Preached on Sunday, November 3, 2024, the observance of All Souls’ Day, at Trinity Cathedral, Little Rock.

From Paul’s first letter to the Thessalonians: “We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about those who have died, so that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope.”

Today, my job is rather simple. My job is to remind us of how it is that Christians grieve. For you see, “I do not want you to be uninformed…about those who have died, so that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope.”

My job is simple, yes, but not easy. Nothing about death is easy, even though we are constantly surrounded by it.

In Arkansas, there are tens of thousands of deaths each year—1% of our 3 million people each year—with the numbers leaning heavily towards people of color. Heart disease and cancer take the lead as causes, but death by firearm and drug overdose follow close behind. And, of course, Arkansas has disturbingly high maternal and infant mortality rates, higher than almost anywhere in the country—again, more often amongst people of color—with over 90% of these deaths were preventable. And over the last couple of years, maternal and infant mortality rates have continued to rise nationwide, including here in Arkansas [1]. We are surrounded by death.

And as much of those statistics surround us, death only really comes to move us when it comes close: our family and friends. Mothers and fathers, those we’ve known longer than all others; brothers and sisters, those we grew up alongside; grandparents, those well-seasoned in loving their own; a child, whom we should not have had to bury; a friend, in whom we found true kindred outside of the home. Perhaps we grieve the loss of someone who died this year, and perhaps someone who died years ago. Grief never really leaves us, after all. But whether it comes from near or far, from recent day or some time back, we confront this grief today.

But today, we also remember that we do not grieve as others do who have no hope. What does that mean?

Paul doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t grieve. By no means! Christians grieve, but not like the rest of the world. No, we grieve, but with hope.

Some 800 years ago, Thomas Aquinas put it this way: to grieve with hope is to grieve in such a way that is disciplined by the Christian Gospel, trained by the Good News that, as Paul puts it, “we will be with the Lord forever” [2]. To grieve with hope is to put our grief somewhere: in the loving arms of Almighty God. The world doesn’t teach us to grieve this way. Worldly grief is disordered, says Aquinas, putting our grief in anything but the goodness of God. No, the world doesn’t teach us to grieve with hope. But the Christian Gospel does! The Good News trains us to do something with this profound sadness we hold, to put it somewhere: to place it before the One who will destroy death forever. We discipline our grief according to the faith we have in Jesus Christ: that death is finished business and all tears will be wiped from our eyes. We always carry our grief, but we carry it towards a certain end: the final victory of our Lord. And therefore, “our sorrow is no longer a howl of anguish but a lament, directed not to a void, but to God” [3].

“O Israel, wait for the LORD,” the Psalmist has us sing, in that most heart wrenching of Psalms. “I wait for the LORD, in whom there is mercy, in whose word is my hope.” We grieve, but with a grief that is ordered towards God and His goodness. That’s what we do this day. We grieve, but in such a way that is instructed and disciplined by the Good News—a grief with hope.

Aquinas offers some very practical advice for how to grieve with hope. Have a good cry: tears are okay, and they often help [4]. Visit your friends: friends help to unburden the weight of sorrow [5]. And take a bath, get some sleep, Aquinas says: our bodies carry this grief, and it needs to be cared for, too [6]. But here’s some advice that’s a bit more relevant to this moment: come to Church. Hold your beloved dead in prayer. Being here today—simply being here today!—is an excellent way to grieve with hope, saying your prayers to God alongside fellow disciples of Christian Gospel, letting Maurice Duruflé and choir and organ take your grief by the hand. Being here today is a very good thing, because here, our grief finds its rest in God’s grace. Here, our grief isn’t ended, but our grief does find its end in this astounding Good News: “we will be with the Lord forever.”

And as Paul says, “Encourage one another with these words.”

Amen.

[1]  Annie Gowan, “This state calls itself the ‘most pro-life,’” Washington Post, 27 August 2024.

[2] Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, Prima Secundae, Question 35, Article 1.

[3] John Webster, “Dolent Gaudenteque: Sorrow in the Christian Life,” 20.

[4] Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, Prima Secundae, Question 38, Article 2.

[5] Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, Prima Secundae, Question 38, Article 3.

[6] Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, Prima Secundae, Question 38, Article 5.