The sheep pool by which Jesus heals the paralytic man (John 5:1-15) is an image of baptism. This connection is made at Matins for the Sunday of the Paralytic during the first ode of the Canon. The reader chants, “Once in the pool at the Sheepgate, an angel descended from time to time, healing one person at a time; but Christ now purifies an innumerable multitude by divine baptism.”

We’ve been talking a lot about baptism, lately. Perhaps you’ve noticed. Many of the readings and hymns these days focus on baptism. And this makes sense. We are in the midst of Pascha, which is the greatest baptismal feast.

It would help us to remember our baptism every day. Baptism makes us who we are in Christ. I’m not exaggerating. We are baptized into Christ. We become – by baptism – members of his body, which is the Church. We remain the Church, and members of his body, even when we cannot assemble in these days, by virtue of baptism. It’s easy to forget that we are a baptismal people if we do not often think about baptism. Baptism is our primary business. It’s what we’re all about.

And so, throughout Pascha, the liturgies and readings turn our minds again and again to baptism. Let us meditate throughout this time on what baptism means for us, where it comes from, and how it shapes our lives.

Today’s gospel offers us another chance to do this. But it’s not readily apparent, at least not to me. When I read this passage, my thoughts do not go first to baptism – but rather to the miraculous healing the Lord works – or perhaps to the man’s thirty-eight year long wait for this healing – or even to other themes. Underneath these, however, the story is about baptism. And John’s gospel is often like this – his references are often oblique.

Did you know that the Gospel of John never directly describes the baptism of Jesus by John?  But the Baptist does refer to the theophany when he gives witness, saying “I saw the Spirit descend as a dove from heaven and remain on him” (1:32). And only in the gospel of John does the Baptist, seeing Jesus, cry out “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world.” This is a pattern with John – he both tells us something we could not know otherwise and also refers only obliquely to the central events we know so well from the other gospels.

For another example, did you know that John never tells of Jesus taking bread and wine, and saying that they are his body and blood? … But it is only in John that Jesus says “I am the bread of life; he who comes to me shall not hunger, and he who believes in me shall never thirst” and “he who eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day.”(6:35, 54). And only in John do we hear of the washing of the apostle’s feet at the last supper. So, once again, John says both less and more than the other evangelists.

Why does John write in this way? I think it may be because he knows full well that he is speaking of a great mystery – a mystery that – like the stars sometimes will – disappears from view if you look at it directly.

I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced this optical phenomenon or not, but it’s not a deficiency in the stars – It’s a deficiency in our eyes. When there is very little light, only our rod cells do the work of seeing. Now, the center of our eye is made up mostly of cone cells. So, if we look directly at a dim star on a dark night, it will sometimes vanish from our view. Whereas, if we look off to the side of it, we will see it with our rod-cell-rich peripheral vision. The star is there whether we can see it or not, but we can only see it when we look at it obliquely.

Now we see as through a glass, darkly. The mysteries are like this. They are ineffable. We cannot speak of them. Not really. Not directly. So, sometimes we have to use our peripheral vision to see the mystery that the gospel of John is teaching us about. And it is in this way that today’s gospel speaks of baptism.

Today, a healing takes place by a pool of water. Our holy father John Chrysostom says of this: “A baptism purging all sins and making people alive instead of dead… [is] foreshown as in a picture by the pool.”[i]

How so? Well here is a pool of water where, time and time again, the sick and suffering have found healing. Often enough that it has become a place famous for healing. The sick who crowd its porticoes are a multitude. This, in fact, is the reason the paralytic man has not been able to enter the pool when the waters are troubled – which is the time of healing – because the others have crowded him out time and time again. The point is, the water is known by this perennial miracle to bring healing.

Chrysostom says that “this miracle was done so that those [at the pool] who had learned over and over for such a long time how it is possible to heal the diseases of the body by water might more easily believe that water can also heal the diseases of the soul.”[ii]

Jesus heals the man not only physically, but he also forgives the man’s sins. We live in two worlds at the same time. We are bodies and spirits at once and the Lord brings us healing in full to our whole being. When Jesus says to the man “See, you are well!” I don’t think he means “well” only in body, for he continues to tell the man, “Sin no more, that nothing worse may befall you.” A worse fate than 38 years of paralysis would be the wages of sin – death and the long death of damnation. Jesus both heals paralysis and tramples death by death – he dies for our sins. Sin and death, you see, go hand in hand – just as do grace and life.

