Funeral Lectionary: John 5:24-29

This passage from John is excerpted from the middle of a longer discourse (5:19-47) of Jesus. We don’t need to do an in-depth Bible study on twenty-nine verses to get to the gist of these six. It can be sufficient to know that this longer piece treats Jesus and his Word that gives life. And after all, life is what we are encountering when we are in mourning over the death of a loved one. Let’s read:

Jesus said:
“Amen, amen, I say to you,
  whoever hears my word and believes in the one who sent me
  has eternal life and will not come to condemnation,
  but has passed from death to life.

“Amen, amen, I say to you, the hour is coming and is now here
  when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God,
  and those who hear will live.
For just as the Father has life in himself,
  so also he gave to his Son the possession of life in himself.
And he gave him power to exercise judgment,
  because he is the Son of Man.

Do not be amazed at this,
  because the hour is coming in which all who are in the tombs
  will hear his voice and will come out,
  those who have done good deeds to the resurrection of life,
  but those who have done wicked deeds
  to the resurrection of condemnation.”

Those familiar with the Old Testament might detect an echo from Daniel 12:1-3, another possible funeral reading. Like that Daniel passage, I don’t think John 5 is chosen much. Maybe we get squeamish about the direct consequences of not adhering to Christ, and of perpetrating “wicked deeds.” Like it or not, our religious tradition does attach a penalty to those who have rejected the Word by their actions.

On the other hand, we have Jesus’s confidence in the Father’s plan of salvation. If we have no doubt about being close to Christ, then this passage is a reassurance. We are urged not to be amazed (Raymond Brown suggests “surprised” is a better translation). Jesus has the power. Believe it. And if we believe it, then the time of a loved one’s funeral will be one of our confidence in hearing the Word, and acting accordingly in virtue.

Thoughts? Would you choose this reading or counsel someone to do so?

 

Funeral Lectionary: Psalm 27:1, 4, 7+8b+9a, 13-14

The funeral Lectionary includes four of the nine common psalms for Ordinary Time. The most frequently chosen of these (27, 63, 103, 122) is the 27th.

Scripture scholars suggest that Psalm 27 is really two distinct pieces, often designated as sections A, a song of trust in God (verses 1-6) and B, which is effectively a lament (7-13) with an appendix of praise. (verse 14). Many renderings of this psalm in the Lectionary combine both portions, and I have no problem with the shift from speaking of God in the third person to second person, nor with the insertion of the lament in what we are given as the third stanza.

Two refrains are given in the Funeral Lectionary:

The Lord is my light and my salvation.

I believe that I shall see the good things of the Lord in the land of the living.

Practically speaking, the second is on the edge of too long, especially for people unaccustomed to worship and singing. If it were in my power to do so, I would suggest the following as an editorial possibility: I believe that I shall see the good things of the Lord. On the other hand, I think a composition might employ a call-and-response structure to the entire refrain.

Psalm 27:1 is a Scripture that should be memorized by every Catholic:

The LORD is my light and my help;
   whom shall I fear?
The LORD is the stronghold of my life;
   before whom shall I shrink?

Verse 4 treats the longing for God, and the desire for unity in God’s house. When the Israelites sang of God’s Temple, we sing of heaven:

There is one thing I ask of the LORD;
   for this I long:
To live in the house of the LORD
   all the days of my life,
To savor the sweetness of the LORD,
   to behold his temple.

Section B catches the psalmist with a direct petition on her or his lips. When you check the rest of verses 8-13 in your Bible, you will note that the edge is taken off the lament. We do lament when confronted with the death of a loved one, but the Lectionary composers have toned it down:

O LORD, hear my voice when I call;
   have mercy and answer.

It is your face, O LORD, that I seek;
  hide not your face.

And the final acclamation of praise concludes the Lectionary edit:

I am sure I shall see the LORD’s goodness
   in the land of the living.
Hope in him, hold firm and take heart.
  Hope in the LORD!

