Seasons

It has often been noted that funerals seem to come in bunches. There are those who insist that such occasions come in threes, so if you learn that one acquaintance has died, you will hear of two more in short order. I don’t know if there has ever been a scientific study done on such folk wisdom, but often it does seem that we attend funerals in groups.

This morning I have three reasons for thinking about funerals. First, this week I have heard of the death of two elderly and respected members of our church community; Gladys Long in Toronto and Cliff Dow in Durham. Yesterday I attended the funeral for Cliff. A memorial service for Gladys will be held later, probably in August.

Second, today I will travel to Erie Beach to be with the folks gathered there for a reunion. “It would be good if you could come,” the director told me some weeks ago. “Our community has been hit hard this year by deaths, and I think the reunion will be difficult for some.”

Third, in my email this morning came a writing by a friend, Ethel Wicksey, in tribute to her step-daughter, Roberta, who passed away less than a year ago. Both Ethel’s love for Roberta and her sorrow are clearly audible in the writing.

The writer of Ecclesiastes takes a philosophical approach to the matter of death.

For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under heaven: a
time to be born, and a time to die… Ecclesiastes 3:1,2

In truth, the wisdom teacher/author of Ecclesiastes is not strictly writing about death but, rather, reflecting on the nature of life and the seasonal nature of our existence. More than anything else, this writing is really about work. The poem reminds us that there are seasons for everything, including planting and harvesting, and those are beyond our control. These seasons are obvious as one drives through the countryside right now, with the wheat fields golden with their bounty and farmers busy with their harvest. Since people cannot determine the times, the author says,

There is nothing better for them than to be happy and enjoy themselves
as long as they live; moreover, it is God's gift that all should eat and
drink and take pleasure in all their toil. – Ecclesiastes 3:12,13

It seems to me, good advice. Since none of us can know what the day will bring, why not accept God’s gift of this day, and find joy in it? May you know the joy of your blessings today.

Posted by Carman

Lunch

Today's good word is lunch. I'm thinking of not just any lunch but of that particular good lunch that is part of our community's funeral practice. You know the one I mean; the one that's provided by the women of the congregation, or supplemented by the neighbours' contributions--a loaf of tuna salad or egg sandwiches or a pan of squares because "You might need this." It's where we all gather back to after the service.

It's the place where the mourners and their supporters start to live without the somebody they've just said one more good-bye to. It's at the lunch that there is laughter shared over triangle sandwiches and trays of pickles and olives. It's here we finally have time to notice how big the baby has got since we last saw him and how much more frail great-aunt someone is this autumn.

Little groups form up around the tables or balance flimsy plates on laps as heads lean togther to share a remembrance while taking care not to upset the styrofoam coffee cup. There's a bit more time to realize who's actually taken time off work, or driven all the way from Kingston or Goderich to be together. People are circulating and saying hello to distant cousins or in-laws from afar, either in miles or years.

What is it that's happening over this lunch? A family is uniting, setting aside the differences that feel less important today; a community is closing the circle around some of its members who need special care. Time is slowing down for just a bit as we remember those ever-so-important principles of what really IS most precious to us.

Take time for one more macaroon and another cup of tea and tell your second cousin how very glad you are to see them.