Not that I am referring to being in need; for I have learned to be content with whatever I have. I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need.   Philippians 4:11-12 (NRSV)

Cemeteries and Thoughts Thereon I like to walk in cemeteries, particularly old ones. This is, to some, a rather odd pastime, and I have been accused of being somewhat morbid. However, there are real reasons for this particular fondness. Some of the reasons are purely aesthetic. Many older gravestones and monuments are very beautiful and are true works of art. Too, older cemeteries tend to have big, old trees, and I'm quite a fan of God's handiwork in creating trees. I also enjoy history, and there is certainly a lot of history to be noticed and recalled in a cemetery. As for the spiritual truths to be seen in a cemetery, we can start with the obvious. Cemeteries are a reminder of our own mortality. I find this comforting. For many reasons, I have found life to be difficult and often painful, and very, very tiring. I'm comfortable staying and doing what I am called to do, but at times the weight of this world and its sins and suffering is oppressive. In a cemetery, I am reminded in very tangible ways of my eventual trip home, and this deeply comforting to me. I do realize, of course, that an awful lot of people are decidedly uncomfortable with thoughts of their own eventual death. My apparent (and genuine, as far as I know) ease and even joy in the knowledge that I am mortal and bound to die makes some acutely aware of things they'd rather not consider. This leads naturally into another observation. Many people spend enormous amounts of money on impressive (and pretentious) grave markers, mausoleums, and other such material memorials. Please don't get me wrong, because I certainly understand the desire to have some marker for a grave, and for living loved ones to have a place they can remember their dead. I do rather wonder why it seems so terribly important to some to have such absurdly extensive containers for mortal remains which the Bible calls "ashes" and "dust." Part of it, I suspect, is that many people cling tenaciously to this world, and their body is part of it. More importantly and more subtly, people cling to that which we call our "personality" as if it is who we are. Too many of us build "lives," often apart from God, and claim this as own creation, and cling to our own works, even, apparently, after death. You can see gravestones with not only the names and dates of birth and death of the deceased, but emblems of earthly affiliations, notation of the deceased's occupation, designation of family position, military rank and insignia, mention of heroic or patriotic duties, and much more. Some people are, I suspect, trying to "preserve" some part of their own or a loved one's life and personality for posterity. They want the world to remember that they were a fine and well-respected doctor, or a 32nd Degree Mason, or some pillar of the community or president of a university. While these may well be worthy pursuits, I still have to wonder why it is so important to preserve these passing and temporary achievements on one's gravestone. Do you suppose that when Christ returns, he'll go and get those with enormous gravestones with lots of markings first? On another occasion, I was prompted by a particularly pretentious and pompous mausoleum site to quote a line spoken by Death in the movie, Monty Python's Meaning of Life: "Well, you're dead now, so shut up!" I do realize that this has the potential to be offensive. I really do understand the very real need to remember and recognize those who have been influential and important in our lives. I don't even necessarily think it's wrong or bad to memorialize the dead (if we didn't, there wouldn't be any nice cemeteries for me to wander around in looking at the gravestones and pondering this sort of thing). I just really have to question why people, even Christians (to judge by the many quotes, verses, and religious markings and sentiments on their gravestones, or the twelve-foot high cross that marks their plot) feel it so deeply necessary to cling to what they were in this life. Paul wrote that what we are now is both corruptible (our soul, which is the Greek, psyche) and mortal (our body, soma): Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed-- in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: "Death has been swallowed up in victory." "Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.1 Cor 15:51-58 (NRSV) The word translated as "perishable" is the Greek phthartos, and the "imperishable" is aphthartos. The word translated as "mortal" is thnetos and the "immortality" is athanasia, and both sets of words are opposites and are different words. These are two completely different concepts here. Some part of us goes from corruptible to incorruptible and some part of us goes from mortal to immortal. Soul (psyche) and body, do you think, maybe? Our "selves," our souls (psyche, personality, mind, life, etc.) are corruptible now, and our bodies are certainly mortal, and we will remain corrupt and mortal until Christ returns. The "lives" we make with our own hands may be enjoyable and productive while we are here, but like our own attempts at self-righteousness, these works and achievements and so-called lives are as filthy rags when we stand before God. To cling so tenaciously to them and to build great monuments to these works of self seems to me to be putting the emphasis in the wrong place. All men are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of the Lord stands forever. 1 Pet 1:24 (NRSV) Regardless of how lush and beautiful the flower was in its full bloom, it seems pointless to build monuments to it, particularly once it has withered and died. What I am saying, brothers and sisters, is this: flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. 1 Cor 15:50 (NRSV) Finally, I will share an awesome understanding (at least, it's awesome to me) I have had while wandering among the gravestones pondering the mysteries of life, death, and God's universe. I realized that I had no idea who these people had been. I could read their names, of course. I could make a good guess as to their lives and occupations sometimes, and I could tell when they lived and died, but as for who they were, it was a mystery. I also realized that for the older graves, it was very likely that no one knew who they were any more. I stood beside one particular gravesite, a magnificent marble affair with doric columns and probably once grown over with climbing ivy, and tried to make out what was carved in the marble. From the looks of that particular impressive and doubtless expensive gravesite, the person buried there is unknown to most or even all living people now. As I stood looking at this very lovely (and rather pretentious, I must say) grave monument with the white pillars and open roof and the dates carved in the marble (erected in the early part of the 20th century from what I could read of the carvings), I wondered "Who was this person?" And the understanding I was given is that only God knows for sure. Even though we may think we know ourselves, though we may search through our hearts and souls and be diligent in self-examination, the truth is that only God ultimately knows who we are, knows why we do the things we do, knows our private hurts and public faces, and knows the truth of our hearts. And not only does God know us more intimately than we could ever know ourselves, God knows every single living soul that intimately, and has known them since before the foundation of the universe. Standing there in that cemetery, I became acutely aware that of the hundreds and hundreds of graves there, God knew each and every person whose perishable, mortal remains rested there. He knew their date of birth and the day they died, and what's more, he knew the circumstances of their conception and the size of their feet and what they ate for breakfast on their third birthday. He knew when they got their first tooth. He knew which bones they had broken, and when, and how long it had taken to heal. He knew all their pain, all their pleasures, all their joys and triumphs, all their sorrows and grief. And he knew every good deed, and more, the reasons behind each act, in a way in which they were not even aware. He knew every act of cruelty, every malicious word, every misstep, every selfish motivation. He knew when they were acting out of misguidance and when they were acting out of self-interest but convincing themselves it was some sort of altruism. And what really shakes me, even now, is the knowledge that God, knowing all of these things about every one of us, from the most mundane to the most intimate to the most shameful to the most selfless, still loves all of us anyway, with a depth and breadth and height we cannot begin to comprehend. New Main Menu About Contact General Writings Index

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.   John 3:16 (NRSV)
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