I suspect this psalm is chosen often (no lower than a number three choice behind Psalm 23 and maybe Psalm 25) because it combines the two main strains of funeral planning as I’ve encountered them in many parishes. One can choose Scripture passages because they speak something of the deceased. Mourners might also be drawn to passages that comfort them in their grief. Psalm 27 might cover both bases, as Psalm 23 does, I think.

A person of faith (even if they don’t have it memorized) can easily pray verse one, acknowledging God as savior. The experience of death can, at times, be harrowing and full of pitfalls. But often the dying gain a focus on God, and long for the ultimate union we cannot find in this life.

While the third stanza above usually applies to a dying person, it might well reference the strain of life in those who are bereaved. Indeed, the beginning of healing from grief might involve an honest statement of 27:13.

When in pain, I often do not see, especially through squinted and teary eyes. But my faith informs me that someday I might see. Someday I will have enlightenment, and this time of sorrow will gain meaning. Meanwhile, I will move forward with trust.

Perhaps these A and B sections are not so disconnected as scholars suppose. Verse one of this psalm opens with a statement of faith–a creed, if you will. Verse fourteen finds us in prayer, reflecting back on the light. If we are professing faith in the light in a time of darkness, the expected outcome of prayer will be the ability to see. Our beloved dead see now–this is our hope. We too shall come to see–not only a loving and fond vision of our absent loved ones, but our own reunion with them and with God in eternal life.

Would you choose this psalm? With which Old Testament reading would you pair it?

 

Funeral Lectionary: Daniel 12:1-3

If Daniel isn’t one of our favorite prophets, he should be. In fourteen action-packed chapters, you have unforgettable narratives: three young men dancing in a blast furnace, the handwriting on the wall, fierce animals (lions and a dragon), the sweep of Hellenistic history, and the incomparable Susanna defended from the death penalty in an inspired courtroom scene.

Daniel doesn’t appear often in the Lectionary. Short shrift for one of the “major” prophets. We get him twice this year (cycle B) on the last two weeks of ordinary time. As you settle into your pews on November 17th/18th this year, you’ll hear this conclusion of a longish apocalyptic narrative (Daniel 10 through 12):

I, Daniel, mourned and I heard this word of the Lord:
“At that time there shall arise
  Michael, the great prince,
  guardian of your people;
It shall be a time unsurpassed in distress
  since nations began until that time.
At that time your people shall escape,
  everyone who is found written in the book.
Many of those who sleep
  in the dust of the earth shall awake;
some shall live forever,
  others shall be an everlasting horror and disgrace.
 
But the wise shall shine brightly
  like the splendor of the firmament,
And those who lead the many to justice
  shall be like the stars forever.

Believers will suffer persecution. They will also experience some of their numbers abandoning the faith. For the first readers of Daniel, this meant the Jewish people. Christians would certainly interpret God’s agency in human history as something applicable to them. So these verses from the prophet apply to them as well.

When would this passage be an appropriate choice? Certainly for a believer who has gone through a period of tribulation. It is a hopeful message for a loyal Christian. I would think the punishment overtones would be a bit much for someone whose faithfulness is in some doubt. “Horror and disgrace” are not matters one wants to think about when deep in grief. And while we know the stars themselves are not eternal, we get the message: those who have remained faithful to God will not go wanting after they awake from the dust of the earth.

Your thoughts about this reading? I don’t think it’s chosen much.

 

Funeral Lectionary: Acts 10:34-43

(This is Neil)

A recent article on the funeral sermon in Liturgy by the theologian Todd E. Johnson reminds us that “What is being proclaimed is God’s action.” The funeral sermon proclaims that God is active here and now, amidst the tears and anger and numbness, and we can hope for resurrection even in this context. Let’s be honest. This can seem very cruel. Even if we first acknowledge pain and grief – that Jesus himself wept at the tomb of Lazarus, do we really want to proclaim that God is active before the body of a child? Do we want to speak of God’s grace before children who will grow up without the presence of the parent who had always shown grace to them? Can we refer to a just God in front of the coffin of the victim who will apparently never receive justice?

