Message (Ecclesiastes 3:1-7)
We’ve just heard a beautiful passage from
our scripture reading, about different, singular ‘times’. A time to be born,
and a time to die; a time to plant and a time to pluck up what is planted;
something called ‘deep time.’ Today’s reading gently encourages us to rely upon
our inner, deep-time recognition, more than any clock or calendar. Our
inner sense, our faith tells us that a time of birth and a time of death
are not opposites, set separately against each other, as if they are two
different points in one’s life which cannot exist simultaneously. I feel a deep
continuity between these two life events; words such as ‘return’ or
‘completion’ may be right to describe the two most basic phenomena of our
lives. One event completes the other; having an ‘end’ gives us an understanding
of the invaluable preciousness of this life, on this earth.
I once read a poem written by the English
poet William Wordsworth, in which he said:
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our Life’s
Star
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
and cometh from afar.
Not in entire forgetfulness.
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home.
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
In our loss of Jean N, we
acknowledge a light is missing, a star’s gleam gone astray, but it may be just
that we can’t see her soul’s light in front of our eyes, without the bright and
warm smile of Jean’s presence. A Heaven, a star’s light can’t really disappear,
or be gone. It is just that we, within our limitations, can’t see the light as
if it were a tangible object; we cannot perceive its wavelength. I believe
that, however we perceive the light of a human soul, of the deepest, true self -
a Heaven or a Star - , it is part of the immense and deep reality of the
mystery of God’s love. Our Scripture states clearly that we are all born of
Love. I feel a true continuity between these two greatest of mysteries -
life and death. In our lives, as we grow and mature, we are privileged to learn
how to appreciate these two singular events and their meanings. In this way,
Jean is teaching us that, every day, in every moment, we live in deep time,
measured not by clocks but by the things that cause us to grow, work, question
and love. Thank you, Jean.
When I met with Jean’s family, this week, I
asked what they would most like to tell everyone about their mother Jean, they
said, “Her positive spirit and acceptance, and her grace.” “We are still
learning this from her.”
We
are all still learning. In happiness, in sorrow, our life is really about
learning, or, as Richard Rohr says,“practicing for heaven”. Dear
Jean, may you rest in the deep happiness of dwelling in God’s presence, and
become a star that lights the cosmos of our God, through the love of Christ,
and with the breath of the Holy Spirit helping you on your way. Amen.
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