My Eyes Have Seen Your Salvation (Luke 2.25-32 and 1 Peter 1.3-4)

A funeral sermon for a remarkable Christian woman. Names have been changed as an expression of care to the family.

When I first arrived here in this slightly back of beyond parish, I was startled to discover that I had in my new congregation a leading member of General Synod, the Church Commissioners’ Pastoral Committee, the Central Board of Finance and the Crown Nominations Commission – the body that appoints bishops. Moreover, she was on first name terms with the Archbishop of Canterbury.

I confess that I began to wonder if I had made a huge mistake coming here. What ecclesiastical misdemeanours would be fed back to the bearded man in Lambeth Palace with the legendary eyebrows? What finer point of canon law would I unwittingly (or more likely intentionally) transgress only to be hauled before some disapproving committee?

But, as I got to know June, I discovered a woman who, yes, liked things to be done decently and in order, but who had the wisdom to see that, for a church to flourish, it needs to be led by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit and not be a slave to endless legislation and procedural correctness.

Archdeacon Michael has given an outline already of June's immense contribution to the life of the Church of England. She gave so much to her local parish as well. I would like to record here the debt that this church owes her. We are so grateful to God for her long and full life.

I became a great fan of her delightful habit of calling me over one minute before a service was about to start to tell me about something she had said that week to some bishop I had never heard of. It always added a flurry of excitement to the start of a 9:00am service. Wild horses wouldn’t drag out of me the slightest hint of an admission that services were ever delayed for this reason. For that and her unfailing dedication and loyalty and support and wisdom and her generosity - and much more - I will miss her very much.

I have read the words from our Gospel reading at funeral services many times, as it’s in the funeral liturgy.

It’s about a devout old man called Simeon who expected to see the Messiah before his death and, having met Jesus – a babe in arms – knew that his life was now somehow complete. Now he could die, satisfied that his life had fulfilled its purpose, that God’s promise was true and that spiritual deliverance was ready to come to the world.

So he spoke these words:

Sovereign Lord, as you have promised,

you dismiss your servant in peace.

For my eyes have seen your salvation,

which you have prepared in the sight of all nations.

It seems particularly appropriate, fitting and poignant to reflect on these words today.

I say ‘appropriate’ because the event it describes – the presentation of Christ in the temple – is celebrated every year in the church’s calendar at Candlemas which occurs on February 2^nd. The nearest feast day to June’s death was Candlemas, falling just two days afterwards.

I must confess that, before I sat down to write this sermon, I only vaguely knew that Candlemas was about the presentation of Christ in the temple. Being an incorrigible Low Church minister, it’s really not the sort of thing I take much notice of.

I can just picture June, cradle Anglican that she was, looking at me wide eyed and incredulous that anyone in holy orders could actually be ignorant of such a thing. She would sometimes patiently instruct me in such matters for she was, with the aid of her trusty stick, a walking encyclopaedia of the unfathomable mysteries of the Church of England.

I say ‘fitting’ because the last time I saw June, unconscious and breathing with the aid of a ventilator, in the last hours of her life here on Earth, she looked assuredly at peace.

Simeon had said, “You let your servant go in peace. For my eyes have seen your salvation.” Having suffered a very severe stroke just hours earlier, there was no hint of any ordeal or trauma on June’s face. She lay serenely, comfortable, and (like Simeon) evidently ready to depart once her family had had the opportunity to say farewell.

And I say ‘poignant’ because, while Simeon got to see the long awaited child before leaving this world, sadly June missed the birth of her first great grandchild by little more than a month. Part of our sadness today is that, though she lived a good decade beyond the three score years and ten, it seems that June had to leave us just a little too soon.

The suddenness of June’s death confronts us with the overwhelming power of the unexpected. We are, as the Bible says, as fragile as the wild flowers and meadow grass, growing today and gone tomorrow.

But though June’s death was sudden, the truth is that she was completely prepared for it.

It’s not a question we really care to ask ourselves very much, but if this day were to be our last, if we were here today and gone tomorrow, would we be ready to face what comes next, whatever it is?

If you’d like to consider the Christian response to that, we have some free booklets at the back called “Why Jesus?” You can take one on your way out if you are interested.

June was ready. She could confidently echo the words of the Apostle Peter in our second reading:

“In [God’s] great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you…”

June knew that the inheritance kept in heaven for her was not, and never could be, some kind of prize for distinguished service in the church or for volunteering for the Samaritans, or for being a faithful wife and wonderful mother, noble though those things undoubtedly are.

June knew that her inheritance kept in heaven was a gift from God to be received by faith alone and nothing at all to do with her achievements.

She knew there was something that cut her off from God and that had the power to keep her out of heaven. It’s the inclination we all have to live independently of God that the Bible calls sin.

I have never yet met anyone who can even get through one day, let alone a whole life, without doing or saying or thinking something they know they really shouldn’t have.

We can't get rid of our sin by ourselves. Someone has to come and take it away for us.

June knew that this is what Jesus Christ came to do for her - and for everyone - because of his great love for the world. No matter how weighed down we are by the weight of sin - Jesus took that burden upon Himself when He gave his life for us on the cross. The Bible puts it this way, “Christ died for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you to God” (1 Peter 3.18).

June knew that the key to life was to simply turn away from sin, and turn to Christ.

June claimed God’s promise which says: “To all who received [Christ], to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God” (John 1.12).

She was ready, so she was able to face death with no fear.

And so, Sovereign Lord, as you have promised, now let your servant depart in peace. For her eyes saw your salvation.

Sermon preached at All Saints' Preston on Tees, 11th February 2013