"The Alpha and the Omega"
A sermon by the Rev. Dr. Hilary J. Barrett
Preached at Pleasantville UCC, November 1, 2009
Revelation 21:1-6 and John 11:32-44

“I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End.  To him who is thirsty I will give to drink without cost from the spring of the water of life.”
(Revelation 21:6, NIV)

In places where Hispanic culture is richly present – particularly in the Southwestern United States -- there is a celebration called Dia de los Muertos: Day of the Dead. It is celebrated in connection with All Saints Day, and it is a day devoted to honoring and remembering departed loved ones. 

The Day of the Dead is celebrated in several ways.  Families often set up an altar in their living room, covered with photographs and other treasured things of the past that bring to memory a loved one who has departed.  And families also visit cemeteries to decorate the graves -- often adorning them with flowers or seashells, coins or toys, candy or cigarettes and even a bottle of tequila or two – anything that might have been a favored item of a departed loved one.  Once the grave is decorated, the family sets out a picnic, often directly on top of the grave, and together they reminisce about those who have gone before.  It is, apparently, the best party of the year, and delicious food is always at the heart of the occasion. 

I have shared this information with you before – back when the weather was fine and warm and we were preparing to gather as a church family for our annual church picnic.  I wanted you to know about the Day of the Dead celebration since, for as many years as I can remember, we have gathered for our church picnics out in the churchyard -- our cemetery.  I wanted to remind you that, when we did that, we stood in a long and rich history of people and cultures and faith traditions that affirm life in the place where friends and loved ones are laid to rest.

Today is All Saints’ Day.  It is the Day of the Dead.  But I think we can all agree that – as a rule – November is a fairly unreliable time of year to have a picnic in this latitude of the Northern Hemisphere.  We’re just as likely to get cold winds, blowing rains, and maybe even a sudden snow flurry as we are to get a beautiful warm day that invites us to eat outside.  So from my perspective, picnicking in June is a much better idea. 

But however we determine to remember the Saints today is the day we do it – officially – in the life of the Church.  And, from my perspective, it seems fitting that we choose this time of year to remember those who have gone before.  This time of year, when the earth around us is visibly changing, preparing for the long sleep of winter, our thoughts naturally turn to those who have fallen asleep, as the scriptures put it.  As the harvest is being finally gathered in, we choose this time to remember the Saints.

Today is All Saints’ Day and as is the practice for Christians in many churches around the world, in worship this morning, we will read aloud the names of those who have died in the congregation since last All Saints’ Day.  Bishop Will Willimon of the United Methodist Church says that one of the reasons it is so important to read the names of those who have died during the previous year is because on any given Sunday “someone is always grieving…and reading the names of those who have died gives us all an opportunity to deal with [our] grief.”  And I think that is certainly true.  Because I know that there are many gathered here today who remember still and will never forget a beloved friend or family member whose name will not be read this morning because they died more than a year ago.  And their loss is in no way diminished by the passage of time.

Many of you know that my father passed away just sixteen days ago.  It was a long and difficult goodbye and our family is grieving.  It has been hard for me to reflect on this All Saints’ Day.  It’s been difficult to prepare my thoughts for you this morning.  But there is one very personal reflection I will endeavor to share.

My Dad was not a religious man.  He didn’t have a church.  He didn’t have people to bring him flowers from the altar to cheer him up, or casseroles from the freezer when he was sick.  And he didn’t believe in God.  And what I witnessed in my father’s dying that truly broke my heart was that – for my Dad – at the age of 79, with many serious health problems, death was still a surprise.  More than that: death was the Universe’s last and most cruel of all offenses.

Bishop Willimon may be right.  It may be true that on All Saints’ Day we read the names of those who have gone before so that each of us who are grieving is given permission to grieve.  But I think there’s something else happening too.  I think that, when we remember the Saints each year at this time, we are teaching ourselves over and over again, to make peace with the reality of our own death.

I don’t mean to be morbid here.  But as far as I know, we are the only animals who live with a keen awareness of our own mortality, and that’s a lot of knowledge to live with.  It’s something that each of us must come to terms with in our own way and in our own time.  I believe the life of faith is all about how to live grace-full lives in this world.  But I believe it is equally about how to be ready to die with an awareness of grace when our time comes.

The church’s calendar sweeps around from sacred season to sacred season, day after day, week after week, year after year.  And if we are attentive to these sacred seasons, then they will teach us how to live – and how to die – full of the knowledge of the grace of God.

When it’s my time comes to cross over, I want to be ready.  I want to be standing upon the firm promises of God.  And I want to know with all my heart, that I am received into the arms of mercy, in the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the company of the saints in light.

We have two great scripture passages to reflect upon this morning.  We touch upon the story known as “the raising of Lazarus,” where Jesus arrives in the village of Bethany too late to save Lazarus from death.  And when he arrives he is faced with the overwhelming grief of Lazarus’ sisters, Mary and Martha, and the grief of the whole village.  Faced with their enormous loss, Jesus does what we all do when overcome by great emotion and loss: Jesus wept.

But the story does not end there.  The story does not end with tears and keening loss.  It does not end with the stench of death and a family forever changed by the absence of one so dear to them.  “In John’s Gospel this funeral story is a sign that the last day, the day of resurrection, has already come to earth in Jesus Christ...The Father who joins Jesus in raising Lazarus from the dead [will soon raise] Jesus as well, so that once and for all the shroud that casts its long shadow over all nations is destroyed, and death is no more.”  This story is a foretaste of the one we hear from the book of Revelation.

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more.

And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband; and I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Behold, the dwelling of God is with men. He will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain any more, for the former things have passed away."

And he who sat upon the throne said, "Behold, I make all things new." Also he said, "Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true."

And he said to me, "It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end.

The Alpha and the Omega.  The beginning and the end.  Alpha is the first letter of the Greek alphabet.  Omega is the last.  The Alpha and the Omega is like saying, “from A to Z” – from the beginning to the end: the same God who knew us before we were formed in our mother’s womb (Jeremiah 1:5), knows us when we leave this earthly life.  There is no place we can go that God is not present.  We were made for eternity.  We were made for an eternity with God.  That’s what these scriptural promises are all about.  That’s what this day of remembrance is all about.  I just wish my Dad had known that.

The older I get, the more I love and appreciate living my life in the context of the Church’s calendar.  When I first became a Christian, I didn’t pay attention really to things like All Saints’ Day, or noticing the days leading up to Christmas known as the season of Advent.  Of course it’s easy to remember the big events: Christmas and Easter.  But there is a rhythm to the life of the Church – a rhythm that is founded upon Christ’s life and death and resurrection.  But it’s also a rhythm whose design is to form and shape us for the life of eternity that we were destined to live.

Today is All Saints’ Day.  November 1^st always is.  And when we acknowledge this day, and those who have died in the previous year, and when we acknowledge all those whom we have loved and lost, then we are practicing.  We are getting ready.  So that when our time comes, we will know with a certainty that gives us peace, that “the same God, who raised Jesus from the dead, shall raise us as well.”  And we shall know that, “just as Christ ventured forth from the realm of death into life, so shall he take us along with him.”  Our hope is not unfounded.  It is not wishful thinking; our hope for the future is based upon all that we know of Christ in the present: God is the Alpha and the Omega.  The beginning and the End.  We were made for an eternity with God, and nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

The season of autumn is filled with holy, luminous light.  It is a season when the harvest is being gathered in; a season which reminds us that – like crops that ripen and are harvested – God is even now working in us to bring all things to fruition, in the fullness of time. 

Let us be grateful for those who have shown us what it means to live as saints.  Amen.