We gather today to remember those we have loved and lost this past year. Their names and faces are etched into our hearts. Some of their deaths may still feel raw, for others, the passage of time has softened the edges of grief. Each name we speak represents a story – of love given and received, of laughter shared, of faith practiced. Each of them once sat where we now sit, prayed the same prayers, and trusted the same Shepherd.
“The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.” These ancient words of Psalm 23 have comforted countless hearts through the centuries. They remind us that no matter how dark the valley, no matter how heavy the grief, God walks bedside us, guiding and leading us home.
Today we remember 27 parishioners and so many more friends and relatives from other places – other communities that are also close to our hearts. We gather with mixed emotions – grief for the empty chairs at our tables, gratitude for the years we shared, and hope for the promise that lies beyond. Psalm 23 reminds us that the Good Shepherd “leads us beside restful waters” and “restores our souls.” That is not a vague comfort; it is a bold declaration that God’s love is stronger than death.
A man once told be about a hike he took with his granddaughter. They started up a steep trail, and she kept asking, “Are we almost there?” He would smile and say, “Not yet, but keep walking.” Finally, they reached the summit, and she gasped at the view – lakes glistening below, sunlight breaking through the clouds. She said, “Grandpa, I did not know it would be this beautiful.” He softly replied, “That is what heaven will be like.”
For our loved ones, the climb is over. They have reached the summit. They now see the beauty that we can only imagine.
The French Jesuit Pierre Teilhard de Chardin wrote, “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience, we are spiritual beings having a human experience.” The truth is that our very temporary human experience is only a part of something much larger. For our loved ones, their time on earth – these precious human years – was one small part of a much greater journey. They were spiritual beings who walked among us for a while, revealing something of God’s own kindness, humor, and tenderness. Now their spirits have simply gone home to the One who created them.
We, too, remain on that same journey. Though we walk through the valley of loss, the Shepherd stays with us. God prepares a table before us – not just in heaven but even here at this altar, where heaven and earth meet. When we receive the Eucharist, we are united not only with Christ, but with all who have gone before us.
So today, as we speak their names and light our candles, we do not say goodbye. We say thank you – for the faith they passed on, to the love they shared, and the light they leave behind. And we allow the words of Jesus from the Gospel today to fill our hearts: “This is the will of my Father, that I should lose nothing of what He has given me.” No one is lost to God. Not one of them. Not one of us. May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.