One of the most useful passages in scripture when it comes to funerals has to be John 14:1-3:
"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also."
Whenever I've been asked to bury someone whose relationship to goodness was, well, "complicated," this passage has come to mind. God's abundance is such that He can accommodate anyone who seeks Him through His Son. I firmly believe that God is great enough to overcome whatever ways we might be insufficient so long as we seek Him.
The other nice thing about this passage is that it seems to imply that the life after death has some variety to it. Rather than sitting around on clouds all eating Philadelphia Cream Cheese, we may imagine that some of us will get to hang out in the Sushi-buffet room, or perhaps the Ice Cream Parlor. I prefer to think that there is no end to the variety of the heavenly palace.
But what really gets me is how Jesus promises to tenderly "prepare a place" for us and then take us to himself. There is a gesture of hospitality and affection here reminiscent of the Prodigal Son: God embraces us and pulls us to our eternal home where our welcome home feast is waiting. Considering how hard many of us work, the notion that God is going to do the work of preparing the place and pulling us in has appeal!
I remember several years ago when I was going through an especially stressful time. I managed to sneak away from my job for a short time to visit Holy Cross, an Anglican Monastery in the Hudson Valley of New York State. A dozen monks and a few "Residents" preside over a majestic set of buildings overlooking the Hudson River. I know the monks well, and I was looking forward to a week of prayerful rest. I arrived while the monks were still in their daily period of silence, but as I walked down a corridor the Superior of the Order swerved to intercept me. He gave me a heart felt hug and whispered, "Welcome home." That simple act of affection and hospitality after so much stress and worry opened something up in me. I felt weepy for the rest of the day and realized that I was falling into something much bigger than myself--a community with strength enough to catch me.
One of my hopes for COTM is that we can be a place where people can feel caught in that way. I want our members and visitors to have a palpable sensation of embrace and affection. "Don't worry, at COTM there are many rooms...." Hospitality is only possible when there is accommodation--and I believe that we do a particularly good job of that around here. I pray that we may continue!
Heavenly Father, you created the vast order of the heavens and the earth to accommodate the life you create; open us, we pray, to embrace the friend and stranger with the love you showed us in your Son. Fill us with the courage to continue to be a hospitable place for those who seek You. We ask this through you Son, Jesus Christ. Amen.
In Christ,
Tay
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