The Nature of Death

Maybe it’s just me, but, the colors of the leaves this autumn seem to be particularly brilliant.  Nature has clothed itself in hues of vibrant red, orange and yellow, creating an impressive panoply of color, serving up a visual feast.   So many times, I’ve wished that this dazzling display could stay that way, that the trees could keep those colorful leaves all year long.  But, alas, the peak of the season is swiftly passing and the leaves are quickly deserting the trees, leaving  limbs naked and branches vulnerable to face winter’s uncertainty.

It’s no coincidence that as the earth (at least in the Northern hemisphere) prepares to die to winter,

the Church’s liturgies also prepare us for death and dying.   Sunday’s scriptures are filled with texts reminding us to keep watch for the unknown hour of death.    Certain days like All Saints and the Commemoration of all the Faithful Departed are set aside to remember, to grieve and to give thanks for those who have gone before us, and to remind us of the great hope which awaits us all.  

Like nature, the Church too changes in particular seasons.  This Sunday, we say good-bye to our current prayer-book, the Sacramentary (the big red book the priest uses).  For more than 40 years, this book has accompanied us through life’s most profound moments:  Baptism, marriage, sickness and death .   Sunday after Sunday, we have prayed with and through the book’s 2500 texts.  Whether we were conscious of it or not, these prayers have helped shape our perceptions of God and have helped to form us as the body of Christ.

Next Sunday, we will pray with a new prayer-book, now called the Roman Missal.  The texts will be more wordy, more complex and perhaps more difficult.  This is why the Missal and the process that produced it has been the subject of contention and criticism for many.  But, as nature and the liturgy teach us, change is hard, dying is inevitable and new life is possible for those who wait in hope.  AMEN.