Life's Farthest Limits
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Dear Fellow Preachers,
In Shakespeare's Measure for Measure (Act 3, Scene 1), Isabella says, "The sense of death is most in apprehension." Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, who died this past week, accomplished great good as a pioneer in the compassionate care of those who experience this horrifying apprehension. Her writings now underlie a great deal of how we, in the ministry and those in medical fields, assist those in their final days. We at The Immediate Word believe the news of her death is an excellent sermonic opportunity to discuss dying and death from a Christian perspective. So we have asked team member Carlos Wilton to do just that, using the lectionary Psalm for September 5 as a basis.
Team members offer responses, illustrations, worship resources (including prayers for Labor Day), and a children's sermon.
Life's Farthest Limits
Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18
By Carlos Wilton
The Message on a Postcard
Elisabeth Kubler-Ross died on Tuesday, August 24, at age 78. While her name may not be familiar to many church members, she is certainly known to most pastors and counselors -- and her ideas about loss and grief have become part of the essential psychological tool kit of many of us as we face the business of living.
Much of what Kubler-Ross wrote in her 1969 bestseller, On Death and Dying, has become so widely accepted that many people have forgotten how revolutionary it was at the time. In the mid-1960s, Kubler-Ross, a psychiatrist, was working on many of the same issues that English physician Cicely Saunders was exploring as she opened the first modern hospice in London in 1967. The two doctors, working at first independently of each other, noted with dismay that the experience of dying was not something the medical establishment spent much time thinking about. To many physicians, death represented an embarrassment, a failure. And dying patients were too often shunted off to a lonely room at the end of the hospital corridor, where nature was allowed to take its course with minimal attention from medical caregivers.
Beginning with the basic hospice philosophy that death is a fundamental and important experience of life, Kubler-Ross applied intense scrutiny to the experience of dying -- and to the experience of grief that characterizes the lives of patients' loved ones. The grief process, she discovered, can typically be divided into five stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Dying people and their loved ones alike journey through these stages. The goal of psychiatry in caring for patients and families at the time of death is to affirm and support them in making this journey.
Later it was discovered that Kubler-Ross' five stages are widely applicable to many other human experiences of loss.
Psalm 139 describes a journey through life: from its earliest beginnings, in our mother's womb where we are "fearfully and wonderfully made" (v. 14), to its ending, where -- in a passage omitted from this week's lectionary -- even "at the farthest limits of the sea ... your right hand shall hold me fast" (v. 9). This psalm affirms God's closeness to us throughout our lives, accompanying us on our journey.
While Kubler-Ross was eclectic in her personal faith, much of what she has written about death resonates with the Christian proclamation that, for disciples of Jesus Christ, death is nothing to fear, and is in fact a joyous homecoming. Her stages of dying serve as signposts on the journey homeward.
Some Words on the Word
James L. Mays in his commentary on the psalms introduces Psalm 139 in this way: "Psalm 139 is the most personal expression in Scripture of the Old Testament's radical monotheism. It is a doctrinal classic because it portrays human existence in all its dimensions in terms of God's knowledge, presence, and power. It reflects an understanding of the human as enclosed in divine reality. The psalm is even more a devotional classic because, used as prayer it bestows and nurtures an awareness of the Lord as the total environment of life. It teaches and confesses in the fullest way that 'my times are in your hand' " (31:15). (J. L. Mays, Psalms [Interpretation; Louisville: John Knox, 1994], p. 425)
Today's lectionary passage, which is broken into two segments with some omitted material in between, belongs to the first part of Psalm 139. Immediately after the lection ends, at verse 19, the psalm abruptly changes in tone, becoming a psalm of bitter imprecation. It's little wonder that the concluding portion of this psalm -- in which God is implored to "kill the wicked," whom the psalmist "hates ... with perfect hatred" (vv. 19, 22) -- is rarely preached!
What the lectionary gives us is not this concluding imprecation but rather verses 1-6 and 13-18. An immediate question is why the lectionary omits verses 7-12, and what implications this omission has for the overall integrity of the psalm. The lectionary editors' decision to omit these verses is mysterious -- and unfortunate. While including them does make for a slightly longer reading, both logic and the poetic vision of this passage indicate that verses 1-18 ought to be treated as a coherent whole.
Verses 1-18 are deeply beloved words, associated in the minds of many of our people with funeral services. The fact that God has "searched and known" us (v. 1) is comforting in times of grief, which is a profoundly isolating experience. The concept of God knowing our words even before we say them (v. 4) and hemming us in on every side (v. 5) may strike us, in ordinary circumstances, with a kind of claustrophobic horror. Yet in a season of grief, there is powerful comfort in knowing that God is very close indeed. As a small child feels comforted in the tight embrace of a parent, so we feel comforted when divine love hems us in. Verse 6 ("Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it") likewise reflects a child's blind trust. We do not understand how God is present, but are mightily comforted by the fact that this presence is real.
Verses 7-12 are a sort of thought-experiment. "Let's see," says the psalmist, "is there any place in the universe I can go, where God is not present?" The author then proceeds to imagine a journey to "the farthest limits of the sea" (v. 9) -- only to discover that God is present even there. The sea imagery is especially significant, because the Israelite people, who were in no sense mariners, tended to fear the sea as the embodiment of chaos. In Genesis 1, the stark, barren nothingness before creation is envisioned as an endless expanse of chaotic ocean. Yet "even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast" (v. 10). In a turning-back of the cosmic clock to the time before creation, the psalmist's thought-experiment continues. Even in the fearsome, primordial darkness, "the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you" (v. 12).
Having journeyed imaginatively back to the first day of creation, the psalmist now takes us forward to the creation of human beings. In strikingly intimate language, the author describes how God knit the parts of his body together in the womb. Even in that dark, mysterious place of gestation, which no human eye has seen, God knows exactly what is going on: "Your eyes beheld my unformed substance" (v. 16a).
There may be a temptation to use the last line of this passage: "I come to the end -- I am still with you" (v. 18b) as a reference to life after death. This interpretation is only possible, however, if this line is ripped from its context. What the psalmist is actually saying is, "I try to count God's thoughts, which are more than the sand; and when I give up on that impossible task, I find that God is still right here with me."
A rich complement to Psalm 139 is the concept of "I-Thou" dialogue, advanced by Jewish theologian Martin Buber. An I-Thou relationship, says Buber, is different from the other principal sort of relationship, which he labels "I-It." I-Thou relationships are characterized by the mutuality and openness of true dialogue. In I-It relationships, by contrast, there are none of these qualities: the two parties are fundamentally unequal. The fact that human beings can enjoy an I-Thou relationship with God at all is possible only because God has graciously accommodated to our human need. The intimate dialogue of Psalm 139 can be seen as emblematic of the I-Thou relationship at its very best.
A Map of the Message
The death of Elisabeth Kubler-Ross provides an appropriate occasion for a pastoral sermon on the Christian understanding of life after death. While there is much about the experience of dying, and about the quality of life in the hereafter, that we do not -- indeed, cannot -- understand, still the witness of Psalm 139 is that the relationship with God we have enjoyed in this life continues in the life to come.
Neither the ancient Greeks nor the ancient Hebrews had any word for "personality." The only way they could conceive of an individual human life continuing, after death, was to envision the bodily aspect of that life. Personality, to them, consisted in a voice, a handshake, an embrace, a distinctive smile. Hence we have all the psalmist's talk about God knitting the parts of his body together in the womb. It's very much an embodied understanding of human life.
The Apostles' Creed affirms the doctrine of the resurrection of the body -- an idea not explicitly present in Psalm 139 but also not completely foreign to it. The reason creeds are written, of course, is to combat heresies. There are two particular heresies that the resurrection of the body is meant to overcome -- both of which happen to be alive and well, and living today in contemporary society.
The first is materialism, pure and simple: the belief that there is no life after death at all; that, in the chilling words of Thomas Hobbes, this life of ours is "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short," a cruel joke played by the cosmos upon unsuspecting humanity. It's easy to see how the resurrection of the body is diametrically opposed to such gloomy pessimism.
The second heresy holds that the human spirit does indeed continue after death, but that it loses all individuality. Individual human souls, according to this view, merge eventually into a great cosmic world-soul, as drops of rain swallowed up in a vast, indifferent sea. Such is the view of much of Buddhism and Hinduism -- and also of some varieties of the ancient heresy called Gnosticism, which was alive and well at the time the Apostles' Creed was taking shape. Significantly, it is also the view of some of the people today who call themselves "New Age" thinkers.
In classical Christianity, the soul is not some sort of airy vapor that's housed in the body for a brief time until it flies up into a new and purified existence. No, in classical Christianity, soul and body are knit together as one. Our faith is wholistic, that way. In the great resurrection, God will redeem both body and soul.
Exactly how this will happen, or what the resurrection-body will be like, no one can say. Our poor minds are simply too small to comprehend it. The new life in Christ is going to be utterly different from anything we have come to know. That's why the New Testament speaks of it as new birth, as being "born again" -- or, more literally, "born from above" (John 3:3).
Just think about the experience of birth. Despite the best efforts of the most loving, caring midwife or hospital staff, it's got to be incredibly distressing to be born. "Birth trauma," in fact, is an accepted definition in the field of psychology.
Just imagine the sensations the newborn must experience! Rocking peacefully in the warm, salty waters of an amniotic sea, the baby begins to feel steadily increasing pressure, at regular intervals. The time between contractions decreases, until they come like waves on the ocean, rolling in continuously. Eventually, the pressure becomes so great that the child is forced out, catapulted into a brave new world of confusion and commotion and clamor.
Air rushes into lungs that have never before been inflated. Eyes open -- to glimpse a glaring, painful reality called "light" -- and then close tightly again. There are hard surfaces where there have been none before -- and, for the first time, the sensation of a chill breeze on wet skin. The brain is overwhelmed with new sensory input, to the point of overload. It's no wonder that the baby's first response to life is an instinctive cry of abject, overwhelming terror.
In time, though, the newborn learns to trust the loving arms that hold it. Its brain begins to catch up with the cascading torrent of neural impulses. In time, a mother's smile, the taste of milk, the soft caress of a warm blanket all come to make sense. These become familiar landmarks of the baby's world. The birth trauma is left behind, forgotten; the old life in the womb is all but lost to memory -- so utterly new and different is the baby's worldly existence.
No one can say for sure, but I suppose that when we experience the life beyond this one, it may be just as overwhelming, just as traumatic an experience, as a newborn catching its first, painful breath. Our finite, earthbound minds -- accustomed as they are to the five senses -- may no longer be limited to these alone.
