(This is a spur of the moment post. The spur was a prayer in our corporate worship this morning, noting that on this Memorial weekend, in spite of all our cultural defenses against it, death remains in our rear-view mirror… the mirror which reminds us that “Objects in the Mirror Are Closer Than They Seem.” Here are some thoughts on that subject.)
This is a weekend when at least some people do something really out of character. I’m not referring to cookouts, barbecues, parades, flags, or anything like that. Those things are really pretty standard for Memorial weekend. No, if you want to witness something really different, here’s what you do: Take a walk through a cemetery. That’s right. A cemetery.
I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. Cemeteries are not our normal hangout, and the reasons for this are obvious: there’s no coffee, no chai, no chairs or couches; and frankly, the wifi is lousy. You’re never going to find an online review of the various amenities of a cemetery. You’ll never see anything which would give you reason to think of a cemetery as a sight-seeing destination. And no, it’s not on anyone’s bucket list, for reasons which should be clear.
We no longer live in a culture where cemetery trips were part of growing up. Once upon a time, no matter how little you cared about it as a ten-year old, your parents took you to where your ancestors were laid to rest. In that place, there were no diversions, no location prompts appearing on your phone, no concession stands; there were no Tik-Tok posts about it, nor were there any user-reviews on Yelp. There were just grave stones, laid out in any given direction.
My memories of such cemetery trips are dominated by the realities of Kansas cemeteries. It could be the most frigid, hand-numbing experience of the year. Alternatively, it could, and often was, a brutally hot and dry event, where even the grass of the field is dormant.
One such trip occurred for me in 1980. If you aren’t from Kansas or simply were not alive then, let me set the scene. That summer there were over 50 days in which the daytime temperatures were above 100 degrees Fahrenheit. There were evenings when at 10:00 p.m. it was still well into the 90’s. It was really hot and really miserable.
It was a weekend in July when my wife and I met my parents on a rendezvous at “our” cemetery. There were headstones of my grandparents from Dad’s side of the family. There were two plots reserved for my parents. As I walked across the baked-dry grass, a thought blind-sided me: The next time you come here it will be to bury your Dad. That thought came totally unbidden and totally unexpected. But I didn’t have much time to analyze it, because in short order another thought came right on its heels: And someday they’ll carry you here, also.
It’s been forty-four years since that cemetery visit. Since then I have been summoned first for my Mother’s funeral, and a few years later, for my Dad’s. In spite of all my medical opportunities to be the third of that sequence, I remain on with no feet currently in the grave. But I know my time is coming. Once you turn 70, it’s safe to say you’re now in Overtime, though it’s not at all clear whether there is a clock ticking down or if, instead, it will simply be Sudden Death. (Ugh.)
A Day of Remembrance
Then I saw a great white throne and him who was seated on it. From his presence earth and sky fled away, and no place was found for them. And I saw the dead, great and small, standing before the throne, and books were opened. Then another book was opened, which is the book of life. And the dead were judged by what was written in the books, according to what they had done.
And the sea gave up the dead who were in it. Death and Hades gave up the dead who were in them, and they were judged, each one of them, according to what they had done. Then Death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. And if anyone’s name was not found written in the book of life, he was thrown into the lake of fire.
Then I saw a new heavens and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more…And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”
And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”
There is no more powerful passage in Scripture about this subject than Revelation 20:11-21:5. There, John is given a vision of the true Day of Remembrance - when everyone in human history is remembered, for good or evil. Nothing will go unnoticed. And no soul will be left out.
Their deeds will be remembered. The vision conspicuously mentions “books” which were opened, and which contained every morally culpable act done by every single person. The importance of the books in this vision has to do with what has already been done and recorded. On the day of judgment, nothing will be left to deliberate. There will be no second opinions, or competing judges who may cast a vote against one another. As C.S. Lewis wrote, “As the judge says, so we are.”
Their destiny is determined. With the testimony of what is written, there is a corresponding destiny entailed. The vision provides an eye-shattering experience for the reader. It is as if God has called on the Sea to release those whose lives ended in their internment beyond the grasp or recall of anyone. Not only so, but Death and Hades are addressed as unlawful masters, who must surrender the dead at God’s summons. Importantly, neither the Sea nor Death nor Hades personified determines the ultimate fate of the dead. That prerogative belongs to alone to God: “The Lord kills and brings to life; he brings down to Sheol and raises up…The Lord will judge the ends of the earth; he will give strength to his king and exalt the horn of his anointed.” (1 Samuel 2:6,10).
For the redeemed, their disappointments are turned to joy. Immediately following the awe-filled vision of judgment, a new scene of John’s vision appears. In this scene, all that has been associated with death has been excised from life. The heavens and the earth are replaced. The city of Babylon, having been extinguished, gives way to a New Jerusalem. The former things have passed away, and with them everything which has clung to human existence since the Fall of the human race - all the tears, all the partings and grief which death leaves in its wake, and the ubiquitous experience of pain, whether experienced physically or psychologically. All gone. No more. Why? Because this is the Day of Remembrance.
Looking back at my walks in the cemetery, I don’t think I understood the picture rightly. The cemetery was, I thought, dedicated to Death. In reality, however, the cemetery was dedicated to the dead. It was a place of remembrance. It was, and is, a reminder that no soul will be left behind.