I saw Death in the vestibule when I came in early for the service. As usual, he was well dressed, with the familiar leering malevolence. Death danced in another victory in the death of a young man.
This evening we must give the permission of the church to grieve. A good young life is rightly celebrated, so the grief of losing such a bright light to a foreshortened time is all the more painful. We cannot ease the pain by repressing it, or papering it over with words only of celebration. We find the courage to lean into the pain. At this point, our prayers are ones of lament. Once again, heaven is besieged by our words, “Lord if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” The communion of saints is a community of the grieving, in the wordless hugs and casseroles, in the choked sobs and condolences.
The questions linger in the air: why, what sense can we make of this, where is God in all of this? I do not have final answers, but I can offer one way, my current path, in the struggle. The healing God did not heal Charlie of cancer. Charlie was healed in the courage in facing death. Charlie found healing in all of the loving care he gave and received, from the flood of stories on the caringbridge site. Step by step, breath by breath, we rebuild our lives in the face of loss. Comforts will come, in time. We will live fully again, in time.
Bonhoeffer said that “only the suffering God can help.” A deep love that shares pain, celebrates a life that engages with us in our struggle is the power that animated all the good we heard of Charlie in these dark days. This creation is as good as this world gets, and it is filled with weakness and enemies to our health. Death stalks us all. God’s creation is filled with threats and blessings; the chaos of death makes forays in its battle with life. I cannot live with a God who reigns supreme over this hard life, who ‘takes” lives, detached from our struggles. I do believe in a responsive God, the God whose very Spirit, at this very moment, is interceding for us “with sighs too deep for words.” God too knows the full pain of having a beloved die too young. As Holy Week approaches, we hear the story again of Jesus, maybe around 6 years older than Charlie, faced his own foreshortened life.
God’s love is so deep that God could not bear to lose Charlie to Death. That young reader surely came across the Runaway Bunny at some time. No place is too far for love to reach. Hear Ps. 139 again. If I go to the depths of the pit of death, you are there. This evening the reach of that love extends into a new world, as love respects not time and infinite distance. Charlie’s life is transformed, but his life as it was lived, perdures. Not only does it continue in our frail memories, but it lives within the very memory, the very life of God. In that sense, Charlie receives ultimate healing.
When the words of Jesus were read to start the service, I saw Death slink away. The great clothes turned into rags. Once again, Death loses. Only God can make a tomb into a womb. After all, this service is one of witness to the resurrection, of new life shining out of the shadow of death. The living God is a God of the living, the God for Charlie.