Death, Our Teacher
Sermon
Life Everlasting
The Essential Book of Funeral Resources
Object:
For a beloved parishioner
Death, Our Teacher
Psalm 90
(The outline of this meditation has enabled me to address a number of the vital issues that are raised by death. The message is wide enough that it can be comforting to the bereaved, regardless of the circumstances of their loved one's death. The four points are greatly strengthened by references to the deceased's life -- here, that of Eve, who was one of my parishioners. Even if the pastor has not known the deceased, an interview with his or her family and friends should yield sufficient information to personalize at least several points, if not all of them.)
"Teach us to number our days," prays the psalmist. Each of us would do well to ask the same of the Almighty. For, can you truly appreciate life or fully enter into it, until you have learned how short the span of your years will be? Can you become really mature, "get a heart of wisdom," until you have faced squarely your own death and lived accordingly?
"Teach us to number our days" -- that's a lesson we all need. And, the psalmist indicates that in this subject, the best teacher is death itself. How does death instruct us about life?
In several ways:
First, death punctuates life. It marks the end of life. It underscores our time limitations. We arrive at one point in time and depart at another. Eve was born April 9, 1903, and died August 16, 1987. We do not have forever here. What we are going to do with life must be done in a definite period of time.
You may say, "That's obvious; we all know that!" But, I must respond by saying that if we do know it, we don't always act as if we do. Some of us act as if we have forever. We keep putting off things that we ought to do. The garage needs cleaning. The income tax forms need to be filled out. My mother is waiting for a letter. My friend deserves an apology. That was my list some time ago. You have your own, don't you? If you have trouble remembering it, just ask your spouse! You know what's on the list, and you know what we tell ourselves and others about it, don't you? "I'll get to it bright and early in the morning." "First thing next week, I'll do that." "As soon as I get some free time, I'll attend to that." "When I retire, I'll look into that." But our teacher, death, breaks in and asks, "What makes you so sure that you are going to be given that time?"
The psalmist figures that the normal life is seventy, possibly eighty, years. Eve lived 84 years. But she was exceptional, and seventy years is only the average. We know that death is no respecter of age. Infants are born dead. Youth are cut off before having tasted much of life's sweetness. And middle-aged people are snatched away before finishing their work.
There is a natural progression to life. "Like grass which is renewed in the morning it flourishes and is renewed; in the evening it fades and withers." But we have no guarantee that we will pass through all the stages. We best do what we have to do in each stage. Later on, we may not have the opportunity to do so. Most of you know that Eve regretted not having finished nursing school. She postponed training for marriage and family. But years later, after she had completed her basic family responsibilities, she had to settle for serving as a volunteer in the hospital. Do not misunderstand me. She was a loving wife and mother. She was a cheerful volunteer. But she was never able to fulfill her dream of serving as a registered nurse. In remembering her, let us learn from her and devote ourselves to the tasks, the challenges, and the dreams that present themselves to us now. "Satisfy us in the morning with thy steadfast love, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days."
Second, death purges life. It reveals what is worthwhile and what is not. Many of us are devoted to security. We are preoccupied with accumulating goods, power, or fame. But these things have no staying power of their own; they, too, will pass away or will be taken away. Ironically, we acknowledge this truth by attempting to lay our hands on more and more and by taking all kinds of measures to preserve and to protect what we gain. We may succeed for a while in keeping our hoard from moths, rust, and thieves. We may reach the point where we declare, with the rich man in Jesus' parable in Luke 12, "I have ample goods laid up for many years; take your ease, eat, drink, and be merry." But Jesus warns that we will be separated from what we have: "Fool! This night your soul is required of you; and the things you have prepared, whose will they be? So is he who lays up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God."
