One of the very great privileges of being a vicar is standing alongside families and friends as we mark the end of someone’s earthly life. It was a special time to be in church this week last Tuesday to see dear old Marion off from this world to the next. Funerals, to be blunt, at their heart, are moments of love; expressions of gratitude, remembrance and hope. And while many funerals can carry deep and enormous sorrow and grief, there is a particular, gentle joy in celebrating the life of someone who has lived long, loved well and reached the natural close of their days contented and at peace.
It is a moving thing to look back over a life that has stretched across decades; one filled with family, friendship, work, service, laughter and faith. So often, when we gather to give thanks for such a person, there is a sense of completeness, of a story told fully. Yes, there may be sadness — the ache of parting and the quiet of an empty chair — but there is also gratitude for the years shared, and admiration for a life shaped by kindness, wisdom, and love, even if, sadly, the last chapter is sometimes clouded by perhaps Parkinson’s or Alzheimer’s or cancer… amongst others…
In our Christian faith, we hold a deep conviction that death is not the end, but hopefully merely a doorway — the gateway to life eternal. As Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life; those who believe in me, even though they die, will live.” When someone has walked faithfully and gently with God through the seasons of their life, there can be a real sense of peace in commending them into God’s everlasting arms.
There’s something, it seems to me, profoundly reassuring about a life that has been lived to the full — one that has seen its share of joys and challenges, but has remained rooted in hope. The Book of Ecclesiastes reminds us that “for everything there is a season.” There is beauty in recognising that someone’s earthly season has come to its close in God’s good time, and that they now rest from their labours.
Funerals for those who have lived long and contented lives often become occasions of storytelling and thanksgiving — sharing memories that make us smile, recalling lessons they taught us, celebrating the love they gave and received. We shared on Tuesday afternoon, many memories and stories about Marion at The Magpie – and also a glass or two of wine on a wonderful sunny afternoon by the river on Tuesday after our earlier lunchtime funeral in church and burial at our beautiful cemetery here in Sunbury. In these moments, I think grief and gratitude mingle, and we glimpse a little something of the Kingdom of God: a community bound together by love, lifting one another up and trusting in the promise of life everlasting.
As a priest, and also as your Vicar, I am often reminded at such services that the Christian hope is very much not just wishful thinking but a deep assurance that, in Christ, love is stronger than death. The farewell we all make at the graveside or in the church is not final; it is just a pause before the greater reunion in God’s presence.
So, while we rightly mourn at funerals, we can, and must, also rejoice. For a life well lived and long lived is verily a gift to be treasured, and in God’s mercy, every ending is also a new beginning.
