St. Paul’s United Church                                                                          Sunday, January 13, 2008

 

Til Death Do Us Part – Rev. David Mundy

 

Ecclesiastes 3:1-11                                                                                         John 14: 1-6,18,19, 26

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I spent three years at the University of Toronto training for the ministry and during that time I received a grand total of an hour and a half of practical instruction on how to conduct a funeral. It was akin to showing someone a couple of episodes of ER, then asking them to perform surgery. During my summer internships I got lots of practice leading Vacation Bible School but I didn’t conduct a funeral service.

 

My life experience wasn’t much help either. When I was ordained at the age of 25, I had attended a grand total of one funeral, that for my aged grandmother, whom I did not know well. Believe me, attending a funeral as a teen did not prepare me for a role of leadership.

 

Of course this meant that in the first couple of weeks on my settlement charge in outport Newfoundland I had three funerals. The first death came on the weekend I arrived.  It was an elderly woman whose family was poor by our standards. This meant that she was buried in the simplest casket and she was dressed in her best nightgown, as though she had gone to sleep. There was no funeral coach to go to the cemetery. The casket was hoisted into a pick-up truck and the pallbearers hopped in on the sides for the brief trip.

 

The grave itself was dug by family members, which was the custom at the time.  No Bobcats or backhoes to do the digging. We waded through the blueberries to the grave and I made a mental note never to wear a robe into a cemetery again because it got caught on the bushes. After the committal each person took a handful of dirt – real dirt – and threw it on the casket. No one left until the same gravediggers filled it back in again.

 

During my time in Newfoundland I never stepped through the door of a funeral home. Visitation took place in the churches I served, of which there were five. And the services themselves were always from a church. When people came to pay their respects they had what I thought was the creepy practice of touching the cheek of the deceased with the back of their hand. There was a lot of weeping and wailing all through the process, the louder the better it seemed.

 

The curious thing was that when I returned to Ontario and conducted my first services I wanted to ask the people present whether they knew that someone had died. Everyone and everything seemed so subdued, so orderly. Hardly any services happened from churches and there haven’t been any pick-up trucks. I have been very fortunate through the years to work with some excellent funeral directors whose professionalism and sensitivity to the needs of their clients have been impressive. In fact I can’t recall any that didn’t fit that description. That said, the business of dying has moved away from places of worship in many settings in our culture.

 

Death, dying, funerals. We are big on affirming life in the community of Christ, the wonderful promise of abundant life and eternal life because of the empty tomb of Easter. But there was a grave for Jesus and he died and was buried according to the customs of his day. Those who knew him and loved him mourned his death. Those who witnessed the resurrection did so through the tears and anguish and fear that are often the reality when someone we love dies.

 

Last Sunday I told you for the three remaining weeks of January I would speak on three related topics that tend to get “short shrift” in our United Church. They are death, and heaven and hell. Someone asked the other day why I chose that order and the answer is simple: we don’t really have to consider heaven and hell as two aspects of the afterlife unless this life comes to an end. And it does. Always.

 

The bible, the scriptures which are our guide for living, speak often of death. Jesus acknowledged his own death in the company of those who loved him. Before his terrible execution by crucifixion he shared a meal with his friends and followers. The group included the twelve disciples but many scholars speculate that because it was the Passover meal others, including women and even children may have been there. The gospel of John is by far the wordiest of the gospels about what went on at the table, including Jesus’ reassurance that he was not abandoning them in death.  I appreciate that the disciple Thomas piped up and said in essence “well if none of you are going to say anything, I want to know more because I don’t know where you are going. How can we know the way?”

 

Like Thomas we aren’t always sure what to make of the reality of death, even as Christians. We do shy away from the subject. The wedding vows of another era offered the promise “Til death do us part.” Now they say “as long as we both shall live,” which we have decided is a little more palatable. One funeral director who is a churchgoer made the observation that clergy are often reluctant to use the words “death” and “dying” in their services and wondered why.