Through baptism, we turn our backs on sin and death and we receive grace and life. We act this out in the rite of baptism itself: Facing West, we reject Satan and sin and death, then, we turn our backs on that and face East and commit ourselves to Christ and grace and life.

Baptism is our way of entering into the resurrection of Christ through the death of Christ. We go down into the water as into a tomb, and we rise out of the water to new life. This is the way Christ has given us to enter into the life in Christ – to be clothed in Christ – to be healed of our infirmities in a truly lasting way – to be forgiven of our sins – to begin life everlasting. And he was already showing us this way when he healed the paralytic man by the sheep pool.

Meaningfully, that sheep pool, according to some ancient authorities,[iii] was so called because it was the place where sheep were washed before being sacrificed in the temple. By entering into this water, then, those who sought healing there were, knowingly or unknowingly, identifying themselves with the sacrifice, which is just what Christ, who the Lamb of God, will do upon the Cross – which is just what we do when we are baptized. This sheep pool prefigures the baptismal font in which we become the sheep of the Good Shepherd.

Another parallel: the water is troubled before the sick, the blind, and the lame enter it for healing (5:7). By whom is it troubled? This gospel passage does not tell us (unless your Bible contains verse 4 of chapter 5. Verse four was almost certainly not written by John, which is why it is omitted from today’s reading). It’s not contained in any of the oldest manuscripts and it contains at least 4 words that John uses nowhere else in his writings.[iv] But I mention it because Chrysostom certainly regarded it as scripture nonetheless – as did other early fathers. And also because I do not believe that just because it was written later by a different author necessarily means that it is not scripture, or that it is not true, or that it is not inspired by God. It reads as follows: “For an angel of the Lord went down at certain times into the pool, and troubled the water; whoever stepped in first after the troubling of the water was healed of whatever diseases he had.”

Now this becomes interesting if we continue to see baptism in this story. Chrysostom says, “The water, however did not heal by virtue of its own natural properties…, but by the descent of an Angel: For an Angel went down at a certain time into the pool, and troubled the water. In the same way, in Baptism, water does not act simply as water, but receives first the grace of the Holy Spirit, by means of which it cleanses us from all our sins.”[v]

Significantly, when the priest calls down the grace and blessing of the Holy Spirit upon the baptismal water, he troubles the water both with his fingers and with his breath. In this way, it evokes the healings at the Sheep Pool.

But notice something else: the paralytic man never enters the Sheep Pool! He had been hoping for healing in the pool but he received instead healing from a direct personal encounter with Jesus Christ. The pool and its healings are an image of baptism, but they are not baptism itself. Baptism, rather, is what brings us – like the paralytic man – into relationship and union with Christ. By it we are identified with Him, and nothing can take that away from us. Let us remember and contemplate our baptisms and give thanks to God for his grace, by which he unites us to himself and saves us from sin and death.

 

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[i] John Chrysostom. Homilies on the Gospel of John 36.1.

[ii] Ibid.

[iii] e.g. Augustine

[iv] ταραχή, δήποτε, νόσημα, κατέχω. Raymond Brown says there are 7 “non-Johannine” words, 207.

[v] John Chrysostom. Homilies on the Gospel of John 36.1.

on Mark 15:43-16:8

In our church, just before Great and Holy Friday begins with Strasti (Matins with the 12 gospels of the Passion of Jesus Christ), we set up the tomb. Behind it, we set up the cross. Then, at Burial Vespers, like Joseph of Arimathea, we fill the tomb with the icon of Christ’s corpse on his burial shroud. At this tomb, we keep vigil and pray Jerusalem Matins, which is the triumphant funeral of Christ, as he is in Hades and is there defeating death and hell. As Great and Holy Saturday comes to an end and the glorious Pascha begins, we empty the tomb of the burial shroud and carry it into the holy place, for Christ is risen! And his body no longer occupies the grave. Now, the tomb is empty. Today, we stand next to the empty tomb with the myrrh-bearing women.

