Homily of the Rev. Dr. David A. Killian
Fifth Sunday in Lent
March 9, 2008
All Saints Parish
Brookline, Massachusetts
John 11:1-45
I
Today's Gospel passage is one of the most poignant and moving in all of the Scriptures. No wonder that it is chosen so often for a funeral service when a family mourns the death of a loved one, especially the death of someone who dies suddenly or at a young age. In those moments of grief – when we are sad, confused, angry, bewildered, and vulnerable, we search for answers about "Why did this good person have to die at such an early age? Why were we not given any warning or preparation? Why do I feel so lonely and empty? Why? Why? Why?"
Often we do not have answers that satisfy. Often all we can do is stand with a family in their grief and let them know that we care for them and that we will be with them in their deep distress. And, when I ask, "Where is God in all of this?" it is very comforting to read in today's Gospel passage that Jesus himself was profoundly moved by the death of his friend Lazarus.
The Gospel tells us that when Jesus saw Mary weeping at the tomb of her brother, and the Jews who were with her also weeping, "he was greatly disturbed and deeply moved ... Jesus began to weep." Jesus is human like us. He understands grief and loss. He is one with us in our loss and he gives us strength.
When I hear this passage from John's Gospel I remember losses in my life – the death of my father and mother and grandparents. The death of my cousin Kay just a few weeks ago from cancer; she waged a valiant struggle for three years and felt fortunate that she could live long enough to attend her daughter's wedding and to hold her first grandchild before she died.
II
There is a story of twins, a boy and a girl, carrying on a conversation in their mother's womb about life after life. The unborn baby boy says that there is nothing after their warm and cozy existence in their mother's body. This is all there is, better enjoy it now, he says. The baby girl says, no, there is life after this life. The life that we have now is not permanent, it is temporary. We can enjoy this life now, but we will leave it and begin a new life. We don't know all that our new life will be, she says, but we need to trust that the one who made us and cared for us in this life will love and care for us in the new life also.
III
In today's Gospel passage Jesus gives us an example of how we can stand with each other at times of death and loss and how we can give each other hope. One such person who helped me in my wrestling with death and grieving was the Irish priest and poet John O'Donohue, who spoke several times here at All Saints Parish. I was fortunate this past May on my sabbatical to spend ten days on retreat with John in Ireland. Those ten days in May seem even more precious now because John O'Donohue died unexpectedly and peacefully in his sleep on January 3. He was only 53 years old and his death came as a huge shock.
John was a prolific writer of poems and books and one of the most engaging speakers that I ever heard, but he didn't use email. When asked to explain why he didn't use email, he said, "Why would I want to return from a lovely walk to find 70 people in my kitchen?"
John took us on our retreat to the Aran Islands to the Dun Aengus Cliffs that rise 300 feet from the ocean below. He spoke that day about death and how the ocean's edge is a symbol of the threshold between death and life. He invited us to creep to the edge of the cliff and look over and there to toss away our fears of death and toss away anything that might be keeping us from becoming the persons we were meant to be.
John spoke often of death and crossing the threshold. He said when we die, that there would be scores of old friends who greet us and welcome us to our new home. Rather than be feared, death was a door to deeper dimension, part of the spiritual journey. Inside each of us, he said, was a deep longing for wholeness that would be satisfied when we were united with the source of all life. He wrote this poem on
"On the death of the Beloved."
Though we need to weep your loss,
You dwell in that safe place in our hearts,
Where no storm or night or pain can reach you.
Your love was like the dawn
Brightening over our lives
Awakening beneath the dark
A further adventure of colour.
The sound of your voice
Found for us
A new music
That brightened everything.
Whatever you enfolded in your gaze
Quickened in the joy of its being;
You placed smiles like flowers
On the altar of the heart.
Your mind always sparkled
With wonder at things.
Though your days here were brief,
Your spirit was live, awake, complete.
We look towards each other no longer
From the old distance of our names;
Now you dwell inside the rhythm of breath,
As close to us as we are to ourselves.
Though we cannot see you with outward eyes,
We know our soul's gaze is upon your face,
Smiling back at us from within everything
To which we bring our best refinement.
Let us not look for you only in memory,
Where we would grow lonely without you.
You would want us to find you in presence,
Beside us when beauty brightens,
When kindness glows
And music echoes eternal tones.
When orchids brighten the earth,
Darkest winter has turned to spring;
May this dark grief flower with hope
In every heart that loves you.
May you continue to inspire us:
To enter each day with a generous heart.
To serve the call of courage and love
Until we see your beautiful face again
In that land where there is no more separation,
Where all tears will be wiped from our mind,
And where we will never lose you again.
From: To Bless the Space Between Us (entitled Benedictus in Europe, Ireland and the UK)
In today's Gospel passage, Jesus says, "Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?"
John O'Donohue did and he taught me to see in the ocean lapping against a cliff that we have yet another sign of the threshold between this life and the next.
Amen.