If the psalmist is correct in musing, "even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day," then the experience of dying and being reborn must be utterly different from anything we have hitherto come to know.
Elisabeth Kubler-Ross' unique contribution has been in providing guideposts for the journey up to the point of death: and -- for the survivors who are left behind -- beyond it. Here is a brief description of her five stages of death and dying:
Stage One: Shock and Denial
The initial reaction is shock. When that wears off, patients may deny the truth of their diagnosis, or profess to feel fine.
Stage Two: Anger
Patients may feel angry at the diagnosis, and seek to assign blame -- on others, or even on God. "Why me?" is the common response.
Stage Three: Bargaining
Patients may seek to enter into a bargain, with God or with caregivers, promising to keep certain promises if only a cure is found.
Stage Four: Depression
Patients may shut down emotionally for a time, giving in to feelings of hopelessness. Sleep patterns may be disrupted, appetite may dissipate, and communication may become difficult.
Stage Five: Acceptance
Patients realize that death is inevitable, and they accept what is soon to come. The stage of acceptance is often characterized by a sense of profound peace.
Not everyone completes all five of Kubler-Ross' stages. In the case of the terminally ill patient, sometimes death intervenes prematurely. In the case of survivors, sometimes they become fixated on one of the stages for a long period of time. Kubler-Ross definitely thought that stage five should be reached if at all possible. Acceptance of the reality of death, with the accompanying feeling of deep and abiding peace, is the goal of her therapeutic philosophy.
These words of Elisabeth Kubler-Ross are typical of her outlook: "The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern."
And again, "Should you shield the canyons from the windstorms, you would never see the beauty of their carvings."
Team Comments:
Carter Shelley responds: First of all, welcome back Carlos. Not all subscribers of The Immediate Word may know that you've been on a three-month sabbatical, thanks to the Lily Foundation Grants. These grants that are now being provided are a great boon for clergy in need of an opportunity to study and pray away from the incessant demands of parish ministry. I'm glad you had that opportunity and can tell from your materials for this week that you return refreshed and with characteristic homiletical vitality.
While the subject of death and dying might seem an odd selection for Labor Day weekend, I think there's real strength in concentrating on the psalmist words and our Christian understanding of death in a Sunday morning service that is not a memorial or funeral service. All too often the only time Christians hear scripture read or thoughts about death explored are during such emotionally wrenching occasions. By paying homage to Kubler-Ross for her valuable contribution to our understanding of death and putting that into conversation with biblical affirmations, church members can better hear and consider what it means to be a Christian and to affirm life, death, and resurrection in ways that are impossible during grief-stricken days.
Having said that, I now need to say that the most controversial sermon I ever preached was not about the Equal Rights Amendment, the high costs of Reaganomics for the poor or our current "imperial hubris" (to quote the title of a recently published book). The most controversial sermon I ever preached was about death. I preached it August 26, 1979, as a small-church pastor who'd been ordained less than twelve months. The results were startling to say the least. Confirming Kubler-Ross' accuracy in identifying stages one and two, church members were shocked, in denial, angry, and resentful that I had presumed to present such a painful subject to them. I spent the entire week following that Sunday making home visits and listening to people's anger, fear, and pain around the subject. The two individuals who had had heart attacks during that year were mad that I had vocalized their worst fears, thus making those fears -- which they were trying to tamp down -- impossible for them to ignore. Those who had lost loved ones were upset that I had stirred up those emotions of loss and pain once again. It was an important lesson for me.
I did not learn from it what some of my congregants hoped, which was to never mention painful subjects in the pulpit again. I did learn just how scary and difficult death is as a subject for most twentieth- (and now twenty-first) century Americans. I also learned that, contrary to the excellent quotes Carlos provides (below) from Malcolm Muggeridge and Henri J. M. Nouwen, being a Christian doesn't alleviate the terrors and fears death evokes for most people in our pews. The pastoral care opportunities my homiletical gaffe provided were invaluable in helping me get a much better fix on the emotional fears, losses, and grief many of my members kept masked most of the time. The homiletical lesson I derived was to provide more rhetorical signposts to congregants prior to Sunday's service so members would have some idea what the sermon topic would be. Yet this experience underscores the importance of preaching about death on ordinary Sunday mornings, because it shows how shy of the subject most of us are and how badly most of us need to have a deeper understanding and a stronger biblical and theological basis for dealing with death. We need such a faith foundation so it can speak to us and comfort us when death invades our lives.
George Murphy responds: Some of the people whose obituaries were in my local paper today "died," but most of them "passed away." A couple of people "went home to be with the Lord." Apparently nobody in the area "made his transition" or "moved on to a higher plane" this past weekend, but that's been known to happen as well. Sometimes there's even a poem announcing that the person didn't die at all, but is now free to float on the breeze.
We're all familiar with those euphemisms for death, which aren't found only in the newspaper. Even medical personnel, who ought to be fairly objective in dealing with the facts of life and death, will often use them; I suppose they think it's what people want to hear. We have so many ways to practice "the denial of death"! It's not surprising, because of course we want to keep death as far from us as possible. Nor is it an entirely modern phenomenon, or one that the Christian Church has always been able to resist. In fact there's an expression of it at the very heart of an ancient statement of the Christian faith, the Nicene Creed.
The original form of the creed adopted by the first Council of Nicea did not actually say that Jesus died. A literal translation of the relevant portion of the creed from this council is simply, "he suffered and rose again on the third day" (J. N. D. Kelly, Early Christian Creeds, 3d ed. [Longman], 1972), p. 216). The later, Nicaeo-Constantinopolitan Creed expanded this to say, "he was crucified for us under Pontius Pilate, and suffered and was buried, and rose again on the third day according to the Scriptures" (ibid., p. 297), but this still does not state unambiguously that he died, even though it could be argued that "suffered and was buried" implies death. Today many English-speaking Christians use the version of the International Consultation on English Texts, which says, "he suffered death and was buried" (e.g., Lutheran Book of Worship [Augsburg, 1978], p. 64), which is certainly preferable theologically, whatever may be said about its precision as a translation.
Now some might say that of course Jesus is a special case: He was God Incarnate, and how can God die? But that's just the point. If we cannot say in some real sense that the Son of God experienced the death of the cross, then hope for us in the face of death becomes problematic. If he has not genuinely shared in our death, then we are not given a promise of sharing in his resurrection life. Then we'll be tempted to go back to holding death at a distance with euphemisms and denials.
The cross means that God is present with us in death in the deepest sense -- not simply that God is with us when we die but that God has shared our death. Gott selbst liegt tot, says one line of an old German hymn for Good Friday -- "God himself lies dead." (Unfortunately, most hymnals that include this hymn, "O Darkest Woe," either omit that verse or soften the line in translation.)
How can God die? The traditional answer is that because of the personal union of the human and divine natures in Christ, what is said of the human natures can be attributed correctly to the divine person. We do not want to say simply that God ceased to exist, and the phrase "death of God" is not as appropriate as "death in God": In the event of the cross death God took death into the divine being. Eberhard Jungel's God as the Mystery of the World (Eerdmans, 1983) is a profound treatment of this and related themes. But the "how" question need not be foremost: The first thing to say is that "he was crucified under Pontius Pilate; he suffered death and was buried."
And of course "on the third day he rose again." But that means nothing if we haven't faced the reality of the cross. Easter is just an abstraction without the reality of Good Friday. In the same way, the hope of resurrection and life after death that should be proclaimed at a Christian funeral really doesn't mean much if we've been unwilling to face the fact that our loved one actually died.
The significance of the cross and resurrection of Christ is based on the claim that God took on a fully human life, all the way back to his conception and birth. Psalm 139 and especially verses 13-16, is often appealed to by Christian opponents of abortion. The fact that Christ himself could pray these verses strengthens their significance. The point is not that this proves a human embryo or fetus to be a "person" at all stages of development. It is human life at its weakest, most incomplete and imperfect state -- and God identifies with that life. It is another example of divine condescension. And this does not prove that abortion can never be justified -- that it can never be the best of unfortunate possibilities, in any case. But it does mean, at the very least, that ending a life in the womb is never something that should be done casually or for purely selfish reasons.
Related Resources and Illustrations
From Carlos Wilton:
More information on Elisabeth Kubler-Ross may be found at this website dedicated to her life and thought: http://www.elisabethkublerross.com/
On the same site, there is a page of quotations by her:
http://www.elisabethkublerross.com/pages/Quotes.html
A description of the history of the modern hospice movement may be found at:
http://www.nyu.edu/classes/gmoran/HOSPICE.htm
Here's another history in PDF format, giving a bit more emphasis to Cicely Saunders than to Kubler-Ross: http://www.ncmedicaljournal.com/mar-apr-01/ar060301.pdf
***
The author of Psalm 139 tells how his existence is totally comprehended by God: "You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me" (v. 5). This bears some similarities to a genre of ancient Irish prayers -- revived recently as part of the renewed interest in Celtic Christianity -- known as "compassing prayers." Christians praying these prayers remind themselves that God surrounds them on all sides. In The Celtic Vision (London: Longman and Todd, 1988), p. 159, Esther de Waal describes an ancient Irish "ritual of encompassment" known as the caim, which "brought a sense of security and assurance that God, the saints and angels were called in to the aid of those in need. The caim was an imaginary circle which anyone in fear, danger or distress made by stretching out the right hand with the forefinger extended and turning sunwise, as though on a pivot, so that the circle enclosed and accompanied the man or woman as they walked, and safeguarded them from all evil, within and without."
Here are a few examples of Celtic compassing prayers -- strikingly similar, in some respects, to the "you hem me in, behind and before" thinking of Psalm 139:1-6:
Christ as a light, illumine and guide me!
Christ as a shield, overshadow and cover me!
Christ be under me! Christ be over me!
Christ be beside me, on left hand and right!
Christ be before me, behind me, about me!
Christ, this day, be within and without me!
-- St. Patrick, cited by David Adam, A Celtic Psaltery (London: SPCK, 2001), p. 51.
The compassing of God be on thee,
The compassing of the God of life.
The compassing of Christ be on thee,
The compassing of the Christ of love.
The compassing of Spirit be on thee,
The compassing of the Spirit of Grace.
The compassing of the Three be on thee,
The compassing of the Three preserve thee,
The compassing of the Three preserve thee.
-- From the Carmina Gadelica, III, 105, cited by Esther de Waal in The Celtic Vision (London: Longman and Todd, 1988), p. 161.
God before me, God behind me,
God above me, God below me;
I on the path of God, God upon my track.
