Sermon for the second Sunday of November, 2008

At Saint Mary’s every year, the first week of November is devoted to parish requiem masses. We remember friends and family who have died and are now with our Lord. Members and friends of the parish submit the names of those people and those names are read, hundreds and hundreds of them, at the masses following All Souls’ Day.

Reading those names is always difficult for me. Its not the number: almost all of the names are people I have never met. It’s the occasional name that you do know: suddenly a name comes up and you know exactly who it is.

Eileen. Eileene Whittle, a beloved parishioner who died a little over a year ago. Eileen attended daily Mass and took care of the altar linens with love and devotion. She was one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met.

Max. Max Henderson-Begg. Max was the Verger at Saint Thomas on Fifth Avenue, where my father is rector. He was 46 years old and was survived by his son and wife. I knew Max for about 10 years. He was a wonderful man and a good friend.
Sometimes a name is read and it reminds me of someone I knew and miss.

Keith. One of my best friends in high school who died of Leukemia soon after graduation.

Paul. My uncle who died at age 32, leaving 3 children and his wife behind.

My God it can be difficult to read those names. I can only imagine how hard it can be to hear them being read off. Name after name for almost 10 minutes.

Saint Paul writes: “We would not have you ignorant, brethren, concerning those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep.”


I find it difficult to let go of grief. I have hope in the resurrection. I know that those who have already fallen asleep are with Jesus, and I know that I will one day see them again. I’m not sure hope makes grief any easier – as far as I can tell Christians grieve and mourn loved ones as much as everyone else. However, hope in the resurrection means that grief isn’t an end in itself.

When I remember Max, I think of the day he so suddenly died and it makes me very sad. But that sadness doesn’t have the last word. Hope in the resurrection and the love of God means that I can move through grief to new life in Christ instead of just moving on and letting go.

Saint John reminds us that: “God is Love.” Saint Paul assures us that: “Love never ends”. I believe that Christians gather to celebrate love. Love for everyone that has ever entered into our lives and the love of God that never ends. Through the Love of God in Christ we are given the gift of eternal life. Through the resurrection of Jesus Christ we are never separated from God or from each other. Because of the love of God I can see smiles and laughter on the other side of grief.

Our readings today put Christian hope of the resurrection in the context of being prepared for the unexpected. It is impossible to know what tomorrow will bring. In my life, prayer has made a big difference moving through all of life’s ups and downs. I believe that prayer can help open our hearts to God’s presence so that no matter what we always know that God is with us.

May we always feel and know ourselves to be surrounded by God’s love and presence. May God bless us and keep us and may the love of our Lord Jesus Christ shine brightly upon us and on those we love. Amen.