A Shakey Sunday
People tend to move on with their lifes very quickly. Funerals come and go. You may attend, drop a card in the mail, order flowers, or drop by a meal, shed a few tears and move on. Maybe.
The outward social acknowledgements of grief do mean a lot to the grieving family, as I know myself, but as I have seen through my own experience this year, and through those of several friends going through similar experiences, long after many have forgotten, you are still grieving, trying to work through an enormous amount of grief, bitterness and anger, even while knowing that the loved one is in glory and wouldn't choose to come back even if they were able. Even perhaps working through guilt. After all, as christians, we are not to sorrow as those without hope.
Today, was All Saints Sunday, which is a feast I have loved for years and years, and is the anniversary of my baptism. I tend to think of the power of the example and triumph of the departed saints. I was thinking of it earlier this week, but in the hustle and bustle of the week, having company for most of the weekend, I woke up a few minutes late today, barely making it to church before the service began and forgetting that it was any different than any other Sunday. I walked in inwardly humming the first few bars of the prelude. The minister announced the first hymn, and I started to crack. It is one of my favorite hymns, but one that I associate strongly with my grandmother and her recent death, and in many ways the hymn was like ripping a band-aid off of a deep wound. For all the saints, who from their labors rest, who thee by faith before the world confessed....O blest Commmunion, fellowship divine! We feebly struggle, they in glory shine; yet all are one in thee for all are thine, Alleluia, allelulia. I suddenly began to wonder if I was going to make it through the service without having to leave the service. I don't cry easily, but had tears overflowing all during the first hymn.
We got through the readings of the lessons and the minister began on the sermon. He called Mary's questioning of Jesus in the story of Lazerus, anger. Particularly highlighting Jesus' waiting several days before making the trip, and the questioning of friends as to why Jesus hadn't come sooner and saved Lazerus. I tend to forget all the human emotions that characters featured in the bible had, but instead think of them as saints in the angelically perfect, self-sacrificing sense of the word. Yet as I looked at the passage, his interpretation was probably much more accruate than the reproachful resignation I had always read into the passage. Jesus himself groaned and wepted over the death of Lazerus. The minister went on to make several other points about the passage and our reactions to it, but what ended up being very meaningful to me was the other passage that he cited from the lessons, was from Revelations, And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain; for the former things are passed away...Write: for these words are true and faithful. We ourselves grieve not for those that have died, but for the loss of love and companionship we have suffered even while they have moved on to a better place.
There are several messages, at least for me, in All Saints. God doesn't expect us to cover over the gaping loss that the death of a loved one brings in our lives. He himself grieves over what sin and death has wrought. The wound may not ever fully heal on this side of glory, but there He will be wiping away ALL tears, and in the meantime, we have the example of our loved ones who looked to Christ as their Captain in the well-fought fight. We must remind ourselves that we repeatedly have affirmed the words of the Nicean creed which holds to the communion of saints. This communion extends not only to the living and breathing saints, but to those whose tears have already been wiped away.
The outward social acknowledgements of grief do mean a lot to the grieving family, as I know myself, but as I have seen through my own experience this year, and through those of several friends going through similar experiences, long after many have forgotten, you are still grieving, trying to work through an enormous amount of grief, bitterness and anger, even while knowing that the loved one is in glory and wouldn't choose to come back even if they were able. Even perhaps working through guilt. After all, as christians, we are not to sorrow as those without hope.
Today, was All Saints Sunday, which is a feast I have loved for years and years, and is the anniversary of my baptism. I tend to think of the power of the example and triumph of the departed saints. I was thinking of it earlier this week, but in the hustle and bustle of the week, having company for most of the weekend, I woke up a few minutes late today, barely making it to church before the service began and forgetting that it was any different than any other Sunday. I walked in inwardly humming the first few bars of the prelude. The minister announced the first hymn, and I started to crack. It is one of my favorite hymns, but one that I associate strongly with my grandmother and her recent death, and in many ways the hymn was like ripping a band-aid off of a deep wound. For all the saints, who from their labors rest, who thee by faith before the world confessed....O blest Commmunion, fellowship divine! We feebly struggle, they in glory shine; yet all are one in thee for all are thine, Alleluia, allelulia. I suddenly began to wonder if I was going to make it through the service without having to leave the service. I don't cry easily, but had tears overflowing all during the first hymn.
We got through the readings of the lessons and the minister began on the sermon. He called Mary's questioning of Jesus in the story of Lazerus, anger. Particularly highlighting Jesus' waiting several days before making the trip, and the questioning of friends as to why Jesus hadn't come sooner and saved Lazerus. I tend to forget all the human emotions that characters featured in the bible had, but instead think of them as saints in the angelically perfect, self-sacrificing sense of the word. Yet as I looked at the passage, his interpretation was probably much more accruate than the reproachful resignation I had always read into the passage. Jesus himself groaned and wepted over the death of Lazerus. The minister went on to make several other points about the passage and our reactions to it, but what ended up being very meaningful to me was the other passage that he cited from the lessons, was from Revelations, And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain; for the former things are passed away...Write: for these words are true and faithful. We ourselves grieve not for those that have died, but for the loss of love and companionship we have suffered even while they have moved on to a better place.
There are several messages, at least for me, in All Saints. God doesn't expect us to cover over the gaping loss that the death of a loved one brings in our lives. He himself grieves over what sin and death has wrought. The wound may not ever fully heal on this side of glory, but there He will be wiping away ALL tears, and in the meantime, we have the example of our loved ones who looked to Christ as their Captain in the well-fought fight. We must remind ourselves that we repeatedly have affirmed the words of the Nicean creed which holds to the communion of saints. This communion extends not only to the living and breathing saints, but to those whose tears have already been wiped away.
posted by Ceil | 12:17 PM
1 Comments:
That's beautiful Beth.
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