Who is there on land?
Who is there on wave?
Who is there on billow?
Who is there by door-post?
Who is along with us?
God and Lord.
I am here abroad,
I am here in need,
I am here in pain,
I am here in straits,
I am here alone,
O God, aid me.
-- From the Carmina Gadelica, III, 319, cited by Esther de Waal in The Celtic Vision (London: Longman and Todd, 1988), p. 163
***
At present we tend to think of the soul as somehow "inside" the body. But the glorified body of the resurrection as I conceive it -- the sensuous life raised from its death -- will be inside the soul. As God is not in space but space is in God....
-- C. S. Lewis, Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer
***
Death is the supreme festival on the road to freedom.
-- Dietrich Bonhoeffer
***
For myself, as I approach my end, I find Jesus' outrageous claim ever more captivating and meaningful. Quite often, waking up in the night as the old do, I feel myself to be half out of my body, hovering between life and death, with eternity rising in the distance.
I see my ancient carcass, prone between the sheets, stained and worn like a scrap of paper dropped in the gutter and, hovering over it, myself, like a butterfly released from its chrysalis stage and ready to fly away. Are caterpillars told of their impending resurrection? How in dying they will be transformed from poor earth-crawlers into creatures of the air, with exquisitely painted wings? If told, do they believe it? I imagine the wise old caterpillars shaking their heads -- no, it can't be; it's a fantasy.
Yet in the limbo between living and dying, as the night clocks tick remorselessly on, and the black sky implacably shows not one single streak or scratch of gray, I hear those words: I am the resurrection, and the life, and feel myself to be carried along on a great tide of joy and peace.
-- Malcolm Muggeridge
***
So to suggest in the early going of grief that the dead body is "just" anything rings as tinny in its attempt to minimize as it would if we were to say it was "just" a bad hair day when the girl went bald from her chemotherapy. Or that our hope for heaven on her behalf was based on the belief that Christ raised "just" a body from dead. What if, rather than crucifixion, he'd opted for suffering low self-esteem for the remission of sins? What if, rather than "just a shell," he'd raised his personality, say, or The Idea of Himself? Do you think they'd have changed the calendar for that? Done the Crusades? Burned witches? Easter was a body and blood thing, no symbols, no euphemisms, no half measures.
-- Funeral director and poet Thomas Lynch, The Undertaking (New York: Penguin, 1997), p. 21.
***
Within a few years (5, 10, 20, or 30) I will no longer be on this earth. The thought of this does not frighten me but fills me with a quiet peace. I am a small part of life, a human being in the midst of thousands of other human beings. It is good to be young, to grow old and to die. It is good to live with others and to die with others. God became flesh to share with us in this simple living and dying and thus made it good. I can feel today that it is good to be and especially to be one of many. What counts are not the special and unique accomplishments in life that make me different from others, but the basic experiences of sadness and joy, pain and healing, which make me part of humanity. The time is indeed growing short for me, but that knowledge sets me free to prevent mourning from depressing me and joy from exciting me. Mourning and joy can now both deepen my quiet desire for the day when I realize that the many kisses and embraces I received today were simple incarnation; of the eternal embrace of the Lord himself.
-- Henri J. M. Nouwen, Gracias! A Latin American Journal (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1983), p. 120.
***
Each of us comes into life with fists closed, set for aggressiveness and acquisition. But when we abandon life our hands are open; there is nothing on earth that we need, nothing the soul can take with it.
-- Fulton J. Sheen
***
Man is the World, and death th'Ocean,
To which God gives the lower parts of man.
This sea invirons all, and though as yet
God hath set markes, and bounds, twixt us and it,
Yet doth it rore, and gnaw, and still pretend,
And breaks our banks, when ere it takes a friend.
-- John Donne, first lines from "Elegie on the Lady Markham"
***
From Roger Lovette:
Overheard on New York City subway. Mother and her five or six year old son.
Boy: So he is going to die?
Mom: Yes. Everything alive must die sometime. The plants, the trees, animals and people.
Boy: Is Grandpa going to die?
Mom: Yes.
Boy: Are you?
Mom: Yes, I will die one day. But not until I'm very, very old and I've watched you grow up to be a big boy with your own family.
Boy: Am I going to die?
Mom: Yes, you too will die one day. But not until you've grown up and then gone to college and gone to work and had your own family. Then you will die.
There was a long pause. Finally the boy spoke.
"I don't want to go to college."
-- New York Times
***
"What is death?" Kino asked.
"Death is the great gateway," Kino's father said. His face was not at all sad. Instead, it was quiet and happy.
"The gateway -- where?" Kino asked again.
Kino's father smiled. "Can you remember when you were born?"
Kino shook his head, "I was too small."
Kino's father laughed. "I remember very well. Oh, how hard you thought it was to be born! You cried and you screamed."
"Didn't I want to be born?" Kino asked. This was very interesting to him.
"You did not," the father told him smiling. "You wanted to stay just where you were in the warm, dark house of the unborn. But the time came to be born, and the fate of life opened."
"Did I know it was the gate of life?" Kino asked.
"You did not know anything about it and so you were afraid of it," the father replied. "But see how foolish you were! Here we were waiting for you, your parents, already loving you and eager to welcome you. And you have been very happy, haven't you?"
"Until the big wave came," Kino replied. "Now I am afraid again because of the death that the big wave brought."
"You are only afraid because you don't know anything about death," his father replied. "But someday you will wonder why you were afraid, even as today you wonder why you feared to be born."
-- Pearl Buck, The Big Wave, pp. 36-37
***
Robert N. Bellah, speaking of some of his own personal losses, said: "The deepest truth I have discovered is that if one accepts the loss, if one gives up clinging to what is irretrievably gone, then the nothing which is left is not barren but enormously fruitful. Everything that one has lost comes flooding back again out of the darkness, and one' s relation to it is now -- free and unclinging. But the richness of the nothing contains far more, it is the all-possible, it is the spring of freedom."
-- Wholistic Wellspring
***
Stevie Smith, English poet writes:
Put out that Light.
Put out that bright Light,
Let darkness fall.
Put out that Day,
It is the time for nightfall.
***
In the novel The Living, by Annie Dillard, there is a funeral scene where one of the characters, Norval, reads pompously from scripture, "O death, where is thy sting?" To which Hugh, sitting in the pews, thinks, "Just about everywhere, since you ask."
***
From Stan Purdum:
"I had already discovered that even if I thought I had little to offer my patients dying of AIDS, they had a great deal to offer me ... My coming to their homes, to their bedsides, and seeing them with their family was enough, they seemed to say. I was discovering what the old horse-and-buggy doctor ... had known: When one has no cure, one can still heal, by which I mean a coming to terms with death, an acceptance of it by patient, family and yes, by the doctor."
-- Physician Abraham Verghese, "On Death and Dying," a tribute to Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, The Wall Street Journal, August 31, 2004, A12.
***
From CSS Publishing:
The recent CSS release Seven For Heaven [link to website] details the final days of seven terminally ill Christians as they prepare to depart this earthly life and look forward to a new life in heaven. Though the book's subject is imminent death, each case study reaffirms the uplifting message of God's grace and shows the valuable service hospices can provide as a caring, humane option for those facing death.
Authors L. James and Jackie Harvey discuss the stages of the dying process with one of their subjects:
On one visit we broached the subject of Elizabeth Kubler-Ross's five stages of dying -- anger, denial, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. We asked Irene if she had experienced them. She said in fact she had. She indicated that she was truly angry with God initially, so angry she stopped going to church for a time. Irene was just getting her life back together following the loss of her husband and even looking forward to the possibility of resuming a full social life when the illness hit. She also entered denial for a time and even refused to use the word "cancer" in connection with her illness. She was a strong person and she felt she could take on the illness and win. There were also some times of bargaining and depression, but when we came into the picture with our visits, Irene had reached the point of acceptance. One might properly hypothesize that without the hope of a wonderful life beyond, one might not ever reach the stage of acceptance. In Irene's case she had the hope, and coming to acceptance was a natural outcome of her faith. (pg. 46)
They also share this powerful story:
As Good Friday approached in 2000, Harry Visscher was planning to take Mary to the traditional Good Friday communion service held each year at the Freedom Village facility in Holland. On the morning of the service, it became evident that Mary's condition was such that she could not attend the service. She hadn't eaten or spoken for some days and it was clear she was near death. Harry, however, approached the pastor who had come to Freedom Village to celebrate communion and asked if he would come to Mary's room after the service and give Mary communion. The pastor readily agreed to do so.
As the pastor began the service, Mary suddenly spoke. She said, "I'm Mary Visscher and I'm a Christian." Then to the surprise of both Harry and the pastor, Mary opened her mouth wide to receive the wafer and juice. Mary hadn't eaten or spoken in days. She could not swallow, yet when it came to celebrating this most sacred Christian rite, she not only spoke, but she took the communion elements without difficulty.
Her words were the last she spoke, and the communion elements were the last items she ate. Mary lived through Easter Sunday and quietly went to be with Jesus on Monday morning. (pp. 150-151)
The experiences the Harveys shared with the hospice patients they wrote about reinforced for them several spiritual insights, which they summarize as follows (pp. 185-186):
1. It's clear God has a purpose for everything, including suffering. The truth of Romans 8:28 was reinforced again, namely that all things work for good to those who love God and are called according to his purpose.
2. It's okay to get angry with God. He understands.
3. Prayer makes a big difference. It brings comfort and it can impact a person's situation.
4. God never gives us more than we can handle. In each case God seemed to provide each person with the grace and strength to bear their burden.
5. The certainty of seeing Jesus and deceased loved ones soon was a comfort and made dying much easier.
6. The certainty of a wonderful life beyond helped some patients make decisions to avoid invasive and painful treatments and to avoid significant pain, allowing them to die in comfort.
7. The patient's faith in God significantly relieved the trauma of dying for the patient and their family. Knowing they would meet again and going to be with God made leaving this life far easier than if these beliefs were not present.
8. One can have a close relationship with God even if one is not a member of a formal church. That is not to say that church membership is not beneficial or important; it just means it's possible.
9. At life's end theological differences seem to mean very little. The only critical matter seemed to be the individual's personal relationship to Jesus and God.
10. God seems to give some dying individuals a glimpse of the life beyond. It is uniformly beautiful and it comforts and prepares the person for the next step.
11. The pain and suffering the dying may experience can bring them closer to God and have a positive effect.
12. God is an ever-present help in the dying process, and he is faithful to see us through. (pp. 185-186)
Worship Resources
By George Reed
N.b.: All copyright information is given from the first cited place where found. Some copyright information may differ in other sources due to adaptations, etc.
