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St. Charles Episcopal Church - Saint. Charles, IL

Requiem Eucharist for Barbara Bachman

Saturday July 2, 2011 

Lamentations 3:22-26,31-33 – Psalm 46, 27 – Revelation 21:2-7 – John 14:1-6

Rev. William R. Nesbit, Jr.

When I first came to St. Charles over eleven years ago, I was a fairly new priest and a brand new rector, and Barbara was an experienced head of the altar guild. In the annals of church mythology, the clashes between rectors and heads of altar guilds loom large. If it hasn’t happened in your own church, then you surely know of a church where it did happen. I am proud to say that in the eleven years I have been here, the rector and the altar guild have never gone to war, and I humbly admit that Barbara deserves all the credit. You don’t get to be the head of the altar guild unless you have a love of the church and deep and abiding sense of order. I am sure that on more than one occasion there was steam coming out of her ears thanks to a last minute change I requested, or special service I neglected to inform her of in a timely manner. Still, she guided me and worked with me, and taught me, even when she had every right to hang me out to dry. I am a better priest thanks to the wisdom she shared. Another passion of Barbara’s was needlework, another activity that is richly rewarded by a strong sense of order. Her work is breath-taking. The work itself is simple, and to my mind, numbingly repetitive. I suppose it is the same with any craft or art. It isn’t the physical action itself, it is how the actions are strung together. When I think of the time spent to bring this beauty into being, I marvel. I count the time I have known Barbara as precious and far too short. For us now comes the hard work of continuing on. Jim tells me that there is a room of needlework supplies unused, and projects un-begun. I am sure they will eventually be distributed to children and friends in much the way that the burden of grief is shared. Though the thread of her life on earth has come to an end, the thread of her love will continue in our lives. Now, in the depths of grief it doesn’t feel like it will be enough.

Death is like that. It takes away our loved ones and leaves behind the emptiness of pain and sorrow. And yet we gather here not to bemoan death, but to celebrate life, Barbara's life, and our own lives. We do not do this in an attempt to deny death or the feelings we have. Death is a fact of life and the grief we feel is a natural outgrowth of our loss. We gather here to make the cycle complete. In our Gospel today we heard the words of Jesus to his disciples as he reminds them of the transience of this life and the abundance of the kingdom. Jesus says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house there are many dwelling places.” Jesus was trying to spare his disciples from the fear that there somehow wasn’t enough to go around; enough food, enough clothing enough money. He wanted to give them the peace that he had found, the peace that passes all understanding, the peace that comes from living your life by the precepts of the kingdom of God. That is what we do for those we love.

As a Christian, we know that death will eventually separate us from our loved ones in this world and that it will be painful and that there is nothing that we can do about it but bear the pain. Yet that does not stop us from loving, and loving deeply. For we also know that nothing can separate us from the love of God, "neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation." Nothing will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

In these times of darkness we remember that we walk by faith, and not by sight. And our faith reminds us that this is an occasion for joy in the midst of our sorrow. God knows to the depth of his soul the pain we are feeling now. It is a pain God experienced through Jesus at the death of his friend Lazarus, and out of this pain God offers us joy. The joy that comes from knowing that death is not the end of the story. The joy that waits for its full expression in the great day of the resurrection. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the LORD, the day when all things will be made new. And that is why we are here today. We come to remember Barbara before God, but we also come for ourselves. To thank God for the wonderful gift that Barbara was to each one of us, and to be made new again, through Christ, by the gifts of grief and joy as we remember her life and mourn her death.

Amen.