With God in Death; with Each Other in Dying
Twenty years ago I was at a weekend bachelor's party in
New York City with three friends. We stayed in a hotel and enjoyed
great food and music. On the first afternoon, the four of us took a
taxi cab towards Chinatown for dinner. It was a warm day, and all of
the windows were rolled down, and somewhere around the Bowery we
stopped at a light and a street dweller with ragged clothes and long
flowing hair styled by static electricity stuck his head in the window
and looked at us with fiery eyes and yelled in our faces, "You're
all going to die in there! You're all going to die!" And he pulled
his head out of the cab and walked away just as though nothing had
happened.
I thought, well, that's a nice omen. I wonder if it
concerns Chinese food or marriage? Or should we be riding the subway,
not a cab?
When I recall the story it sounds bizarre, but it
strikes me that we have uncountable voices giving us the same message
constantly in our culture. Bracket for a moment the news waves which
speak of SARS, millennial terrorists, avian flu, and the threat of the
week, and just consider the regular stuff you hear on TV or in
magazines. We're constantly being told how we are decaying and losing
our grip from the makers of hair loss products, anti-wrinkle creams,
tooth whiteners, and male and female prowess enhancers that come just
one step before Depends and florists. You can barely listen to a news
show or market report without hearing how we'll all be destitute in
retirement, which could be true if Social Security is privatized, but
the point is that all around us our culture is telling us that entropy,
decay, and death are omnipresent, unless, of course we procure their
products. Almost like an indulgence in the sixteenth century, there is
the assertion that we can buy our way out of death with the
right
spending, but otherwise it's over.
It's amazing how much of our culture is invested in
holding up the threat of death as well as claiming that there is a way
to avoid it with the right material stuff.
The point is that we encounter death all of the time in
our contemporary culture, but I wonder if we talk about it enough in
church. I wonder if we share our Christian perspective with children
before they pick up a consumer perspective, and I wonder what this
means to us now, shortly before Holy Week which addresses the topic
head-on yet is one of the least well-attended periods in the Christian
year. It is our topic for preaching and teaching today, and ideally
stimulates conversation for us all.
My street corner prophet was right. Everyone dies. The
poet and pastor John Donne said death "comes equally to us all and
makes us all equal when it comes." It does, however, come more
easily to some, more abruptly to some, more fairly (if you will) to
some than others. It's not unreasonable to say that there are good
deaths and bad deaths. When I buried 105 year old, twice married, still
gardening Ida P., an era ended but a smile lingered on all the
worshippers faces. When I buried ten year old Sharel S., confused and
immobilized in her burning home, it was hard to explain to four hundred
school children in the sanctuary how our God is a loving God who sides
with the needy. Right from the start I assume, and Christianity
asserts, that there are good deaths and bad deaths and that the latter
often make us wonder about all the rest of the faith. Jesus, of course,
mixed a bit of each in his unjust martyrdom, and we tell that story
soon.
Since our beginning, Christianity has had unique
offerings for a culture of death that tries to control life. That was
the Roman culture, noted for its strength in war and its effectiveness
at taxation. Sometimes it's our consumer culture, too. But Christianity
engaged an argument back at its origins, which took place between two
scholarly groups, the Sadducees and the Pharisees. The Sadducees were
strict constructionists regarding the law and sought to apply the
original intent of Biblical authors, and they held without question
that there was no resurrection and that all you got was right here and
right now. Sadducees were closely aligned with the wealthy and powerful
in Jesus' time and didn't want anything to upset the governmental
oxcart, even if it was run by Rome. The Pharisees were pretty keen
thinkers as well. But they were more aligned with the peasants and the
people and came to support the evolving church after Jesus'
resurrection. But even before His life, they believed in resurrection
and gave the message that we weren't stuck to just what's here. A
scholar named N. T. Wright points out that this drove the wealthy to
distraction in Jesus' time, because if the powerful could convince the
poor there was no resurrection, they could control them better here and
now. But the promise of resurrection allowed the underclass to resist,
to hope and even to follow visionaries and prophets like Jesus. It is
amazing to me to see that since our origins death and resurrection have
had an economic and
political
component, just like today.
In every time, there is no more central claim in
Christian faith than that death is not the end and that there is
something called resurrection. Doctrine, ethics, mission, worship, and
everything else in Christianity are directly associated with the
proclamation of resurrection.
But in our scientific and medical mindset, in our
realistic and responsible approach to life and faith, we may not talk
about resurrection very much. And if we do it can be symbolic, like
seeds that grow again each spring or memories of a beloved that never
die. It can have as much to do with the cycle of a corn god dying and
rising as it does with a creator God who strikes at death once and for
all. But that's what Christianity claims, incredible as it is. Death is
not the end. Life is not everlasting but eternal. God has a reality, a
creation, a mansion, that we can't exactly study or see just now, but
our inability to study it doesn't make it nonexistent. If you go to
church and hear something less, then they're preaching too little.
That still doesn't mean it's easy to apprehend, which
is why doubt and disbelief have been at the heart of discipleship since
the year one, literally, but that's another sermon.
Where all this leads is to say that our faith claims
that death is not necessarily the thing that worries us all so
much. God is with us in death. Being dead is not bad. But perhaps dying
is. Dying young, dying hard, dying, as I said earlier, badly. Dying may
be more upsetting than death. So while God is with us in death -- and
here comes the core of the sermon -- we are called to be with each
other in dying.
