If you are visiting today, I apologize in advance. You have stumbled into worship with us as we are intentionally remembering those whom we lost since the start of the pandemic. I think only one on our list has COVID listed as her cause of death, but all died during the pandemic. The Vestry and Liturgy & Worship Committee and I struggled with how to bring some liturgical and social closure to the congregation. Since all of us gathered are Episcopalians, we know how important funerals are to us, and we know we do them well. Just ask Hollywood and television, right? They love our funeral and wedding liturgies. In any event, beginning with Charles’ death, back in the days when the civil and ecclesiastical authorities had everything completely shut down, we have not had proper funerals. In fact, we are so not ourselves that some parishioners have only learned about one or two of these deaths in the last month.
In the
course of our discussions, we decided to have a memorial service of sorts
around All Souls’ Day. Just to remind
ourselves, All Souls’ is the feast day on which we remember all the “regular
people” who have died. Some parishes
have a necrology; some use a Litany like the one we are using. Some, of course, conflate All Saints and All
Souls and just have one big celebration.
Our intent last spring was to have a memorial service and then a big
party in the parish hall. For a couple
of our deceased, they were rather intent that we needed to party when they
died. They wanted us to remember them
and their death as a celebratory event, but NOT because they were gone!
We picked a
date in November because it was the month of All Souls’ Day. We also picked it because we have a lot of
unique celebrations this month—All Saints’, All Souls’, Christ the King, Advent
begins, the bishop comes, and, oh yeah, Thanksgiving. We figured everything would be so jumbled up
that people would adapt to the services and really enjoy the social event.
Then, Delta
hit. Just as it seemed the Wilderness
Road was leading us back to normal, we hit another of those switchback turns. And we started heading away from normal. Now, I think the turn is gradually heading
back to the “New Normal,” as Adventers are getting third shots and children are
getting their firsts, but, even were things to open up completely in a month or
two, we would not be ourselves. We have
lost members during the pandemic, faithful members. Their absence will be felt for some time, and
not just by their immediate family. So,
I determined to go ahead and use the litany today and hold that parish hall
celebration off until we can gather and regale one another and their loved ones
with stories. Truth be told, it would be
an interesting witness to the world outside our doors. Like St. Paul reminds us today, we are not
people without hope. We know our loved
ones live in the Lord and that, one glorious day, we will join them with Him
for that Great Wedding Feast that He has planned since the foundation of the
world.
Our litany
today serves as a sort of catechesis for us.
As you all know, I love preaching and teaching on the Scriptures, but
today seemed the perfect time for us to focus on the Litany, as the Litany
points us all back to the Sacraments, which, as we all know and can answer the
bishop in two weeks, are the outward signs of the inward and spiritual grace
that we have.
The Litany
begins with an invocation of the Trinity.
Each of us gathered here understands that the Trinity is truly a Holy
mystery. How can God be three persons
in one unity? What does that even
mean? Why is it even important? Those of you who have suffered through one of
my sermons on the Holy Dance of the Trinity, the perichoresis, know that one of
the earlier images of the Trinity was like that of a great waltz. Sometimes we see evidence of the Father
better, sometimes the Son, sometimes the Holy Spirit. They are different, but they are in
absolutely unity of being and purpose.
Chief among those purposes, if we listen to John Chrysostom, is to carve
out a space for us in that Holy Dance, that you and I, when we are completely
redeemed, will be of one mind and one purpose with the Trinity. Of course, try as we might, it is hard to
explain to outsiders. We and those to
whom we try and explain get flustered.
How can there be three and one? At
some point, logic seems to break down and we accept it on faith. The Father has glorified His Beloved Son and,
as the Son promised, has sent the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, to us as down
payment or pledge on our future inheritance.
We know this even if we do not understand it. And we know its importance because we remember
and proclaim that truth every time we gather for worship and say the Nicene
Creed.
For what are
we asking? On this day we are simply
asking God to have mercy on Charles, on Frances, on Ron, on Miwako, on John,
for Ruby, and for Mary, on their loved ones, and on us. Much like our Burial service, we recognize
that they are no longer among us, even if we have not been much around us since
the start of this pandemic. We recognize
that they have loved ones, some loved ones who did not get the liturgical
closure or the pastoral care upon which we pride ourselves as Episcopalians. How many of us love to make a casserole for a
family? That hasn’t happened in nearly
two years. How many of us like to have a
favorite drink and share a story or three?
That’s been hit or miss. How many
of us like taking survivors out for a meal?
We couldn’t do that until the vaccines became available, and we have to
make sure our restaurants of choice are staffed. These other rituals upon which we depend are,
at best altered, and at worst unable to be observed. Heck, in the case of Charles, everything was
shut down when he died. I remembered how
nice it was when Frances died because, by then, at least we could allow ten
family members to come to the graveside.