 

The great film maker Ingmar Bergman was a preacher’s kid who used to sneak into funeral services when he was young. There was evidence of that fascination in his masterpiece, The Seventh Seal. In one scene the central character, a knight, ends up playing chess with the “grim reaper” the personification of death.

 

Sometimes we address death with humour. I managed to find an old cartoon that shows the Grim Reaper at someone’s door. Rather than being frightened she figures he is the lawn-care guy and the caption reads “Okay, TEN dollars. But you’ll have to do the front and the back yard, and trim the hedge along the drive.”

 

Yet death is not funny for those of us who recently experienced loss or still feel the pain of death.

When death comes calling, it is grim. Last week I invited you to fill out a brief questionnaire on dying and nearly seventy of you did so. Here are the general results.

 

1.Are you afraid of dying?  Most of you said no, although some of you jotted down that you aren’t in a hurry!

2. Does human suffering cause you to question God’s love?  A fair number of you said “sometimes,” which I appreciate because I would put myself in that category.

3. Do we have the “right to die?”  In other words, do we have the right to control our own destiny at the end of life. The majority of you said yes.

4. Is this life all we can expect? Some of you did say yes, but by far the majority said no.

5. If you could ask one question answered by God about death and dying,

        what would it be?

 

Why do some people suffer, why do the wicked prosper, and why do some die too young?

Will I know those important to me in this life in the next?

Will God be my companion in death and into new life?

 

These are all worthwhile questions and of course we don’t get postcards from the other side, so some of them simply go unanswered. My experience is that we spend a lifetime preparing ourselves for the prospect of death and yet we never have all the answers and we are never fully prepared. And because we are taught to believe in a God of justice and love we are most unsettled when it seems that death comes prematurely.

 

It turned out that this past week I had two funerals of individuals who were much loved by their families and tears were shed. Still, both of these good souls were in their nineties and so the families and friends had the perspective which came from lives lived long and well. The gratitude we expressed felt stronger than the grief.

 

It is when someone dies in unsettling circumstances that our faith is shaken. The teen killed in a hit-and-run, the soldier who dies in Afghanistan, the teacher who unexpectedly succumbs to infection after routine surgery, the loving dad who leaves behind a wife and kids because cancer has taken his life. All these examples have happened in Bowmanville in the last year.

 

Some of the most difficult funerals I have conducted are for those whose life was on the horizon rather than in the twilight. Premature births and stillborn babies cause us to grieve for all that could have been.

 

All of this reminds us that we need to be open and honest about what the apostle Paul calls the “sting” of death, even as we affirm new life in Christ. You have probably travelled along country roads where there are billboards with cheery messages such as The Wages of Sin Are Death or Prepare to Meet Your Maker. Don’t you wonder who makes those signs and who puts them up? As ominous as they sound, it is important to ready ourselves to meet our creator in the life to come. So we need to talk with our children about death and prepare for death by making the necessary arrangements for that eventuality. We don’t need to be morbid, but we can be realistic, with a deep and reassuring trust that God is with us “til death do us part” and beyond.

 

Our other passage today was from the book of Ecclesiastes which in chapter three contains the well-known words about their being a time for everything, including death. What we heard this morning  begins with birth and the invitation not to be anxious about the end of life, but instead to live as fully as we can each day. Rather than hurrying through our days or assuming they will go on forever we should savour them as a gift from God.

 

Do not be anxious, Do not be afraid. It was the message of an angel to Mary as she prepared for Jesus’ birth and it was Jesus’ gift to his loved ones as he left this life. Christ is with us and Christ will always be with us in life and death and life beyond death, as our statement of faith says.

 

John Donne was an English theologian and poet of another era, and I will leave you with his thoughts.

 

All humankind is one volume.

When one person dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book,

but translated into a better language,

and every chapter must be so translated.

God employs several translators.

Some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness,

some by war,

some by justice.

But God’s hand shall bind all our scattered leaves together

in that library where every book shall lie open to another.

 

Death may separate us for a time, but there is a promise of eternal hope in Christ.  For this we can say, thanks be to God.