|
|
"Memorial Service for Sean Lindberg"
St. Mark’s Episcopal Church
The Rev. George Smith
January 16, 2009
Isaiah 61: 1-3
Psalm 23
Revelation 7:9, 13-17
John 10: 11-16
The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome
it.
We are gathered now to claim a truth – the God’s
redeeming work is on-going and continues here, yesterday and
tomorrow.
We are gathered to remember, celebrate and give thanks for
the life of Sean Lindberg, who at 29 years old, died at an age
when many are just beginning to realize the fruits of their
education, work, love and direction in life.
It is not just his young age that we grieve, but a life that
was not easy, passing from one time of difficulty, frustration
to another. The dates of his birth and death are a symbolic
bracket of wilderness and waiting: born during Lent and died
on the morning of Christmas Eve. We may continue to ask the
question – why do some people have so many obstacles,
and never seem to get out from under a cloud of trouble? Ask
yes, but find the answer, no.
This question offers only one perspective, that is, yes, valid
in experience and memory. But there is another perspective that
we gain, here in a community that is rooted in Christ’s
love and promise.
Edith has carefully chosen today’s readings. She told
me that it took her an entire afternoon to read and think through
the packet of various Scripture readings suggested in the Book
of Common Prayer.
And she chose four voices from Scripture that we have now heard
to help us to find a way forward in a time of deep sadness and
loss.
The passage from Isaiah is a message of hope to the Israelites
who have been deported, forcibly removed from their sacred land
and placed in an alien culture. But in the midst of their agony
and darkness, the Spirit of God is at work. They can’t
see it yet, but the work of transformation has already started
- a transformation from utter despair to comfort, release, and
a garland, a wreath of flowers and fragrant leaves, to take
the place of the burned remains of the past, the ashes of their
despair.
In the book of Revelation, which is often misunderstood and
mostly avoided by many Christians, but a book the Edith has
become reacquainted with in Bible study – we have heard
of a scene of a great passage, from a place of terror, persecution,
violence and hardship to a great gathering, where before the
throne of God, there is no hunger or thirst, scorching sun or
bitter cold, but shelter and water from the spring of life.
This is a place where God himself wipes away every tear. It
is however a vision, not the reality for the early Christians,
who were suffering under persecution of the Roman Empire, which
did not tolerate worship and theology that did not place the
Emperor at the center. What those early Christians understood,
through the telling and hearing of this vision was that God
was at work, and in their midst, and that even if they couldn’t
see any evidence of it, their faith and hope was not in vain,
and that a time of full redemption would come.
John’s Gospel offers the assurance that in Christ, we
are led by the good shepherd, the shepherd who lives in the
field, night and day, who knows the sheep and will never abandon
them. We all have experiences with a hired hand who has little
commitment to us – whose sweet talk is only that, and
when danger is near, flees for his own safety. Whether a politician,
the person who sold you your Oldsmobile or the advertisement
that promises happiness through a pill or new sofa, we all know
hired hands. But the good shepherd is present and trustworthy
and will not abandon you.
Our prophets, psalmist and evangelist share the same message:
that we are in the midst of God’s redeeming work, love
and presence. Today we can see flashes of this all around us.
Just yesterday, USAir flight 1549 landed in deadly waters of
the Hudson River. Yet all passengers survived, and many us of
saw the pictures of them standing together on the wings of the
plane, waiting for the rescue boats. The wings that enable flight
enabled life. In the Gaza strip, bombs fall, blame escalates,
yet Israeli and Palestinian leaders are in conversation to find
an end to the conflict. Even in the darkest moment, sworn enemies
are brought to the table.
I want to share with you a story told by Anthony de Mello,
Jesuit priest who became widely known for his books on spirituality
which were written in a multi-religious context and have had
wide appeal.
A holy man who has been traveling for many days reached the
outskirts of a village and settled down for the night under
a tree. Then a villager came running up to him and said, “The
stone! The stone! Give me the precious stone!” “What
stone?” asked the holy man. “Last night, the Lord
appeared to me in a dream,” said the villager, “and
told me that if I went to the outskirts of the village at dusk,
I should find a holy man who would give me a precious stone
that would make me rich forever.” The holy man rummaged
through his bag and pulled out a stone. “He probably meant
this one,” he said, as he handed the stone over to the
villager. “I found it on a forest path some days ago.
You can certainly have it.” The villager looked at the
stone in wonder. It was a diamond. Perhaps the largest diamond
in the world. It was a large as a man’s head. He took
the diamond and walked away. But that night, he tossed and turned
on his bed, unable to sleep. The next morning, at the crack
of dawn, he returned to the holy man and woke him up, saying,
“Please give me the wealth that made it possible for you
to give this diamond away so easily.” (from The Song of
the Bird).
This story reminds me of Sean. Perhaps in some ways he is both
characters, the holy man and the villager who has been searching
for riches. As the villager, Sean was searching for the job,
the friends, the medicine for his pain, and perhaps there was
that hope that he might find it in one place, in one head-sized
diamond by someone who would simply give it to him. But as the
holy man, Sean was the person who would find the diamond, put
in his sack and give it away for the asking. He had in part
the wealth of generosity and goodness that many have not found.
Yet he was also searching, and in his quest and vulnerability,
there would be so-called friends who would take advantage of
his generosity and good spirit.
When we gain the perspectives of faith, it is possible to get
another glimpse of Sean, that he was part of and a participant
in God’s redeeming work and presence. When hanging out
with one of his genuine best friends, Sean said, ominously and
sincerely, “If anything were to happen to me, tell my
family that I love them – my mother, my step-mother, my
father, my sisters, my brother Adam, my grandmother, Edith –
tell them, please.” And his friend did, and that love
is known.
Edith, Sean lived with you and Wade since he was 17. Wade was
like a father to him, and you a mother. He was part of your
family, and you loved him and helped him through difficult times,
and he was grateful. Like the good shepherd, you did not abandon
him, and when it was time, he was able to go back to Michigan.
The redemption continued and continues.
The Good News today and everyday is that we may bring our brokenness,
to God, and God accepts it and us as we are. This is the wealth
and goodness of God beyond our understanding that makes this
possible. It is the redemption that makes it possible for us
to say goodbye to Sean and know that he is safe, protected and
loved for eternity.
Amen.
|
