The question Perhaps we might approach today's text like a fairy tale.
Once upon a time, in a land far anyway, Jesus, as was his custom, was walking along the dusty paths of his homeland. He liked to walk along with his friends, and being a clever man who was quick with words, he liked to banter with those who walked alongside. Often he was with his friends who sometimes frustrated him because they were slow to catch on. But since he could tell such fine stories (and sometimes they had a little zing at the end), and because sometimes people thought his stories were actually very deep, well, important religious people sometimes joined the crowd to listen in. Just in case, you know.
One time the religious leaders sidled up to him and said, ``and tell us, if you would please, just who gave you the authority to teach as you do?'' But somehow he avoid the question and ended up spinning his own fanciful yarn about a kindly vineyard owner and some brutish tenants. By the end of it they were really mad because they knew the point of his tale was this: you are the foolish and brutal tenants.
But being persistent, they did not give up. A few days later they hired some agents, dressed them modestly, and sent them to Jesus. They instructed their spies to butter Jesus up and to then ask him, ``oh, by the way, is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor or not?'' But again, he found a way. His reply was so confounding they couldn't even speak!
And then, on a third occasion, the Sadducees went to see Jesus. The Sadducees, of course, were an elite religious class. They wore fine clothes. They had made their private peace with Roman rule in exchange for preserving their local ecclesiastical power. So they came to Jesus seeking to embarrass him and divide his followers.
They did so by posing an incredibly ridiculous hypothetical question. They asked: You know, of course, that Moses told us that if a man dies leaving his wife with no children, his younger brother should marry his brother's widow to raise up children for his brother. But, what if this brother dies too, leaving no children. And then, what if the next brother dies. And the next. And the next. All in all, seven brothers die, and still the woman has no children. So in the resurrection, they laughed, whose wife will the woman be?
The question, of course, was a ploy. The Sadducees did not believe in resurrection themselves, and they wanted to trick Jesus into saying something outlandish. But instead, being very clever and wise in mind and spirit, he turned the tables on them. You know, he said, God doesn't worry so much about the details that seem to concern you. God isn't so concerned with who is in and who is out. In the final analysis he is God of the living and the dead. Those who die are actually alive with God.
A Meditation upon death, resurrection, and life eternal I do not wish this morning to spend time trying to dissect the Sadducees question, or to trying to understand the Sadducees themselves. And I don't wish to focus on the implications of the Moses story Jesus alludes to. Instead, I'd like to draw our thoughts towards the important matters of death, of resurrection, and of life eternal. Perhaps we are just musing on verse 38:Now he is God not of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive.
Death is a part of life. In our culture we fight it more. Death is like an uninvited guest pounding on the front door, insisting on coming right into our living room. In some cultures death seems more a natural part of the fabric of the family and the community.
Though we are part of that environment where death is like the awkward, garish visitor, we are at the same time very familiar with death. We know the unspeakable grief of loss. We carry in vast acres of our hearts the memories of a spouse, who in the quiet of a Reedley night we once kissed good-night. We treasure the memories of a mom or a dad, a grandmother or a grandfather who taught us so much, whom we respect, and about whom we now can, sometimes, even laugh. And we remember children, or brothers and sisters, who, long before their time, suddenly, they were gone.
When we stand close to death we draw close to a great mystery. We are very close at the viewing yet we are so far away. Our dear friend or loved one, who used to tell us so much, is now still.
When we are at our best we surround those who are grieving with our love. We say things, yes, but we speak profoundly when we offer a plate, a roll we halve, a simple piece of cheese, a slice of ham, some chips, some celery and carrots, a piece of chocolate cake, a hot cup of coffee or tea. All the while those who are volunteering stand nearby, making sure there is enough for everyone. The Fellowship Hall then fills with the warm sound of mingled voices, plenty of hugs, some tears, and some good laughs. We are saying in our simple, practical way: ``We shall overcome.'' And we are saying, ``O death, where is thy victory.''
Sometime when I was young this fanciful thought came to mind. Wouldn't it be nice if somehow, just by accident, a letter would slip out of the heavenly realm, and float down, presumably through the stratosphere, and by some great miracle, make it all the way down to earth. Then it could be read and we could know more about what lies beyond.
Of course we don't know in any factual way what happens beyond the grave. We've read about near death experiences, and we have had those experiences in our midst, and they grant us a sense of peace…but in the fullest way of knowing, we just don't know.
Yet we believe, and as people of faith living in the present, in the now, trusting in God's mercy, that beyond death we will dwell eternally with God. This week I was at a memorial service and I said to Ben something like, ``we trust in God and today she is with the Lord.'' I believe those words and yet they are so inadequate. How do we say anything, given all the limitations of our human minds and our human understanding, that begins to connect the inner recesses of our being with our sense of profound connection to the eternal. I thought about this at Arnold Traudt's funeral service. Here was Arnold, who lived all those years with serious human limitations, but now he had found release. Or my friend Steve, as we listened to Miles Davis… now his fight with cancer was over and he is near to the heart of God.
When we stand out at the graveside we stare at the casket and we say words like these: Seeing that the life of our brother (or sister) has come to an end we commit his (or her) earthly body to be buried, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, confident of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ.
I believe in and treasure those words, pale words that struggle to point, in the restricted ways of the human mind to something more. Something there in the burnt orange and the yellows of one of Paul's paintings. Or hinted at in the aching melody line of a Chopin nocturne. Or more boldly stated when the soprano voice soars to sing ``I know that my Redeemer liveth…''
Our confession, (Confession of Faith, p. 91) as Anabaptist people, is that, to paraphrase Paul, that just as God raised Jesus from the dead, so those who belong to Christ will be raised from death to life. (I Corinthians 5:15-21) The New Testament says a fair amount about the resurrection. It is less clear about the state of persons between the time of their deaths and the resurrection. But we who are in Christ take great comfort in the assurance that death can not separate us from the love of God. (Romans 8:38-39) God is God of the living and the dead We also know from scriptures that it is not for us to know the times and the seasons. It is not for us to predict the future, to speak with an arrogant confidence of things which are to come. We do not let the hope of life eternal cause us to neglect life in the present. We are to remember that God is God of the living and the dead. While we are alive in this flesh our task is to live as unto God, living lives of faithful, steady discipleship. We walk each day in the light of Christ's love, practicing the love and compassion that he taught. And so it is that each day we rest in God who is our strength both now and forever. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen. --November 7, 2004
