Funeral Homily for Mary Pulliam - John 14:1-7

The first thing to say on this occasion is to thank all of you for being here. To Mary’s parents, brother and sister, grandparents, and extended family, thank you for this opportunity to say our prayers with you and to honor Mary’s life today. And to all of Mary’s family and friends, I hope that you feel upheld by one another. I trust that you feel the love this community instinctively pours out upon those who are grieving. We come together in such moments to carry one another, and especially to help those for whom these days feel impossible to get through. There is a lot of love gathered here today for just that purpose. 

As for the second thing to say on this occasion is the obvious thing. None of us could have imagined being here today. Mary was young and vibrant and full of life. We rely on a natural order of things, a predictable timeline for letting go of loved ones, and this is far too soon by any measure. Frankly, God has some explaining to do. We also know that there are no simple answers. In the 18th century, a philosopher named David Hume put our pain and confusion into these words: We believe that God is all good and all powerful. But here’s the problem: God must be willing to prevent human suffering but not able to, or God must be able to but not willing. In the first case God would not be all powerful. In the second case, God would not be all good, so it just doesn’t add up. The church in its wisdom decided years ago that the question of suffering is a profound mystery, one that our human minds cannot solve. So as we struggle with the why of Mary’s death, know that you are not alone.

That is what is classically known as doctrine of theodicy or the problem of suffering, which we face today. I think it’s safe to say, however, that Mary would not want us to spend much time at all on dusty old church arguments. She and Jesus had that in common, actually. Both had a bit of a rebellious streak when it comes to organized religion, and little patience for upstanding religious types who talk a good theological game but fail to do much good in the world. It’s no surprise that Mary planned to follow in her dad’s footsteps into social work. She had a knack for helping people and wanting to make the world a better place. And a knack for taking in strays, always defending those who found themselves unwelcome or on the wrong side of the door. Jesus looked out for those people, too. I’m not exactly sure what he would think about Mary’s current interests in mystical stuff outside of church, like crystals and astrology, but I’m pretty sure he’s seen that before in Episcopalians, nothing he can’t handle. And he would certainly appreciate the fact that she was on the cusp of her own adult faith, living ever more fully into exactly who God called her to be. 

Mary lived her 19 years well, surrounded by love and loving others in return. There was nothing more she needed to do to earn God’s favor. In John’s gospel, Jesus assures us that she is now in the heavenly place that was already prepared for her. In Christianity, there is no finish line down the road we have to cross in order to receive grace or a spot in heaven. You don’t have to live a long life or reach particular goals to get in, because that’s not how grace works. People came up to Jesus all the time with their burning questions, and he met them where they were. He never said things like, come back and talk to me in 30 years and we’ll assess how much you’ve improved. He was more likely to say things like, “Today, salvation has come to this house.” We have faith that salvation has come for Mary, that she has received a full measure of grace. She is at peace, joyfully taking her place in the angel choir, obviously, and settling into the place that has been prepared just for her. 

That place can feel very far away to those who grieve. We wonder where she is, how she is. We are exactly like the disciple Thomas, who had a difficult time when Jesus talked about the coming end of his own life and going to heaven. Thomas asked him the questions we all have. “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” To which Jesus said, you already know the way, and you have everything you need to get there. “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” To know anything of Jesus is to know that we will find our way to heaven. There is no secret knowledge to attain, or test to pass, or maturity or perfection to achieve. Christ meets us where we are, and when it’s time, leads us to the place prepared for each one of us. That is our Christian hope under any circumstance. It was true for Mary, and it will be true for us as well. 

I imagine Mary would have rolled her eyes at the thought of a sermon about how she knew the way because she knew Jesus, and how she showed us something about the gospel in how she lived her life. But she did. She bestowed Christ-like grace on anyone who needed it. I hear that she loved a particular quote by J.R.R. Tolkien, that “even the smallest person can change the course of a lifetime.” She did just that for her family, for her many friends, and for all those for whom she advocated along the way. 

Mary may not have put it quite this way, but she was giving us a glimpse of the way of Jesus, which is the way to heaven itself. We know the way because we were blessed to know Mary. One day, we’ll find our way there. When we do, I imagine she’ll be ready to welcome us, strays that we all are, making sure that we all get through heaven’s door.