And there is a similar sense of incompleteness at the end of every single life. There is no death without loss, and nobody ever dies as the person that they should be. So what does the preacher do? It’s easy to avoid the thorny questions of God and resurrection and simply use the funeral sermon to just argue that things aren’t bad as they seem, or at least not as bad as they could be. So the preacher reminds everyone that the deceased had a good life with many blessings. She’ll never be forgotten. She made us all better people. That, perhaps, can be good enough. And we can go on.

If the temptation is just that – to avoid the risk of speaking of God, perhaps a good reading for the funeral is Acts 10:34-43. This, I think, is for two reasons:

1. In Acts 10, we read about “what has happened all over Judea, beginning in Galilee” (10:37). This mention of Galilee might seem like a random geographical detail, but the Gospels mention Galilee in some form over 60 times. In Luke, the angel Gabriel is sent “to a town of Galilee” (Lk 1:26), and when Jesus begins his ministry, he “returned to Galilee in the power of the Spirit” (Lk 4:14). Galilee, as Fr Virgilio Elizondo tells us, was a frontier region, suspiciously close to foreign nations, and a place of poor peasants whose speech was perhaps even recognizably “Galilean” (Lk 22:59). Part of the shock of Pentecost is expressed by the question “Are not all these people who are speaking Galileans?”(Acts 2:7). For, really, as someone had asked, “The Messiah will not come from Galilee, will he?” (Jn 7:41).

Remember that there is a sense of incompleteness at the end of every life. Someone might have been a great father, but he will never get to see and guide his children as they graduate, marry, have their own children. A war hero (or war resister) will never be able to tell her stories of courage and humility to others. A young man had only just resolved to stop drinking and using drugs and perhaps head back to college. This means that death marginalizes all of us – put bluntly, it means that one day we’ll definitely never be who we were meant to be. We will only be potentially a great father or mother. We’ll inevitably be the subject of sentences that include words like “if only” and “what might have been.” Death also marginalizes the survivors, who are now, whatever else, “widows” or “widowers” or “orphans.” This is why, in my own experience, the thing that you most want to say at a funeral, but that you can’t say, is “This is just wrong,” albeit in much harsher language.

But Jesus the Galilean reveals to us that this place of marginalization, incompleteness, brokenness, is not the place of divine rejection. Fr Elizondo articulates a “Galilean principle” – out of marginalization comes a new society of love and welcome. God was present in Jesus in a poor frontera. Thus, Jesus could seem woefully incomplete – incompletely Jewish, incompletely pure, incompletely educated, dubiously loyal, and so on. But here Jesus could cross over to be in contact with people of other ethnicities, and could also reveal how sin blinds us to the possibility of good Samaritans and causes us to neglect captives, the blind, and the oppressed.

Funerals are never good things. Death is always an enemy, the “last enemy” (1 Cor 15:26). But God can still be present at a funeral. Perhaps our awareness of an inevitable marginality – our own, those of all our loved ones – can make us suddenly realize that we ourselves live in a poor frontera like Galilee and are able to reach out to others whom we previously dismissed. Families might reconcile, and a newfound community of grief can surely transcend race, class, national and religious differences and strangely approximate the “kingdom of God,” which, after all, tax collectors and prostitutes might enter before us. “God shows no partiality” (Acts 10:34). Can that realization be the presence of God among us, here and now?

2. In Acts 10, Peter tells us of “This man God raised on the third day” to which “we are witnesses” (Acts 10:39-40). We’ve already spoken about the danger of evading theological questions at a funeral and just resting content with establishing that things aren’t bad as they seem, or at least not as bad as they could be. Funerals can be about restoring some semblance of control – even if it is merely reassuring ourselves that nothing more medically could have been done, or that it was objectively better for this relative to die now without too much suffering, or that our present pain is merely a stage in a grieving process. But this can only be the semblance of control. Death is death.

