A young man in our church died in a bicycle accident and the funeral was this last week. It was the celebration of a life well lived.
Daniel was an earnest, thoughtful young man, with many gifts. And as it turned out, many friends. Although our rural church runs about 250, easily a thousand people showed up for the visitation, which turned into eight hours instead of four. And over 500 came to the funeral service itself.
Continue reading “the hands and feet of Jesus”
In ancient Israel mourners displayed their grief by smiting their chests and tearing their clothes. For seven days, at least, they wouldn’t dress themselves, make their bed, take a bath, or do any work at all.
I understand that. Today we mourn the loss of a young man in our church. And no one feels like doing anything. It is the morning after death that Emily Dickinson describes, writ large across an entire congregation.
Continue reading “a web of grief”