declare to you, brothers and sisters, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed— in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: “Death has been swallowed up in victory.” “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.
  (1 Corinthians 15:50 – 58)

As we continue through the season of Lent, we continue to focus on Jesus’ journey to the cross. And as we think on the cross, we cannot help but think also about death – Jesus’ death, for sure, but our own as well. Thankfully, we do that thinking knowing the end of the story. We know where this Lenten pilgrimage will ultimately end up. We know that life has the last word!
 
This week the church will commemorate John Donne, a poet from the 17th century. His poems reflect many themes of the Christian life, including death and life. One of his more well-known poems seems to reflect the passage from 1 Corinthians cited above and fits well into our own prayerful thinking during Lent. Indeed, “one short sleep past and we will wake eternally, death shall be no more; death shall die.” Thanks be to God!

DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie. Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
(Divine Sonnet X by John Donne)

Contributed by Tracie
Sunday March 27, 2011
Liturgical Year A Week 18
Liturgical Color: Purple
Sunday Gospel reading:
Fifth Sunday in Lent