Death Sunday- A Celebration of Life

This is complete service by Ashley Hummel.The chalice lighting/extinguishing and call to worship are from the Hymnal: Singing the Living Tradition. Pictured here is an altar set up for members to bring photos or other sentimental items. We had photos, dolls, and wood carvings people brought, as well as a place for candles to be lit during the meditation. The photo was taken before everything was brought in, and to the left is our normal altar with the chalice.

Ringing Chimes

Prelude

Call to Worship: #420 We are here to abet creation and to witness to it, to notice each other’s beautiful face and complex nature so that creation need not play to an empty house.
                -Annie Dillard

Chalice Lighting: Flame of fire, spark of the universe that warmed our ancestral hearth—agent of life and death, symbol of truth and freedom. We strive to understand ourselves and our earthly home.  

  

Opening Hymn # 10

First Reading: #445 The Womb of Stars (responsive)

Joys and Concerns: Our joys and concerns, like our lives, are fluid in nature. As we take a stone, we acknowledge the weight of our lives, the perceived permanence of our daily affairs. We cast the stone in the water, acknowledging all things must pass, and observe the ripples as a reflection of our interconnectedness. May we always be mindful of the impact we have on each other. In the spirit of building a stronger fellowship, we invite you to come forward now, tell us your name, your joy or concern, and drop a pebble in the bowl.

Second Reading: # 470 Affirmation (responsive)

Preparation for Meditation: In place of our usual silent meditation, we invite you to come forward and light a candle in remembrance of a loved one. As you return to your seat, take a moment to reflect on the light this person brought to your life, and how your own light shines on those around you. If you would like to speak a name aloud during this time, feel free. 

The preparation for Meditation is in your order of service, let us sing it together.

A Time for All Ages: Badger’s Parting Gifts, read by Emily Pfleiderer

Offering Chorus: We believe it is a blessing to be able to govern and support our religious community ourselves, to make possible by our generosity everything we dream of and do to live out our shared values.

Sermon: Life Finds a Way

There are many paths to the afterlife—many ways to live on. In confronting my own mortality, I take comfort knowing that as my body decomposes, my energy will convert to other things—beetles, flowers, and so on. In confronting the loss of others, I am not quite so Zen. We have discussed death a few times here and what is hard to believe or unsatisfying about the many narratives. 

I can’t believe that my friends and relatives are smiling at me from Heaven, or worse, that some of the less-than-perfect are being tormented in Hell. I don’t necessarily believe that reincarnation of spirit occurs, or that “living on in memory” is a thing, because we so often forget what people look like or how they really were. Not speaking ill of the dead leads to eventually not remembering any ill of them at all, which makes their afterlife-in-memory a sort-of informal canonization. Even so, I believe that people live on, in one way or another. 

My Granny Goose had the greatest laugh. It was a deep, backwards sounding laugh; steady, and slow, something between a chuckle and a Hust. “Ah-huh, ah-huh, ah-huh.” I can’t replicate it. This laugh is known to be Granny’s. Years after Granny died, my cousin Sara, then only six years old, had a fit of giggles. As she began to wind down she made this noise, “Ah-huh, ah-huh, ah-huh.” We all stared in amazement, and my uncle just grinned and said, “Yep. Sara has the Granny Goose laugh.”

Granny Goose lives. She was momentarily with us, not metaphysically, but in an indescribable, heart-warming way. She was there. We cherished her memory. We told Granny stories. Sara learned about her great-grandmother who died before she was born. 

By Teutonic mythology, Sara inherited Granny’s Hamingja, the fragment of self that is her “luck,” or distinctly hers. According to this particular mythology, the body and soul fragment at death. The body nourishes the earth, the Hamingja is passed to a descendent that hasn’t been born yet, and the Fylgja, the animistic portion of our spirit, is assumed to be reborn into its proper animal body. Still other parts of our souls pass into the next phase of living, either in Valhalla, Volkvang, or Helheim, to await Ragnarrok. What I find so fascinating about this is that fragmentation neither degrades nor harms the spirit. 

