A great loss
The stars no longer shine (Joel 2:10)
The stars are going out across our villages. One after another our great men and women are dying. It is like staring into the night sky and seeing the constellations suddenly change as lights blink out. Or standing in a wood in a storm and watching gaps appear as the masters of the forest come crashing down. I am left wondering what Christ feels as he looks on.
We know that on the death of his friend, Lazarus, he wept. He must also weep at the death of each of his friends, then and now. Even with the knowledge of their certain resurrection, he still cries. So our tears are in tune with the songs of the Heaven.
We know that as he was dying on the cross, he invited a new friend into paradise. The thief who asked to be remembered was welcomed home. Jesus must also now be getting up from his seat at the right hand of the Father to welcome these friends, ours and his, to sit down beside him.
We know that he instituted a fellowship meal with his friends. A banquet that began on earth was to be continued into eternity. He must be putting out the cutlery as we speak, preparing a table for that unending meal of eternal friendship with his new guests.
For us the loss is very keen. For many, the faces have been missing from our lives for weeks now and the thought of not seeing them again is almost too much.
So we must prepare to say goodbye with dignity and love. A church graveyard funeral, a crematorium carpark committal, a moment in which to applaud them in silence. Later the gathering of friends, of survivors of the storm, to remember and recall these titans of our age, rich in years and full of friendship. Lest we forget, let us find a way, in good time, to honour each and every one.
The stars are going out across our villages. One after another our great men and women are dying. It is like staring into the night sky and seeing the constellations suddenly change as lights blink out. Or standing in a wood in a storm and watching gaps appear as the masters of the forest come crashing down. I am left wondering what Christ feels as he looks on.
We know that on the death of his friend, Lazarus, he wept. He must also weep at the death of each of his friends, then and now. Even with the knowledge of their certain resurrection, he still cries. So our tears are in tune with the songs of the Heaven.
We know that as he was dying on the cross, he invited a new friend into paradise. The thief who asked to be remembered was welcomed home. Jesus must also now be getting up from his seat at the right hand of the Father to welcome these friends, ours and his, to sit down beside him.
We know that he instituted a fellowship meal with his friends. A banquet that began on earth was to be continued into eternity. He must be putting out the cutlery as we speak, preparing a table for that unending meal of eternal friendship with his new guests.
For us the loss is very keen. For many, the faces have been missing from our lives for weeks now and the thought of not seeing them again is almost too much.
So we must prepare to say goodbye with dignity and love. A church graveyard funeral, a crematorium carpark committal, a moment in which to applaud them in silence. Later the gathering of friends, of survivors of the storm, to remember and recall these titans of our age, rich in years and full of friendship. Lest we forget, let us find a way, in good time, to honour each and every one.
Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace
according to thy word.
For mine eyes have seen thy salvation;
Which thou hast prepared
before the face of all people;
To be a light to lighten the Gentiles
and to be the glory of thy people Israel
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| The winter sky on a snowy day |
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