Isaiah 42:1-9 NRSV

Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations. He will not cry or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street; a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice. He will not grow faint or be crushed until he has established justice in the earth; and the coastlands wait for his teaching.

Thus says God, the Lord, who created the heavens and stretched them out, who spread out the earth and what comes from it, who gives breath to the people upon it and spirit to those who walk in it: I am the Lord, I have called you in righteousness, I have taken you by the hand and kept you; I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness. I am the Lord, that is my name; my glory I give to no other, nor my praise to idols. See, the former things have come to pass, and new things I now declare; before they spring forth, I tell you of them.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was privileged that she invited me into her dying. Her battle with cancer was fierce but swift. That cool weekend in October all those years ago was exactly seven months since her diagnosis. As I entered her room that Sunday morning, she was barely conscious, her eyes darting around the room as if there were someone else present. In the moments of quietness, I took my journal and wrote about our life together.

Being my mother’s youngest sister, she was my aunt. But due to the proximity of our ages, she was also a friend: we even double-dated when I was in my late teens. I recalled how she remained at home with my grandmother, tending to her every need until “gram” passed away. When things were tough she worked two jobs to make ends meet. She wrote countless handwritten letters in her life, sometimes exceeding eight pages, filled with news of her life, the family, inquiries about how we were. I remembered how she became fast friends with Susie the first time they met, and how, by betting her street address numbers every day in the Ohio lottery, she was able to amass enough money to travel to Europe with our Chancel Choir. Throughout all those years of memories, and certainly through what was a very painful battle, I never heard her complain or make a caustic remark about anyone or anything.

On the television that afternoon was the weekly pro football game (something she never missed). Oddly enough, the Chiefs were playing that day. At one point she stirred and I asked if I could get her anything at all. With her usual sense of humor, she remarked “a new body would be nice.” Moments later she was gone. At the moment she passed from life into Mystery I realized that I had just experienced one of life’s most sacred moments.

Occasionally, I take out that journal and her life comes back into view: always the same details, and yet transformed into something new. And, by inviting me into her dying, I too was transformed, and I was never the same again.

Prayer: Spirit of all things new, in our lives and in our memories, may we be transformed into something new. By participating fully in this life, in the face of life and death, may we never be the same again. Amen.

Rev. David Diebold
Minister of Music