SERMON PREACHED BY THE REVEREND DR. HAROLD T. LEWIS, RECTOR

CALVARY EPISCOPAL CHURCH, PITTSBURGH, PENNSYLVANIA

AT A SOLEMN REQUIEM MASS FOR THE FAITHFUL DEPARTED

FRIDAY 6 NOVEMBER 2009

“In my Father’s house there are many mansions.”  (John 14:2)

              Father Sam Portraro, sometime chaplain to the University of Chicago, has written several books, among them Brightest and Best: A Companion to the Lesser Feasts and Fasts.  In it, he offers insightful, pithy and some would say even irreverent commentary on the various commemorations that we observe throughout the church year.  In his remarks about All Souls Day, which we now call the Commemoration of all the Faithful Departed, he points out that he comes from the South, where “birth is the most important determinate to all relationships,” a part of the country where, after introductions, people don’t ask “What do you do?” but instead “Who are your people?”  Fr. Portraro observes that, historically, one’s fate in life south of the Mason-Dixon Line has been determined, by and large by such things as wealth, land and the color of one’s skin, and adds: “In a cruel imposition of the most rigid determinism, all relationship is predicated upon divisions” --- although I would hasten to add that such practices know no geographical boundaries!

              It is in this connection that he accuses the church of being no less discriminatory, and describes as “tragically flawed” the collect with which we began this evening’s Requiem Mass.  He writes that to pray to a God Who is “the Maker and Redeemer of all believers” stands in sharp contrast to the Creed which declares that God is the Maker of all things in heaven and on earth.  And when we ask that God will “grant to the faithful departed the unsearchable benefits of the passion,” we leave out those departed souls who may not in their lives have been terribly faithful.  We are saying, in effect, that everybody else be damned --- literally!

              If you want to blame somebody for all this, blame St. Odilo, the 10th century abbot at Cluny who invented All Souls Day, especially so that the church could recognize those who because of their sins were prevented from attaining the beatific vision, caused themselves to land in famous waiting room known as Purgatory. It was believed that a few masses on their behalf on All Souls Day might result in their receiving an upgrade, enabling them to hobnob with the saints in heaven.  It is in this context that the choir will sing the words of the Offertory, set to Durufle’s sublime music, “Free the souls of all the faithful departed from infernal torment. . . and let holy Michael, the light-bearer, lead them into holy light.” (All enquiries regarding Purgatory, by the way, should be directed to our canon theologian, Father Rugh, who held forth on the topic with great erudition at last week’s adult forum!)

              We often speak of death as the great equalizer, but we human beings often manage to carry our differences to the grave.  When I was a parish priest in Washington, the burial of most of my parishioners took place in Lincoln Cemetery just over the border in Maryland.  I found it odd that the cemetery was divided by a highway, and it was only after several interments that it was explained to me that the highway separated the white and black sections of the cemetery.

              Six years ago, I presided in this church at the funeral of a young man who had taken his own life.  The day before the funeral, I shared this fact with my mother.  She asked, “Harold, how will you handle that?”  I said, “I don’t know, Mother, I’m praying about what I will say.”  But as the conversation continued, I realized that my mother, dyed-in-the-wool Episcopalian that she is, not asking a homiletical question, but a liturgical one.  She was not asking how I would preach the sermon, but how I would conduct the service itself.  Her memory of a funeral, long decades ago, of one who had taken his own life, was seared in her mind.  She related to me that the body was brought through the west doors of the church and into the narthex.  And there it remained.    It was not carried down the aisle, it was not brought near the chancel or the altar.  That was the distinction made in some places in those days.  A Church that preached “There’s a wideness in God’s mercy,” a church that declares absolution to penitent sinners, nonetheless declared suicide the unforgivable sin, and in an outward and visible sign of that belief, relegated the body, as it were, to the court of the Gentiles!  Sometimes, the church just doesn’t get it!

              Tonight’s Gospel presents us with a corrective to all this. In it, Jesus gives us his assurance that he has prepared a place for each and every one of us, and tells us therefore not to be troubled. "My father's house has many mansions," he assures them. He says this, interestingly enough, right after he predicts that Peter will deny him. So in the same breath Jesus assures us of his love even in the face of his apostle's betrayal, yet another example of Jesus' unconditional love. When he tells them that he is going on before them to prepare a place, Thomas, not the sharpest pencil in the apostolic box, doesn't understand, and asks for a Mapquest. Jesus assures him that he is the Way, the Truth and the Life. It is this assurance that Jesus demands of us, it is in the confidence of that faith that we commend all of the departed to his care.

             And I think Jesus means that there will be a place for everyone --- the faithful departed, the not-so-faithful departed, the used-to-be faithful departed, the wannabe faithful departed – and even those contemptuous of the Faith. Some places will be for the octogenarians and nonagenarians whom we declare to have lived “a full life.”  Other places will be those whose deaths we declare, perhaps presumptuously, to have been “untimely.”  And there must surely be a place for those whose deaths are especially tragic --- like the woman and her baby killed as they crossed the railroad tracks; or the toddler killed by a bullet when he was used as a shield; or the women whose decayed corpses were found in a house of a convicted rapist in Cleveland --- and this week, especially, for the soldiers and others at Fort Hood, gunned down not on the battlefield, but within the confines of their presumably safe military installation.  All are welcome because they are all entitled to “the unsearchable benefits” of Jesus’ passion so that on the day of appearing they may become God’s children.”

            There is an old Negro spiritual based on this text; perhaps you’ve heard it:

               Plenty good room, plenty good room in my Father’s Kingdom,

               Choose your seat and sit on down!

                            AMEN.