July 29, 2007
Subscribe to the sermon RSS feed
Grace and peace to you from God our Creator, and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
We have gathered here today to show our love and support for the family of our friend and loved one, Bill. Son, brother, husband, father, cousin, co-worker, member of the Advent family, neighbor, friend. Bill was a strong, quiet man who tragically, and without warning, left us much too soon. We were not ready say goodbye. We are not ready to be without him. We are not ready to accept the fact of his absence in our lives, and yet we must, for he is gone. But whatever you are feeling today in the wake of Bill’s passing, whatever questions may be in your mind or in your heart you can be absolutely sure of one thing: that Bill is now, as he has always been, in the loving arms of a loving God.
Bill was born 38 years ago in Chanute, Kansas, to Ralph and Mary. Along with brother Ed and sister Sherri he grew and thrived until they all went off to seek their fortunes elsewhere. Bill came to the University of Kansas, and then found a place in the corporate family at Sprint, where he was a network engineer. Ten years ago he married Lori, and they were blessed with their two children, Alan and Emma.
As a member here at Advent, Bill was a seeker. He was curious about his faith, about the Catholic roots he came from and the Lutheran tradition in which he and his family worshipped. But he was looking for God. He attended Bible Study, and although, as was his way, he didn’t participate in the lively discussions there or in our Sunday morning adult classes, he would take a moment afterwards to ask his questions privately to Pastor Roger or me. He listened intently to our answers, and then went to do research on his own. He wanted very badly to find a living God who could answer all his questions, but alas, the evidence he sought is not easily found. Bill, like many others, discovered that faith is, by definition, not tangible. Scripture tells us that, “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” And that was hard for Bill, who was a perfect example of what Anselm called “faith seeking understanding.”
Bill wanted to understand, and so do we. There is no “why” for the events that have unfolded. There is no suitable response to the things of this world, except for the answers we find for ourselves outside of this world. Which leaves us, not with understanding, but only with faith.
Noted author Rabbi Harold Kushner describes God with one word: Comfort. God is comfort. And this is the word to which we cling in dark days like these. What Bill was looking for was already present – for God had found him over and over again -- before he was born, as he was “knit together in his mother’s womb,” when he was claimed as a beloved child of God in the waters of baptism, when he confirmed his faith and every time he was nourished by Word and Sacrament.
He was loved. Oh, how he was loved. At the first by his mother, Mary and then by his siblings Ed and Sherri. By friends and colleagues and especially by his family. And Bill loved them each in his quiet and special way. Son Alan, through endless video games and chess matches, through camping trips and scouting activities, Alan connected to Bill’s quiet and thoughtful, probing mind, and the more serious reflections between father and son.
Emma, on the other hand, found ways to make Bill sparkle, if just for a moment. Growing and stretching, working through her own health issues through bike rides and late night special time at the community pool after dark, Bill and Emma shared their moments. As a friend, Bill occasionally displayed a disarming sense of humor. And with Lori, Bill found the one person with whom he could really talk. In fact Lori told me that that was their favorite thing to do on the rare occasion that they would find time just for themselves. They would talk…
Just a few weeks ago Pastor Roger preached a sermon about Jesus raising the son of the widow of Nain. In that story, Jesus comes upon a funeral procession, end calls the child back to life. I have been thinking about that sermon a lot lately, because Pastor Roger used a three-point phrase to sum up what Jesus did: Jesus stopped the procession of death, spoke a word of grace, and called forth new life.
It is inevitable, where God is present, that death will bring forth new life. For those of us who grieve deeply today, life will not return to normal. As someone said to me yesterday, we will have to find a “new normal.” And that is just what is already happening with this gathering. We are here to begin the same work that Our Lord performed: we are stopping the procession of death, we are speaking a word of grace and we are calling forth new life. And God will use each and every one of us to accomplish that.
As I sat at the funeral home with the family, and we had finished our decision-making about the arrangements, the stories of Bill and his love began to bubble up into the conversation. Someone smiled, someone else snickered, then a small remembrance, and the tension gave way to warm laughter. When the funeral director returned to the office, we were all laughing pretty well, and she said, “what’s going on in here?” I thought, “New Life, that’s what’s going on in here.”
Hear again the words that Jesus spoke to his best friends before left them: “In my Father’s house are many dwelling places. If it were not so would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself…so that where I am, there you may be also.”
God has promised, over and over again in the pages of Holy Scripture that nothing will separate us from his love. Nothing. Bill Seidl is beloved of God; we are all beloved of God. Armed with that trust, we can walk into a new normal; we can be God’s loving arms for one another, we can stop the procession of death and spend our lives speaking words of grace and calling forth new life.
Now Bill is safely home with God. May we, who celebrate his life among us and deeply grieve his passing, be comforted in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection, as well as in the God of comfort - the God who knows the pain of losing a loved one - the God who uses death to bring forth new life. Rest in peace, Bill, until we are together again. Amen.