Homily - 5th Sunday in Lent

5th Sunday in Lent - March 9, 2008 - St. Christopher’s Episcopal Church
The Rev. Paul R. Moore

Death and Life

It is the tradition of liturgical churches not to use the word “Alleluia” in a liturgical setting during Lent. The word means, “Praise be to God,” but someone somewhere a long time ago thought it too festive for this penitential season, and to suppress its use during Lent allows it to become the highlight of Eastertide. If we were to do a funeral during Lent we replace the purple with white, and we use the “A” word. This is because the burial of the dead is always an Easter celebration. What does a funeral have to do with Easter? In it we proclaim our hope that reaches beyond the grave! The concept, however, is a lot larger than just the end of life.

When Lazarus, in today’s Gospel reading, takes ill Jesus waits until he is dead before heading off to Bethany. The fact that Lazarus had been in the tomb four days is significant. Local lore dictated that the soul of a dead person hung around the body for three days seeking to reenter it, but after 3 days it took its final flight. Lazarus has been dead four days—there is no hope! Onto this scene strides Jesus. Both Martha and Mary say the same thing to Him when He arrives: “If you had been here my brother would not have died.” The implication is that Jesus could certainly have healed Lazarus, but now that he has been dead four days there is little Jesus can do. To the practical Martha Jesus’ responds with a theological statement: “Your brother will rise again.” “I know he will rise at the last day,” replies Martha, responding theology for theology, but then Jesus redefines the argument: “I AM” (recognize that formula) “resurrection, and I AM Life.” In that Jesus is on the scene this is the last day that really counts. This is the last day! Archbishop Desmond Tutu is quoted as saying, “Never, ever, ever give up. I’ve read the end of the story—and we win!” Jesus is the end of the story. The implication, of course, is that resurrection, even after 4 days, is imminent. In Christ death and resurrection go hand in hand, you cannot talk about one without talking about the other. And you cannot talk about it only at the end of all things, for in Christ NOW is the time. No matter what or when the death, no matter how small or great the loss, resurrection is always God’s intent. Therefore the burial of the dead is an Easter celebration.

Let’s look at the Ministration at the Time of Death (p. 462, S. 384) commonly known as Last Rites. The series of prayers sets us in the context of God’s mercy. The commendation on pl 464 (S. 386) is powerful: “Depart, O Christian soul, out of this world….” Recently I celebrated this rite with the grandfather of one of our members. The grandson called me ten minutes later—his grandfather had passed on just two minutes after I left. We all know of instances where loved ones have waited to depart until the right people were present, or those who chose their time of death. But this prayer casts the act upon the shoulders of the community of faith: We, who believe that death is the doorway to greater life sadly but bravely and unselfishly give permission to the soul to depart to the greater life.

When it comes to the burial itself, the Pall is a strong tradition in the Episcopal church. We cover the casket so that a rich person laying in an oak box appears before God the same as the poor in a pine box. And we do not open the casket during the ceremony. This is, after all, a departure. The rite proper has two forms, Rite I, with more traditional language, and Rite II, with more contemporary language. Either one does the same thing. It walks us through a grieving process in the context of our faith. It lets us say so long, but not goodbye. The opening statement collates passages from Job, I Corinthians 15 and John 11 as well as other sources (there are two in Rite II.) The line, “And though this body be destroyed, yet shall I see God, whom I shall see for myself, and not as a stranger,” declares our belief that in death we are not reabsorbed into an eternal and monolithic Brahman or loose our identity into the sea of existence. Christianity has always insisted on the persistence of the consciousness into eternity. In Rite II there is an added prayer that may be used (p. 494, S. 394) “Merciful God…deal mercifully with….” Our book recognizes the two sides of a Christian funeral: The glory of graduation to the Larger Life, and the sorrow of those who mourn the loss of love, that witness to one another’s life that assures us that we are not alone, and perhaps even economic security. The readings continue the themes: The Old Testament and Epistle readings speak to the glory of eternal life, and the change that takes place when we move into that realm. Of the Gospel lessons my favorites is John 11 that we read this morning. In it Jesus deals tenderly with Martha in her grief by inviting her to hope in the glory of resurrected life in Him. The Prayers locate our loss in the midst of the hope of our faith over and over again as we hand over the loved one to the mercy and love of God.

Then after communion, if there is to be communion, follow two pieces: The Commendation sends the whole congregation out to the gravesite. The last sentence of the prayer in the middle of p. 499 (S. 401) says it all: “All of us go down to the dust…”
Here is our human limitedness, our mortality, our impermanence. But the prayer continues, “Yet even at the grave we make our song….” Here is our Easter hope, the great theological truth that in Christ death is no longer mortal! The whole of the rite is captured in these two phrases. The second part is the Committal. It is meant to be read at the person’s final resting place. It is a short piece that again reaffirms our hope of eternal life, and lays to rest the dust of the one who has passed on in the hope of resurrection. The final thing we say is the Easter Morning Acclamation. We end on that note—the final note of our faith.

One more word demands to be said: This is Springtime, and my flower beds have been recently renewed with color by my green-thumbed wife. They once again have thrown off the brown death of winter and embraced life. That image has been used to describe our Easter hope for centuries, and it is a good one. However, there is a piece missing. Spring restores what was lost and nothing more. Resurrection is the birth of new and abundant life. When Jesus rose from the dead He did for us two things: One thing He did that we could not do: He altered the fabric of existence, so that since Him death no longer only leads to renewed life, it leads to greater life. The other thing was something we must do: We die to our sinful selves and are reborn to abundant life. And in the end we die to this earthly life and are reborn to the life of heaven! This is what we celebrate when we lay a loved one to rest.

Fr. Paul Moore+