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They include:
- Feeding the hungry,
- Giving drink to the thirsty
- Clothing the naked
- Sheltering the homeless
- Visiting the sick
- Visiting the imprisoned
- Burying the dead
Each is a very practical way of responding to the Gospel and living out our following of Jesus. However, one of the acts that I think we sometimes take for granted is the last one: burying the dead.
As we commemorate the beautiful feasts of All Saints and All Souls on November 1 and 2, this Act of Mercy takes on some real meaning. During this season, we remember that our connection with those who have gone before and who now dwell in the so-called “nearer Presence of God” has not simply ended. Those who have died continue to remain part of each of us as well as part of the greater communion of saints. After all, we still love them. We still pray for them. We still believe, as a beautiful prayer in the Book of Common Prayer petitions, they still “grow from strength to strength.” And, most importantly, we entrust them to the God has known them and who loves them always.
At St. Stephen’s, this act of mercy takes a very tangible form with our memorial garden. Located near our labyrinth, we blessed and dedicated our memorial garden in 2014. Since then, we have buried not only the ashes of our parishioners and their loved ones, but also unclaimed ashes—ashes that might otherwise have been discarded, scattered to the winds, or simply interred in a mass anonymous grave in the pauper’s cemetery. Some of those remains buried in our memorial garden are of people who died as long ago as 1962. Some are known only to God.
However someone’s ashes come to us, we offer them a resting place. No matter who they were. And without distinction, we surround them all equally with prayer and reverence. Most often we celebrate a Requiem Eucharist for them before burial, with (in St. Stephen’s tradition) incense and holy water. We pray for them on the anniversary of their death (or, if unknown, on the anniversary of their burial). And every year, on the Wednesday closest to All Saints and All Souls, we gather for a solemn Requiem Eucharist, replete with black vestments and a symbolic catafalque, at which every name is prayed for (as well as their names of all those entrusted to us for that liturgy) and end the liturgy with a procession to our memorial garden, where candles burn on each grave for the evening.
In this very tangible way, we can acknowledge that these people we bury were, in fact, persons---real person who once lived and breathed and loved and felt joy and sadness and sorrow. Real persons who lived. Real persons whose remains deserve gentleness and respect.
Real persons truly loved by God.
This ministry of caring for the dead is something that belongs to all of us. As these November feasts approach, we can be reminded to remember them and pray for them as they too continue to grow from strength to strength in God’s eternal love.
We can also reach out to those who are still with us and who may be weighed down by a pall of grief and sorrow. A phone call, a note, even an invitation for coffee or lunch. Just being a sounding board for people to share their memories of their departed loved ones.
I know; these things sound so simple. But that’s sometimes how mercy works. In simple things done with love and compassion. To me, that sounds like a pretty special way to live out our following of Jesus.
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