“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” I imagine many of you have said something like this following the death of a loved one. Where were you Lord, when my mother or father or spouse or child or friend was sick and in need of healing? If you had been there, then they would not have died. I know I asked this question often following the death of my father. Where were you Lord?
In response to Mary’s pleading, scripture tells us that Jesus is greatly disturbed and deeply moved. Jesus does not give a theological explanation as to why he wasn’t there. Rather, Jesus gives the only appropriate response in such a situation and joins Mary and the community in their grief. He weeps with those who weep.
I remember speaking with a funeral director who was a retired pastor. He commented on how much he appreciated the Episcopal burial office because it honored the dignity of human grief. He went on to say that he didn’t learn to honor human grief at a funeral until later in his career.
He recalled speaking to a young man who had just lost his father to a sudden heart attack. In an attempt to console the teenager, the minister said, “Well, aren’t you glad your father is in heaven?” Dumbfounded, the boy looked at the pastor and said, “No! I wish my father was with me here on earth.”
As our Lord Jesus does, before we can proclaim resurrection life, we must weep with those who weep and mourn with those who mourn. Keeping that in mind, even though today is one of the Major Feast Days of the church – a day of celebration, it is also a somber day, a day to remember those whom we love but see no longer. But we can celebrate because we recognize that our loved ones are still present with us in the communion of saints.
During the Eucharistic Prayer, before singing the Sanctus, we proclaim this truth when we pray, “Therefore we praise you, joining our voices with Angels and Archangels and with all the company of heaven, who forever sing this hymn to proclaim the glory of your Name:”
I remember the first time these words took on greater meaning. I was worshiping in the old chapel at Camp McDowell during Spring Break Conference. It was Holy Week, and I was sitting next to a good friend of mine. We had both just lost our one of our parents.
The priest who was leading the service stopped to tell us the significance of the Sanctus. She told us that this image comes from Revelation and attests to all the company of heaven standing around the throne of God singing God’s praises night and day. So, in a very real way, I felt like I was proclaiming God’s praise with my dad.
Today, as we celebrate the communion of saints, we celebrate that the living and the dead are bound together in Christ – the One who binds heaven to earth. In a few minutes, at the Eucharistic table, we will acknowledge by name those who have joined the company of heaven this past year and who now stand around the throne of God singing God’s praise. And, in a very real way, we will join them in that never-ending chorus of praise.
At the Eucharistic feast, the memory of our loved ones turn into a present reality. They are very much alive in the living Christ – even more alive than we are. Even though we no longer see our loved ones who have passed on into glory, they are still here to encourage us in our life of faith, in our witness to the Risen Lord. As the Book of Hebrews says, we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses.
In particular, the saints in light are witnessing to a faith that knows that death does not have the final world. They know what we can barely believe – in Christ, life is not ended only changed. And this faith in everlasting life isn’t simply to make us feel better about dying. Rather, this faith is meant to encourage us to live more fully on our earthly pilgrimage, a faith that knows nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus, a faith that proclaims, “your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”
As our lesson from Revelation says, God isn’t in the business of helping us escape to heaven from this sinful and broken world. Rather, God is in the business of renewing this world, a world that in the beginning, God called, “Very, Good.” And God does this, as one poet said, by cramming earth with heaven.
John, the writer of Revelation, says, “I saw a new heaven and a new earth…a new Jerusalem coming down out of heaven…the home of God is among mortals…and the One seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new.’”
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| Artist - Jo Pate - Selma, Alabama |
The late Eugene Peterson said, “Just as the actions of earth flow into heaven, so the actions of heaven descend to earth…We have access to heaven now: it is the invisibility in which we are immersed, and that is developing into visibility, and that one day will be thoroughly visible.”
In other words, the heavenly realm is not a place of escape, the heavenly realm is not unaffected by what happens on earth. Rather, heaven descendsand takes part in the renewal of this earth. The saints in light are still with us fighting the good fight against the forces of evil and darkness.
The challenge for us, therefore, is not to try and imagine what heaven is like using earthly images and symbols. Rather, the challenge for us is to imagine what earth could be like using the image of the heavenly city. According to the Book of Revelation, this heavenly city is a place of healing for all the nations and at the center of that city is the throne of God and of the Lamb.
How can the vision of that heavenly city transform and renew our earthly cities? What would this world look like if the God of love and compassion and mercy were at the center? What your world look like if the God love and compassion and mercy were at the center? What would this world, your world look like if instead of looking for more ways to condemn the other, we looked for more ways bring about healing and wholeness?
Eugene Peterson sheds light on these questions saying, “Heaven is formed out of the dirty streets and murderous alleys, adulterous bedrooms and corrupt courts, hypocritical houses of worship and commercialized churches, thieving tax-collectors and traitorous disciples.” Heaven is meant not for escape but for renewal. Heaven is not a safe-haven for the virtuous but a place of healing for the broken.
As we consider the state of the country, the state of the world, we are in desperate need of heaven on earth, of healing and renewal for a broken and tired world. Remembering that our vocation is not about weathering the storm until we can finally escape, how can we, with the saints in light, witness to the truth that heaven is descending upon earth bringing about healing and renewal?
Just this past week the image of heaven descending to earth was made visible on Birmingham’s Southside in front of Temple Bethel where people from various creeds and races and nations gathered to stand with Pittsburg. This vigil was, of course, a response to the mass murder that took the lives of 11 Jewish people while they gathered to worship in a synagogue. With the martyrs who gather under the altar in heaven, those at the vigil joined in the martyrs’ prayer, “How long must your people suffer, O Lord?”
I believe this prayer from the saints in light is not only directed to God but to us still on this earthly pilgrimage. How long will we continue to let evil pervade our streets and homes and schools and places of worship? How long will we be satisfied with keeping the status quo? When will we respond to Jesus’ command to roll away the stone and unbind this world from the bands of death?
If you need a bit of encouragement and inspiration to respond, look to the lives of the saints. Maybe these saints are someone you knew personally – a friend or family member. Maybe these saints are found in the Episcopal publication entitled A Great Cloud of Witnesses– a Jonathan Daniels, a William Wilberforce, a Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a Constance Nun, or a Teresa of Avila.
Look to someone who lived knowing that nothing – not even death – can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus, someone who risked everything – even life itself – to give witness to that heavenly city where all the peoples and nations and races of this earth gather to find healing and wholeness. Look to those who lived their earthly pilgrimage as if they were residents of that heavenly city.
And because even the saints are sinners, too, look to Jesus – the One who is present with us in our suffering and sorrow, the One who shares our death, the One who, through his resurrection, gives us a vision of that heavenly city, a place where sorrow and pain are no more, a place where healing makes all things new. Amen.
