On Tuesday morning, Javi stands in the church narthex observing many of Laura and Jeff’s family members during her visitation hours. Javi looks at his watch. 10:45. We should pray soon. He moves himself toward the center of where everyone is and announces, “If I could have your attention please.” Everyone looks at him. “The service will begin in about fifteen minutes, so if everyone except for the immediate family could please move into the sanctuary, thank you.”
Javi makes his way to Jeff and the rest of the immediate family. “Let us move into this room.” Javi guides them into the crying room and shuts the door, designed for young mothers to bring their infants and toddlers during the service when they become too unruly or need a diaper changed.
“Before we pray,” Javi says, “do we have our designated pall bearers?” There are nods among the men across the room. Javi takes this as a satisfactory answer. “As we enter the sanctuary, I will go first up to the altar, and the pall bearers alongside the coffin will come after me. Once Laura is situated up front, you may sit in your reserved pews, and we’ll begin the service. After the service, we will go to the committal at our church cemetery and return here for lunch. Are there any questions?”
When no one answers, Javi opens his Pastoral Care Companion and says, making the sign of the cross, “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”
“Amen,” they say.
Javi continues, “Hear the promise of Christ, our Lord: ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die.’ Let us pray… Merciful Father, the generations rise and pass away before You. You are the strength of those who labor and the repose of the blessed dead. We give You thanks for all who have lived and died in the faith, especially for Laura, our dear sister. In this body You gave her life and poured out Your Holy Spirit when You washed her in the renewing waters of Holy Baptism. By the same Spirit You led her to confess with her mouth that Jesus is Lord and to believe in her heart that You have raised Christ from the dead. Give us faith to commend our sister to You and to await with confidence the resurrection of all Your saints, living and departed; through Jesus Christ, Your Son, our Lord, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.”
And they all say, “Amen.”
Javi closes his book and leads them to process into the sanctuary.
†
After all the necessary liturgy, Javi walks up to the pulpit, nervous that his sermon will fall flat. I’ve taken the risk. No sense in backing down now. I’m no good at improv.
He looks out into the congregation, then to Jeff and his family, and begins, “Jeff, family, and friends of Laura: Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.”
Now the risk.
“I recently started reading the classic novel, Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley. I know, it’s a very strange book to mention at a funeral. I never thought I’d ever say the name “Frankenstein” in a sermon, let alone a funeral, but bear with me for a moment. At the beginning of the book, you learn that what fuels Dr. Frankenstein’s obsession with human mortality is what he calls ‘the secrets of heaven and earth’ and ‘the mysterious soul of man,’ especially when his mother died of scarlet fever, for which we still have no vaccine or cure, much like cancer. When his mother dies, he calls death an ‘irreparable evil,’ and he says this about the surreal strangeness of grief: ‘It is so long before the mind can persuade itself that she, whom we saw every day, and whose very existence appeared a part of our own, can have departed forever—that the brightness of a beloved eye can have been extinguished, and the sound of a voice so familiar and dear to the ear can be hushed, never more to be heard.’”
He looks at Jeff. Yes, I’ve made at least one connection!
“It takes a considerable long time to grow accustomed to the absence of a loved one who’s passed away. Laura’s existence was a part of Jeff’s own—as a true symbol of marriage, Jeff and Laura came as a packaged deal. Wherever Jeff was, Laura was not far behind, and vice versa; and for this, I will never think of the sacristy the same where they both often served together. Thus, her existence was also a part of her church’s own as she served on the Altar Guild, with the quilters, and communed with her fellow saints in these pews. It will take a long time for all of us to grow accustomed to her untimely absence—the absence of the sparkle in her eye when she smiles, and the pleasing sound of her voice in our ears. Here’s where Dr. Frankenstein failed in his grief, which many of us are far too prone to imitate: he threw himself into his work and fell deeper into his obsession with human mortality. Conversely, here’s where Laura prevailed: she threw herself into the love of Christ. Rather than throwing ourselves into obsessions with human mortality, like Laura we throw ourselves into the life of Christ, the One who rose from the dead. This is what Laura did in her last few weeks. She occupied herself with the victory she has in Christ.
“Sure, Victor Frankenstein was correct in his estimation: the wages of sin, death, is an irreparable evil insofar as our human powers are concerned. Perhaps death drives some of us to despair because when confronted with death, we face not only the mortality of our loved one as well as our own, but we also face the reality that we are utterly powerless to rectify death and the world’s most deadly diseases. Not even the world’s best doctors can reverse death, let alone cancer. Even should a person’s cancer go into remission, they live in fear knowing it could rear its ugly head again and this time have victory over them.