OPENING
Music
Hymns
"Great Is Thy Faithfulness." WORDS: Thomas O. Chisholm, 1923; MUSIC: William M. Runyan, 1923. (c) 1923, renewed 1951 Hope Publishing Co. As found in UMH 140; TPH 276; AAHH 158; TNNBH 45; TNCH 423; CH 86.
"Leaning On The Everlasting Arms." WORDS: Elisha A. Hoffman, 1887; MUSIC: Anthony J. Showalter, 1887. Public domain. As found in UMH 133; AAHH 371; TNNBH 262; TNCH 471; CH 560.
"Sing Praise To God Who Reigns Above." WORDS: Johann J. Shutz, 1675; trans. By Frances E. Cox, 1864; MUSIC: Bohemian Brethren's Kirchengesange, 1566; harm. Maurice F. Bell, 1906. Public domain. As found in UMH 126; Hymnal '82 408; TPH 483; TNCH 6; CH 6.
"O God, Our Help In Ages Past." WORDS: Isaac Watts, 1719; MUSIC: Attr. to William Croft, 1708; harm. W. H. Monk, 1861. Public domain. As found in UMH 117; Hymnal '82 680; LBOW 320; AAHH 170; TNNBH 46; TNCH 25; CH 67.
"A Mighty Fortress Is Our God." WORDS: Martin Luther, ca. 1529; trans. Frederick H. Hedge, 1853; MUSIC: Martin Luther, ca. 1529; harm. from The New Hymnal for American Youth, 1930. Public domain. As found in UMH 110; Hymnal '82 687, 688; LBOW 228, 229; TPH 259, 260; AAHH 124; TNNBH 37; TNCH 429, 440; CH 65.
"Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise." WORDS: Walter Chalmers Smith, 1867; MUSIC: Welsh melody from John Roberts's Canaidau y Cyssegr, 1839. Public domain. As found in UMH 103; Hymnal '82 423; LBOW 526;
TPH 263; TNCH 1; CH 66.
Songs
"Sing Unto The Lord A New Song." WORDS: Jewish Folk Song; MUSIC: Jewish Folk Song; arr. J. Michael Bryan. Arr. (c) 1996 Abingdon Press. As found in CCB 16.
"How Majestic Is Your Name." WORDS and MUSIC: Michael W. Smith. (c) 1981 Meadowgreen Music. As found in CCB 21.
CALL TO WORSHIP
Leader: The God who knew you before you were born calls you.
People: What does this one who knows us want from us?
Leader: God invites you to open your lives to the eternal presence.
People: How can we mortals face the immortal?
Leader: The Eternal One bids you enter into Love.
People: We come with open and seeking hearts.
COLLECT / OPENING PRAYER
O God who has known us since before we came into existence: Grant us the faith to trust all of our life to you, on this earth and in the world to come; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
or
We come into your presence today, O God, knowing that we have never been out of your sight or care. From the beginning of all creation you have known us and we shall never find a time or place where you do not overshadow us with your love. Open our hearts to sing your praises and renew us in your Spirit that we may praise and serve you all our days. Amen.
Response Music
Hymns
"Pues Si Vivomis" (When We Are Living) This is a beautiful Spanish hymn with English translation. If one does not have it available for congregational singing it could be incorporated as a very effective solo. WORDS: St. 1 anon., trans. Elise S. Eslinger, 1983; sts. 2, 3, 4 Roberto Escamilla, 1983, trans. George Lockwood, 1987. MUSIC: Trad. Spanish melody; harm. from Celebremos, 1983. Trans. (c) 1989 The United Methodist Publishing House. As found in UMH 356; TPH 400; TNCH 499; CH 536.
"Soon And Very Soon." WORDS: Andrae Crouch, 1987; MUSIC: Andrae Crouch, 1987; adapt. by William Farley Smith, 1987. (c) 1978 by Communique Music, Inc./ASCAP & Crouch Music Corp. As found in UMH 706; AAHH 193; TNNBH 476.
"Hymn Of Promise." WORDS: Natalie Sleeth, 1986; MUSIC: Natalie Sleeth, 1986. (c) 1986 Hope Publishing Co. As found in UMH 707.
"Precious Lord, Take My Hand." WORDS: Thomas A. Dorsey, 1932; MUSIC: Natalie Sleeth, 1986. (c) 1938 Hill & Range Songs, renewed Unichappell Music, Inc. As found in UMH 474; TPH 404; AAHH 471; TNCH 472; CH 628.
"O Love That Will Not Let Me God." WORDS: George Matheson, 1882; MUSIC: Albert L. Peace, 1884. Public domain. As found in UMH 480; LBOW 324; TPH 384; TNNBH 210; TNCH 485; CH 540.
"Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me." WORDS: Edward Hopper, 1871; MUSIC: John E. Gould, 1871. Public domain. As found in UMH 509; TPH 334; AAHH 460; TNNBH 243.
Songs
"On Eagle's Wings."
WORDS: Michael Joncas; MUSIC: Michael Joncas; harm. by Carlton R. Young. (c) 1979, 1991, New Dawn Music. As found in CCB 97.
"May You Run And Not Be Weary." WORDS and MUSIC: Paul Murakami and Handt Hanson; arr. by Henry Wiens; arr. adapt. by Nylea L. Butler-Moore. (c) 1991 Changing Church Forum. As found in CCB 99.
"All I Need Is You." WORDS and MUSIC: Dan Adler, arr. by Nylea L. Butler-Moore. (c) 1989 Out of the Door Music. As found in CCB 100.
PRAYERS OF CONFESSION / PARDON
Leader: We are a people who have had our suspicions about God's care for us. Let us come and confess our lack of faith.
People: God, we have been taught to fear you and for much of our lives that has meant not so much being in awe as being terrified of you. We have thought of you as one who looks gravely at us from the judgment bench and finds us wanting. We have forgotten that you are the One who has created us, sought us, and loved us forever. As a parent calls wayward children you call us back to your great heart of love. You know us and still you love us. Renew your image in us by the power of your Spirit. Amen.
Leader: The God who knows you does indeed love you. In the name of Jesus Christ you are forgiven. Thanks be to God.
GENERAL PRAYERS, LITANIES, ETC.
We worship and adore you, ever-creating God. You fashioned us in your image and breathed into us your own Spirit and Life. We are your children and the sheep of your pasture. As the parent knows the child and as the shepherd knows the sheep so you know us, O Lord.
(The following paragraph is most suitable if a prayer of confession will not be used elsewhere.)
We confess that we have not trusted you with all our hearts. We have tried to bargain with you and to cajole you into loving us. We have totally missed the point of how much you care for us and love us. We have forgotten that knowing us even better than we know ourselves, you love us more than we love ourselves. When we are hard on ourselves for our failures, you are kind and forgiving, anxious to offer us a new start. Send your Spirit upon us once more that we may truly know your great love for us. Send your Spirit upon us so that we might truly worship you and serve you all the days of our lives and then enter into your joyful reign.
We thank you, God, for all the blessings you have gifted upon us. We thank you for the ability to work so that we might serve the common good and provide for those we love. We thank you for the times when work is meaningful for us and for the greater community.
(Other specific thanksgiving may be offered.)
We offer up to your love and care those who are denied the opportunity to be gainfully employed. We pray for those who are unable to work and for those who are unable to find work. We pray for those who labor without the benefit of a just, livable wage and for those who receive little or no benefits to provide for health care and retirement. We pray for ourselves and our complicity in making a class of working poor in our rich and bountiful country.
(Other petitions may be offered.)
All these things we ask in the Name of Jesus who taught us to pray, saying, "Our Father ...."
***
Hymnal and Songbook Abbreviations
UMH: United Methodist Hymnal
Hymnal '82: The Hymnal 1982, The Episcopal Church
LBOW: Lutheran Book of Worship
TPH: The Presbyterian Hymnal
AAHH: African American Heritage Hymnal
TNNBH: The New National Baptist Hymnal
TNCH: The New Century Hymnal
CH: Chalice Hymnal
CCB: Cokesbury Chorus Book
PMMCH3: Praise. Maranatha! Music Chorus Book, Expanded 3rd Edition
A Children's Sermon
by Wesley T. Runk
The Humble Teddy
Text: v. 11 -- "For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted." (Luke 14:1, 7-14)
Object: a tire jack
Good morning, boys and girls. How many of you have ever been with your father or mother when they had a flat tire on their car? (let them answer) Did it seem like a good time to them? Did they enjoy changing the tire? (let them answer) It isn't much fun, is it? As a matter of fact, it is an awful experience, and I don't know anyone who likes to change a tire. But if you think that it is bad for your father or mother, wait until you must do it. As bad as it is, though, I want you to know that it helped me to come to know one of my very best friends.
How many of you have met my friend Teddy Tire Jack? (let them answer) I am sure that you have a friend like my friend Teddy, but I want you to know that he isn't easy to get to know. As a matter of fact, Teddy has been with me ever since I bought my car, and I did not get to meet him until the other day when I had a flat tire while driving in the country.
There I was driving along and having a good time, when, all of a sudden, I heard this funny noise and the car started to run funny. I knew that I had a flat tire. It seemed awful at first, but then I went to the trunk of my car and got out the spare tire, and began to think of what a dirty job it would be. As I told you, I had not met my friend Teddy until that moment, and when I got him out he looked like a lot of hard work for me. But Teddy was a surprise. Imagine how he worked to lift that heavy car so I could take the flat tire off and put on a new tire. It was wonderful the way he raised that car and did almost all of the work for me. It wasn't so bad after all, and I owe it all to Teddy the Tire Jack.
Jesus says that there are a lot of people who are his followers just like Teddy. We call them humble people, and they work hard, though very few people notice them. Teddy rides around in my trunk and never says a word. He is almost unnoticed until I have something awful happen like a flat tire, and then he is ready to help, even to lift a heavy car. That is something I cannot do, and look how much bigger I am than Teddy is. He lifts the car up and, when he is done, I put him back in the trunk. I would say that Teddy is very humble.
That is the way that we should be. We don't have to ride in the trunk of a car, but we should remember how great our God is when we think of ourselves, and that will make us humble also. When God wants you, he will use you, and he will make you great just like I used Teddy and made him great. It is a hard lesson to learn when we talk about being humble, but it is the way that every Christian should feel when he thinks of his Lord Jesus Christ and his loving God.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Immediate Word, September 5, 2004, issue.