Professor Amy Plantinga Pauw says that with healthy
Christian practices the journey of dying has four parts. Lament,
thanksgiving and hope, judgment, and mercy. We'll talk more about these
after worship, but they need introduction here.
No matter how or when folks die, we lament their loss.
That's because another core Christian value is God's gift of life here
on earth. There is a loss in death. And hope in resurrection does not
undercut gratitude or concern for this life. So perhaps the most famous
lament in our faith was spoken by Jesus: "My God, why have you
forsaken me?" Or consider Psalm 88: "I am like those who have
no help, like those forsaken, like the slain, like those you remember
no more." Or as Job said, "Never again do we return home; our
dwelling place knows us no more." Lament is honest to God
by being
honest about death.
But it not the only ingredient in our journey. We
encounter death also thankful for what has been. When a friend
buried her stillborn daughter, she was broken by grief but honestly
thankful for the inspiration and hope that new life had brought her. It
was amazing to see. How much more thankful are we for a full life like
Barbara K.'s or Paul P.'s? At the heart of our creed is that death
removes the temporal obstacles that separate us from the love of God.
And that thanksgiving for life and hope and eternity also mark our
journey. Lament and thanksgiving are paired in our faith.
Now, UCC churches are loathe to mention the word
"judgment" around the event of death. But you know as well as
I do that something about judgment at the time of death is literally in
our bones. We've all seen this: when someone is dying they want to be
forgiven for troubles in their relationships, for mistakes in their use
of time, or their mistaken words. I have seen people who never spoke
the words I love you in their lives ask for family to gather so
that they can tell them before they let go. Judgment is in our bones:
the sense that something needs to be repaired before we go. The
Christian story says that, too. That there is something broken about
life on earth and whether or not we like the word sin, that's what it
refers to: that broken thing. So we encounter the review, the question,
the honest truth that there is judgment at death. We've all seen that.
But another expression is more prevalent in our
scripture: that while some groups may get fixated on sin and judgment,
God is effusive with mercy. Mercy trumps sin, quite simply. It may not
eliminate it, but it isolates it. The last word is not death but
resurrection, and the last encounter is not condemnation but
compassion. Mercy is something that God displays, literally meaning
that God is womblike, which is an amazing symbol. Mercy is also
something that people can display in the way that we treat the dying or
console the bereaved.
I am just scratching the surface of an enormous topic
here. But I am so interested in the topic of resurrection and how to
talk about it more. I am dedicated to teaching our kids, citizens in a
culture of death, to develop their faith not through subconscious
suggestions but spiritual assertions. And I wonder, always, what all of
this means to all of us.
Among many other things, there are two lessons that I
have learned during my years in the church, and they both have
something to do with our core beliefs as well as this quartet of
lament, thanksgiving, judgment, and mercy. The two are, visit people
who are dying. Visit them. And then go to their funeral. First, just
because someone is ill or apart doesn't mean that they are not a
beloved member of the body of Christ. Dying folks generally know that
they are dying and are often open to talking about it, but isolation or
exile are among the most anti-Christian acts that can be contemplated,
so whoever you are, when you know someone who is struggling with life
visit them, even briefly. Call it a discipline if you wish or a
practice, but it is radical in its renunciation of culture's messages,
so just go. In the mid 1980's when everyone was so scared about AIDS
and how it spread, I was privileged to have a small ministry to this
community in Maine. Just visiting folks and moreover touching, shaking
hands, laying on hands, and all the expressions that were denied the
diagnosed said "You are still in community,
still in
God's grasp, and still precious." Just go is my first lesson.
The second fits less well with today's culture and even
work schedules. When I first became active in the church my second
lesson was just to go to memorials and funerals when it's someone from
the church. It's rather old fashioned these days to take half a day
from work or go to a service on a weekend when it's someone we barely
know. But our sisters and brothers seasoned just a few years ago know
something that we are starting to forget. Funerals are not just about
being good friends in life but being friends in Christ. They're not
about turnout, but each time we attend a memorial as worshippers we
assert our core faith that each person's life is worthy of thanks and
that no one dies alone: we all die with God. Our gathered congregation
is the reflection of our faith; it's the community assertion that the
commercials are wrong and that we believe in something more than decay
that can be materially supplanted. Just go to funerals, too.
If we come out of Lent this year with two ideas for
practice I hope you'll ponder these: visit and worship as a way to grow
in your own faith and sustain the community's.
I don't know that anyone will find it at the right
time, but I've left instructions for my own memorial service. I want
people to sing A Mighty Fortress and if possible Will the
Circle Be Unbroken. I have scriptures and a few quotes, one of
which is from Martin King. He writes, "Death is not a period that
ends the great sentence of life but a comma that punctuates it to more
lofty significance. Death is not a blind alley that leads the human
race into a state of nothingness but an open door which leads (us) to
life eternal. Let this daring faith, this invincible surmise, be your
sustaining power…"
Christianity claims that we are with God in death. It
also asks us to be with each other in dying. And it assures us that all
of this is part of abundant life.
Amen.
Copyright © 200 6
Kenneth F. Baily. Used by permission.
http://www.nhcc.net/sermons/Sermon20060108.htm
|