Note that the myrrh bearing women go very early before the dawn while it is still dark to the tomb. Our Triodion ends by telling us to begin the celebration of Resurrection Matins and Divine Liturgy for Pascha at midnight. According to the Gospel of Mark, the approach to the tomb was much later on as the sun was about to rise. But it was still in the dark as day was about to break. We begin in the dark, and that is deeply significant, for out of the black darkness of Hades, Christ rises like the rising of the sun. His name is the rising of the sun.

As the sun is rising, the myrrh-bearing women come to the tomb and find the stone already rolled back and, entering, they find a young man in a white robe. Mark calls him a “young man,” not an angel, and I imagine that this is what he at first seemed to be. He proclaims the resurrection of Jesus and shows them the empty tomb.

The first response of the to this empty tomb and to the gospel of the young man they meet there, is… silence. That is, they tell no one, for they are afraid. In the most ancient manuscripts, this is in fact the last verse of the Gospel of Mark. They said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

Let’s think about the trembling fear of the women in this moment. Is this the fear of cowardice or is this something else? It may be tempting, upon hearing that the women told nothing to anyone because they were afraid, to suspect them of cowardice.

But remember, these were not cowardly women. These were the only disciples who stayed with Jesus until the end, according to Mark. It was the other disciples who ran away – not these women. These are the women who watched from afar while Jesus was tortured and killed. They did not avert their eyes. Their love for him compelled them to be present to him even in his agony and now even in his tomb they come to care for him. Knowing this about them, perhaps we should hesitate now to interpret their fear as cowardice. There is a kind of fear other than cowardice. There is also the fear of the Lord.

These women are experiencing the first glimpses of the mystery of the Resurrection. And it is being shown to them as emptiness. As nothing. Here look, says the young man, he is not here. Here is nothing.

The women surely perceive this emptiness rightly – as full of significance. But as the power of the mystery it signifies is dawning in their hearts as the sun is dawning in the East, they find that no words can come to their lips. No words form on their lips equal to the mystery.

The Lord has told his disciples at another time, “Do not worry about what you will say. God will give you the words.” Here, these women (who may well be filled with fear of God and awe at his holy mystery) obey the word of the word of God to wait for the words he will give them. Their fear is not the fear of worry about what they will say. I think their fear is of God. I think it is a holy fear.

Note an interesting contrast: Throughout the gospels, Jesus commands people to be silent about the great works he has accomplished for them. But they cannot keep silent and they go and tell everybody. Now, these women are commanded go and speak, and they cannot speak but keep silent.

These women were devoted and obedient to the Lord, who had so often commanded silence. Are they going to obey an unknown young man or are they going to obey the Lord? Remember, according to Mark, they see him at first as a young man, and not yet as an angel. I imagine that they realize he was an angel only after the fact, in the light of the resurrection. So, are they going to obey this young man? These women are devoted to the Lord. It is him they will obey.

And anyway, didn’t the young man also prophesy that the Lord was going ahead of them to Galilee? The most ancient manuscripts of Mark do not include any description of what these later appearances of the Lord were to be like – only this reference that in fact the Lord was going to appear to his disciples later. And that’s where it ends. Later manuscripts of Mark include the appearance of the Risen Lord first to Mary Magdalene and then to his other disciples. In fact, we read this passage from Mark at Matins this morning. And all of the other gospels describe the encounters of various disciples with the Risen Lord, and the effect of that encounter is always radically different than what we see here at the shorter end of Mark. I think that’s because here at the end the Mark, there is not yet any encounter with the Risen Lord, there is only the empty tomb.

A message here for us is that those who have not actually encountered the Risen Lord, could not dare to shout, Christ is risen!

How then, can we shout it? We have been shouting it now for two weeks! How do we dare? Because we have encountered the risen Lord Jesus Christ by grace. We are baptized into his resurrection. And, like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, in the breaking of the bread, we see him!

And so now we shout, while standing next to the empty tomb, Christ is risen!

The Judeans sought to kill Jesus also because he “called God his own Father, making himself equal to God.” (John 5:18). Jesus had just said, “My Father is working right up to the present moment, and I am working too.” (John 5:17). Later, after his resurrection, Thomas will say plainly to Jesus, “My Lord and my God.”