Copyright 2004 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to The Immediate Word service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons and in worship and classroom settings only. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., P.O. Box 4503, Lima, Ohio 45802-4503.
In Shakespeare's Measure for Measure (Act 3, Scene 1), Isabella says, "The sense of death is most in apprehension." Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, who died this past week, accomplished great good as a pioneer in the compassionate care of those who experience this horrifying apprehension. Her writings now underlie a great deal of how we, in the ministry and those in medical fields, assist those in their final days. We at The Immediate Word believe the news of her death is an excellent sermonic opportunity to discuss dying and death from a Christian perspective. So we have asked team member Carlos Wilton to do just that, using the lectionary Psalm for September 5 as a basis.
Team members offer responses, illustrations, worship resources (including prayers for Labor Day), and a children's sermon.
Life's Farthest Limits
Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18
By Carlos Wilton
The Message on a Postcard
Elisabeth Kubler-Ross died on Tuesday, August 24, at age 78. While her name may not be familiar to many church members, she is certainly known to most pastors and counselors -- and her ideas about loss and grief have become part of the essential psychological tool kit of many of us as we face the business of living.
Much of what Kubler-Ross wrote in her 1969 bestseller, On Death and Dying, has become so widely accepted that many people have forgotten how revolutionary it was at the time. In the mid-1960s, Kubler-Ross, a psychiatrist, was working on many of the same issues that English physician Cicely Saunders was exploring as she opened the first modern hospice in London in 1967. The two doctors, working at first independently of each other, noted with dismay that the experience of dying was not something the medical establishment spent much time thinking about. To many physicians, death represented an embarrassment, a failure. And dying patients were too often shunted off to a lonely room at the end of the hospital corridor, where nature was allowed to take its course with minimal attention from medical caregivers.
Beginning with the basic hospice philosophy that death is a fundamental and important experience of life, Kubler-Ross applied intense scrutiny to the experience of dying -- and to the experience of grief that characterizes the lives of patients' loved ones. The grief process, she discovered, can typically be divided into five stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Dying people and their loved ones alike journey through these stages. The goal of psychiatry in caring for patients and families at the time of death is to affirm and support them in making this journey.
Later it was discovered that Kubler-Ross' five stages are widely applicable to many other human experiences of loss.
Psalm 139 describes a journey through life: from its earliest beginnings, in our mother's womb where we are "fearfully and wonderfully made" (v. 14), to its ending, where -- in a passage omitted from this week's lectionary -- even "at the farthest limits of the sea ... your right hand shall hold me fast" (v. 9). This psalm affirms God's closeness to us throughout our lives, accompanying us on our journey.
While Kubler-Ross was eclectic in her personal faith, much of what she has written about death resonates with the Christian proclamation that, for disciples of Jesus Christ, death is nothing to fear, and is in fact a joyous homecoming. Her stages of dying serve as signposts on the journey homeward.
Some Words on the Word
James L. Mays in his commentary on the psalms introduces Psalm 139 in this way: "Psalm 139 is the most personal expression in Scripture of the Old Testament's radical monotheism. It is a doctrinal classic because it portrays human existence in all its dimensions in terms of God's knowledge, presence, and power. It reflects an understanding of the human as enclosed in divine reality. The psalm is even more a devotional classic because, used as prayer it bestows and nurtures an awareness of the Lord as the total environment of life. It teaches and confesses in the fullest way that 'my times are in your hand' " (31:15). (J. L. Mays, Psalms [Interpretation; Louisville: John Knox, 1994], p. 425)
Today's lectionary passage, which is broken into two segments with some omitted material in between, belongs to the first part of Psalm 139. Immediately after the lection ends, at verse 19, the psalm abruptly changes in tone, becoming a psalm of bitter imprecation. It's little wonder that the concluding portion of this psalm -- in which God is implored to "kill the wicked," whom the psalmist "hates ... with perfect hatred" (vv. 19, 22) -- is rarely preached!
What the lectionary gives us is not this concluding imprecation but rather verses 1-6 and 13-18. An immediate question is why the lectionary omits verses 7-12, and what implications this omission has for the overall integrity of the psalm. The lectionary editors' decision to omit these verses is mysterious -- and unfortunate. While including them does make for a slightly longer reading, both logic and the poetic vision of this passage indicate that verses 1-18 ought to be treated as a coherent whole.
Verses 1-18 are deeply beloved words, associated in the minds of many of our people with funeral services. The fact that God has "searched and known" us (v. 1) is comforting in times of grief, which is a profoundly isolating experience. The concept of God knowing our words even before we say them (v. 4) and hemming us in on every side (v. 5) may strike us, in ordinary circumstances, with a kind of claustrophobic horror. Yet in a season of grief, there is powerful comfort in knowing that God is very close indeed. As a small child feels comforted in the tight embrace of a parent, so we feel comforted when divine love hems us in. Verse 6 ("Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it") likewise reflects a child's blind trust. We do not understand how God is present, but are mightily comforted by the fact that this presence is real.
Verses 7-12 are a sort of thought-experiment. "Let's see," says the psalmist, "is there any place in the universe I can go, where God is not present?" The author then proceeds to imagine a journey to "the farthest limits of the sea" (v. 9) -- only to discover that God is present even there. The sea imagery is especially significant, because the Israelite people, who were in no sense mariners, tended to fear the sea as the embodiment of chaos. In Genesis 1, the stark, barren nothingness before creation is envisioned as an endless expanse of chaotic ocean. Yet "even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast" (v. 10). In a turning-back of the cosmic clock to the time before creation, the psalmist's thought-experiment continues. Even in the fearsome, primordial darkness, "the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you" (v. 12).
Having journeyed imaginatively back to the first day of creation, the psalmist now takes us forward to the creation of human beings. In strikingly intimate language, the author describes how God knit the parts of his body together in the womb. Even in that dark, mysterious place of gestation, which no human eye has seen, God knows exactly what is going on: "Your eyes beheld my unformed substance" (v. 16a).
There may be a temptation to use the last line of this passage: "I come to the end -- I am still with you" (v. 18b) as a reference to life after death. This interpretation is only possible, however, if this line is ripped from its context. What the psalmist is actually saying is, "I try to count God's thoughts, which are more than the sand; and when I give up on that impossible task, I find that God is still right here with me."
A rich complement to Psalm 139 is the concept of "I-Thou" dialogue, advanced by Jewish theologian Martin Buber. An I-Thou relationship, says Buber, is different from the other principal sort of relationship, which he labels "I-It." I-Thou relationships are characterized by the mutuality and openness of true dialogue. In I-It relationships, by contrast, there are none of these qualities: the two parties are fundamentally unequal. The fact that human beings can enjoy an I-Thou relationship with God at all is possible only because God has graciously accommodated to our human need. The intimate dialogue of Psalm 139 can be seen as emblematic of the I-Thou relationship at its very best.
A Map of the Message
The death of Elisabeth Kubler-Ross provides an appropriate occasion for a pastoral sermon on the Christian understanding of life after death. While there is much about the experience of dying, and about the quality of life in the hereafter, that we do not -- indeed, cannot -- understand, still the witness of Psalm 139 is that the relationship with God we have enjoyed in this life continues in the life to come.
Neither the ancient Greeks nor the ancient Hebrews had any word for "personality." The only way they could conceive of an individual human life continuing, after death, was to envision the bodily aspect of that life. Personality, to them, consisted in a voice, a handshake, an embrace, a distinctive smile. Hence we have all the psalmist's talk about God knitting the parts of his body together in the womb. It's very much an embodied understanding of human life.
The Apostles' Creed affirms the doctrine of the resurrection of the body -- an idea not explicitly present in Psalm 139 but also not completely foreign to it. The reason creeds are written, of course, is to combat heresies. There are two particular heresies that the resurrection of the body is meant to overcome -- both of which happen to be alive and well, and living today in contemporary society.
The first is materialism, pure and simple: the belief that there is no life after death at all; that, in the chilling words of Thomas Hobbes, this life of ours is "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short," a cruel joke played by the cosmos upon unsuspecting humanity. It's easy to see how the resurrection of the body is diametrically opposed to such gloomy pessimism.
The second heresy holds that the human spirit does indeed continue after death, but that it loses all individuality. Individual human souls, according to this view, merge eventually into a great cosmic world-soul, as drops of rain swallowed up in a vast, indifferent sea. Such is the view of much of Buddhism and Hinduism -- and also of some varieties of the ancient heresy called Gnosticism, which was alive and well at the time the Apostles' Creed was taking shape. Significantly, it is also the view of some of the people today who call themselves "New Age" thinkers.
In classical Christianity, the soul is not some sort of airy vapor that's housed in the body for a brief time until it flies up into a new and purified existence. No, in classical Christianity, soul and body are knit together as one. Our faith is wholistic, that way. In the great resurrection, God will redeem both body and soul.
Exactly how this will happen, or what the resurrection-body will be like, no one can say. Our poor minds are simply too small to comprehend it. The new life in Christ is going to be utterly different from anything we have come to know. That's why the New Testament speaks of it as new birth, as being "born again" -- or, more literally, "born from above" (John 3:3).
Just think about the experience of birth. Despite the best efforts of the most loving, caring midwife or hospital staff, it's got to be incredibly distressing to be born. "Birth trauma," in fact, is an accepted definition in the field of psychology.
Just imagine the sensations the newborn must experience! Rocking peacefully in the warm, salty waters of an amniotic sea, the baby begins to feel steadily increasing pressure, at regular intervals. The time between contractions decreases, until they come like waves on the ocean, rolling in continuously. Eventually, the pressure becomes so great that the child is forced out, catapulted into a brave new world of confusion and commotion and clamor.
Air rushes into lungs that have never before been inflated. Eyes open -- to glimpse a glaring, painful reality called "light" -- and then close tightly again. There are hard surfaces where there have been none before -- and, for the first time, the sensation of a chill breeze on wet skin. The brain is overwhelmed with new sensory input, to the point of overload. It's no wonder that the baby's first response to life is an instinctive cry of abject, overwhelming terror.
In time, though, the newborn learns to trust the loving arms that hold it. Its brain begins to catch up with the cascading torrent of neural impulses. In time, a mother's smile, the taste of milk, the soft caress of a warm blanket all come to make sense. These become familiar landmarks of the baby's world. The birth trauma is left behind, forgotten; the old life in the womb is all but lost to memory -- so utterly new and different is the baby's worldly existence.
No one can say for sure, but I suppose that when we experience the life beyond this one, it may be just as overwhelming, just as traumatic an experience, as a newborn catching its first, painful breath. Our finite, earthbound minds -- accustomed as they are to the five senses -- may no longer be limited to these alone.