“So, yes, death is irreparable. At least for us. But it is not irreparable to Christ, and Laura knew this. That’s why she chose today’s sermon text, Romans eight, thirty-one through thirty-nine.”
Javi takes a thoughtful posture. “Something I think I’ll always remember about Laura is that every Sunday, before church started, she would sit in her usual pew,” he points at it, “and read and meditate on the Scripture readings for the week. She loved reading God’s Word because she loved Jesus. And Jesus loves her. Did you pay attention to the words in Romans eight earlier? Let’s read them again, but carefully this time.” He begins to read deliberately, “‘What then shall we say to these things? [What things is Paul talking about? Suffering.] If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for us all, how will He not also with Him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect [like Laura]? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? …No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.’”
He pauses for a moment. “Cancer may have taken Laura from us, but it is not powerful enough to take her from Christ.
“Now, there’s a lot of uncertainty in our times. Things like disease and waiting for the cancer to either go in remission or take our loved one away only magnify the uncertainty. Death interrupts the plans we’ve made and intensifies the uncertainty. Yet Paul assures us there is reason for certainty—for the sureness of faith, and this is the certainty Laura had despite the uncertainty of that irreparable evil we call cancer and death. I heard the story that shortly before her death, with family gathered around her, she suddenly opened her eyes and said, ‘What are you all crying for? I’m going to be in a better place.’ What a lesson of faith she’s taught all of us: Faith is certainty.
“The certainty Paul speaks of is not a certainty we can achieve. Laura knew this. Rather, she knew that it is the certainty of God’s doing, and this is what she wants you—nay, what God wants you to remember today. Certainty is based on the premise of His love. We stand with certainty not in a momentary mood, or the euphoria of victory, or the dysphoria of loss; rather, we stand in the promise of the Lord. We stand in the life of God that He has given us—the life that was secured for us in the death and resurrection of Christ, like Laura did. She died with the certainty that death would not ‘be able to separate [her] from the love of God in Christ Jesus [her] Lord.’ But what does this mean? How can love have power over death?
“I’m sure that Jeff, out of his love for Laura—like all of us here—would more than like to have the power to bring Laura back. But alas! we cannot. But God can, and He will. God’s love is a love so powerful that He reverses death. When Jesus died and rose from the dead, He didn’t do this for Himself; He did this for you. For Laura. As Jesus said, “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.’ Now replace ‘the world’ with your name, with Laura’s name, ‘For God so loved Laura, that He gave His only Son, that she who believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.’”
Back to the risky part. “As Frankenstein’s ‘monster’ tells his story, he is the most benevolent creature you can imagine, but you then learn that he indeed becomes a monster when he murders a child because of the absence of his creator’s love. Brothers and sisters, God the Creator’s love for Laura is not absent. The love with which God loved Jesus is the love that gave Him over to death so that you might not die eternally to sin but also the resurrection of Jesus so that you, Laura, and all who believe in Him would have eternal life. Just two chapters earlier in Romans, Paul writes that to be baptized is to be buried with Christ in death and to receive the promise of the resurrection that will be just like Jesus’ resurrection. This is why nothing in death or life can separate Laura from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus because she was baptized into His death and resurrection—into His love so deep that He gave His life for her so that she might live eternally. She had already died when she was baptized before cancer abruptly took her from us. She died to sin, and she died to death, and lived to Christ Jesus, the One so powerful that He rose Himself from the dead through God’s own love, which means it is also His love.
“And when He comes again, through His love, He will raise Laura with all the saints in a resurrection just like His, to be with Him in the new heavens and the new earth for all eternity because we have the victory of the resurrection that makes Laura, with all the saints, more than a victor—more than a conqueror—through Christ Jesus who loves her. For us, the death of someone we love may drive us to despair because death confounds us: ‘How could this happen? She was so young.’ But Jesus confounds death, because for Jesus, the evil of death is not irreparable, as is evident in His own resurrection when He burst forth from the grave so that He might give Laura, and all His saints, a resurrection just like His. Therefore, we shall again see the brightness of her beloved eyes when she smiles and have delight at the sound of her voice when Christ returns and raises you and me with her from the dead for all eternity.
“To Christ belongs all the glory, forever and ever. Amen.”
The Lutheran Column 