Introduction

This is a funeral homily I preached at Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Beatrice, Neb., on Friday, Dec. 18, 2009.

Readings

Isaiah 12:1–6
Psalm 121
1 Thessalonians 5:1–11
Luke 2:15–20, 33–35

Message

One of the loneliest feelings is to be sad,
when all around you, others are happy.
And this week, as you have faced the shocking news of Melissa’s death,
those feelings are compounded
by the swelling sounds of Christmas festivities.

This is the season that should be one of joy, not sorrow.
This is a time for celebrating a birth, not mourning a death.

And yet there is nothing that can be done to roll back events,
to change the twists taken by the path of life,
to lengthen Melissa’s stay in your midst.

But even so, you have made a good decision
to gather here today in this place,
to come together to offer worship to our God.

He is the one who gives us life, who inspires each breath we take.
And he, our Father, loved his own Son so much
that death did not have the last word—life did,
as he resurrected our Lord Jesus Christ by the power of their Holy Spirit.

This is a gift God offers to pour out upon all of us,
no matter what has happened in our lives,
no matter what paths we have taken, what choices we have made.
We may even believe that God has grown angry with us.
But we each pray together with Isaiah,

…your anger[, O LORD,] turned away,
and you comforted me.
Surely God is my salvation;
I will trust, and will not be afraid,
for the LORD GOD is my strength and my might;
he has become my salvation.” (Isaiah 12:1b–2, NRSV)

This is his promise to us; he will come to save us.
This the message the Church shares with all people at Christmas,
that God has come to us in Jesus, whose name means, “he saves.”
That’s why St. Paul consoles both us and the Church at Thessalonica:

For God has destined us not for wrath
but for obtaining salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ,
who died for us,
so that whether we are awake or asleep
we may live with him. (1 Thessalonians 5:9–10, NRSV).

There is comfort in knowing
that our destiny lies in God’s hands,
that he desires for us to live with him.
And since this is God’s desire,
and since death does not stand in his way,
he can gather all of us—Melissa and you and me—
whether we are awake or asleep,
and hold us lovingly and gently in his strong arms.

Jesus our Lord knows the comfort of that kind of embrace,
because he felt the warmth and security of Mary’s arms enfolding him.

And beyond that, we too share something of Mary’s feelings,
of her love and her fears for Jesus, her son.
Surely there have been times when you,
as relatives and friends of Melissa,
have treasured and pondered, like Mary, your memories of Melissa.
But also there have been hard times when, like Mary,
“…a sword [has] pierce[d] your own soul.” (Luke 2:35b, NRSV)

But in the end, Mary knew that her son’s suffering led to life for all.
And today, we know, thanks to her love and care for him,
that his defeat of death leads to “the dawn of redeeming grace”
shining upon us from the face of Jesus Christ, “love’s pure light.” Amen.
(“Silent Night,” Lutheran Book of Worship, 65)