The resurrection of Jesus reminds us that we are not in control. As C. Kavin Rowe reminds us, nothing arises out of death “naturally” for “death is the final boundary of natural human life.” Death cannot be the “prior reality” of anything. But that doesn’t leave us with a cold emptiness. For, as Peter had said earlier of Jesus, “But God raised him from the dead” (Acts 13:30). Rowe says that this is a “fount of new reality out of which the novum that is Christian mission emerges.” No mere optimist could have predicted the resurrection, and thus it has real generative power. The place where we were most out of control, when Jesus was nothing but dead, when there was no real future, is specifically the place of God’s intervention.

We are called to witness to this intervention – “But God raised him” – in the community of the church. Because this resurrected Christ is the Lord of all bringing a salvation to all that is not the result of human achievement or any “prior reality,” the church cannot show any partiality at all – it must include members of “every nation” (Acts 10:35) and magicians and eunuchs and governors and widows and orphans.

And, thus, strangely, acknowledging that we are out of control at a funeral and resisting attempts to restore control (“At least she had a good life”) might get us to a radical hope that can include everyone at the funeral – those who are angry, doubters, those who do not know how they feel, those who rightly deny that anything could come from this.

…

I hope this is useful – I do feel a bit out of my depth here. Please let me know what you think.

 

Funeral Lectionary: 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18

Since we’re reading along with the Thessalonians of yore in our Sunday Lectionary even today, let’s have a look at one of the selections from that letter approved for funeral use:

We do not want you to be unaware, brothers and sisters,
  about those who have fallen asleep,
  so that you may not grieve like the rest, who have no hope.
For if we believe that Jesus died and rose,
  so too will God, through Jesus,
  bring with him those who have fallen asleep.

Indeed, we tell you this, on the word of the Lord,
  that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord,
  will surely not precede those who have fallen asleep.

For the Lord himself, with a word of command,
  with the voice of an archangel and with the trumpet of God,
  will come down from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first.

Then we who are alive, who are left,
  will be caught up together with them in the clouds
  to meet the Lord in the air.
Thus we shall always be with the Lord.
Therefore, console one another with these words.

Christian grief is tempered by the reality of the Paschal Mystery. Christ has gone before us. Christ will not abandon his sisters and brothers to the unknowns of death and what lies beyond the grave.

The apostle frames this very carefully in the context of his letter. Death is a tender subject. Paul introduces it with a rhetorical aside, and concludes it with a hopeful exhortation. Inside the brackets, Paul doesn’t dismiss grief as a natural response to a loved one’s death. But he does insist our feelings of loss are tempered by the hope we cultivate as believers.

The particular imagery: trumpets, angels, and clouds are all associated with apocalyptic literature of the time. These details are less important (enjoying the fruits of heaven living in the clouds) than the fact of meeting the Lord.

This is a fairly common selection for the funeral rites. And a good one, if one can get past the apostle’s rhetoric and the imagery to the core message of hope. This reading is a good pairing with John 14. We don’t know the actual details of eternal life (a mansion in the clouds?) but I think mourners are indeed comforted with the notion thayt relationships will continue after we live our lives. Really, isn’t the setting secondary?

 

Funeral Lectionary: Philippians 3:20-21

Since we’ve recently sojourned with the community at Philippi for New Testament Sunday readings, I thought we could take a look at one of the more brief selections for a funeral reading:

Our citizenship is in heaven,
  and from it we also await a savior,
  the Lord Jesus Christ.
He will change our lowly body
  to conform with his glorified body
  by the power that enables him also
  to bring all things into subjection to himself.

