine connection between the works of my hands and the divine creative action of my Creator. Clay at this stage has a magical quality to it. It is one of the few natural materials that moves, bends, and moulds with each push and pull of my hands. The centrifugal force of the potter’s wheel keeps each motion of my hands in balance as the vessel’s form is carved in the air. In my practice no two vessels are made exactly alike, each vessel has its own subtle movement and bend. When I read, “God formed”— I think about our Creator taking His time forming each one of us by hand. He formed each one of our bodies specifically and intentionally; no two of us are exactly alike. The potter’s vocabulary provides a tangible connection to our human bodies. Potters use words like “foot” to describe the bottom of a pot, “belly” to capture the swell of the middle of vessel, and “shoulder” or “neck” to talk about the transition of the middle of the form to the rim. The words we use to describe our body of work are the same which we use to describe ourselves.
Breathing Life
In the second part of the verse, we learn that “…God breathed into his nostrils the breath of life…” I liken this part of the story to when my pots are transformed by fire. Clay has to go through several stages before it can be fired in the kiln. Clay, when it is freshly thrown on the potter’s wheel, is moldable. This is partly due to how the clay captures water in its bonds. But as the water vapor begins to escape, the clay becomes stiff or “leather hard.” As the moisture continues to evaporate, the clay transforms into something hard and brittle. Any little tap could potentially crack or break the pot. Clay must reach this vulnerable state in order to be changed into something like stone and glass through the transformative effects of fire.
When I read, “God breathed,” I imagine God’s breath like the flame in a kiln. The kiln takes this earthen clay pot, full of potential and possibility, and alters it into something permanent, solid, and enduring for all time.
Photograph by Marie Verdenius
The fire is what breathes life into the pot. Similarly, without God’s breath of life, I would just be an earthen vessel that cannot fulfill its purpose. My potential is untapped; my use to the creator unmet. It is through fire that the work is realized in its fullness. And there are times when a single firing is not enough for a work to be finished. But that is for another time.
Alive in Him
The last part of this verse tells us that after God formed us and breathed His spirit, “…the man became a living being.” We are made alive through the acts of God’s hands and breath. The Apostle Paul talks about man being an earthen vessel in 2 Corinthians 4:7, NRSV: “But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us.” Paul shows us that we are created by Him to be like Him, in all ways.
Clay has no power to mould itself or decide when it has become the perfect pot. In my studio practice, I alone determine whether a pot is done. I choose to say to this one, “you are good enough” or to that one, “you need to go back into the fire for you are not finished yet.” When I create, I choose whether a pot will live in my kitchen cupboards or rest on a pedestal in the middle of a gallery. One is used for ordinary purposes, and the other for special.
The realization that I am partnering with the work of my Creator when I make these earthen vessels humbles me. The Creator reminds me of this in His own words when He sends His work out from the garden: “By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” (Genesis 3:19, NRSV).
This is my reminder of what I am without my Creator. Without His breath to give me life, I am but dust. My body is made of the same material that I make a coffee mug out of. This physical body is an impermanent vessel that will one day be gone. But in Him, and through Him, I receive the fulfilment of a vessel that fulfills a purpose. His breath gives me life. His presence completes my being. So that when my body returns to this earth, my spirit that received from His spirit will endure for all of time. My Creator forms the dust of this earth and breathes life into it. I am complete in the hands of my Father, for He is the Potter and I am the clay.
Eric Ordway
Sculptor & Professor
Photography by Oliver Tomlinson