Witnesses in Green Corduroy

When it comes to pain, suffering, and grief, the most important gift we experience is the love and presence of others.  It is not their words, usually.  In fact, often words simply get in the way.  It is the presence, the compassion, and the tears others shed for us.

This past Sunday was All Saints Day, a day in which we remember and give thanks for, as we say, “those who have gone before us.”  But their going is not really “away.”  They go to form a circle around us.  In the words of the book of Hebrews: “we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses.” [12:1].  That surrounding includes, again in a traditional phrase, “the living and the dead.”

In my last blog entry I described how, after the deaths of both of my parents, four families in my hometown offered to take us into their families.  Prior to that, as my Mom way dying, family after family had invited my younger brother, Alan, and me over for dinner.  Both the community of Maddock and the members of North Viking Lutheran Church surrounded us with their love and presence.

As I mentioned in my blog entry of August 12, 2015, my Dad died shortly after I had returned from spending the summer working as a Counselor at Red Willow Bible Camp in Binford, North Dakota.  Dad’s funeral was on August 16, three days before his 54^th birthday.

The way our sanctuary was set up for funerals, the family entered the sanctuary from a side door near the right front of the altar area.  I had picked our entrance hymn, “Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the King of Creation.”  We walked into the sanctuary as the congregation sang it.  I sang along, but looked down at the floor as we processed in, unable to bring myself to meet the eyes of the congregation.  We took  our seats in the front pew, turned towards the altar, and continued singing.

Now, Maddock was known to be a musical town. Not only did we have good choirs in church and in school, but we also had community cantatas from time to time.

However, that day, the singing of the entrance hymn seemed more powerful than ever.  I felt like I was being surrounded with love and lifted into the heavens.  Finally, I just had to look back to see this congregation of people singing from their hearts.

To my surprise, there, scattered throughout the congregation, were nearly every member of the Bible camp staff I had been a part of, some forty-strong, in their green corduroy staff jackets, with tears in their eyes, singing with heavenly gusto.  I had no idea they were coming to the funeral.

Then I understood, in a way I have never forgotten, what it means to be surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses.

I am the fifth from the left in the back row.  Many in this picture are friends to this day.