We have developed an unreal image of death in our day. We are surrounded by images of violence and death, but they are sanitized. Wars happen far away and end when we turn off the news. TV Police shows are graphic and realistic, but the show wraps up by the end of the hour and everyone is alive and well by the next episode. The suffering does not touch us.

         Our funeral rituals are often expensive exercises in keeping death at arms length. We wrap our loss in pretty flowers and collages of pictures of happy times. We gather for a wake and say, “She looks good.” – as if the deceased is merely napping. Even at the graveside, the dirt is covered by green carpet, and the sealed coffin rests suspended over the grave, as if it will never see decay and nothing will ever rot.

         Real death is painful. There are tears and there is suffering. The dying often struggle for their last breaths (although through hospice, we can help people let go without physical suffering.) Family, friends and lovers gather and cry until they are exhausted. There is an endless stream of paperwork to deal with the process of dying. There are bills and arrangements. The junk mail still piles up for the person who will never open it. Those who survive must rebuild life and relationships and it takes time and mistakes and many more tears.

         But what can we say when God dies? We who avoid our own death have little to say about a God who seeks it. Who will perform the appropriate ritual or say the necessary words? Who will fill out the forms or make the arrangements? Who will mark God’s passing? What edifice can we create to memorialize the one who chooses to die for us? We have no privilege or office that makes any of us the suitable choice.

         A few of Jesus’ friends did their best for him. Those who did not hide sought to take his body. A few people of wealth and influence risked their reputations to provide a grave. Later, a few women would return to perform the simple obligations of the living toward the dead.

         Jesus chose a hard path. Every step was hard and the end did not make any step easier. We can look back and find solace in the blessings we receive, but tonight I urge us not to look beyond this moment. Jesus took the hard choice to die.

         Jesus spoke many wonderful words of hope. He challenged the way things were. He offered the possibility that there might be another way to live – not in fear but with joy, not by keeping the rules but by seeking the truth. We could spend the rest of our lives trying to live into his vision and we could rest knowing our lives were well spent. But Jesus did not come to teach us. He came to die.

         The heart of Jesus’ message is not goodness or openness. He was not interested in a new set of standards for correct behavior. Jesus came to offer us new life. He knew it could never be an adaptation of the old. The old must die. So Jesus dies. We must die. We must face our death and welcome it. We must let go of everything we hold most dear – all our attachment to things and ideals, all our need for people and love. We must be ready to hand it over just as Jesus does and enter the grave of this life we cannot keep.

         Only then will we be ready for the next.