If the psalmist is correct in musing, "even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day," then the experience of dying and being reborn must be utterly different from anything we have hitherto come to know.
Elisabeth Kubler-Ross' unique contribution has been in providing guideposts for the journey up to the point of death: and -- for the survivors who are left behind -- beyond it. Here is a brief description of her five stages of death and dying:
Stage One: Shock and Denial
The initial reaction is shock. When that wears off, patients may deny the truth of their diagnosis, or profess to feel fine.
Stage Two: Anger
Patients may feel angry at the diagnosis, and seek to assign blame -- on others, or even on God. "Why me?" is the common response.
Stage Three: Bargaining
Patients may seek to enter into a bargain, with God or with caregivers, promising to keep certain promises if only a cure is found.
Stage Four: Depression
Patients may shut down emotionally for a time, giving in to feelings of hopelessness. Sleep patterns may be disrupted, appetite may dissipate, and communication may become difficult.
Stage Five: Acceptance
Patients realize that death is inevitable, and they accept what is soon to come. The stage of acceptance is often characterized by a sense of profound peace.
Not everyone completes all five of Kubler-Ross' stages. In the case of the terminally ill patient, sometimes death intervenes prematurely. In the case of survivors, sometimes they become fixated on one of the stages for a long period of time. Kubler-Ross definitely thought that stage five should be reached if at all possible. Acceptance of the reality of death, with the accompanying feeling of deep and abiding peace, is the goal of her therapeutic philosophy.
These words of Elisabeth Kubler-Ross are typical of her outlook: "The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern."
And again, "Should you shield the canyons from the windstorms, you would never see the beauty of their carvings."
Team Comments:
Carter Shelley responds: First of all, welcome back Carlos. Not all subscribers of The Immediate Word may know that you've been on a three-month sabbatical, thanks to the Lily Foundation Grants. These grants that are now being provided are a great boon for clergy in need of an opportunity to study and pray away from the incessant demands of parish ministry. I'm glad you had that opportunity and can tell from your materials for this week that you return refreshed and with characteristic homiletical vitality.
While the subject of death and dying might seem an odd selection for Labor Day weekend, I think there's real strength in concentrating on the psalmist words and our Christian understanding of death in a Sunday morning service that is not a memorial or funeral service. All too often the only time Christians hear scripture read or thoughts about death explored are during such emotionally wrenching occasions. By paying homage to Kubler-Ross for her valuable contribution to our understanding of death and putting that into conversation with biblical affirmations, church members can better hear and consider what it means to be a Christian and to affirm life, death, and resurrection in ways that are impossible during grief-stricken days.
Having said that, I now need to say that the most controversial sermon I ever preached was not about the Equal Rights Amendment, the high costs of Reaganomics for the poor or our current "imperial hubris" (to quote the title of a recently published book). The most controversial sermon I ever preached was about death. I preached it August 26, 1979, as a small-church pastor who'd been ordained less than twelve months. The results were startling to say the least. Confirming Kubler-Ross' accuracy in identifying stages one and two, church members were shocked, in denial, angry, and resentful that I had presumed to present such a painful subject to them. I spent the entire week following that Sunday making home visits and listening to people's anger, fear, and pain around the subject. The two individuals who had had heart attacks during that year were mad that I had vocalized their worst fears, thus making those fears -- which they were trying to tamp down -- impossible for them to ignore. Those who had lost loved ones were upset that I had stirred up those emotions of loss and pain once again. It was an important lesson for me.
I did not learn from it what some of my congregants hoped, which was to never mention painful subjects in the pulpit again. I did learn just how scary and difficult death is as a subject for most twentieth- (and now twenty-first) century Americans. I also learned that, contrary to the excellent quotes Carlos provides (below) from Malcolm Muggeridge and Henri J. M. Nouwen, being a Christian doesn't alleviate the terrors and fears death evokes for most people in our pews. The pastoral care opportunities my homiletical gaffe provided were invaluable in helping me get a much better fix on the emotional fears, losses, and grief many of my members kept masked most of the time. The homiletical lesson I derived was to provide more rhetorical signposts to congregants prior to Sunday's service so members would have some idea what the sermon topic would be. Yet this experience underscores the importance of preaching about death on ordinary Sunday mornings, because it shows how shy of the subject most of us are and how badly most of us need to have a deeper understanding and a stronger biblical and theological basis for dealing with death. We need such a faith foundation so it can speak to us and comfort us when death invades our lives.
George Murphy responds: Some of the people whose obituaries were in my local paper today "died," but most of them "passed away." A couple of people "went home to be with the Lord." Apparently nobody in the area "made his transition" or "moved on to a higher plane" this past weekend, but that's been known to happen as well. Sometimes there's even a poem announcing that the person didn't die at all, but is now free to float on the breeze.
We're all familiar with those euphemisms for death, which aren't found only in the newspaper. Even medical personnel, who ought to be fairly objective in dealing with the facts of life and death, will often use them; I suppose they think it's what people want to hear. We have so many ways to practice "the denial of death"! It's not surprising, because of course we want to keep death as far from us as possible. Nor is it an entirely modern phenomenon, or one that the Christian Church has always been able to resist. In fact there's an expression of it at the very heart of an ancient statement of the Christian faith, the Nicene Creed.
The original form of the creed adopted by the first Council of Nicea did not actually say that Jesus died. A literal translation of the relevant portion of the creed from this council is simply, "he suffered and rose again on the third day" (J. N. D. Kelly, Early Christian Creeds, 3d ed. [Longman], 1972), p. 216). The later, Nicaeo-Constantinopolitan Creed expanded this to say, "he was crucified for us under Pontius Pilate, and suffered and was buried, and rose again on the third day according to the Scriptures" (ibid., p. 297), but this still does not state unambiguously that he died, even though it could be argued that "suffered and was buried" implies death. Today many English-speaking Christians use the version of the International Consultation on English Texts, which says, "he suffered death and was buried" (e.g., Lutheran Book of Worship [Augsburg, 1978], p. 64), which is certainly preferable theologically, whatever may be said about its precision as a translation.
Now some might say that of course Jesus is a special case: He was God Incarnate, and how can God die? But that's just the point. If we cannot say in some real sense that the Son of God experienced the death of the cross, then hope for us in the face of death becomes problematic. If he has not genuinely shared in our death, then we are not given a promise of sharing in his resurrection life. Then we'll be tempted to go back to holding death at a distance with euphemisms and denials.
The cross means that God is present with us in death in the deepest sense -- not simply that God is with us when we die but that God has shared our death. Gott selbst liegt tot, says one line of an old German hymn for Good Friday -- "God himself lies dead." (Unfortunately, most hymnals that include this hymn, "O Darkest Woe," either omit that verse or soften the line in translation.)
How can God die? The traditional answer is that because of the personal union of the human and divine natures in Christ, what is said of the human natures can be attributed correctly to the divine person. We do not want to say simply that God ceased to exist, and the phrase "death of God" is not as appropriate as "death in God": In the event of the cross death God took death into the divine being. Eberhard Jungel's God as the Mystery of the World (Eerdmans, 1983) is a profound treatment of this and related themes. But the "how" question need not be foremost: The first thing to say is that "he was crucified under Pontius Pilate; he suffered death and was buried."
And of course "on the third day he rose again." But that means nothing if we haven't faced the reality of the cross. Easter is just an abstraction without the reality of Good Friday. In the same way, the hope of resurrection and life after death that should be proclaimed at a Christian funeral really doesn't mean much if we've been unwilling to face the fact that our loved one actually died.
The significance of the cross and resurrection of Christ is based on the claim that God took on a fully human life, all the way back to his conception and birth. Psalm 139 and especially verses 13-16, is often appealed to by Christian opponents of abortion. The fact that Christ himself could pray these verses strengthens their significance. The point is not that this proves a human embryo or fetus to be a "person" at all stages of development. It is human life at its weakest, most incomplete and imperfect state -- and God identifies with that life. It is another example of divine condescension. And this does not prove that abortion can never be justified -- that it can never be the best of unfortunate possibilities, in any case. But it does mean, at the very least, that ending a life in the womb is never something that should be done casually or for purely selfish reasons.
Related Resources and Illustrations
From Carlos Wilton:
More information on Elisabeth Kubler-Ross may be found at this website dedicated to her life and thought: http://www.elisabethkublerross.com/
On the same site, there is a page of quotations by her:
http://www.elisabethkublerross.com/pages/Quotes.html
A description of the history of the modern hospice movement may be found at:
http://www.nyu.edu/classes/gmoran/HOSPICE.htm
Here's another history in PDF format, giving a bit more emphasis to Cicely Saunders than to Kubler-Ross: http://www.ncmedicaljournal.com/mar-apr-01/ar060301.pdf
***
The author of Psalm 139 tells how his existence is totally comprehended by God: "You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me" (v. 5). This bears some similarities to a genre of ancient Irish prayers -- revived recently as part of the renewed interest in Celtic Christianity -- known as "compassing prayers." Christians praying these prayers remind themselves that God surrounds them on all sides. In The Celtic Vision (London: Longman and Todd, 1988), p. 159, Esther de Waal describes an ancient Irish "ritual of encompassment" known as the caim, which "brought a sense of security and assurance that God, the saints and angels were called in to the aid of those in need. The caim was an imaginary circle which anyone in fear, danger or distress made by stretching out the right hand with the forefinger extended and turning sunwise, as though on a pivot, so that the circle enclosed and accompanied the man or woman as they walked, and safeguarded them from all evil, within and without."
Here are a few examples of Celtic compassing prayers -- strikingly similar, in some respects, to the "you hem me in, behind and before" thinking of Psalm 139:1-6:
Christ as a light, illumine and guide me!
Christ as a shield, overshadow and cover me!
Christ be under me! Christ be over me!
Christ be beside me, on left hand and right!
Christ be before me, behind me, about me!
Christ, this day, be within and without me!
-- St. Patrick, cited by David Adam, A Celtic Psaltery (London: SPCK, 2001), p. 51.
The compassing of God be on thee,
The compassing of the God of life.
The compassing of Christ be on thee,
The compassing of the Christ of love.
The compassing of Spirit be on thee,
The compassing of the Spirit of Grace.
The compassing of the Three be on thee,
The compassing of the Three preserve thee,
The compassing of the Three preserve thee.
-- From the Carmina Gadelica, III, 105, cited by Esther de Waal in The Celtic Vision (London: Longman and Todd, 1988), p. 161.
God before me, God behind me,
God above me, God below me;
I on the path of God, God upon my track.
