Is death really nothing at all?

Here is my November article:

Henry Scott Holland (1847-1918) [Source: www.commons.wikimedia.org/]

November is traditionally a month where we recall those who have died, possibly because of All Saints day at the beginning of the month, but more probably because the days are getting darker, the weather is getting worse, the plants around us are dying back. We have a fascination with death, as is demonstrated by the 'going viral' of my friend, Dr Allan Barton's niche YouTube videos on various burial customs, particularly royal ones.

This year we have thought about death quite a lot; there are still the consequences of the pandemic and of course we have had the death of Queen Elizabeth II. The sermon preached by the Archbishop of Canterbury at Her Late Majesty's funeral has been lauded by many people, and it reminded me of another sermon preached after a monarch's death that is very famous, even if its origin isn't.

At St Paul's Cathedral in May 1910 before the Lying in State of King Edward VII, Canon Henry Scott-Holland delivered a sermon titled “Death, the King of Terrors.” This sermon contained words that have become one of the most frequently used poems at funerals, usually called “Death is nothing at all” which expresses a belief in the continuity of the relationship between the deceased and the mourner. However, this was not the message Scott-Holland was trying to get across in his sermon.

Instead he was contrasting two views of death: “First there is the familiar and instinctive recoil from it as embodying the supreme and irrevocable disaster…Nothing leads up to it, nothing prepares for it. It simply traverses every line on which life runs, cutting across every hope on which life feeds…It makes all we do here meaningless and empty…” This is the view of “the terror of the unknown, the terror of loss, the terror of finality.” The second view is that expressed by “Death is nothing at all”, that talks of “the trick played us by seeming death. It is not death; nobody is dead...Everything that we cared for and loved exists...Nothing that we see in this dead material now laid out under our eyes represents or involves or includes the thing that was or is alive.”

The first view of death is what an honest atheist should have: if we are mere accidents of atomic collisions and chance events then death is final and ultimately makes life meaningless. The second view is that of those who feel that there is more to life than the materialist atheist view, but in the absence of a reasoned religious belief wishfully hopes that what we value continues beyond death.

Scott-Holland contrasts these two approaches to death: “the mood of violent recoil” and “the mood of quiet continuity” and then says “Our task is to deny neither judgement, but to combine both. The contrasted experiences are equally real, equally valid.” We need to avoid the trap of either despair or denial in the face of the the fact of death, as well as acknowledge the truth behind both experiences.

This is only possible through Jesus' death and resurrection, which guarantees both the defeat of the finality of death and the possibility of the continuity of eternal life. But in order for this to happen we must undergo death ourselves; not physical death but putting to death the sins which make us spiritually dead, by repenting and allowing the Holy Spirit to breathe new life into us. As Jesus promises: “Those who believe in me will live, even though they die; and those who live and believe in me will never die.” (John 11:25-26).

Grief and hope at empty tombs

Here's my sermon for this year's Remembrance service at Broughton:

Last Thursday, the Cubs, Scouts and Explorers came to church to think about Remembrance Sunday and created these poppies to decorate the church with for today. We thought about the two minutes silence and how, for some people, in the first minute we recall those who have died in the two world wars, and whose names we hear read out, and in the second minute we think of all those affected by war, through injury, bereavement or loss of homes and livelihoods.

So on these poppies we wrote on the top half a name of someone from Broughton who died in the two world wars, and then on the bottom half people that we pray for during the service, either because they are suffering because of war or because they are trying to make peace. So thank you to the Cubs, Scouts and Explorers for helping us to remember the purpose of Remembrance Sunday – to remember and to pray.

Of course, this two minutes silence happens at our poignant War Memorial: with our soldier deep in thought, remembering his friends who have died and holding in his hand a laurel leaf for peace. Remembering and praying.

There are many war memorials throughout the country – from simple plaques to huge monuments but almost all of them have one thing in common – they are technically cenotaphs. A cenotaph is a monument to someone who has died and whose body is buried elsewhere and I learnt recently that the word 'cenotaph' comes from two Greek words meaning 'empty tomb'. So these cenotaphs are not graves but memorials.

This reminds us that so many of those who went to war never came back, for most not even their bodies came back and for some the location of their bodies is unknown. In the absence of a proper grave, the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier represents all those whose bodies never returned, and all our local cenotaphs are testament to the absence in all senses of the word of those who never returned from war.

We gather at an empty tomb to remember those who should be here but aren't. And as we feel the pain of the empty tomb we commit ourselves to praying for all those who suffer because of war and violence, and all those who are working for peace and justice.

But we don't just gather at the cenotaph, we also gather here in church, where the words 'empty tomb' have a different resonance.

In our first reading (Acts 13:26-39) we hear the words of the apostle Paul telling people in a synagogue about Jesus. He tells them that Jesus was unfairly tried and unjustly put to death, but that he was raised from the dead, and that unlike his ancestor, the great King David, his body did not decay. Instead there was an empty tomb. And because of that empty tomb Paul could say for certain that Jesus' death is the way sins can be forgiven, as Jesus himself had said it would. And it's those sins of course which lead to war and violence. Therefore, Paul goes on, everyone who believes and trusts in Jesus is set free from their sins, something that is simply not possible through being a good person doing good things.

That empty tomb is the central belief of Christianity – if it is untrue, as Paul says elsewhere, then our faith is pointless, but if it is true it should change every part of our lives. If Jesus has not been raised to life again then all graves are empty tombs – they all mark people who no longer exist except as dust and ashes and memories – merely names carved on stone. If Jesus has not been raised all grief is without hope – we will never see those we love again. But if Jesus has been raised from the dead then those who believe and trust in him will share eternal life together.

To stand at the empty tomb of Jesus is to celebrate that death is no longer the final word in our lives either personally or as a world. In our second reading (Luke 21:5-19) Jesus teaches his disciples that after his death and resurrection he will return to his Father for a while before he returns to earth again at the end of time. In the meantime there will be suffering, wars and disasters, and his followers will be persecuted. His promise is that those who remain faithful will receive eternal life. But when he returns death and suffering, along with war and disaster, will be got rid of once and for all and justice will be done. Without that empty tomb, death, suffering, wars and disasters will continue, and evil will go unpunished.

So as we gather around the cenotaph, the empty tomb, let us remember those who died and pray for those who suffer and who work for peace. But let us also remember that it is only by gathering by faith around the empty tomb of Jesus that there is the certain hope of an end to injustice, suffering, wars and death.