Can you imagine what your 2019 self would say to you if you told him or
her that there would be a time when cemeteries would not let anyone be present
for some weeks and then think themselves living on the edge for allowing ten
people? But that is the experience we and
their loved ones have all come through.
Each of
their big stories, of course, has their own little sub-chapters which made
their experience unique to them. The day
before everything shut down, Bill placed Frances in a memory care unit. Bill lovingly placed Frances in a place to
care for her needs expertly, and then he was told he could not even visit the
next day. Miwako was up and moved from
California to Nashville, suffering from her own memory issues. Can you imagine her confusion? Poor John was trapped for months. Now, we all know how John loved to hold
court, and I am certain he was able to hold court with all those in the same
facility, but he loved getting out. Mary
and Charles, I hope, bookend this horrible experience for me. It was horrible not being able to do anything
for Mary. And by the time we could do
anything, she had been moved to SC. Ron
was what we professional Christians call a spiritual patriarch of the
parish. Ron knew everyone and knew everything
about Advent. He seldom gave advice
unasked, except maybe within his family, but he gave great advice when asked,
usually because he always wanted what was best for this parish and for those
who attended faithfully. And Ruby. Most of y’all will not recognize her name,
but you would recognize her fashion sense were she to show up at the barbecue
or TGIF. Ruby and her husband were in
orbit of the parish thanks to the work of Jane.
Early in my tenure here, I buried her husband. Naturally, when Ruby died, the family asked
if I would bury her . . . during a pandemic.
I sometimes wonder what would have happened if we had gotten Ruby and Frances
in a room together. We would have
probably bankrupted their husbands because they would have seen each other’s
cute shoes and purses and needed them!
We rightfully
laugh at some of these stories. Those of
us who knew them better lived the stories, and so many more. And, now that time has passed and the Holy Spirit
has comforted us, we can share stories and laugh, even as we still acknowledge
that we miss them. But we are not without
hope of seeing them again.
Our litany
continues with prayers for those in the world.
It is appropriate that, even as we remember those whom we have lost,
that we pray for others who have died during this pandemic, and their loved
ones. We know that God knows them and
loves them just as He loves us and our loved ones, and so we lift them up in
prayer trusting in His Fatherly care.
We continue
by praying for those who have been impacted by the pandemic, which is everyone
in the world. We remind ourselves and
those who maybe stumble on to this litany that God cares for every single human
being in the world, just as he cares for us and for those whom we lost. He cares for those struggling to pay
bills. He cares for those who are
lonely. He cares for those who cannot
care for themselves. Most especially, we
recognize and pray for the Church. We
know our Lord calls us to proclaim the Gospel in word and deed and to be a
source of light in a dark world in a dark time.
It is hard work. There never
seems to be an end. Heck, sometimes we
wonder if we are ever making a difference.
So we throw those cares to God and ask Him to sustain each and every
member of His Church, that we might never tire of doing the work He has given us
to do.
We will
pray for all those who have died. We
will remind ourselves of what happened at Baptism and Confirmation and of the
truth we proclaim each and every time we share the Eucharist. Those who have died to self and asked God to
be Lord of their life are promised eternal life. The same God who came down from heaven and
was made man, who suffered and died for us because of His tender love for each
and every one of us, the same God who was raised from the dead and ascended
back to the Father, the same God who sent the Holy Spirit to us, that we might
do wonderful and mighty works in His Name, has only one promise left to fulfill
for us. He has promised that on a
glorious Day He will return to recreate the heavens and the earth and pass
judgment on all humanity. Those who
chose Him, who did their best to live the life described by the disciple’s life
in Baptism, will enter into an inheritance prepared since the beginning of
time. All of us.
It is that
time of year when families gather, and so I like to remind us of our hope with
this image. You and I gather today and
remember our fellow pilgrims and thank God for putting us in this journey
together. But as we chew on His
flesh. As we grind that morsel in the
face of death in the midst of a pandemic, we proclaim His Resurrection and
await His Second Coming, clinging stubbornly to that promise. You see, we are not without hope this day
even as our loved ones are no longer among us.
We know, we know that the One who loves us and has power to conquer
death, has promised each one of us, and those who have preceded us in death,
that on that glorious Day, we will leave this kids’ table behind. Right now, we are thankful that we get to eat
His flesh and drink His blood, because that food and that drink is but a
promise of what is in store for us. On
that glorious Day He will call us all to His Table, a Table set for the Great
Marriage Feast, where we will dine on delicacies we can neither imagine or
prepare ourselves, and we will do that dining with all who proclaim Him
Lord. One day, my brothers and sisters,
we will be united with those whom we lost.
We will see them in all their redemptive glory! We will hear them regale us with the stories
of His saving grace in their lives. We
will do the same with them. And we will
celebrate that our Father in heaven has brought us all home for eternity. As hard as it seems this day, in this place,
in this time, that is His promise. And
because He raised our Lord Christ that glorious Easter morning, we know He can
raise them and us when that time comes!
In His glorious peace,
Brian†
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