Sermon by Rev. Russell Daye

Between Alpha & Omega

Genesis 9:8-17, Revelation 21:1-6
St. Andrew's United Church, Halifax
Service of Baptism and Remembrance

Today's service includes a strange combination of things. We began with seven baptisms and will close with a service of remembrance for those we have lost in wars - wars ongoing, wars that ended almost a century ago, wars in between. As I said, it's a strange combination, but an evocative one.

Given the breadth of what we are dealing with today, it is appropriate that we have heard readings from the first and last books of the Bible - that we have heard the language of alpha and omega. Right now, in this moment at the mid-point of our service we hover between the promise of birth and the spectre of death. In that respect, this moment in our service is like every moment in our lives. Every moment in our lives is played out somewhere between the hope and possibility that comes with birth and the finality, the closure of possibility that comes with death.

Psychologists tell us that the knowledge of inescapable death weighs heavily in the recesses of our minds and hearts. Death provides an existential crisis and we need to somehow master the fear of death to live vigorous and creative lives. In the world of psychology death is the great problem (or at least one of them).

This is not true of the world of theology, however, not of the world of the Bible. Death, the end of this life, the omega is not the great problem. In the world of the Bible we do not die into nothingness. We do not die into oblivion. We do not die into meaninglessness. We die into God.

The Bible is very ambiguous about the details. In places it seems to say that we die and go to heaven (or hell). In other places it says we die and await a bodily resurrection when heaven and earth are renewed. Christian belief is even more ambiguous, including these perspectives, the view that we live on in how we influence others, and even belief in such things as reincarnation in some quarters. Personally, I don't cling to any of these positions and don't claim to know the details. I don't care to know the details. If the mysteries of the universe can be reduced to something I can understand then we'll have a pretty mundane cosmos and a sadly domesticated Creator.

What I can say with confidence is that the whole weight of the Bible and Christian tradition assures us that we do not die into nothingness but, rather, we die into God. Death is not the great problem. 'Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.'

In the world of theology, what happens before death, between the alpha and the omega is the problem. What we read about in our newspapers every morning is the great problem. The harm we do to each other and to this planet is the problem. The wars that necessitate the sacrifices we honour in our service of remembrance constitute the problem.

The story of Noah and the flood ends this way: 'God said, "This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all generations: I have set my bow in the clouds, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth."' God has formed a covenant with us, but not only us, with all people, but not only people, with all creatures. God has formed a union of love - a union as deep as marriage, as strong as the bond between parent and child - with every creature. This is the new beginning and it is a beginning in love. Its sign is the rainbow, reminding God - and us - that the bond is with those of all colours and stripes. This bond is not only vertical - between God and creature; it is also horizontal - between creature and creature. This is how we are to live: in a bond of love with all.

Between the alpha and the omega we are to live with love for all, the kind of love demonstrated by the one who said 'I am the Alpha and the Omega.' But we fall short. We fall into the mistreatment of other creatures. We fall short; we fall into the devastation of other peoples. We fall short; we fall into the destruction of whole ecosystems. Just this past month we have had conclusive evidence of our fall: the bombings in Baghdad; the return to whaling by Iceland; our shamefully tepid Clean Air Act.

We know we live in a fallen state. We want to improve not only our lot but the lot of the world. The majority genuinely do want that. But we quarrel over the details: Kyoto or something less than Kyoto - or something more; to fight in Afghanistan or not to fight in Afghanistan; sanctions for North Korea or strategic missile strikes … or nothing. These are excruciating decisions that must be debated, debated skilfully, debated vigorously. While moving between alpha and omega we have to do this. But herein lies our most grave error: while engaging in these debates we forget about the alpha and the omega. We forget that the people we debate with, and the people and creatures we debate about, share a bond of love with us in the original covenant and will share the final horizon with us when tears and crying and mourning end and 'these things' have passed away.

Life between alpha and omega will always be fraught with obscene dilemmas and heartbreaking choices. There is only one way to make it better. There is only one way improve the world through which these seven newly baptised children will pass. This is to reach back to alpha - the covenant - and forward to omega - the promise - and to ground the heartbreaking life in between in these gifts. This is the way of reconciliation. The only way to improve the odds that our children will not have to sacrifice themselves and be commemorated with a wreath is to orient all our debate and all our action toward reconciliation with the other parties to God's covenant. Who are those parties? Everyone. Every creature.

When engaged in debate, when struggling through the trials of this world, it is very difficult to remember that the people with whom we argue and struggle are parties to the same covenant and the same promise as are we. It's difficult to remember that other creatures are parties to the covenant as well. It is especially difficult to see an adversary as a fellow child of the covenant when he refuses to see you that way. To do so may require taking Jesus' way of tears - but that is what we are called to do.

Today we commemorate the sacrifice of those who gave their lives. As always, we commemorate the sacrifice of the one who is called the Alpha and the Omega, the one who gave us the example of selfless love, the one who chose a cross over a sword. But we do more than commemorate. We promise to emulate. We say, Christ, your way is our way. You loved your enemies, even when resisting them. You did not lose sight of the covenant, even when struggling with the powers. We have come to regain our sight. We recommit ourselves to keep our eyes on the prize all through the journey from alpha to omega.