A Sermon for Joanne Durbin

Joanne lived her approaching death as she had lived her life, with dignity, courage, humor, faith, and concern for others. All of us knew her as a radiant person who had a wonderful ability to make us feel accepted and at ease in her presence. Her transparent spirit and winsomeness were great gifts to be combined with being a wife, mother, daughter, sister, daughter-in-law, friend, colleague, and physician. To rehearse her life as if one is reading an obituary is not what is needed from the pulpit, in any case it would scarcely do justice to the wonderful person we knew and loved.

Joanne had struggled with the deeper issues of life before most of us begin even to touch them, and some never even get around to considering them. She fought her brain tumor for over seven years, never giving in; she was an example to us of courage and of a growing and struggling Christian faith. Her faith was honed in the fire of difficulty.

Joanne’s faith came not out of the desperation brought on by her illness, as if belief were some Freudian wish fulfillment, but out of that genuine acknowledgement that every human being should have before God – that God is the very ground of our being, the very meaning of our life. The Lord had searched her and found her. That, in the words of that reading about love, she had been ‘fully known’ by him and to him. We watched her faith grow through this terrible burden she carried, it grew and deepened, never leaving the question that is on all our hearts – namely – why has this happened, but never allowing it to wither the substance of her faith. She dealt with that question in two important ways – by turning it over to God in prayer and by her reflection on the life of Jesus. She used to particularly want to discuss with me the Lord’s passion, his suffering and death as the way to life, and so we celebrate the sacrament of this in the Holy Communion. She wanted to receive Holy Communion very regularly, last receiving on Sunday afternoon, shortly before lapsing into unconsciousness.

Joanne wanted to plan this service so that it would speak to us. And so six of us met on Ash Wednesday a few weeks ago. She chose each reading; have read many. She chose each hymn, having sung quite a number of them. At one point we were having difficulty trying to choose who would be emotionally strong enough to read the lessons. We went round and round trying to figure out who to ask. Finally Joanne said, in a slightly exasperated tone, ‘I’d read them myself but I won’t be there.’ You will be pleased to know that she also thought about the reception. Joanne did not play cricket, and was not a member of the Philadelphia Cricket club, but she chose to have the reception there for two reasons. Firstly because it is so close by –you can walk there, and secondly she stated that she did not want, and I quote, ‘any crappy Acme sandwiches’. So you are all invited to the Philadelphia Cricket Club next door for a reception following the service where there will be excellent food in an elegant setting.

In thinking of others Joanne made herself so beloved to others - most especially of course her family. Their love for her was matched by her love for them and their wonderful support of her was of inestimable comfort to her throughout these years and especially during the final weeks. The parish reached out to her and to her family, and she felt very close to them. One day a couple of weeks ago she said to me, after I had anointed her with holy oil, that the anointing made her feel very close to the people of All Hallows Church. Her friends and colleagues were blessed to have known her, and she was very grateful for their loving support. I think the Durbin household has witnessed more variety in its cuisine over the last few years than many – and I understand that still continues.

None of us wanted to be here on this day, and yet all of us desire to be here. It is paradoxical isn’t it? None of us would wish anything for Joanne other than that this day could have been postponed, but it could not be so indefinitely, for her or for any of us. Facing death is the greatest trial of life, and Joanne has gone through that trial. As each of us sits here with our private grief for her, for ourselves, for her family, and especially for her parents, Dennis, and the children, we know that something is wrong. Just as in the gospel reading Martha says to Jesus, ‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died’ so we might say, ‘Lord, if you had only answered our prayers then Joanne would still be here.’

Human beings have evolved and adapted according to their environment, but they have never adapted to the environment of death such that death would cause them no sorrow. It is a signal that something is wrong, out of place, just as chronologically Joanne’s death is out of place.

Death has marred and disfigured God’s good creation and has cast a mantle of sorrow in its wake. Death is not what God intends, it is an intruder. Yes, it is natural in one sense – for we live in a broken world and what is natural is not what God intends, if it were we would simply shrug our shoulders and not try and improve the world at all. Joanne’s vocation as a physician was her way of seeking to be a healer of that brokenness.

Everywhere through scripture God is the God of life. God did not create this world for decay, ruin, death and separation. And God did not send us condolences about our existence – he sent his Word, his only Son, to share it and to draw into himself its sadness and sickness. And so Jesus heals the sick, he does not merely offer advice to help people get better adjusted to and reconciled to death. And in the Gospel of John, a portion of which I just read, Jesus fights death. Yet, like all of us, he had to die. In so doing he took into himself the brokenness and finality of this world. St. Paul writes that the last enemy to be destroyed is death. And at the center of the Christian faith stands the resurrected Christ, in whom Joanne had placed her hope and her life.

What does this mean? Christians do not believe that Jesus came back to life again at Easter. If he had he would have had to die again. Instead he was totally transformed. Resurrection is the recreation of the world in its first beauty and totality. One thing we know about matter - it cannot be destroyed, it can only be rearranged. God created this world for communion with him, and God one day will not annihilate it but transfigure it, and there will be a new creation. And on Easter day the first signal of that was seen. Christ had gone through death, taking its darkness and filling its despair, sadness and hopelessness with his love and light. God always gets the final word.

As she lay in the final stages of her illness I said to Joanne, as I always said at some point in our conversations, ‘ Joanne, the Lord is with you’. And she replied, without hesitation, ‘Yes, and that is my only comfort’. The Christian faith does not ask so much what lies beyond death, but who, and the one who passed from death to life, Christ the Lord, is the one who was with Joanne, is with her, and will be with her always.

We commend to God this radiant and beautiful person, whose dignity, intelligence, thoughtfulness, and love, deeply affected each of us. This service she so carefully planned speaks more than I can of her faith. One hymn she choose most emphatically was sung moments ago, ‘I want to walk as a child of the light….the light of my life is Jesus’, in that light she lived and died, may we have the wisdom to learn from her example. In commending her to God we know in the words of St. Paul that, ‘Eye has not seen, ear has not heard, nor has it entered into the human heart to know what God has ready for those who love him….’ She has passed from this life - where in the words of that beautiful reading about love - we only see in the mirror dimly. Now she sees face to face with Christ, and knows fully even as she has always been fully known to him.

The Rev. Mark Ainsworth