The Judeans were right in one sense. Jesus understood himself to be equal to God – because he is God. And His Apostles come to understand him this way also. The Judeans come to this accurate conclusion about Jesus’s self-understanding when they hear him refer to God as, “My father.”

Bear this in mind when you pray the Lord’s Prayer. We know that the Lord has taught us to call God “Our Father.” Both the similarities and the differences between this and the way Jesus addresses his Father are deeply significant.

First a difference: Jesus teaches us to call God, “Our Father.” Meanwhile, he calls God, “My Father.” The difference is in the plural versus the singular. God is our Father in as much as we are the Church, the body of Christ, which we never are all by ourselves. The Church is the community of all true believers. It is not us all on our own with our own ideas. We are baptized into Christ and clothed with Christ by the Church and in the Church. Inasmuch as we are made one with Jesus Christ by his grace, God is also our Father – because he is the Father of Jesus Christ, with whom we are one.

Let us think on this when we pray – I hope many times each day – to our Father. Lately, I have been praying the Our Father every time I wash my hands. And the Our Father is a part of the usual beginning to our prayer every evening and morning and also throughout the day.

Even those first two words – “Our Father” – contain infinite meaning for our contemplation. They are both a petition and the proclamation. A proclamation that we are living in Christ, the only Son of the Father. It is only in him that God is our Father. And a petition also that we grow in unity with Jesus Christ. Because when we say “Our Father,” we can’t help but remember that we’re not there yet, that we have growing to do, as the rest of the prayer makes clear.

And remember also that the audacity of these words were enough to make men seek to kill Jesus. We ought to be a bit shocked ourselves every time we say it. It proclaims nothing less than theosis – unity with God himself. It is a bold thing for us to say to God, “Our Father.” For Jesus to call God his Father was, as Thomas later recognizes in the light of the Resurrection, simply the truth.

 

Such joy we have known! “We have seen the Lord!” (John 20:25). Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death and to those in the tombs bestowing life. Darkness and death and every sorrow have been extinguished by Christ our light and our life and our joy. Rising up from his tomb, Christ recreates us who were not created for death but for life.

We have come to today, the eighth day of Pascha. Historically, those who were baptized on Pascha would wear their white baptismal robes for eight days, until today. For this reason, today was also once called White Sunday.[i] So this day has a deep connection to baptism and can serve to remind all of us of our own baptisms into Christ.

We have come here through Holy Week, Pascha, and Bright Week. Our liturgical remembrance and celebration of Christ’s death and resurrection reminds us also of our own death and resurrection, already accomplished by grace in our baptism. It is by baptism that we die with Christ so that we might rise with Christ. Christ himself is our true, brilliant, radiant, and pure baptismal garment. It is with him that we are clothed. Clothed with the risen Christ, we live again and live forever with him and in him.

In Christ, we know true freedom and mercy and forgiveness.  He returns us to our first natural innocence. On Pascha, the holy doors – the gates of paradise – are flung open and they remain open all of Bright Week. During this time, we see the Lord more clearly and more familiarly. There is no locked door between us. It is as if he walks with us again in the garden. It is as if the Lord Jesus has come and stands among us as he did among his disciples even though the doors were locked. “The disciples were glad when they saw the Lord” (John 20:20) and we are filled with joy throughout Bright Week. Perhaps our excitement has been somewhat subdued this year. A child of my acquaintance once said on Bright Wednesday, “All the excitement was on the first day, and the excitement is wearing off now.” Well, that’s one experience.

Today, the holy doors – the gates of heaven – are closed again. What once closed the gates of paradise was sin. What opens them again is mercy and forgiveness. When Jesus stood among his disciples after his resurrection, “he breathed on them and said to them, ‘receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained” (John 20:22-23). So Jesus Christ has given from his Father to his disciples – to his Church – the life of the Holy Spirit and the authority to forgive sins that comes with that. So now, even though sins still shut the doors to paradise, forgiveness, especially through the holy mysteries of the church, opens them again.

The holy mystery of baptism washes away our sins (Acts 22:16). Whether we received this as babies or later in life, on that day, we became illuminated children of God baptized into the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ (Rom 6:3-4) – into the life of Christ – and by chrismation we have been sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit – to live the life of the Spirit. The doors to heaven are wide open to us now.

