November, in the church’s calendar, is a month for remembrance.
This morning, in our Eucharist for All Saints, we remembered those in whom the light of God’s love and holiness shone particularly brightly; those whose examples we seek to follow in Christian living. Next Sunday, we shall be remembering those who laid down their lives in the service of their country. But this evening, we gather together to remember before God all those whom WE have known and loved, and who have passed before us through the gates of Death into the joy of God’s heavenly kingdom.
There are so many ways to remember the individual lives which have touched our own, and which are on our hearts this evening.
Last year at the beginning of November, I was asked to lead an assembly at Hampstead Parochial School to mark All Souls’ Day. In searching for images to illustrate my talk, I discovered all kinds of different traditions which have grown up around this day in different countries and cultures.
Many nationalities use All Souls’ Day as an opportunity to visit the graves of their loved ones, and I found pictures of graveyards in Eastern Europe covered with the tiny twinkling lights of hundreds of candles. In India, people take wreaths of bright flowers and the graveyards become places of beauty and colour, as they remember and celebrate with joy the lives of those buried there. And in the countries around the Baltic Sea, I found several pictures of families who actually take picnics to the graves, so that the deceased can be included in a family party as their relatives remember their place and legacy within that family.
Here tonight we choose to commemorate our loved ones by hearing their names read out in the presence of God and of God’s people, and by lighting candles together.
But how do such beautiful rituals speak to us, and what is the Christian message which is reflected through them?
We live today in an age and a culture in which death is almost a taboo subject. Once, bereaved people were encouraged to dress in distinctive black clothing, and to spend time set apart during a lengthy period of mourning. Today, though, we often feel pressure from society to “get back to normal” as soon as possible after a death – although, of course, “normal” will never be quite the same again.
Whilst it is important that we learn to live in this new “normality”, and to find meaning and purpose for our lives without those we have lost, it is also important that we are able openly to acknowledge our loss, and to cherish and share our memories with others.
On the return to everyday life, many of us shy away from talking about our bereavement for fear of upsetting or embarrassing others. Our grief and pain can lie hidden, sometimes even from us, as we dare not allow ourselves to think too deeply about the people who are gone, for fear that our emotions will overwhelm us.
But the Church tonight, in commemorating the faithful departed in many ways all across the world, offers us that safe space in God’s presence where we can freely remember those who are now hidden from us by the shadow of Death.
We may remember how they looked, how they sounded, remember the many things we shared, and acknowledge the extent to which they continue to be present with us – in our hearts and in our lives. It is an opportunity to give thanks for all our good memories, for joy and companionship, for the chance to love and be loved.
But this service also allows us a time and space in which we can, before God, acknowledge other emotions which may accompany a death, and which we may also have tried to ignore or suppress: a sense of pain, anger, bewilderment or regret. The Bible, and especially the psalms, are full of all these emotions; of people crying out to God in protest and anger and hurt, honestly expressing everything in their hearts; and God’s church remains a place where we can come with all our anxieties, feelings, doubts and questions.
The Church is not here to offer trite or easy answers to some of the most difficult questions we face as human beings. Why do some seem to die far too soon, whilst others live so long that their physical bodies and even their desire to live have begun to fade? This kind of question we can ask only of God, trusting at least that, as Jesus came down to earth to share our human lives, he can also share in and understand our grief and loss, as he wept at the death of his friend, Lazarus.
But, at the same time, within this service, we can turn to God, and to the Christian Gospel, to hear clear messages of comfort and hope. In the story of Jesus Christ, we recall that Jesus died on the Cross, but that God raised him from the dead to bring the eternal hope to his followers, then and now, that Death is not the end. We are told that Christ has gone ahead of us to prepare a place for each one of us in his Father’s house, as we place our trust in him.
Second, the Scriptures assure us that righteous souls who have died are safe and at peace in God’s loving presence. The anthem the choir sang just now is based on verses from the Wisdom of Solomon, and the full text in a modern version reads:
But the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God,
and no torment will ever touch them.
In the eyes of the foolish they seemed to have died,
their departure was thought to be a disaster,
and their going from us to be their destruction;
but they are at peace. (Wisdom 3:1-3)
And finally, our faith teaches us that those who have passed through death remain bound together with us, not just in our memories, but as part of that rejoicing communion which transcends all boundaries of time and space, worshipping God, our Creator and Redeemer.
The Quaker writer, William Penn – founder of Pennsylvania – once wrote,
“They that love beyond the World, cannot be separated by it. Death cannot kill what never dies. Nor can Spirits ever be divided that love and live in the same Divine Principle… Death is but crossing the World, as Friends do the Seas; they live in one another still. For they must needs be present that love and live in that which is Omnipresent.” (William Penn, Some Fruits of Solitude, 1693)
We live, together with those who have passed beyond this world, within the love of that omnipresent divinity – Father, Son and Holy Spirit. As he loves and cares for us here on earth, so he loves and cares for those who have entered into his kingdom, and so we, too, remain united with them in love.
If we return briefly to the different cultural rituals for All Souls’ Night, we may see how these different Christian beliefs may be reflected in physical acts of remembrance. In the twinkling lights of the Eastern European graveyards – and the candles we light in church tonight – we see illustrated the light of Christ, the symbol of the Resurrection, and also every Christian soul’s baptismal vocation to “shine as a light in the world to the glory of God the Father.”
The Indian wreaths and bright flowers remind us that tonight we may celebrate the joys and happy memories of a life on earth; whilst the Baltic family picnics remind us of shared love and companionship, and demonstrate that united in God’s love, we continue to love and be loved by those who are enfolded in his presence.
We shall shortly hear the names of those we remember read out before God’s altar. The Bible tells us that God has called each one of us by name, and made us his own, and those whom we name before him tonight continue, like us, to be called and owned by him and held in his merciful love.
As we heard in our first reading,
“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is thy faithfulness.” Amen.