There is a lot going on this weekend. Tomorrow is Halloween – an occasion for fun especially for children, dressing up, carving pumpkins into jack-o'-lanterns, and so on. It is said that some of our Halloween traditions may have their origins in ancient Celtic harvest festivals. The word Halloween or Hallowe'en however points in another direction for it is a contraction of All Hallows' evening (All Saints' Eve) introducing a season of special remembering of the dead, including saints, martyrs, and all the faithful departed.
One of the readings appointed for this season of remembering is from the Book of Wisdom and begins with these words: “The souls of the righteous are in the hands of God.” It tells us that those who love God will, at their death, enjoy a peace beyond human understanding; that death is not the end of life but a transition, a gateway to a fuller life in the nearer presence of God. This reading assures us that those we love who have died “are in the hand of God, [where] no torment will ever touch them”. The author admits that people have different ways of thinking about death. For some people death is an unremitting disaster: the dead are dead and that’s it but that’s not how he sees it. He argues that those who have died are “at peace” with God and they “abide with him in love, because grace and mercy are upon his holy ones”. Nothing prepares us for the death of someone we love even when that person has been seriously ill and we have known that they were dying. Yet when the time comes it is hard to accept what has happened. We often feel we have been robbed. Having cared about them in this life we feel helpless yet our instinct to care remains strong and we do that by remembering which is why these days set aside by the church are of such value. Not that we need to be reminded to remember; when grief is raw we can do little else and when our grief subsides, as it will, we cherish and nurture those memories. But this season gives place to our remembering within a community of faith whose members are no longer “sorrowing as those without hope”.
A Gospel reading appointed for this season tells the story of Lazarus, a friend of Jesus, who is seriously ill. His sisters/carers Mary and Martha send an urgent message to Jesus asking for help but he is delayed and by the time he gets to their home Lazarus has died and is entombed. The family are devastated and criticise Jesus who arrives some days later. But he insists all shall be well and we are told that Lazarus is restored to life and returned to the family. There is a pattern here we can all identify with. When someone we care for is dangerously ill or in trouble of any kind we feel vulnerable because our joy and happiness is tied tightly to the wellbeing of those we love and cherish. That is why bereavement and loss are such devastating experiences.
Secondly, there is a parallel between Mary and Martha’s appeal to Jesus and our own spiritual struggles. Just as they did not immediately get what they asked for, so too our prayers can often seem to go unanswered. That is such a common experience especially for those coping with personal or family difficulties. But in that Gospel story the important point is made that when Jesus acted, he did so as a friend and gave more than was originally asked for, something echoed in the words of an ancient prayer: “O God who hast prepared for them that love thee such good things as pass man’s understanding...” The hard part is the waiting but that is what faith requires for faith, according to the Letter to the Hebrews “is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things unseen.” GORDON LINNEY