Citizenship is an intreguing word in a religious context, isn’t it? The commentators Bonnie Thurston and Judith Ryan in the Liturgical Press’s series Sacra Pagina remind us that in Roman times a group of foreigners were permitted a “citizenship,” or the granting of a separate community with their own modes of governance. The apostle suggests here that the Christians at Philippi were in a like situation: they lived within the boundary of the Roman Empire, but they were aligned with Christ and the government of their Head.

The same commentators also point out the paradox of the Christian life. We live in an already-Reign of God, which on another level, has yet to be fully realized. This is a perfect segue into the nature of death and the Christian approach to it. We are mortal beings and our physical bodies die. Yet our hope is anchored in the yet-to-be. We hope that our deceased companions will experience the promised transformation we believe is within the power of Christ.

Paul alludes to the Kenosis hymn earlier in this letter (Phil 2:6-11) in noting that if we are in conformity with Christ, we will share in the transformative power of out Savior. We will be raised up from slavery to death. We willingly subject ourselves to Christ, as he subjected himself to the Father’s will. Our deceased loved ones, in this subjection, will be raised as Christ was. A very basic, yet very profound hope, and eminently suitable for a Christian funeral.

Please choose this reading for my funeral. I like the subtle connection to Philippians 2. I struggle to conform to Christ’s example. I certainly desire that transformation. If you or your loved one has thoughts along these lines, this will be a good choice for your funeral days as well. Only two verses, and very easy to overlook, but what a powerful statement of Christian hope it packs!

 

Funeral Lectionary: 2 Maccabees 12:43-46

With Mel Gibson and some Jewish leaders feuding on filmmaking, I thought it slightly opportune to look at a favorite Catholic passage from one of the books of Maccabees.

A note before we get into it … these books are sometimes referred to as “apocryphal” or as part of the “Apocrypha.” Some Scripture scholars would object to this term. “Apocrypha” refers to a writing that is partly or wholly secret–something only shown or revealed to those on the inside. Clearly, this isn’t the case with the books of Maccabees. Though not part of the Jewish canon of Scripture, they are in no way hidden from good Jews. Or Christians. Indeed, the stories are well-known among people with a basic literacy of the Bible or of Jewish history. “Deuterocanonical” is the preferred term.

2 Maccabees relates the story of a surprisingly successful uprising in response to the tightening grip of foreign oppression. Almost two centuries before Christ preached, Judas Maccabeus was praised for his piety and his thoughtfulness for the dead:

Judas the ruler of Israel
  then took up a collection among all his soldiers,
  amounting to two thousand silver drachmas,
  which he sent to Jerusalem
  to provide for an expiatory sacrifice.

In doing this he acted in a very excellent and noble way,
  inasmuch as he had the resurrection of the dead in view;
  for if he were not expecting the fallen to rise again,
  it would have been useless and foolish
  to pray for them in death.

But if he did this
  with a view to the splendid reward
  that awaits those who had gone to rest in godliness,
  it was a holy and pious thought.

Thus he made atonement for the dead
  that they might be freed from this sin.

This passage is part of the theological justification for praying for the dead, and is valued among Catholics, especially those traditionally-minded. As such, these verses are more of an “instruction” or a comfort to the grieving. Do loved ones need the encouragement to pray for the deceased? This would be a good choice. Do they want traditional Catholic teaching on purgatory reinforced? This passage is associated with that doctrine.

I don’t find people choose this reading very often at all. I struggle to remember one instance in twenty-plus years of ministry. Any comments on this Scripture or on the use of this for a funeral? Have you heard it recently?

 

Funeral Lectionary: 1 John 3:14-16

One thing to mention at the start here. This passage includes 1 John 3:16, not the passage from the gospel, chapter 3.

We know that we have passed from death to life
  because we love our brothers and sisters.
Whoever does not love remains in death.
You who hate your brother or sister is a murderer,
  and you know that no murderer
  has eternal life remaining in them.
The way we came to know love
  was that he laid down his life for us;
  so we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters.

This is a curious choice for the funeral Lectionary. That’s probably why I’ve never been to a funeral that used this Scripture passage.

