This sermon was preached on Monday, August 19, 2024 at St. Mark's Episcopal Church in East Longmeadow for the burial office of George Edward Mont.
My name is the Rev. Mia Kano. I’ve only been priest-in-charge here since 2022, so I didn’t get a chance to meet George while he was a parishioner here. But as it turns out, I did celebrate Eucharist once a month at The Reserve. One time that I came, the social activities director called me over to say that there was a new Episcopalian resident who had heard about my services and was specifically excited to meet with the Episcopal priest. It was George.
I thought I was just stopping by to say hi, but instead I had one of those deep, memorable conversations that makes me feel so blessed and honored to get to be a priest. That day, George was feeling weighed down by life. He opened up to me in a profound way. It was clear that it wasn’t about me specifically though - George was reaching for God and his faith.
Much of what we talked about that day is between him and God but I will say this: I remember holding his hand and praying with him that he would feel a lightness of heart. I remember how he grabbed a hold of that prayer. How grateful he was for it - the way his eyes softened and the relief in his smile. I left his room with a lighter heart, too.
Do not let your hearts be troubled, Jesus says to his disciples. He is facing his own death and yet he says to his dearest companions: do not let your hearts be troubled.
Last night, my three year old asked us, Why did Jesus die? It’s a profound question, one thousands of years of Christians had spilled millions of gallons of ink explaining and analyzing, one I spent a whole course in seminary unpacking. But when a three year old looks up into your face and asks you, curiously, earnestly, it’s the simplest, most reassuring answer that rises up out of your heart. So that’s what I told him, “Jesus died so we no longer have to fear death.”
Looking into your faces now, that’s what I want to say to you, too. Clearly and simply. We meet at a church in the wake of the death of a beloved person to remember: Jesus died so we no longer have to fear death. So that death can be for us just another step in the journey of life with God, a doorway into eternity with the divine. In faith, we can face death without fear. Without regret. Without dread. We can trust that the grace of God covers over every anger, every longing, every unspoken word and undone deed. We are free to leave behind all that weighs us down in this life, and step into the peace and love that is all in all.
Jesus says to his disciples: I go to prepare a place for you, I will come again and take you there myself. I talk fairly often with older folks who are adjusting to moving into an assisted living facility or memory care unit. One thing they all have in common is a longing for home. No matter how nice their new place is, they sorely miss the sense of being home. Our faith reassures us that that longing for home, it doesn’t have to be a longing for what is behind us. With faith, it becomes a longing for the home ahead of us.
This is the promise of our faith: George is home, home where all is light, all is peace, all is love. And we will be home someday, too.
When we pray for our dead, Episcopalians say: may light perpetual shine upon him. I want to add to that prayer: may that same light spill out over all of us here gathered and shine on all who knew him. I pray that each of us may go from this day with our own hearts a little bit lighter. Less heavy, but brighter, too.
May we trust that George is home. George is at peace. George is free.
In his memory, when our hearts are heavy, turn to faith, prayer, and to God, as George knew to do. Turn to each other, too. I hope that you turn to each other, to your spouses and friends, whenever your hearts feel heavy.
It’s common for there to be a big rush of support for the family in that first hectic week after a death. But the journey of grief is much longer than that week. It’ll be there, that heaviness, in the days, weeks, and months to come. Keep checking back in with each other. Do not be afraid to reach out, when your heart is troubled. God will show up in the face of a friend, the prayer of a priest, or a heartfelt card.
In George’s honor, be that love. In George’s memory, spread that lightness of heart.
May God's light shine upon George, and upon you, too. May it radiate out from you onto everyone you meet.
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