I know, it doesn’t make much sense. You have to sit with it a while. You have to see the youngest generation unintentionally exhibit a fragment of the eldest generation you remember to wrap your head around this truth. You might not call it Hamingja, you might not believe in spirits, or other worlds, but you will recognize the truth that we inherit bits and pieces of our ancestors, even if you just call it biology.

Another way the deceased live on is through the lessons they gave us. In The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, the entire first book is a list of what he learned from different people in his life. 

Of my grandfather Verus I have learned to be gentle and meek, and to refrain from all anger and passion. From the fame and memory of him that begot me I have learned both shamefastness and manlike behaviour. Of my mother I have learned to be religious, and bountiful; and to forbear, not only to do, but to intend any evil; to content myself with a spare diet, and to fly all such excess as is incidental to great wealth. Of my great-grandfather, both to frequent public schools and auditories, and to get me good and able teachers at home; and that I ought not to think much, if upon such occasions, I were at excessive charges.

 

Of him that brought me up, …to endure labour; nor to need many things; when I have anything to do, to do it myself rather than by others; not to meddle with many businesses; and not easily to admit of any slander.

 

Of Diognetus, not to busy myself about vain things, and not easily to believe those things, which are commonly spoken, by such as take upon them to work wonders, and by sorcerers, or prestidigitators, and impostors; concerning the power of charms, and their driving out of demons, or evil spirits; and the like. Not to keep quails for the game; nor to be mad after such things. Not to be offended with other men's liberty of speech, and to apply myself unto philosophy…

 

He goes on, in twenty-seven sections, to describe each influence in his life. Alexander the Grammarian, his sister, brother, the Gods, even people who introduced him to other people he learned from. This writing, though it may be tedious to a modern reader, is important work. When it comes to honoring the dead, we should do this work. We should recognize that none of us developed in a vacuum.

None of us developed in a vacuum. 

That recognition is a wonderful way to honor our ancestors. The oldest relatives I can remember are my great-grandparents. Granny Goose did not develop in a vacuum. She learned lessons from her parents and grandparents, who also did not develop in a vacuum. In this way, we are connected to everyone who came before us, whether we realize it or not, and whether we knew them or not. To get connected, tell stories to the youth in your family, and listen to the stories of your elders. 

Halloween, known to Pagans as Samhain, is believed to be the time when the veil between worlds is the thinnest. It is the best time of year to commune with the dead, as the thinning veil allows spirits to pass fully into our world for a night. Samhain celebrates the final harvest of summer; it is a time to mourn in community and to learn from those who have passed. This manifests itself in many ways throughout many cultures—in this region, it is most noticeable as the Dia de los Muertos celebration. Altars for Day of the Dead are for both the living and the dead. For the dead, they are a guide back home—the pungent flowers, incense, and favorite items are intended as a guide, to help our ancestors find their way back to us. For the living, they are a tangible reminder of those we love. As graves are decorated, people tell stories about the dead, sometimes they are funny. Day of the Dead is not just about mourning a loss, but celebrating a life, and how our lives were touched by a life that is no longer. 

Of course, whom we remember, and when, may be completely random. I remember my cousin, Tyler, every time I hear the song ABC by the Jackson 5. It was his favorite song and they played it at his funeral. Ancestor celebration is more than this casual, flickering remembrance, though. The altars, rituals, and traditions surrounding the Halloween season create a sacred space in which to celebrate lives that were and the many ways our loved ones live on. As we consider all this, it is wise to remember that the interdependent web of existence does not just consist of right now. It is everything that was and will be. What legacy did you inherit? Which lessons will you pass on?

Closing Hymn: #6

Extinguishing the Chalice: May the blessings of life be upon us. May the memories we gather give us hope for the future. May the love we share bring strength and joy to our hearts, and may we carry the light of this community until we meet again.

Closing Chorus: The closing chorus is in your order of service, let us sing it together.

Welcoming of Visitors and Announcements:

Closing Words: I’ll close with words from Liam Callanan, “We’re all ghosts. We all carry, inside us, people who came before us.”

As we leave this community of spirit, let us stay strong in our commitment to our values, stay wise in our decisions, and grateful for our many blessings.  Blessed be.