On the other hand, this passage (especially 3:14) parallels Jesus’ words in a choice of Gospel for the funeral, John 5:24-29, “(W)hoever hears my word and believes in the one who sent me has eternal life and will not come to condemnation, but has passed from death to life.” The author emphasizes that this transition has happened in  the past for the (still living) believer. In the reference of the gospel and the letter, thehearers are presumed to be in the state of “life,” as members of the household of God (note: brothers and sisters).

What about the “hate”? A view beyond this pericope finds John’s reference to Cain and Abel in verse 12. There is also the allusion to Jesus’ warning against anger in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5:21-22). Neither of these passages are included as funeral options. For the occasional worshiper langing in a funeral, this discussion of hate might seem out of context. My sense would be that “hate”  might need some comment from the homilist. But given the circumstances, why not steer the choice to something less jarring.

Verse 16 obviously picks up the theme from Christ himself in his John 10 Good Shepherd narrative. The imitation of Christ: this is what we strive for. Did the deceased exemplify this laying down of life? Did she or he renounce hate and embrace love? Does it make sense to add the John 5:24-29 reading to the funeral liturgies? If so, perhaps this brief reflection on the journey from death to life, from hate to love, makes sense for a funeral. But be cautious about the guests and what might prick their ears.

 

 

 

Funeral Lectionary: Revelation 14:13

At first, I considered it a typo. A one-verse Lectionary reading? It’s more like an alleluia verse:

I heard a voice from heaven say,
  “Write this:
    Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on.”

“Yes,” said the Spirit,
  “let them find rest from their labors,
  for their works accompany them.”

You recognize the passage, perhaps: these words are used as part of the funeral rites. Their source is a small message of hope encouraging believers to persist and endure with confidence, despite their trials.

Why isn’t more offered? This verse is preceded by the description of the fires of hell, and hundreds of miles of blood flow in the verses after.

Sometimes short is good. But I hope you don’t choose it for a funeral only because of brevity. Maybe it’s a bit long for an alleluia verse. More fitting for a responsory in the Office of the Dead. At any rate, it is a Lectionary choice–the most brief in the whole of the Roman Liturgy, for Mass at any rate. Choose it when you need a dramatic message that also comforts.

By the way, this passage from Revelation can be used as the first reading during the Easter season. Otherwise, it would be slated for after the psalm.

 

Funeral Lectionary: John 17:24-26

The conclusion of Jesus’ Last Supper discourse is one option for a funeral Gospel reading. I don’t find it to be a frequent choice, which is unfortunate. Maybe the Johannine style is offputting. Without the reference of the preceding twenty-three verses, it seems like a random sentiment. John 17 has been the subject of my personal Lectio the past few days, so I felt it was a good time to offer a few reflections on the passage.

Jesus raised his eyes to heaven and said:
“Father, my disciples are your gift to me.
I wish that where I am they also may be with me,
  that they may see my glory that you gave me,
  because you loved me before the foundation of the world.

Righteous Father,
  the world also does not know you,
  but I know you,
  and they know that you sent me.
 
I made known to them your name
  and I will make it known,
  that the love with which you loved me
  may be in them and I in them.”

The comforting aspect is here: Jesus desires unity, closeness, and a love with his disciples reflective of the love between the Father and the Son. While the human experience beyond death may be a near-total mystery, believers can and do take comfort in the notion that God is with us in these times, and no matter what unknowns present themselves, we will have a loving and protective guardian.

Coming as it does before the Johannine Passion account, this passage also represents a Last Will of Jesus. He acknowledges the gift of a believer. He embraces the qualities of unity and love. He speaks of love as a deep and intimate connection and commitment.

The Paschal Mystery is evident: Christ’s disciples will also be drawn up into the glory of the resurrection. Why? Because of this intimacy initiated and desired by the Lord. Christ indwells in his disciples. A disciple has nothing about which to worry. God’s perspective is eternal (from the foundation of the world) and stretches to the end of time.