This establishes in us an indissoluble relationship with our Lord. No matter what trying circumstances in or out of our control beset us during this life on earth, our Lord is giving us his own life to live. In these days, we are not coming together to pray in the church. I miss praying with you in the church terribly, but I know we are praying together in the spirit given to us when we were baptized and chrismated. Nothing can prevent that.

The devil, however, will try to take this as an opportunity to drive a wedge between you and the church, if that were possible, given that you are the church by the grace of God. But know this: even if you have fallen into sin: judgmentalism, despair, resentment, gluttony, sloth, or lust due to the intense temptations brought on during this experience of physical separation from the church, there is still the mercy and forgiveness of the Lord for you.

When we sin again after baptism, there is for us the necessary second baptism of holy repentance, confession, and forgiveness of sins. Today Jesus gives his authority to forgive sins to his apostles. I am still available for confession during this time, and thanks be to God, I have seen an increase in confession. If you are prudently unable to go to confession at this time, confess and express your sorrow for your sins to the Lord and prayerfully resolve to go to confession as soon as it becomes prudent. We are forgiven the moment we repent, and a sincere repentance necessary includes the intention to confess. As soon as you are able to, go frequently to confession. The need for this should be even more apparent to us now than ever. We never know what disruption is coming, and confession is a necessary part of life for us sinners. It is a way to begin to see God in our lives.

We also receive the holy body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, “for the remission of our sins and for life everlasting.” When you are once again able, come often to holy communion; it is a way to begin to see God in your life.

There is also the mystery of holy anointing, which we will celebrate communally whenever we are able to come together again, since we didn’t get to on Holy Wednesday. This is for the healing of all the sicknesses of our souls and bodies and is also for the forgiveness of sins. St. James asks us, “Is any among you sick?” The answer is, none of us is totally free of physical or spiritual illness in this life.  Therefore, “Let [us] call for the presbyters of the church, and let them pray over [us], anointing [us] with oil in the name of the Lord; and the prayer of faith will save [us], and the Lord will raise [us] up; and if [we have] committed sins, [we] will be forgiven” (James 5:14-15).

Notice that all of these holy mysteries are for the forgiveness of our sins and unite us again to God. They open the holy doors and offer us a glimpse of God.

Now again we will close and open the holy doors as we did before – occasionally offering fleeting glimpses of the paradise from which we were once shut out. These glimpses present us with what really matters — an image of God in his heavens, into which he beckons us. To see God is to be with God. Θεωρία leads to θέωσις – the vision of God to union with God.

Thomas wanted to see God, but doubted that he would. When the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord,” he said, “Unless I see…, I will not believe” (John 20:25).

Eight days later, he does see and does believe. And, seeing the Lord, says, “My Lord and my God” (John 20:28). Other men, seeing Jesus, failed to see God. But Thomas, seeing Jesus risen from the dead, sees God. “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe,” says Jesus (John 20:29). What shall their blessing be? It will be to see God. “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.”

 

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[i] S.V. Bulgakov, Handbook for Church Servers, 2nd ed., 1274 pp. (Kharkov, 1900), pp. 0586-0589. Translated by Archpriest Eugene D. Tarris © March 8, 2007,

“Lazarus! Come out!” So Jesus calls to his friend who has died, over whom he has wept, and who has been four days in the tomb. St. Cyril of Jerusalem points out, “One day had passed, and a second, and a third: his sinews were decayed, and corruption was preying already upon his body.” And yet Lazarus does come out, still wearing his grave clothes, but as alive and well as you or me.

When the One Who, in the beginning, speaks life into being tells one of us, his creatures, to live, though we lie in a tomb, we will live. Whether we have been dead four days, like Lazarus, or four thousand years, we will heed this command of our master. When the one who made us out of dust tells us to arise, though our bodies have turned to dust, they will arise. Dust cannot resist the divine word at resurrection time.

The resurrection of Lazarus was yesterday and the resurrection of Jesus is next Sunday. Between these two resurrections is today and Holy Week. Today, Palm Sunday, is inextricably linked to yesterday, Lazarus Saturday. Liturgically, they form a unit all their own, between the Great Fast and Holy Week. So, though we rightly call today Palm Sunday in commemoration of Christ’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem as King and Messiah, let’s not forget the place of Lazarus in all of this, who appears at the beginning, the middle, and the end of today’s gospel.