Eve learned this lesson early in her life. She laid up her treasures in heaven. That is to say, she devoted herself to God, by serving others. You know how she cared for her parents in her own home, at a time when her children also required much attention. At the end, day and night, she employed all her gifts for nursing to make her father comfortable. Her sisters, Cleo and Marie, have related to me how she neglected her own affairs to help them establish themselves during difficult economic times. And, many of you, her friends, have told me how she enriched your lives -- by giving you handmade gifts, by treating you with her delicious pastries, by giving a sympathetic ear in times of trouble, and by sending thoughtful notes, not only on special occasions, but also at times when you didn't expect one -- just to let you know how much she valued your friendship.
The ministry of our church was enhanced by her years of service in the church school and in the choir. One of the members of our women's society, just this morning, expressed the enduring quality of Eve's spirit. She said, "We'll never forget her. She was truly a pillar of the church, always doing her part and supporting us in ours. It is not a big thing, but I believe I will miss her most when we have our fellowship dinners. She kept us laughing the whole time we washed the dishes!"
The psalmist prayed, "Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish thou the work of our hands upon us, yea, the work of our hands establish thou it." A more recent translation renders the last part of that: "Make all we do succeed" (The Jerusalem Bible).
Thank God for the favor that was upon Eve -- no, for the favor that Eve was. She was successful in all the ways that count, in all the ways we have come here to witness to.
All of this points to the third way death teaches us. It promotes relationships. We are here to celebrate all the ways that Eve's life enriched ours and all the ways we were able to enhance hers. We are thankful for the love we have shared; sorrowful that we have been separated from that love. But, Eve's influence will remain with us, won't it? Let it move us to cultivate more deeply the friendships we have and to develop new relationships.
Finally, death helps us understand life by raising the question of eternal life: "If a man dies, shall he live again?" The psalmist did not give a direct answer to that question, but he did remind us that God is God of all time. "Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations ... from everlasting to everlasting thou art God."
This conviction is expanded upon by our Lord, who has assured us that, "In my father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And when I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also" (John 14:2-3).
You know that Eve took great comfort from this promise. Let us do the same. And, let us express the faith and hope that is ours in Christ Jesus, as we close with one of Eve's favorite hymns, "Abide With Me." Amen.
(Reprinted from "We Are The Lord's," CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio 45804, © 1989.)
Death, Our Teacher
Psalm 90
(The outline of this meditation has enabled me to address a number of the vital issues that are raised by death. The message is wide enough that it can be comforting to the bereaved, regardless of the circumstances of their loved one's death. The four points are greatly strengthened by references to the deceased's life -- here, that of Eve, who was one of my parishioners. Even if the pastor has not known the deceased, an interview with his or her family and friends should yield sufficient information to personalize at least several points, if not all of them.)
"Teach us to number our days," prays the psalmist. Each of us would do well to ask the same of the Almighty. For, can you truly appreciate life or fully enter into it, until you have learned how short the span of your years will be? Can you become really mature, "get a heart of wisdom," until you have faced squarely your own death and lived accordingly?
"Teach us to number our days" -- that's a lesson we all need. And, the psalmist indicates that in this subject, the best teacher is death itself. How does death instruct us about life?
In several ways:
First, death punctuates life. It marks the end of life. It underscores our time limitations. We arrive at one point in time and depart at another. Eve was born April 9, 1903, and died August 16, 1987. We do not have forever here. What we are going to do with life must be done in a definite period of time.
You may say, "That's obvious; we all know that!" But, I must respond by saying that if we do know it, we don't always act as if we do. Some of us act as if we have forever. We keep putting off things that we ought to do. The garage needs cleaning. The income tax forms need to be filled out. My mother is waiting for a letter. My friend deserves an apology. That was my list some time ago. You have your own, don't you? If you have trouble remembering it, just ask your spouse! You know what's on the list, and you know what we tell ourselves and others about it, don't you? "I'll get to it bright and early in the morning." "First thing next week, I'll do that." "As soon as I get some free time, I'll attend to that." "When I retire, I'll look into that." But our teacher, death, breaks in and asks, "What makes you so sure that you are going to be given that time?"
