I look at the paschal candle, center stage and burning bright. It's a reminder of the life of Christ that is always in our midst. But its also a good reminder of Marge - you always knew when Marge was around - she had that sort of center stage quality about her. She was clear and direct and you always knew where you stood with her. Like any life that burns so brightly, she could also give off a few sparks. I suspect that she enjoyed starting a few fires in her day.
By accident I saw Marge on TV one day being interviewed about some civic function. At first I wasn't sure it was Marge, but it was, and I remember thinking how devilishly clever of her to pretend to be a sweet little old lady - not that she couldn't be that but we all know she was so much more than that. She was wife and mother and friend, but she was also a politician, civic leader, a parish leader, and a name that inspired fear in wayward altar servers. And she leaves behind all those empty places where she used to burn so brightly.
When Christians gather at the time of a death we do two things mostly: we remember and we pray. Those are easy to do; Marge is a very memorable person and we got into the habit of praying for her regularly over the past few months as Marge became more and more frustrated with something that she couldn't control - her own health.
As a people of faith we also remember the words of our Lord and the promise of that paschal candle-- that he will not lose what he has claimed as his own, that life united to the eternal God is eternal life. We remember and we have hope, but we know that hope is not what we feel right now.
We feel pain and loss. Each life is made up of what we do and accomplish but even more our own life is made up of the people who have bonds of love and time and experiences with us. Our life is never our own, it always overlaps with the lives of others and when someone who has been a big part of our lives is gone, we feel like we have died a little. We have in fact lost part of ourselves. There is a hole there, and emptiness that we feel. So we share memories of the one whose place is now empty. It is important to remember the one who has departed; it is important to remember that the separation is only temporary.
The other thing we do is pray, seek God's presence, open our lives to his actions. We pray that the feeling of loss will slowly start to heal -- the hole will never quite fill in, but with healing, eventually it won't hurt so much to remember. We pray that our lives will honor all that we have received from our dead sister. We pray that all those things that bound us together in life will survive to bind us together when we too have surrendered to the Lord. We pray for our sister, because her life is changed, not ended. And in her new life with the Lord, our Marge will still have changes to make. We have hope that our prayers can help; we hope Marge goes easy on the Lord and doesn't give him too rough a time.
In the eyes of a Christian what we do today is not really final. Our gathering is just one step in the journey and the process that draws Marge into a new life and draws all of us toward the time when we are reunited and the emptiness is at last made whole. Even in the vast throng of the kingdom, I suspect that we won't have a hard time finding Marge - she'll probably be directing the traffic.