In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen
Weddings and funerals – alas, usually more funerals than weddings these days – weddings and funerals are part of the stock in trade of the faithful pastor and they should, of course, be a part also of the regular experience of the supportive, nurturing, Christian community we call a parish. Weddings and funerals – we usually associate one with joy and one with sorrow, but St John the Divine, the author of the book of Revelation, brings both of them transcendentally together for us at this celebration of All Saints and imbues them with new emotion. And, of course, he speaks not of just any wedding and not just of any funeral, but of the end of all funerals, and the wedding of all weddings. In fact, we can take his rapturous vision of both to understand the true nature of our weddings and our funerals, even now.
John speaks of a new heaven and a new earth, and to get some sense of what he means, we need to call to mind and refresh some images of creation itself. We need to imagine again the dawning of time, when from an infinite darkness God created light—sun burning through the morning mist, meteor showers in the late summer sky, light on snow that glistens pure and radiant, lightning that crackles and hisses, and from which we cannot turn our eyes. The new creation will come like this, and the dimly lit mirror we see through now will be a thing of the past. The Holy City, the New Jerusalem, the faithful who have come through every tribulation will be clothed in God’s light, as pure and as holy as that first light which he saw “and behold it was very good.”
I don’t know about these things in America but in England these days in preparation for their wedding, brides can try on rail upon rail of ridiculously expensive dresses in an attempt to capture and mirror that light, foolishly forgetting that if the goodness of God is there, it will already be shining through them, with them, and in them whatever they wear. The embroidery, the beads, the pearls, and the diamonds cannot change what is on the inside and such frippery will not fool the crowd for very long, for it is only when the outer garments adorn what is godly that they become one with the beauty God has poured into his creation.
The Holy City, the New Jerusalem, the faithful believers of every generation will be adorned as such a bride. In that day, the Church, the body of Christ, will be as close to her Lord as a bride is to her husband. And it is a reminder to us, that the Church has always understood that it is God who established marriage, not only “that children might be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord,” not only because it is the estate where “the natural instincts and affections implanted by God, should be hallowed and directed aright,” but even more so, because in “mutual society, help and comfort” marriage is the place that points to the future – to the depth of love that God has for us – to the indissoluble union God has made with us – to the future, radiant in its splendour, where the joy that God has placed in us is truly eternal.
When someone we love dies – parent, partner, child, friend – it is natural to weep and mourn. We remember what it felt like when they were close—the sound of their voice, their laughter, the tenderness of their embrace if they were close friends or partners and we are desolate. We remember, and we feel the separation so intensely that it can physically hurt like a sharp cut or a nagging ache. These days, dying can too often be a slow process, a terminal diagnosis can sometimes leave our beloved lingering in a half-life as the strength to live diminishes. And then we start our grieving in advance, and the tears that come at the graveside are both of sorrow and of release, for we know that for them the pain is over, that death is no more for them, only life. Then St John’s vision from Revelation is our consolation: There, at the last, will be those whom we love, clothed in white, at home with God. Then at last our tears of sorrow begin to move towards their end, for mourning and crying and pain will be no more. The first things have passed away.
St John’s vision was revealed to him by God to pass on to a Church that was being persecuted for its faithfulness to the living God, the risen Christ. His immense vision is now judged to be Scripture for our sake and passed on to us, for whether the rulers of this world persecute the faithful or not, all of us mortals will die. What the world around us sees as simply a funeral – an end, the Church sees as a holy sign, that just as in the beginning of time God created life out of nothing, so now he who has conquered death will do the same for us and transform the body of our humble estate into the image of his glorious body.
Raised to life eternal, our homecoming, our life in the New Jerusalem in the Communion of Saints, will be as joyous as a thousand weddings, where we, with all his saints, will be adorned in light, radiant with his beauty. And in fellowship with all the saints who have gone before us and the promise of all that is to come, we will sing with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven the glorious hymn of his praise without end.
The funeral has ended. Heaven and earth have passed away in the vision that God has given to us on this All Saints Sunday. The wedding has begun. For the One who said into the darkness, Let there be light, and there was light, is coming again with a word of immense power: Behold, I make all things new.
Sermon preached by the Rev. Canon Jeremy M. Haselock
Preceptor and Chaplain to HM The Queen, Norwich Cathedral
The Church of the Redeemer
Sarasota Florida
All Saints’ Sunday
6 November 2016