In Memoriam +Dorothy M. Birthrong+

St. Luke 2:25-35; St. John 10:14-18; Revelation 7:9-17

In Nomine Jesu

Beloved children of the Lord’s Christ, and especially you, Faith, Connie, Joyce and Jill, the fruit of Dorothy’s womb, she is now the firstfruits of Christ’s resurrection. She sleeps and abides in peace because Christ now shelters her with His life even as she lays in death. She is no longer tormented with the trials and pangs of this earthly life. The chains of her death have been unchained, undone by Christ who willingly chained Himself unto her sin and death upon a cross, who laid down His life for her, His little lamb so that He might take her up into eternal life. She is the midst of her good Shepherd and her good Shepherd is in her midst, guiding her to the eternal springs of gladness where tears no longer flow. He guides her to His own high feast which is no longer set in the presence of enemies but only with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven; with John and the children she never got to behold here below but now embraces above in the eternal house of the Lord. She has departed in the peace of her Shepherd and the peace of her Shepherd has given her everlasting peace. Jesus says, “I know my own and my own know me.”

Dorothy was a woman of great strength. “I am after all 90 years old, I live alone, I cook my own meals, I do my own laundry, I make my own bed with military corners,” so she would say every time you came to visit her. This was often followed up by a gentle and jovial chuckle. As I sat there she would often regale me with stories of her childhood, of her home, of her life—life on the farm and in the city, life with John and her precious daughters, life as a wife and as a mother. She and John were blessed with four girls. Dad would work three jobs to provide bread on the table and the best in Christian education. Still taking care of a home, mom would go back to school in her mid fifties and become an LPN only to serve for many years at the Lutheran Home in Milwaukee. Her recollection of her time there was vivid and playful, stories that would make you smile yet stories that mirrored the broken reality of life lived beneath the curse of sin and death. They would travel the country, go camping, and eat large amounts of bacon and eggs served up by a military-dad chef. They would walk in an Easter parade donning a mom’s hand made clothes, celebrate Christmas with an aluminum silver tree while tirelessly chewing tasty taffy. As she would repeatedly say, “We lived a good life.” In other words, the blessedness of created life, of “clothing and shoes, food and drink, house and home, husband and children, land, animals, and all she had” was quite evident. Intertwined with this created life was the redeemed and justified life, the catechized life, begotten in her through Holy Baptism, Holy Word, Holy Supper, and molded by the Lutheran church and its one, holy, catholic, and apostolic faith. This was plain to see in her life. And she and her Lord would have it been seen in the life of her descendents.  

But the stories of life and home, of the tale of us living east of Eden are far more complex and sordid than an obituary, of what we want to hear or believe. Even as we look at the good things in life, we can’t help but feel and suffer the bad things of life, those things which hurt, harm, and wound our body and soul. We fall in love we fall out of love. We cherish and we take for granted. We hold our tongue in restraint and we let it slip in anger. We celebrate her life, yet we are literally face to face with her death. We rejoice in the thought of her happiness within her heavenly home, yet we are grieving, we are still living outside of heaven’s glorious gates. We are pleased that God is pleased in His Son to have given her a blessed death, eternal rest, yet we still must fight the fight of faith, carry on and confess our hope in midst of this bloody war, pick up our wounded, and bear our crosses upon our weak shoulders. As we left Dorothy’s room, the cadence of the oxygen tank still ringing in our ears, Connie turned to me and said, “It’s hard.” Such is the succinct word of man when he is faced with death, when death becomes real and he searches desperately for a real and abiding answer. To look away from sin and death is never the answer. Ignorance is only bliss until it is rudely caught up to by the reality of this sinful and deathward drifting life, when a casket is laid before your eyes, when an enemy confronts you that doesn’t care about mercy, life, or how you feel. The only way out of death is through Jesus who is the Life, who died our death, and lives that we might live eternally with Him. We look to Jesus, the One to whom salvation belongs, to our God enfleshed, to the Lamb who is hoisted upon a wooden throne, who forgives sins, who conquers death, and who promises paradise for He, the Christ, is the paradise of God. He is who Dorothy waited for. He is who Simeon waited for. He is who you wait for.      

“Now there was a man in Jerusalem, whose name was Simeon, and this man was righteous and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him” [Luke 2:25]. Routine are the thoughts of why our Lord doesn’t come quicker to deliver us from evil and pain, suffering and death. Why must the righteous suffer becomes the rock of atheism [Oswald Bayer]. It’s the devil’s best line. He wielded this worded-weapon against Adam and Abraham, Job and Jesus, Simeon and St. Paul. He used it in the beginning and he will use it at the end of our day, at the end of our life, at the end of the world. He tempts us in the large expanse of the “why” to discount and deny the goodness and mercy of our Good Shepherd. So the mother asks the daughter, “Why Jill must it go on like this? Why must I live like this? To which the daughter can only say, “Mom, our Good Shepherd is good and you have His promise that He will do what He says. He will take you from this valley of sorrow to Himself in heaven. His Word is certain and trustworthy.” That is all she could say. That is all she said. Such are the words of faith. Such are the words of Simeon. Such are the words of Dorothy. Like Simeon, Dorothy wasn’t just waiting to die and it all be over. No. Like him, she was waiting for the “consolation of Israel.” Simeon’s consolation was not his death, but the peace and life of Christ in the midst of his impending death. Thus, consolation is not found in memories, in reminiscing, in the horridly generic thought of the dead living in some “better place.” Consolation is found in the One who consoles, forgives and brings life out of death, in Him who consoles His people Israel, you His chosen ones, you the sheep of His eternal pasture.  

On the last night before her departure in the peace of Christ, she worshiped her Lord as she does now eternally in the heavens. She worshiped her Lord as she passively received the gifts of the Lord’s Christ. Lying in her bed, fetal and frail, her lungs softly inhaling and exhaling air, she was enclosed by a little chapel, a household of faith. Sin was confessed. Sin was absolved. A psalm was chanted and a Word God dispelling the darkness of death was spoken [Is. 25:8-9]. The Lord prayer and the Song of Simeon arose like incense, calling upon the Lord to come quickly to deliver her into the new heavens and the new earth. Her baptism was confessed with the Trinitarian cross upon her forehead and upon her heart. The Lord Supper was received by the faithful and her body and soul were commended into the Triune God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. She would rest beneath night’s shadow, beneath the wings of Christ righteousness and she would rise and depart in everlasting peace and life in the impending morning’s light.   \

Now all that is left to do is to wait, rest, and receive like Simeon. To wait, rest, and receive as Simeon did, as Dorothy did, the Lord’s consolation: Jesus who consoles in life and in death; Jesus who gives life in the midst of death, Jesus who leaves us not as orphans but gathers us up together into one household of faith to await a joyful reunion in His eternal house. To rest in the arms of Jesus who holds us, even as we behold Him in His Word, His Baptism, and His Supper. To wait, rest, and receive the commending care of Jesus even as we commend Dorothy, our beloved mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, sister and friend, to the Triune God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, who created her, redeemed her, and will resurrect her and all the faithful on the last and glorious eternal day. Jesus says, “I know my own and my own know me.” On the basis of this certain promise we pray as the Good Shepherd’s grieving yet hopeful sheep, “Guide us waking, O Lord, and guard us sleeping that awake we may watch with Christ and asleep we may rest [and depart] in peace” [Compline, LSB 258].

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son [+] and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.