This reading makes a good pairing with 1 John 3:1-2, a New Testament choice.

It’s not a common choice, John 17:24-26, but it probably should be.

 

Funeral Lectionary: Job 19:1, 23-27a

The Old Testament funeral Lectionary is a small offering compared to the choices of the New Testament. That’s not to say some passages aren’t much loved by those grieving the loss of a loved one.

Christians identify strongly with the suffering Job. I suspect they identify more closely with his calamities than with his long poetic speeches in response to his friends’ arguments in the central section of the book (chapters 4 through 37). In the midst of it all is this passage:

Job answered and said:
 
Oh, would that my words were written down!
  Would that they were inscribed in a record:
That with an iron chisel and with lead
  they were cut in the rock forever!
But as for me, I know that my Vindicator lives,
  and that he will at last stand forth upon the dust;
Whom I myself shall see:
  my own eyes, not another’s, shall behold him,
And from my flesh I shall see God;
  my inmost being is consumed with longing.

We speak or sing of “Redeemer” more often in connection with Christ, the hope in his Resurrection, and at the funeral. The role of “Vindicator,” however, carries a certain meaning in the tribal Middle East of ancient days that we’ve lost in this brief selection. A family would have a vindicator to stand up for the weaker and more vulnerable members. Big brother or bodyguard might suit. The Franciscan Scripture scholar Michael Guinan suggests a mafia godfather. For a man like Job to call upon a vindicator is curious. His entire family is dead. There is no earthly person to advocate for him. Is he calling on God? Is he desperate and crazy, grasping at any relief?

This Vindicator strikes me as the agent of justice cited or requested so often in the Psalms (146:9bc, Psalm 113:7ff, among many others) and most notably in the Magnificat (Luke 1:53ff). We understand this to be Christ, of course.

Though mystagogues like John Chrysostom would dissent, another interpretation of this passage is the foundation for the Judeo-Christian belief in the afterlife. It has been interpreted in this way, though scholars caution us about reading too much into what remains (in the original scrolls) a very difficult passage to understand.

As for using this passage in a modern funeral, it is popular enough, but not the most frequently used Old Testament reading. If chosen, the family is latching on to their faith in Christ, who is the ultimate vindicator, protector, comforter for the grieving believer. Perhaps if a death were unjust. Or there was a lingering sense of outrage and anger at God. Or it could be as simple as latching on to that single idea: we know Christ lives, Christ conquers, Christ protects.

What do you see in this passage? Why would you choose this reading or decline to use it?

 

Funeral Lectionary: John 12:23-28

When a minister works with a grieving family on preparing the funeral liturgy, there are a few distinct approaches when it comes to selecting Scripture readings. Perhaps it is appropriate to find something suggestive of the deceased. The just man or the worthy wife catch attention. Often, we want a hopeful message–something like “Do not let your hearts be troubled” or “God will destroy death forever.” Sometimes, we are looking for something suggestive of God or Jesus Christ.

John’s Gospel can be difficult, and it’s no wonder this passage is an infrequent choice for funerals. Too bad.

Jesus told his disciples:
“The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.
Amen, amen, I say to you,
  unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies,
  it remains just a grain of wheat;
  but if it dies, it produces much fruit.
Whoever loves their life loses it,
  and whoever hates their life in this world
  will preserve it for eternal life.
Whoever serves me must follow me,
  and where I am, there also will my servant be.
The Father will honor whoever serves me.

“I am troubled now. Yet what should I say?
‘Father, save me from this hour’?
But it was for this purpose that I came to this hour.
Father, glorify your name.”
Then a voice came from heaven,
  “I have glorified it and will glorify it again.”

