No Need to Fear

Sermon for Sunday, June 28, 2009

Psalm 30 Wisdom of Solomon 1:13-15; 2: 23-24 Mark 5: 21-43

The little girl being brought back to life by Jesus is a favorite resurrection story for many Christians, for good reason. The death of any child is a great tragedy. The child's father Jairus was a leader of the synagogue, the kind of official who might ordinarily scorn Jesus and call him a false prophet, but when it came to saving his own child's life, Jairus was willing to take a chance with the carpenter's son from Galilee. As they neared his home, Jesus assured him, "Do not fear; only believe." The desperate faith of Jairus was rewarded most spectacularly when his little daughter rose from her deathbed and began to walk about. We would like to assume that this miracle transformed Jairus into a confirmed believer. His terrifying experience with death had a happy ending.

Today's lesson from the Wisdom of Solomon has a few definitive things to say about death, the most important of which is "God did not make death, and he does not delight in the death of the living." The world we inhabit is full of death and full of people who say that others deserve death, in their eyes. This verse suggests that God thinks no such thing, "For he created all things so that they might exist." Wisdom tells us, "the generative forces of the world are wholesome," for "righteousness is immortal." God's intention for us, as for all living creatures, is to live in joy and abundance, "in the image of his own eternity." How did things go so wrong for humankind? This particular biblical chapter provides a curious answer: "Through the devil’s envy death entered the world, and those who belong to his company experience it."

I know the phrase "the devil's envy" sounds like the serpent in the garden and that old explanation for how Death entered the world. But the part that I find especially interesting is the suggestion that death is an experience. I decided it might be useful to look at the long section of Wisdom left out of today's lesson, the verses from 1:15 to 2:23, to see how or why the unrighteous experience death in a way the righteous do not. What I found out, not too surprisingly, is that the experience is a matter of attitude.

In that long section of verses, the faulty reasoning of unrighteous people is exposed. Such people tend to see their lives as too short and unhappy; they envy others who seem more blessed than they. They grasp onto everything with both hands, trampling anyone who gets in their way. They don't care if they harm others; they only care about themselves and their stuff. How is this an experience of death? Every day of self-centered living, of hording blessings, is governed by fear. That kind of joy-destroying fear robs a person of all that makes life worth living. When we are self-preoccupied, when our needs and selfhood have primary importance for us, then the loss of self, what we understand as death, will be the ultimate fear. In that fear, we experience death.

Can you think of people who seem to value the lives of others more than they value their own? No, better yet, think of how you feel that kind of love for someone very dear to you: a child, a spouse, a close friend. As you consider with gratitude all of the ways this person enriches your life, you know that you would do anything for this beloved one. That is the kind of sacrifice that the Lord has made for us, and it is the kind of love that makes death meaningless. When we live our lives fully in generous community with one another, we will never experience death in the way a self-centered person will. We will not succumb to fear because we know the self is not important and cannot be lost even in physical death.

I want to make sure what I am saying is clear. Of course I will die someday. But if I truly believe in the eternal life Christ offers me, there is no reason for me to fear death. Remember what Jesus said to Jairus: "Do not fear; only believe." On the occasions when he raises others from the dead and in his own death and resurrection, Jesus shows us the way to enter a life after death with a promise of hope.

I may feel this way because I was at the bedside of my mother and both of her sisters when they died. For all three of them, it was such a peaceful passing and such a blessing. At the time, I had no doubt they would be with the Lord. All three of them were women of strong faith and kind and loving hearts. Not one of them had a mean or selfish bone in her body; they were the most generous people I've ever known. Putting God and others first, then, must be the way to embrace a full experience of life, an experience that cancels out both fear and death.

Maybe we are supposed to understand that death, as a transition to another state of being, is simply one part of life. This is especially obvious in the natural world. Since our passage from Wisdom says God "created all things that they might exist," we may well wonder why some animals are born predators and some are born to be preyed upon. We humans may fear our own deaths, but we can be very careless about the lives of the creatures who share our planet.

I want to tell you a story about my box turtle friend. Every summer since I've lived in my current house, and that's now ten years, a small box turtle makes an appearance in my yard. She has very distinctive yellow marks on her shell, and the back of it is missing a piece, as if someone tore off the hem of a skirt.

Early last summer, I had out my riding mower, and as I mowed the too-tall grass, I hit something hard, what I thought was a stick. Later, in that part of the yard, my dog found the remains of a box turtle. I was devastated at the idea that I had killed my old friend. As I felt almost paralyzed by the thought of harming a small creature, I reflected about what kind of lesson I could learn.

That's when I had to admit to myself that I didn't like the image of myself as a killer, even when the killing was accidental. I wanted to be able to think of myself as being a better person than that. I also wanted to be able to believe I had some control over such things, but I had to admit that any control I have over the world around me is an illusion. Life and death are pretty much out of my hands. That was a sobering thought.

A few days later, I got up early on the morning of a day that promised to be very hot so that I could water my garden. As I lifted my watering can above a marigold, I saw underneath the bright yellow flowers my old friend the box turtle, alive and well. I realized I had killed another poor turtle that had found its way into my yard, and although I still regretted it, I was immensely relieved and grateful to see my old friend unharmed. To my earlier understanding that I have no control over life and death, I was able to add the great consolation: God does! My turtle became a witness of resurrection for me.

Now, a new mowing season has begun. Two weeks ago, before I got out my mower, I scouted around my rose and lilac bushes to make sure no small creature was in harm's way. The grass was very tall after all the rain we've had, and I started my usual route around the lower edge of my lawn, where the woods meet the grass. Near a brush pile, my mower blade engaged with something low and hard, and having run over a box turtle last summer, I had the sickening feeling that I had just killed another one. The next time around the yard, I stopped and found the shattered pieces of a turtle. I was very afraid that I really had killed my old friend this time. I felt, once again, like a murderer, and I had to revisit last year's event, wondering what the message was for me this time around. I started to feel like Typhoid Mary, as if I have a special gift for inadvertently causing harm to others.

Over the next few days, I worked my way toward thinking that God wants me to fully grasp the idea that death is not the final word. In the wildness of nature, life and death go hand in hand. The prophet Isaiah must have pondered this very thought when he wrote his peaceable kingdom parable, setting things to rights between lions and lambs. We caring humans don't wish to see or participate in any suffering or destruction, and we would like to see some reason for it, but the final conclusion is that death is simply one part of life. It is a passage from one chapter of life to another.

On Thursday night, exactly a week, almost to the hour, when I killed the turtle, my resurrection turtle appeared again in my flower bed. I dubbed her Mary Magdalene last summer when she opened my eyes to redemptive grace, and there she was again.

As Psalm 30 so beautifully says, "Weeping may spend the night, but joy comes in the morning." Gratitude is the only appropriate response to a resurrection, and in the many twists and turns of life, in illness and in healing (as with the woman who touched the hem of Christ's cloak and was given a new life), we are offered such resurrection experiences over and over again. We may all feel secure in taking a chance with the carpenter's son from Galilee.

Life abides indeed!


Susan Hull