Easter Came Early John 14:1-6 February 23, 2005, on the occasion of Susie Owings' burial The Rev. William V. Livingston, Rector Church of the Resurrection, Starkville, Mississippi After I accepted the call as Resurrection' Rector, but before Diane and I had moved, we received notes from parishioners welcoming us to Starkville and to Resurrection. One particular note caught Diane's and my attentions. For Diane, it began with the stamp. While I'll stick on whatever stamp I find lying around the house, including a Christmas stamp in July, Diane prefers stamps with an attractive picture or moving message. This note had such a stamp. Similarly, other than the cards I use with a drawing of the parish on the front, I've never had personal stationery or note cards. Diane, on the other hand, prefers cards with artwork that creates a mood for the message the reader is about to receive. This particular note was written on such a card. What both Diane and I remember most about this note was the message. It began with a kind, warm welcome, expressing the sender's delight that we were coming, offering her best wishes as we made the move and extending an offer of assistance. It concluded with how we would recognize her: "I'll be the taller, white-haired woman sitting on the front pew of the Epistle side of the church." Thus began my cherished relationship with Susie Owings! And today, it is my honor to be the officiant as we gather together and release Susie into the welcoming arms of Christ as she enters the resurrection promised to each of us. Each life that intersects with our own can bring us some awareness of God, whether through that person or despite that person. Susie gave us reminders of God through the person she was. She bore witness to the truth through her warm smile and her ardent refusal to criticize others. She bore witness to Christ's redemption to me by putting things into perspective. For example, when she had broken her pelvis and was undergoing physical rehabilitation at Starkville Manor, I expressed my concern regarding the emotional toil it may be for her to be living among residents with severe dementia, to which she replied, "Yes, I was disconcerted at first until I realized I will be going home and they won't and realized how blessed I am." She bore witness of using and giving ones gifts for the glory of God. Who after eating one of Susie's infamous cheese straws could deny the existence of heavenly food. Yes, faithfully at Sunday Eucharists and Thursday Healing Services, there on the front pew of the Epistle side, was a tall, white haired woman with a warm smile and a countenance of compassion and of both self and mutual respect - the type of image immortalized by southern authors. Receiving the Body and Blood of Christ was important to Susie. Therefore, when her health prevented her being at church, she welcomed having the Sacraments brought to her by me or lay eucharistic ministers. Our observance of the Christian year was equally important to her. Thus, there is something appropriate, something even liturgical, about the time of year that Susie's death occurred and the Gospel text she has chosen. It was Lent, the period of preparation that leads to Easter, and the Gospel text is from Jesus' last meal with his closest friends in which he, despite his pending death and departure, calms their fears and promises they will be reunited. For the rest of us, we have a few more weeks before we hear this text again and before the arrival of this year's Easter. But for Susie, Easter came early. Last Thursday, Diane and I shared the Bread of Heaven and Cup of Salvation with Susie for the last time. I think both Susie and I knew it was the last time because unlike previous visits, neither of us discussed when I would visit again. Yet, as with my previous visits, she reminded me she had no fear of death. As a matter of fact, as I returned from rinsing the chalice, I interrupted Susie and Diane talking about what it will be like to be greeted by the saints and heavenly hosts we acknowledge each time we celebrate the Eucharist. It seemed as if Susie glowed as she spoke about it. Yes, I think we both knew it would be our last visit. Perhaps she took delight in the prospect, not in leaving loved ones behind, but in setting aside her illness, of leaving the room that had been her world for the last few months, and taking up residence in her heavenly Father's home. Perhaps she knew who was returning to take her home. While, during our previous visits, she and I had talked about this year's approaching Easter, perhaps she knew that, for her, Easter would come early. So, while the rest us of plod our way through the remaining weeks of Lent, today's Gospel text offers certain justice that for Susie Easter did come early. She experienced her private Lent - a time marked by being tethered to an oxygen tube and sequestered in a hospice room, except when accentuated with joyful visits from friends and family, especially from grandchildren. Yet, a Lent so confining as that is never for its own sake. We are emptied so that we may be filled with divine life. Lent was not to be the last moment for Susie. For her, Easter came early this year, an eternal Easter. At this service Susie shares with us the gift she received of an early Easter. Although March 27 is still long away in our future, for today at least Lent's "long shadows have departed," the purple hangings and vestments are nowhere to be seen. No, our hangings and our clergy vestments are of the same coronation colors used on Easter and match the pall covering Susie's casket. For today, our Resurrection banner is out, our "Alleluia" altar cushion faces upward and our Paschal Candle is lit. Yes, the liturgy we offer at her burial is an Easter liturgy. Through scripture and song, prayer and action, we demonstrate our belief that, for Susie, Easter came early. We share with her in that eternal Easter. The risen Christ welcomes her to her new home. The Christ who welcomes her will welcome us. While last Thursday was my last earthly visit with her, we all remain with her still in the commonwealth of divine love. Easter came early for Susie, and it is hers forever. This morning we share in that Easter and look forward to when it will be ours forever. And you know, I imagine somewhere out there waiting for us will be an envelope with that ever so special stamp, containing a rare card, with a note saying, "I'm looking forward to you getting here. I'll be the taller, white haired woman sitting on the front pew of the Epistle side of the church."