Maybe we’re hung up on loving and hating our life. One way or the other. Keep in mind this is the Jewish rabbi grabbing our attention. Love and hate are vivid. Jesus is not lying, deceiving, or exaggerating that much, I think. He wants us to notice his words and be troubled by them. He’s shaking us up to get our priorities in order. Are we focused too much on loving the things of this world? He means the wealth, the prestige, the honors, the luxuries, the privileges. Obviously, the funeral of a public official is not going to benefit from including this gospel. What about a bishop or perhaps a priest? Well that might have unintended irony.

To me, it’s clear that this gospel fits a vowed religious, or a lay person with a long history of service through sacrifice.

This passage, so close to Jesus’ Passion and Death, clearly sends the message that if Christ himself could not avoid sacrifice and death, we followers cannot expect any less treatment. If a person has served Christ well, that person has imitated the Lord. That imitation must, according to this passage, include embracing the experience of death and loss in order to transcend to a closer union with God.

The funeral rites give the option of a shorter version, omitting verses 27-28 (after the break, above). Does Jesus’ experience of “trouble” and the Father’s assent distract from the core message of grain, death, growth, love, and imitation? Likely it depends on the situation.

Any thoughts?

 

OCF Page Done

Just a note: the page for the OCF (Order of Christian Funerals) is now complete with links. Click at the top for “Funeral Rites.” Also on the sidebar over on the right.

Any suggestions for the next bit of organization? Documents? Rites? As funeral readings are added to the mix, I’ll link them on the page, “Bible Readings for a Funeral.”

 

Funeral Lectionary: John 14:1-6

Jesus said to his disciples:
“Do not let your hearts be troubled.
You have faith in God; have faith also in me.
In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places.
If there were not, would I have told you
  that I am going to prepare a place for you?
And if I go and prepare a place for you,
  I will come back again and take you to myself,
  so that where I am you also may be.
Where I am going you know the way.”
 
Thomas said to him,
  “Master, we do not know where you are going;
  how can we know the way?”
 
Jesus said to him,
  “I am the way and the truth and the life.
No one comes to the Father except through me.”

By far this is the most frequently used Gospel reading at funerals with which I’ve been involved. Why is that so?

I suspect there is a lyric appeal in the text. Some Scripture scholars (such as C. F. Burney) note a possible undertone of Aramaic poetry here. Whether that substrate is there or not, this rich passage is very attractive to ministers and mourners alike. If the poetic language comes off as a bit obscure, Thomas is there to insert a question. Many people identify with this interjection in their time of grief: “But we don’t know!”

So Jesus summarizes and reassures.

What message might mourners take from this passage near the beginning of Jesus’s farewell discourse at the Last Supper? That his “Father’s house” is a metaphor for heaven, and we can be assured that a place is prepared for us (see the Psalmist’s allusion in Psalm 23:6b).

Jesus will treat questions and concerns gently, but insistently. Often in John’s gospel, we see that Jesus is asked for a clarification. A disciple or bystander pipes up with some query, which Jesus uses to elaborate on the matter at hand. Perhaps the consolation of “many rooms” and the implication that those who will be received into the Father’s house will be many and diverse. But also Jesus reminds the disciples just who is the way, the truth, and the life. Comfort for those already numbered among the believers? Definitely. Hope for anyone else? I would think so.

My sense is that a mourner might welcome that dialogue with God. My sense is also that preachers find in this passage the message of hope and comfort that is much needed in the ministry at the time of death. A reminder that this passage describes the last time Jesus will be with his disciples before the Passion may also be helpful. The Lord was active and teaching right up to the end.

Any personal experiences with this passage at a funeral?

 

Funeral Lectionary Series

Starting soon, I’ll be posting funeral readings a few times each week. We did this earlier for wedding readings: note the link at the top of the page.

I’m hoping to convince Neil and perhaps a few others to take a reading and offer their own essay on it. I hope to offer some basic Scripture scholarship, with links to the needs of the liturgy and the pastoral ministry to mourners. You will be able to monitor our progress in the funeral lectionary through another designated page. As always your comments are encouraged and welcomed.