For some time now I have often
thought about death. Not in a morbid, depressing sense but with the realization
that death is a greater reality to me than ever before. Both Frances and I have
lost our parents and all but one of our 9 brothers and sisters. Also, we have
outlived many long-time friends. And, of course, these old bodies of ours
‘ain’t what they used to be.’
At night I have a routine of
reading for a while and then, after turning off the light, I often pray a
couple of poems. One of them you know quite well. It begins, “The
Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want …”, and continues, “though
I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for you
are with me.” The other is a modern poem by Jane Kenyon titled, “Let Evening Come,” (Jane Kenyon Collected Poems, St Paul, Graywolf Press, 2005)
Let
the light of late afternoon
shine
through chinks in the barn, moving
up
the bales as the sun moves down.
Let
the cricket take up chafing
as
a woman takes up her needles
and
her yarn. Let evening come.
Let
dew collect on the hoe abandoned
in
long grass. Let the stars appear
and
the moon disclose her silver horn.
Let
the fox go back to its sandy den.
Let
the wind die down. Let the shed
go
black inside. Let evening come.
To
the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop
in
the oats, to air in the lung
Let
evening come.
Let
it come, as it will, and don’t
be
afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless,
so let evening come.
Thinking about this, it occurred to
me that Jesus had a poem on his mind in the hour of his death. The poem is
Psalm 31. It begins, “In you, O Lord, do I take refuge.”
It goes on to say, “You take me out of the net they have hidden for me, for you are my
refuge.” And then comes the line he quoted as he hung on the cross: “Father,
into your hands I commit my spirit.” With his dedication to the will of
his father and his knowledge of the psalms, He must have prayed this same
prayer many times throughout his life.
In doing so, he has given us a
model for both living and dying. This is a prayer that all of us can say. Whether
young or old, weak or strong, sick or healthy – in any and all circumstances – his
prayer can be our prayer.
A few hours before going to the
cross Jesus said to his disciples, “this bread is my body,” and “this cup is my
blood … do this in remembrance of me.” What better way is there to remember him
than to make his prayer our prayer. As we take communion today, we too can pray
with him, “Father into your hands I commit my spirit.”