The gospel begins with Lazarus, who had been dead, eating supper with Jesus and his disciples. This is one of the signs of the resurrection of the body. Only a truly embodied person eats food. Jesus will repeat this sign after his own resurrection, when he will eat broiled fish with his disciples in Jerusalem (Luke 24:42). By this sign, we know that Lazarus and Jesus are truly risen in the body and not merely ghosts or visions.

And then, in the middle of the gospel, we learn of a further connection between Jesus and Lazarus. Not only are the chief priests now plotting to put Jesus to death, but also Lazarus, “because, on account of him many of the Jews were going away and believing in Jesus.”

According to tradition, Lazarus, unlike Jesus, escapes their plot. He lives on another thirty years. When he dies a second time, they lay him in a sarcophagus on which they write, “Lazarus of the four days and the friend of Christ.” For four days, Lazarus knew death, which no one else among the living has ever known. The Synaxarion says he never spoke of it and some say he never laughed again until he saw a man stealing a clay pot. And then he laughed, saying, “One earth steals another.”

And then at the end of today’s gospel, after Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem, we learn why the great crowd is so exultant and why they hail Jesus as their king: because he has raised Lazarus. This miracle more than all the others convinces multitudes that Jesus is the Christ. By raising Lazarus, Jesus shows that he can raise us all and that he will save us – even from the last enemy, even from death. This divine triumph even over death is the sign that brought so many to belief in Jesus.

And this belief of the people is what motivates the Pharisees and chief priests to take action against Jesus. They see that, due to this great sign, many are believing in Jesus and they fear that this will provoke the Romans to come and destroy them. The high priest Caiaphas, though motivated by cowardice, unintentionally prophesies, saying, “It is expedient for you that one man should die for the people, and that the whole nation should not perish” (John 11:50). And so, (in the gospel according to John), they plot to put Jesus to death as a direct result of his resurrection of Lazarus.

Jesus’ resurrection of Lazarus leads today to his triumphant entry into Jerusalem – but it will soon lead also to his death. Quite directly, Jesus lays down his own life in exchange for giving life to his friend Lazarus. There is no greater love. Ultimately, Jesus lays down his life to give life to us all. It is good to be a friend of Christ Jesus. Even though you die, he will give you life.

Today, we sing again the Troparion of Lazarus from yesterday:

Christ our God, before your passion you confirmed our common resurrection when you raised Lazarus from the dead. Therefore, like the children, we carry the symbols of victory and cry out to you, the Victor over death: Hosanna in the highest! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.

I believe that, through Lazarus, Jesus has something to teach us about death. (Now the remembrance of death is being put daily before our eyes, even by the media. As Christians, we should always remember that we are going to die). When Lazarus dies, Jesus weeps. And then, he raises Lazarus from the dead. This is our perfect model for how to approach death.

First, death is an occasion for weeping. It is a sorrowful thing. It is a terrible thing. It is an unnatural thing. It is the last enemy. It is not a natural part of life. It is not “going to a better place.” It is a thing to be lamented. It is a thing to put an end to.

Nevertheless, for each of us there is a time to die (Eccl. 3). For Lazarus, there are two times to die. And for Jesus, there is a time to die. The death of Jesus is like no other, because he alone is Life. And so death cannot keep him in his clutches. When life enters into death, it is death that dies at last.

Loretta Lynn sings, “Everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die.” And that’s mostly right, and for good reason. Jesus did not want to die. And he wept again when his time for death drew near to him in Gethsemane. “In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to him who was able to save him from death, and he was heard for his godly fear.” (Heb 5:7).

So in the face of death, first we weep, as Jesus weeps, and then, after our weeping, we accept death, and then, on the other side of that gaping chasm of Hades, there is hope, because Jesus, the way and the life, has gone there first. In him, there will be a restoration of all things to right. After death, there comes a better life with the resurrection. It is not better for us to be dead. It is not better for our souls to be “freed” from our bodies. It is better for us to rise in Christ and live again in bodies freed from mortality. So, yes, we grieve in the face of death, but we do

not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep…. For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the archangel’s call, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first… and so we shall always be with the Lord. Therefore comfort one another with these words (1Th 4:13-18).

God knows we need comfort in these days.