The psalmist figures that the normal life is seventy, possibly eighty, years. Eve lived 84 years. But she was exceptional, and seventy years is only the average. We know that death is no respecter of age. Infants are born dead. Youth are cut off before having tasted much of life's sweetness. And middle-aged people are snatched away before finishing their work.
There is a natural progression to life. "Like grass which is renewed in the morning it flourishes and is renewed; in the evening it fades and withers." But we have no guarantee that we will pass through all the stages. We best do what we have to do in each stage. Later on, we may not have the opportunity to do so. Most of you know that Eve regretted not having finished nursing school. She postponed training for marriage and family. But years later, after she had completed her basic family responsibilities, she had to settle for serving as a volunteer in the hospital. Do not misunderstand me. She was a loving wife and mother. She was a cheerful volunteer. But she was never able to fulfill her dream of serving as a registered nurse. In remembering her, let us learn from her and devote ourselves to the tasks, the challenges, and the dreams that present themselves to us now. "Satisfy us in the morning with thy steadfast love, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days."
Second, death purges life. It reveals what is worthwhile and what is not. Many of us are devoted to security. We are preoccupied with accumulating goods, power, or fame. But these things have no staying power of their own; they, too, will pass away or will be taken away. Ironically, we acknowledge this truth by attempting to lay our hands on more and more and by taking all kinds of measures to preserve and to protect what we gain. We may succeed for a while in keeping our hoard from moths, rust, and thieves. We may reach the point where we declare, with the rich man in Jesus' parable in Luke 12, "I have ample goods laid up for many years; take your ease, eat, drink, and be merry." But Jesus warns that we will be separated from what we have: "Fool! This night your soul is required of you; and the things you have prepared, whose will they be? So is he who lays up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God."
Eve learned this lesson early in her life. She laid up her treasures in heaven. That is to say, she devoted herself to God, by serving others. You know how she cared for her parents in her own home, at a time when her children also required much attention. At the end, day and night, she employed all her gifts for nursing to make her father comfortable. Her sisters, Cleo and Marie, have related to me how she neglected her own affairs to help them establish themselves during difficult economic times. And, many of you, her friends, have told me how she enriched your lives -- by giving you handmade gifts, by treating you with her delicious pastries, by giving a sympathetic ear in times of trouble, and by sending thoughtful notes, not only on special occasions, but also at times when you didn't expect one -- just to let you know how much she valued your friendship.
The ministry of our church was enhanced by her years of service in the church school and in the choir. One of the members of our women's society, just this morning, expressed the enduring quality of Eve's spirit. She said, "We'll never forget her. She was truly a pillar of the church, always doing her part and supporting us in ours. It is not a big thing, but I believe I will miss her most when we have our fellowship dinners. She kept us laughing the whole time we washed the dishes!"
The psalmist prayed, "Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish thou the work of our hands upon us, yea, the work of our hands establish thou it." A more recent translation renders the last part of that: "Make all we do succeed" (The Jerusalem Bible).
Thank God for the favor that was upon Eve -- no, for the favor that Eve was. She was successful in all the ways that count, in all the ways we have come here to witness to.
All of this points to the third way death teaches us. It promotes relationships. We are here to celebrate all the ways that Eve's life enriched ours and all the ways we were able to enhance hers. We are thankful for the love we have shared; sorrowful that we have been separated from that love. But, Eve's influence will remain with us, won't it? Let it move us to cultivate more deeply the friendships we have and to develop new relationships.
Finally, death helps us understand life by raising the question of eternal life: "If a man dies, shall he live again?" The psalmist did not give a direct answer to that question, but he did remind us that God is God of all time. "Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations ... from everlasting to everlasting thou art God."
This conviction is expanded upon by our Lord, who has assured us that, "In my father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And when I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also" (John 14:2-3).
You know that Eve took great comfort from this promise. Let us do the same. And, let us express the faith and hope that is ours in Christ Jesus, as we close with one of Eve's favorite hymns, "Abide With Me." Amen.
(Reprinted from "We Are The Lord's," CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio 45804, © 1989.)
