Introduction

This is a funeral homily I preached at Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Beatrice, Neb., on Tuesday, Nov. 17, 2009.

Readings

Proverbs 3:13-18
Psalm 23
Revelation 21:1-4, 9-11
John 14:1-7

Message

Only a day—and yet a lifetime—
separated the fifteenth day of November in 1920
when Dorothy Mae, a child of God,
was born in St. Joseph, Missouri,
and this past Saturday, the fourteenth day of another November,
when Dorothy was born anew to eternal life.

These are both birth days.
One brought Dorothy to life in this world
and welcomed her into a lifetime
filled with family and friends,
embroidery and bowling,
organizing and taking charge,
pitching for both teams in family softball games
between the Cheaters and the Fairplays,
dancing and playing cards,
crocheting Christmas gifts,
finding just the right ring and blouse,
speaking with pride of her sons’ military service,
and worshipping in church and at home
before altars large and small, small as an end table.

The other birth day now has brought her to life eternal with God—
to a new beginning in the dwelling place
our Lord Jesus Christ has prepared for us, (see John 14:1-3)
to a time for happiness in learning the wisdom of God
and discovering as Proverbs tells us, that
“her ways are ways of pleasantness,
and all her paths are peace,” (Proverbs 3:17),
and to a day that knows no sunset, no night,
but instead glows brightly with the glory of God,
where Dorothy and all the faithful departed
live in “…the holy city Jerusalem
coming down out of heaven from God”
and where they discover, to their surprise and satisfaction,
that living in the city is all the adornment, the jewelry anyone needs,
because the city itself
“has the glory of God and a radiance
like a very rare jewel, like jasper, clear as crystal.”
(Revelation 21:10-11)

That city is bigger than St. Joseph and Beatrice,
more splendid than Adams or Lincoln.
In that place, Dorothy is now discovering to her joy—
as we will share with her on that day—
that eternal worship among the faithful as the bride,
the wife of the Lamb, our Lord Jesus Christ,
is a life, a joy, a blessing
that brings a calming peace to all the strife we endure,
that brings healing to all of the pain we bear,
that brings reconciliation to all the broken ties we mourn,
that brings wholeness to the worn-out bodies we outlive.

It is a natural thing to mourn Dorothy’s death,
because her absence leaves holes in our lives,
like a fresh cut in the skin leaving a wound,
like a rip in a shirt leaving a ragged hole.

But, by God’s grace, we mourn as people of hope,
as friends and family who know that death is not the end,
that the day we die is but our second and better birth day.

And in the meantime, we tell the stories,
we hold the memories fondly in our minds,
we treasure the wisdom “more precious than jewels,” (Proverbs 3:15)
and we raise our heads and look to our Lord,
who says to us, “I am the way and the truth and the life.
No one comes to the Father except through me.” (John 14:6)

And so with that faith, we face this day as people on the way.
And, as T.S. Eliot penned in a famous poem,
“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.” (Four Quartets: Little Gidding)
We do know that place, the place our Lord prepares for us. Amen.