On Death and Dying

There are no words of consolation when grave injury is dolled out so strikingly as we have witnessed in Lewiston. As the Church we must first weep with those who weep. We embrace the shocking alarm of the bloodshed, so that as we weep our eyes can be cleared by the joy that comes in the morning. We must stand on the words of Ecclesiastes, which tells us it is better to go into the house of mourning than the house of feasting. Wisdom is found in contemplating the dire symptoms of evil. Death is a constant nagging on our souls that our liberation from sin is not yet complete. When we witness an act of violence such as this shooting, we are reminded that we need a vindicator, we need a perfect judge, we need resurrection. The promise of Christ is that He will return to judge the living and the dead. The catechism of the Nicene Creed instills in us the hope of one baptism for the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life in the world to come, amen. Our response in times of tragedy is to call upon our Judge, Defender, and Keeper, to act on behalf of the innocent and the lowly. We should be penitent, looking to confess any violence, or hatred we have been harboring in our soul. The disordered desires that produce such horrific acts are the same desires Christ conquers on the cross. If our land is being tormented by the demonic violence of shooters, abortion doctors, and the like, then the Church must take up Her cross and follow Christ into the confrontation of sin in our hearts, our homes, our churches, and our communities. Maine needs her Creator of Heaven and Earth to recreate her in His image. Let us pray. Lord have mercy upon us, Christ have mercy upon, Lord have mercy upon us.

Psalm 88

            O Lord God of my salvation,

                        I cry out day and night before you

            Let my prayer come before you,

                        Incline your ear to my cry.

            For my soul is full of trouble,

                        And my life draws near unto Sheol

            I am counted among those who go down to the pit

                        I am a man who has no strength,

            Like one set loose among the dead.

                        Like the slain that lie in the grave

            Your wrath lies heavy upon me,

                        You overwhelm me with all your waves