Who is there on land?
Who is there on wave?
Who is there on billow?
Who is there by door-post?
Who is along with us?
God and Lord.
I am here abroad,
I am here in need,
I am here in pain,
I am here in straits,
I am here alone,
O God, aid me.
-- From the Carmina Gadelica, III, 319, cited by Esther de Waal in The Celtic Vision (London: Longman and Todd, 1988), p. 163
***
At present we tend to think of the soul as somehow "inside" the body. But the glorified body of the resurrection as I conceive it -- the sensuous life raised from its death -- will be inside the soul. As God is not in space but space is in God....
-- C. S. Lewis, Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer
***
Death is the supreme festival on the road to freedom.
-- Dietrich Bonhoeffer
***
For myself, as I approach my end, I find Jesus' outrageous claim ever more captivating and meaningful. Quite often, waking up in the night as the old do, I feel myself to be half out of my body, hovering between life and death, with eternity rising in the distance.
I see my ancient carcass, prone between the sheets, stained and worn like a scrap of paper dropped in the gutter and, hovering over it, myself, like a butterfly released from its chrysalis stage and ready to fly away. Are caterpillars told of their impending resurrection? How in dying they will be transformed from poor earth-crawlers into creatures of the air, with exquisitely painted wings? If told, do they believe it? I imagine the wise old caterpillars shaking their heads -- no, it can't be; it's a fantasy.
Yet in the limbo between living and dying, as the night clocks tick remorselessly on, and the black sky implacably shows not one single streak or scratch of gray, I hear those words: I am the resurrection, and the life, and feel myself to be carried along on a great tide of joy and peace.
-- Malcolm Muggeridge
***
So to suggest in the early going of grief that the dead body is "just" anything rings as tinny in its attempt to minimize as it would if we were to say it was "just" a bad hair day when the girl went bald from her chemotherapy. Or that our hope for heaven on her behalf was based on the belief that Christ raised "just" a body from dead. What if, rather than crucifixion, he'd opted for suffering low self-esteem for the remission of sins? What if, rather than "just a shell," he'd raised his personality, say, or The Idea of Himself? Do you think they'd have changed the calendar for that? Done the Crusades? Burned witches? Easter was a body and blood thing, no symbols, no euphemisms, no half measures.
-- Funeral director and poet Thomas Lynch, The Undertaking (New York: Penguin, 1997), p. 21.
***
Within a few years (5, 10, 20, or 30) I will no longer be on this earth. The thought of this does not frighten me but fills me with a quiet peace. I am a small part of life, a human being in the midst of thousands of other human beings. It is good to be young, to grow old and to die. It is good to live with others and to die with others. God became flesh to share with us in this simple living and dying and thus made it good. I can feel today that it is good to be and especially to be one of many. What counts are not the special and unique accomplishments in life that make me different from others, but the basic experiences of sadness and joy, pain and healing, which make me part of humanity. The time is indeed growing short for me, but that knowledge sets me free to prevent mourning from depressing me and joy from exciting me. Mourning and joy can now both deepen my quiet desire for the day when I realize that the many kisses and embraces I received today were simple incarnation; of the eternal embrace of the Lord himself.
-- Henri J. M. Nouwen, Gracias! A Latin American Journal (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1983), p. 120.
***
Each of us comes into life with fists closed, set for aggressiveness and acquisition. But when we abandon life our hands are open; there is nothing on earth that we need, nothing the soul can take with it.
-- Fulton J. Sheen
***
Man is the World, and death th'Ocean,
To which God gives the lower parts of man.
This sea invirons all, and though as yet
God hath set markes, and bounds, twixt us and it,
Yet doth it rore, and gnaw, and still pretend,
And breaks our banks, when ere it takes a friend.
-- John Donne, first lines from "Elegie on the Lady Markham"
***
From Roger Lovette:
Overheard on New York City subway. Mother and her five or six year old son.
Boy: So he is going to die?
Mom: Yes. Everything alive must die sometime. The plants, the trees, animals and people.
Boy: Is Grandpa going to die?
Mom: Yes.
Boy: Are you?
Mom: Yes, I will die one day. But not until I'm very, very old and I've watched you grow up to be a big boy with your own family.
Boy: Am I going to die?
Mom: Yes, you too will die one day. But not until you've grown up and then gone to college and gone to work and had your own family. Then you will die.
There was a long pause. Finally the boy spoke.
"I don't want to go to college."
-- New York Times
***
"What is death?" Kino asked.
"Death is the great gateway," Kino's father said. His face was not at all sad. Instead, it was quiet and happy.
"The gateway -- where?" Kino asked again.
Kino's father smiled. "Can you remember when you were born?"
Kino shook his head, "I was too small."
Kino's father laughed. "I remember very well. Oh, how hard you thought it was to be born! You cried and you screamed."
"Didn't I want to be born?" Kino asked. This was very interesting to him.
"You did not," the father told him smiling. "You wanted to stay just where you were in the warm, dark house of the unborn. But the time came to be born, and the fate of life opened."
"Did I know it was the gate of life?" Kino asked.
"You did not know anything about it and so you were afraid of it," the father replied. "But see how foolish you were! Here we were waiting for you, your parents, already loving you and eager to welcome you. And you have been very happy, haven't you?"
"Until the big wave came," Kino replied. "Now I am afraid again because of the death that the big wave brought."
"You are only afraid because you don't know anything about death," his father replied. "But someday you will wonder why you were afraid, even as today you wonder why you feared to be born."
-- Pearl Buck, The Big Wave, pp. 36-37
***
Robert N. Bellah, speaking of some of his own personal losses, said: "The deepest truth I have discovered is that if one accepts the loss, if one gives up clinging to what is irretrievably gone, then the nothing which is left is not barren but enormously fruitful. Everything that one has lost comes flooding back again out of the darkness, and one' s relation to it is now -- free and unclinging. But the richness of the nothing contains far more, it is the all-possible, it is the spring of freedom."
-- Wholistic Wellspring
***
Stevie Smith, English poet writes:
Put out that Light.
Put out that bright Light,
Let darkness fall.
Put out that Day,
It is the time for nightfall.
***
In the novel The Living, by Annie Dillard, there is a funeral scene where one of the characters, Norval, reads pompously from scripture, "O death, where is thy sting?" To which Hugh, sitting in the pews, thinks, "Just about everywhere, since you ask."
***
From Stan Purdum:
"I had already discovered that even if I thought I had little to offer my patients dying of AIDS, they had a great deal to offer me ... My coming to their homes, to their bedsides, and seeing them with their family was enough, they seemed to say. I was discovering what the old horse-and-buggy doctor ... had known: When one has no cure, one can still heal, by which I mean a coming to terms with death, an acceptance of it by patient, family and yes, by the doctor."
-- Physician Abraham Verghese, "On Death and Dying," a tribute to Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, The Wall Street Journal, August 31, 2004, A12.
***
From CSS Publishing:
The recent CSS release Seven For Heaven [link to website] details the final days of seven terminally ill Christians as they prepare to depart this earthly life and look forward to a new life in heaven. Though the book's subject is imminent death, each case study reaffirms the uplifting message of God's grace and shows the valuable service hospices can provide as a caring, humane option for those facing death.
Authors L. James and Jackie Harvey discuss the stages of the dying process with one of their subjects:
On one visit we broached the subject of Elizabeth Kubler-Ross's five stages of dying -- anger, denial, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. We asked Irene if she had experienced them. She said in fact she had. She indicated that she was truly angry with God initially, so angry she stopped going to church for a time. Irene was just getting her life back together following the loss of her husband and even looking forward to the possibility of resuming a full social life when the illness hit. She also entered denial for a time and even refused to use the word "cancer" in connection with her illness. She was a strong person and she felt she could take on the illness and win. There were also some times of bargaining and depression, but when we came into the picture with our visits, Irene had reached the point of acceptance. One might properly hypothesize that without the hope of a wonderful life beyond, one might not ever reach the stage of acceptance. In Irene's case she had the hope, and coming to acceptance was a natural outcome of her faith. (pg. 46)
They also share this powerful story:
As Good Friday approached in 2000, Harry Visscher was planning to take Mary to the traditional Good Friday communion service held each year at the Freedom Village facility in Holland. On the morning of the service, it became evident that Mary's condition was such that she could not attend the service. She hadn't eaten or spoken for some days and it was clear she was near death. Harry, however, approached the pastor who had come to Freedom Village to celebrate communion and asked if he would come to Mary's room after the service and give Mary communion. The pastor readily agreed to do so.
As the pastor began the service, Mary suddenly spoke. She said, "I'm Mary Visscher and I'm a Christian." Then to the surprise of both Harry and the pastor, Mary opened her mouth wide to receive the wafer and juice. Mary hadn't eaten or spoken in days. She could not swallow, yet when it came to celebrating this most sacred Christian rite, she not only spoke, but she took the communion elements without difficulty.
Her words were the last she spoke, and the communion elements were the last items she ate. Mary lived through Easter Sunday and quietly went to be with Jesus on Monday morning. (pp. 150-151)
The experiences the Harveys shared with the hospice patients they wrote about reinforced for them several spiritual insights, which they summarize as follows (pp. 185-186):
1. It's clear God has a purpose for everything, including suffering. The truth of Romans 8:28 was reinforced again, namely that all things work for good to those who love God and are called according to his purpose.
2. It's okay to get angry with God. He understands.
3. Prayer makes a big difference. It brings comfort and it can impact a person's situation.
4. God never gives us more than we can handle. In each case God seemed to provide each person with the grace and strength to bear their burden.
5. The certainty of seeing Jesus and deceased loved ones soon was a comfort and made dying much easier.
6. The certainty of a wonderful life beyond helped some patients make decisions to avoid invasive and painful treatments and to avoid significant pain, allowing them to die in comfort.
7. The patient's faith in God significantly relieved the trauma of dying for the patient and their family. Knowing they would meet again and going to be with God made leaving this life far easier than if these beliefs were not present.
8. One can have a close relationship with God even if one is not a member of a formal church. That is not to say that church membership is not beneficial or important; it just means it's possible.
9. At life's end theological differences seem to mean very little. The only critical matter seemed to be the individual's personal relationship to Jesus and God.
10. God seems to give some dying individuals a glimpse of the life beyond. It is uniformly beautiful and it comforts and prepares the person for the next step.
11. The pain and suffering the dying may experience can bring them closer to God and have a positive effect.
12. God is an ever-present help in the dying process, and he is faithful to see us through. (pp. 185-186)
Worship Resources
By George Reed
N.b.: All copyright information is given from the first cited place where found. Some copyright information may differ in other sources due to adaptations, etc.
