The widow at the funeral home was making arrangements for her husband. She and her husband were both active members in their church, but they had slowed down ... just a bit. The funeral director asked, "How old was your husband?" She replied, "He was ninety-eight. Exactly two years older than me." The funeral director said, "Gosh. So you're ninety-six years old?" And without missing a beat, and with a sly smile, she responded, "Hardly worth my going home, is it?" What an attitude. And I think I know where such an attitude toward death comes from; it comes from a lifetime of reading the Bible, hearing the Word read each Sunday, tasting the grapes and grain of eternity in the Eucharist, and hearing preacher after preacher proclaim it until he was blue in the faith: "I know that my Redeemer lives," or a variation on that theme. In the words of St. Paul from our second reading, that elderly lady likely stood firm and held fast to the traditions that she was taught ... down through the years. No wonder she could make a small joke as she prepared to bury her husband. No wonder she could be lighthearted about her own mortality. For a lifetime she had heard the promise, the glorious premise that there is a life beyond this life ... the beauty of which is only hinted in Scripture.

That's how it was for Martha Rudisill, a lifetime of hearing the promise. Martha was the mother-in-law of one of my seminary classmates. I was with John in North Carolina on Tuesday, when he got the news that Martha had died. He was not surprised ... she had been unresponsive, almost comatose, for the past two weeks and the family knew the end was near. After he talked with his wife, John told us about Martha's final moments. Martha's daughter, John's wife, was lying in the bed with her Mom and holding her when all of a sudden Martha sat up, looked at her daughter and said, "I will see you in glory." That's how they talk about such things in the South. "I will see you in Glory," and with that, Martha died. What a gift she left behind: faith in her heart and a sermon on her lips, "I will see you in Glory!"

Toward the end of his own long life, the great preacher from the early years of the 20th century, W.E. Sangster, lost his voice to a progressive illness. In a letter to a friend he wrote, "For a preacher, it is a terrible thing not to stand in a pulpit on Easter Sunday and say 'Christ is risen!' But I can think of something much worse. That something worse is to stand in a pulpit on Easter Sunday and NOT say 'Christ is risen.'"

And I have to say, as a parson who has struggled to be a preacher for more than three decades, what a privilege for me to be able to proclaim the promise of everlasting life from the pulpit each Sunday. That message, that good news, gives meaning to this life and hope for a life beyond! And what a privilege for me those times I sit at the bedside of a dying friend and offer prayers of reassurance and hope. It's not a chore I have to do. Oh no: it's an opportunity I get to do. And all because of you. Your support of this congregation and my ministry allow me the time for access and entrée in full time ministry.

Toward the end of the Church Year, the scripture readings usually turn to thoughts of the end of this life and to the assurance of a life beyond. All Saints' Sunday, which we observed last week, is certainly a variation of that theme ... in fact, it is the essence of that theme. Those who die are lost to us for a time ... but there will be a grand reunion when we all are reunited in glory!

If you folks are anything like me, you have some questions about life beyond this life. That's the gist of the questions to Jesus in our Gospel text this morning. Of course, St. Luke tells us that the questioners, the Sadducees in our text, don't believe in resurrection; they're just messing with Jesus, with their hypothetical tale of one bride for seven brothers and, in heaven, "whose wife will she be." But Jesus does not take the bait. He does not, although he could, he does not paint a portrait of life beyond this life. He merely asserts to his questioners that there is one. "God is not of the dead, but God is the God of the living; for to God, all ... are alive." He could have quoted from the scriptures, what was read to us this morning, "For I know that my Redeemer lives." And if the Redeemer, the Savior lives, well then of course, we who are redeemed, saved, shall live also. Nevertheless, if you folks are anything like me you are not only curious about heaven, you also are happy to be among the living and you are not all that anxious to make that final journey. I don't see that as a lack of faith; the way I see it, it's a recognition that even in tough times, it's a wonderful life! But what adds to the joy of this life is the knowledge that the grave is not a dead end. And I can to preach that in a variety of ways in different settings throughout my week ... and most vocally on a Sunday morning. And all because of you!

I mentioned in our newsletter how our stewardship theme Because of You came to be. "A few months back," I wrote, "the Stewardship Committee met to fashion our Fall campaign. Bob Cruickshank remarked that when radio stations such as WQXR, with its daily lineup of classical music programming, seek to raise funds from their audience, they are very straight-forward in their approach. They don't dance around the subject. "These fine programs, like the one you just heard, is made possible by viewers like you." With that observation, our 2008 Stewardship Campaign theme was born, "Because of You." Of course, since it was a radio station I was writing about, I wish I had used the term that our programs are made possible by "listeners like you," rather than "viewers like you."

At any rate, I get to do my pastor thing, my ministry, not because of listeners like you or viewers like you. We get to do our ministry thing together because of participants like you! And it is a mutual ministry. Our congregation has reached the size that we are what is known as a program church, rather than a pastoral church. A pastoral church is one where the pastor is like the hub of a wheel and the spokes are those programs and activities pushed by the pastor. We were once that church: a pastoral church. But we have grown and now we are a program church. A program church is where the pastor is still at the hub, but now serves as a resource person, a cheerleader, as the members pick up the ball and run with it. I look at the activities and ministries represented by the sign-up sheets and literature on the various tables throughout the hallways, and I just marvel at the ministry that takes place, because of you!

At the conclusion of our time together this morning, we will be handing out pledge cards to indicate your financial support for Grace in 2008. Please note this is not a sermon about money - it's about ministry, not about money. Our Stewardship theme for 2008 is not, "Give More Money!" The theme rather is this: we are able to preach the good news of Jesus Christ at this outpost on Curry and Gomer. And we are able to live out that Good News together as we gain entrée into the lives of people, hither and yon! The Good News we preach and live has grace implications for this life, and obviously, grave implications for a life beyond.

We have a brief but proud history of ministry at Curry and Gomer. We thank God for the grace our God has showered upon us. Beyond that, I thank you all. We do what we are able to do, because of you! Because of the Risen Christ, I can echo Martha Rudisill, "I will see you in Glory." God willing however, I'll see you first for brunch in our Fellowship Hall!