All the Faithful Departed

O God, the Maker and Redeemer of all believers: Grant to the faithful departed the unsearchable benefits of the passion of your Son; that on the day of his appearing they may be manifested as your children; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

In an Op-Ed piece for the New York Times published on All Hallows' Eve, preaching professor Thomas G. Long eloquently describes our cultural ambivalence toward death...and how, this ambivalence translates into our seeming inability to deal with the dead themselves.

He writes, "For the first time in history, the actual presence of the dead at their own funerals has become optional, even undesirable, lest the body break the illusion of a cloudless celebration, spoil the meditative mood and reveal the truths about grief, life and death that our thinned-out ceremonies cannot bear."

"A corpse is a stark reminder that human beings are inescapably embodied creatures, and that a life is the sum of what has been performed and spoken by the body -- a mixture of promises made and broken, deeds done and undone, joys evoked and pain inflicted. When we lift the heavy weight of the coffin and carry the dead over the tile floor of the crematory or across the muddy cemetery to the open grave, we bear public witness that this was a person with a whole and embodied life, one that, even in its ambiguity and brokenness, mattered and had substance."
"To carry the dead all the way to the place of farewell also acknowledes the reality that they are leaving us now, that they eventually will depart even from our frail communal memory as they travel on to whatever lies beyond." (You may read the piece in its entirety at:
( http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/01/opinion/01long.html )

Long's assessment is particularly striking to me on this day when the Church remembers its dead and looks with hope toward God's promise of a life beyond this one. I suspect that as long as we can fill up our lives with activities and banish the dead from their own funerals, we can keep up the pretense that we will not die. Certainly, we all "know" that the grave awaits, but we spend much of our time distracting ourselves from a visceral understanding of this sobering reality.

Against the backdrop of our own demise, does someone cutting us off in traffic really warrant a clenched jaw, shouted obscenities and a raise in our blood pressure? When measured against the daily shrinking of our lifespan, does the argument with a friend or loved one really necessitate a grudge held for decades? How many of the "really important items" on our precious to-do lists are really that important? When it comes time to breathe our last, will we really regret not spending more time at the office? Time in a cemetery could put some of our quick-temper, prejudice, arrogance, narcissism, pride and stubbornness into its proper context.

I understand all of this talk about death could seem morose or depressing. But as I look out my window into a cloudless, blue Wisconsin fall sky and see a tiny sliver of God's creation in the brilliant yellow leaves hanging onto their branches in the gentle breeze, I am overwhelmed by the realization that this life, even with all its difficulties, pains and disappointments is a true gift. I am also more aware than ever that today won't come around again. This is life. Right here, right now.

The Psalmist asked God to "teach us to measure our days". I suspect we need to take the measurement so we don't take our days for granted. Pausing to remember some of the Faithful Departed we have known and loved might provide a starting place. There's no time like the present to begin. In fact, right now is all the time we really have.