Funeral - Vicki Maureen Donnelly

For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep.

In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, amen.

In a dream, a dreamer can live through a whole constellation of events in no more time than it takes a curtain to rustle. In dreams time does not flow on, so much as it flows up, like water from a deep spring. And in this way, there are moments in life where every word spoken means more than it says, and every gesture is rich with mystery - the look of a baby into the eyes of their mother as they feed; the “Well done” of a father; the shared understanding in the glance of a friend; the clasping of lovers hands, the giving of rings; the silence at a funeral; the goodbye. Part of the mystery is that God is in these moments. Jesus, who began his ministry at a wedding feast, is there in our joy and in our tears. Perhaps it is in our joy and in our tears that we have a taste of the miraculous? When the wedding feast was over, Jesus set his face toward Jerusalem and started out for the hour that had not yet come but was to come soon enough, the hour when he was to embrace the whole earth and water it with more than his tears. A water in which, through death, we spring to new life.

The world, as we experience it is predictable. It has an order which can be described with a language, whether that be the language of mathematics for the laws of nature, the language of DNA for the laws of biology, or the language of poetry for the fical laws of the human heart. The world is not completely random. If I throw my book at the wall it won’t turn into a monkey, we know this. It is predictable. Does this predictability, which can be described with language, point to a fundamental source of everything which is personal? Does it point to hope?

What if, when we die, when we fall asleep, we are born into the world of this personal source of all reality? What if the dream world is a glimpse of this true reality? A world which is more real than the world which we think is real? Are the weighty moments in life, which are filled with so much meaning, glimpses behind a curtain where we see, for a moment, the truer reality which is yet to be revealed? A world where a whole constellation of events is lived through in no more time than it takes a curtain to rustle. In the short time I’ve had here at St. Nic’s, I went to visit Vicki and take communion to her whilst she was in hospital. During those visits, it was clear that Vicki had an appreciation for the deep meaning that can be glimpsed in the comforting words, sacrificial gestures, and beautiful symbolism of a Communion Service.

It wasn’t just in a Communion Service that Vicki sensed this deeper reality. Whether it was in the Church dances she attended as a teenager, where she was never short of partners; leading the Girl Guide Troop; teaching English in a school in Nigeria, where she lived with her husband, Jo, for 4 years; in drama; astonomy; the development of computing; taking in and caring for Bosnian refugees, Vicki it seems was captivated by the deep meaning that can be found in so much of our world.

And now, Vicki, who has fallen asleep, has been born from the womb of this world, to live an even fuller life, a life where every moment feels like a constellation of events passing. Jesus says that the will of his Father is that all who see the Son and believe in him may have eternal life and that he will raise them up on the last day. Do we see Jesus, the Son, in those moments where we sense the joy, the tears, the language of the heart welling up, ready to burst forth like water from a deep spring? Do we believe in the truth of those moments, that this life is a shadow of the deeper reality yet to be fully revealed? I think Vicki did. What does it mean that Jesus will raise those who see this up on the last day? Well, when the Gospel of John speaks of Jesus being raised up, it is with reference to his death. When Jesus faced his last day, he was raised up to become king on the strange throne of the Cross. And when we face our last day, Jesus will also raise us up, to be born through death to reign with him in the reality yet to be revealed. God enters into our death to bring us through ours, just as God has brought Vicki through hers.

Meeting with Vicki could fairly be described as experiencing a whole constellation of events! Having only met her a few times I can still safely say, she loved to talk. After we’d spoken together and we’d said the communion liturgy together, she would introduce me to other people in her ward with a great amount of energy and passion. She remained intellectually alert right to the end. I’m lead to believe that her energy could be challenging at times but I’m also certain she will be dearly missed by family and friends. These pains of death both for Vicki and for us with the feeling of loss are but the pains of labour. Pains which are terrible for a time but we find are the path to new life.

As Vicki begins this journey into new life, we pray, rest eternal grant unto her, O Lord, and let light perpectual shine upone her. May she rest in peace, and rise in glory.

In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, amen.