Buried Alive

Romans 8:31-39

        Since announcing my retirement, more than a handful of you have asked, “Will you still be able to do my funeral?” My hope is I will attend none of your funerals as we continue to live long and healthy lives. I will take it as a compliment that you want me to speak some tender words over your departed remains and I would be more than happy to oblige, but let me remind you, this isn’t my first rodeo.  Each time I have moved to a new church folks have made this request. A year later a new guy takes my place and my former parishioners discovered most ministers are pretty good at the funeral gig.  Once the new kid on the block showed off his chops, I was pretty much released from any future obligations.   I suspect this will be the case here. Soon, very soon, you will be as comfortable and trusting of your next minister as you have been with me.

        On the other hand, aren’t we all just a little bit curious about what folks will say about us when we die? I remember twenty years ago when my father asked if I would preside over his funeral.    The instructions were, “Read the scripture. Give thanks to God. Mention my name only in passing.” Over the next 18 years Dad kept altering the original instructions. The scripture remained the same. Giving thanks to God was expected. But every other year he suggested I might put in a good word about him, or heaven forbid, even share a memory. By the time he died, I really think he wanted to read what I was going to say. And what is wrong with that. Wouldn’t it be delightful to hear how wonderful you were? I went to a funeral of a dear friend and the minister’s first words were, “John was such a great guy I will not even have to lie.”  What a great epitaph.   

So if I were to do your funeral, what would I say? My father’s original request covers the first rule of any good funeral, pick the right scripture and give thanks to God. I have no idea how many funerals I have done, but I would venture to say quite often the scripture selected was Romans 8:31, “If God is for us, who could be against us?”

Once upon a time, before burials turned “pastoral”, the purpose of the funeral was to remind everyone that not even death can replace or conquer the love of God. Paul, nearing the end of his own life, often spoke about suffering. He had been beaten, ship wrecked, spit on, whipped, and arrested more times than can be imagined. He knew his suffering was not unique among his followers. They too had suffered for the faith because the teachings of Christ stood contrary to everything Rome held sacred. Paul wrote, “In everything you do, be humble, graceful, forgiving, and peaceful.” Rome would have not conquered its little corner of the world with that particular slogan painted on its shields. Christian morality was viewed as a threat to Pax Romana. Rome felt compelled to eliminate what Claudius called a radical tumor. Everything but full scale persecution had been tried. Elimination of the cult was the logical next step.   Paul did not welcome his demise, but neither did he fear it.

Contrary to what some distant voices might preach, we are rarely persecuted for our faith. But neither are we immune to suffering. In the United States, over 140,000 people have died from Covid-19. For the millions for folks trying to find job security life is hard. In these difficult times claiming, “If God is for us, who can be against us” seems antiquated, even foolish. Yet 2,000 years of history, 2,000 years of suffering, 2,000 years of faith has convinced me nothing will separate us from God’s love.

Where is the Roman Empire? It is only a memory. Where is Christianity?  Yes it has its flaws. Yes it has its scars. Yes it sometimes makes me shake my head. But the church is still here, not because it is powerful, not because it is perfect, not because we are better than any other religion, but because when we are at our best, we are a reflection of the love of God.

This love reaches into the depths of human despair, embraces those who live in the shadows, and challenges those obsessed with authority. The love of God looks at the present with a clear eye and into the future with hope. The love of God has no beginning or end. It is a love that transcends wrath, is never compromised by excuses, and finds forgiveness to be a soothing balm to condemnation. This love, best exemplified in the death of Jesus, initiates our exodus from sin and freedom from bondage with a liberating promise of hope, joy and justice. To quote Paul, “Nothing in life or death, nothing present or in our future, nothing in all of creation can separate us from this love.”

That is how I would begin your funeral. Once that declaration is made everything else is easy. When I speak of you, I speak of the love of God personified. It has been 90 degrees every day this week but someone has been in our garden harvesting food for folks in need. I have been at the wood pile when it is so cold two pair of gloves isn’t enough. But I am never at the wood pile alone. School supplies greet our elementary students when they arrive at school and they never go home hungry on the week-end. You pay the rent, medical cost, and electric bills for folks you will never meet. And that is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the love you exhibit to both stranger and neighbor. But perhaps my greatest joy being your minister comes when I visit the hospitals and nursing homes. So often I would enter a room and be greeted with the words, “So and so just left”. I look around the room and see it decorated by flowers and cards from members of Rockfish Presbyterian. When I would get back to my office an e-mail or two asks if meals or transportation might be needed. Nothing in all creation can stand against this kind of love.

Marilynn Robinson, was once asked, “What are we doing here?” Robinson, who can be as pragmatic as anyone responded, “It seems to me God, who can be peculiar and more improbable than we might ever imagine, has one consistency. When we heal, when we feed, when we teach, when we love, when we do the good things that matter most, it also matters most to God.”  

My dear, not yet departed friends, in you I have witnessed what matters most to God.           Amen.