OPENING
Music
Hymns
"Great Is Thy Faithfulness." WORDS: Thomas O. Chisholm, 1923; MUSIC: William M. Runyan, 1923. (c) 1923, renewed 1951 Hope Publishing Co. As found in UMH 140; TPH 276; AAHH 158; TNNBH 45; TNCH 423; CH 86.
"Leaning On The Everlasting Arms." WORDS: Elisha A. Hoffman, 1887; MUSIC: Anthony J. Showalter, 1887. Public domain. As found in UMH 133; AAHH 371; TNNBH 262; TNCH 471; CH 560.
"Sing Praise To God Who Reigns Above." WORDS: Johann J. Shutz, 1675; trans. By Frances E. Cox, 1864; MUSIC: Bohemian Brethren's Kirchengesange, 1566; harm. Maurice F. Bell, 1906. Public domain. As found in UMH 126; Hymnal '82 408; TPH 483; TNCH 6; CH 6.
"O God, Our Help In Ages Past." WORDS: Isaac Watts, 1719; MUSIC: Attr. to William Croft, 1708; harm. W. H. Monk, 1861. Public domain. As found in UMH 117; Hymnal '82 680; LBOW 320; AAHH 170; TNNBH 46; TNCH 25; CH 67.
"A Mighty Fortress Is Our God." WORDS: Martin Luther, ca. 1529; trans. Frederick H. Hedge, 1853; MUSIC: Martin Luther, ca. 1529; harm. from The New Hymnal for American Youth, 1930. Public domain. As found in UMH 110; Hymnal '82 687, 688; LBOW 228, 229; TPH 259, 260; AAHH 124; TNNBH 37; TNCH 429, 440; CH 65.
"Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise." WORDS: Walter Chalmers Smith, 1867; MUSIC: Welsh melody from John Roberts's Canaidau y Cyssegr, 1839. Public domain. As found in UMH 103; Hymnal '82 423; LBOW 526;
TPH 263; TNCH 1; CH 66.
Songs
"Sing Unto The Lord A New Song." WORDS: Jewish Folk Song; MUSIC: Jewish Folk Song; arr. J. Michael Bryan. Arr. (c) 1996 Abingdon Press. As found in CCB 16.
"How Majestic Is Your Name." WORDS and MUSIC: Michael W. Smith. (c) 1981 Meadowgreen Music. As found in CCB 21.
CALL TO WORSHIP
Leader: The God who knew you before you were born calls you.
People: What does this one who knows us want from us?
Leader: God invites you to open your lives to the eternal presence.
People: How can we mortals face the immortal?
Leader: The Eternal One bids you enter into Love.
People: We come with open and seeking hearts.
COLLECT / OPENING PRAYER
O God who has known us since before we came into existence: Grant us the faith to trust all of our life to you, on this earth and in the world to come; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
or
We come into your presence today, O God, knowing that we have never been out of your sight or care. From the beginning of all creation you have known us and we shall never find a time or place where you do not overshadow us with your love. Open our hearts to sing your praises and renew us in your Spirit that we may praise and serve you all our days. Amen.
Response Music
Hymns
"Pues Si Vivomis" (When We Are Living) This is a beautiful Spanish hymn with English translation. If one does not have it available for congregational singing it could be incorporated as a very effective solo. WORDS: St. 1 anon., trans. Elise S. Eslinger, 1983; sts. 2, 3, 4 Roberto Escamilla, 1983, trans. George Lockwood, 1987. MUSIC: Trad. Spanish melody; harm. from Celebremos, 1983. Trans. (c) 1989 The United Methodist Publishing House. As found in UMH 356; TPH 400; TNCH 499; CH 536.
"Soon And Very Soon." WORDS: Andrae Crouch, 1987; MUSIC: Andrae Crouch, 1987; adapt. by William Farley Smith, 1987. (c) 1978 by Communique Music, Inc./ASCAP & Crouch Music Corp. As found in UMH 706; AAHH 193; TNNBH 476.
"Hymn Of Promise." WORDS: Natalie Sleeth, 1986; MUSIC: Natalie Sleeth, 1986. (c) 1986 Hope Publishing Co. As found in UMH 707.
"Precious Lord, Take My Hand." WORDS: Thomas A. Dorsey, 1932; MUSIC: Natalie Sleeth, 1986. (c) 1938 Hill & Range Songs, renewed Unichappell Music, Inc. As found in UMH 474; TPH 404; AAHH 471; TNCH 472; CH 628.
"O Love That Will Not Let Me God." WORDS: George Matheson, 1882; MUSIC: Albert L. Peace, 1884. Public domain. As found in UMH 480; LBOW 324; TPH 384; TNNBH 210; TNCH 485; CH 540.
"Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me." WORDS: Edward Hopper, 1871; MUSIC: John E. Gould, 1871. Public domain. As found in UMH 509; TPH 334; AAHH 460; TNNBH 243.
Songs
"On Eagle's Wings."
WORDS: Michael Joncas; MUSIC: Michael Joncas; harm. by Carlton R. Young. (c) 1979, 1991, New Dawn Music. As found in CCB 97.
"May You Run And Not Be Weary." WORDS and MUSIC: Paul Murakami and Handt Hanson; arr. by Henry Wiens; arr. adapt. by Nylea L. Butler-Moore. (c) 1991 Changing Church Forum. As found in CCB 99.
"All I Need Is You." WORDS and MUSIC: Dan Adler, arr. by Nylea L. Butler-Moore. (c) 1989 Out of the Door Music. As found in CCB 100.
PRAYERS OF CONFESSION / PARDON
Leader: We are a people who have had our suspicions about God's care for us. Let us come and confess our lack of faith.
People: God, we have been taught to fear you and for much of our lives that has meant not so much being in awe as being terrified of you. We have thought of you as one who looks gravely at us from the judgment bench and finds us wanting. We have forgotten that you are the One who has created us, sought us, and loved us forever. As a parent calls wayward children you call us back to your great heart of love. You know us and still you love us. Renew your image in us by the power of your Spirit. Amen.
Leader: The God who knows you does indeed love you. In the name of Jesus Christ you are forgiven. Thanks be to God.
GENERAL PRAYERS, LITANIES, ETC.
We worship and adore you, ever-creating God. You fashioned us in your image and breathed into us your own Spirit and Life. We are your children and the sheep of your pasture. As the parent knows the child and as the shepherd knows the sheep so you know us, O Lord.
(The following paragraph is most suitable if a prayer of confession will not be used elsewhere.)
We confess that we have not trusted you with all our hearts. We have tried to bargain with you and to cajole you into loving us. We have totally missed the point of how much you care for us and love us. We have forgotten that knowing us even better than we know ourselves, you love us more than we love ourselves. When we are hard on ourselves for our failures, you are kind and forgiving, anxious to offer us a new start. Send your Spirit upon us once more that we may truly know your great love for us. Send your Spirit upon us so that we might truly worship you and serve you all the days of our lives and then enter into your joyful reign.
We thank you, God, for all the blessings you have gifted upon us. We thank you for the ability to work so that we might serve the common good and provide for those we love. We thank you for the times when work is meaningful for us and for the greater community.
(Other specific thanksgiving may be offered.)
We offer up to your love and care those who are denied the opportunity to be gainfully employed. We pray for those who are unable to work and for those who are unable to find work. We pray for those who labor without the benefit of a just, livable wage and for those who receive little or no benefits to provide for health care and retirement. We pray for ourselves and our complicity in making a class of working poor in our rich and bountiful country.
(Other petitions may be offered.)
All these things we ask in the Name of Jesus who taught us to pray, saying, "Our Father ...."
***
Hymnal and Songbook Abbreviations
UMH: United Methodist Hymnal
Hymnal '82: The Hymnal 1982, The Episcopal Church
LBOW: Lutheran Book of Worship
TPH: The Presbyterian Hymnal
AAHH: African American Heritage Hymnal
TNNBH: The New National Baptist Hymnal
TNCH: The New Century Hymnal
CH: Chalice Hymnal
CCB: Cokesbury Chorus Book
PMMCH3: Praise. Maranatha! Music Chorus Book, Expanded 3rd Edition
A Children's Sermon
by Wesley T. Runk
The Humble Teddy
Text: v. 11 -- "For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted." (Luke 14:1, 7-14)
Object: a tire jack
Good morning, boys and girls. How many of you have ever been with your father or mother when they had a flat tire on their car? (let them answer) Did it seem like a good time to them? Did they enjoy changing the tire? (let them answer) It isn't much fun, is it? As a matter of fact, it is an awful experience, and I don't know anyone who likes to change a tire. But if you think that it is bad for your father or mother, wait until you must do it. As bad as it is, though, I want you to know that it helped me to come to know one of my very best friends.
How many of you have met my friend Teddy Tire Jack? (let them answer) I am sure that you have a friend like my friend Teddy, but I want you to know that he isn't easy to get to know. As a matter of fact, Teddy has been with me ever since I bought my car, and I did not get to meet him until the other day when I had a flat tire while driving in the country.
There I was driving along and having a good time, when, all of a sudden, I heard this funny noise and the car started to run funny. I knew that I had a flat tire. It seemed awful at first, but then I went to the trunk of my car and got out the spare tire, and began to think of what a dirty job it would be. As I told you, I had not met my friend Teddy until that moment, and when I got him out he looked like a lot of hard work for me. But Teddy was a surprise. Imagine how he worked to lift that heavy car so I could take the flat tire off and put on a new tire. It was wonderful the way he raised that car and did almost all of the work for me. It wasn't so bad after all, and I owe it all to Teddy the Tire Jack.
Jesus says that there are a lot of people who are his followers just like Teddy. We call them humble people, and they work hard, though very few people notice them. Teddy rides around in my trunk and never says a word. He is almost unnoticed until I have something awful happen like a flat tire, and then he is ready to help, even to lift a heavy car. That is something I cannot do, and look how much bigger I am than Teddy is. He lifts the car up and, when he is done, I put him back in the trunk. I would say that Teddy is very humble.
That is the way that we should be. We don't have to ride in the trunk of a car, but we should remember how great our God is when we think of ourselves, and that will make us humble also. When God wants you, he will use you, and he will make you great just like I used Teddy and made him great. It is a hard lesson to learn when we talk about being humble, but it is the way that every Christian should feel when he thinks of his Lord Jesus Christ and his loving God.
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The Immediate Word, September 5, 2004, issue.
Copyright 2004 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
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