❀ ❀ ❀
“Weep not!” Such were the words addressed by the gracious Saviour to the widow of Naim, who, filled with unutterable grief, was following the bier of her only son to the gate of the city. And I now say to you, my daughter, “weep not!” It is difficult, nay more, it is impossible, for a gentle, tender-hearted woman never to indulge in tears, but do not weep for every trifle, every contradiction, every unfriendly look, every hasty speech. Spare your tears, for hours will come when it will appear only natural and right that you should weep, seasons when you will have to stand beside open graves. Yet even in these hours of bitter anguish I would still say to you: “Weep not!” I do not mean that you should not allow your tears to have free course, but do not give way to frantic and despairing grief. Strive rather to let your attitude, as you stand beneath your cross, resemble that of the Mother of Jesus when she stood beneath the cross of her beloved Son. You cannot but weep, yet bear yourself with dignity and courage, supported and sustained by the glorious hope of a resurrection, of a blissful meeting with those whom you mourn.
Is this hope, however, well founded? Can it ever deceive us? Never! A desolate mother knelt beside the grave of her darling, her only child, a boy ten years old. She knelt thus for hours. until she was almost blinded by her tears and her voice was choked with sobs, yet, as the poet tells us:
Although we part, with tears and pain,
From those who hold our love;
We know we’ll find them all again,
In the fields of light above.
Assuredly, that is not dead which the grave enfolds! An interior voice tells us this, and the same voice makes itself heard by all nations, causing them to hold in honor and to reverence the last resting places of the departed. Even the most uncultured nations entertain the hope that the sleep of death is not eternal sleep, but that an awakening will come some day.
But we who are Christians have no mere vague presentiment, but a full and perfect certainty. Jesus Christ, who is Himself eternal Truth, has solemnly declared: “I am the resurrection and the life: he that believeth in me although he be dead shall live: And every one that liveth, and believeth in me, shall not die forever.”
Yes, “weep not!” There will assuredly be a resurrection; there will be an eternal retribution; the holiness and the justice of God incontestably require it. He sees how frequently upon earth crime and injustice either walk abroad in the face of day, or else flourish in secret. But where is the richly deserved punishment, where the merited chastisement? Religion has its champions, virtue its heroes, faith its martyrs—where is their reward? Are the virtues and crimes of men, their innocence and guilt, to be of equal value in the eyes of God? In that case virtue and crime, guilt and merit, would be mere empty names, and we must perforce cease to believe in the existence of a supreme Being who is at once holy and just. Is it possible that the robber and the robbed, the traitor and the patriot, the martyr and his tormentor, the wicked son and the model daughter, should all meet the same fate, and be alike consigned simply to annihilation?
Let us draw near in imagination to a death-bed on which there lies a dying girl. She is about twenty years old, the age when life is most enjoyable, when youth is in its fairest bloom. She grew up like a lily in the garden of the Lord, modest and pure, pious and good, a pleasing spectacle to men and angels. Death is drawing near; the by-standers are weeping, but she alone sheds not a tear; rather does she smile, and looking up with a glance which seems to pierce the skies, she exclaims with her expiring breath: “Father, into Thy hands I commend my spirit!”
Now, tell me if it is possible that God could say to this angelic maiden: “I have doomed thee to annihilation!” Could a life dedicated to Him, spent in His service, have as its reward so awful a disenchantment? Could God be less just in His judgment of good and evil than a fallible mortal? Who would dare to utter such blasphemous words as these?
Let us draw near to another death-bed. The young girl who is stretched upon it is very close to her end. She has been a grief to her family, a disgrace to her relations, a reproach to her sex! Even the last words she utters are an additional offense against the Most High!
Tell me now whether it were possible to write upon the bier of the chaste maiden, the child of God, such words as these: “Her whole life was based on deception?” And upon the bier of the shameless other being, whom we prefer not to describe more explicitly, could we inscribe these words: “She did nothing wrong?” Could God consign alike to annihilation two beings so radically different? Could there be no other fate in store for them both except to molder in the grave? Is it possible that any sensible person can entertain so monstrous an idea as this?
Let your eyes rest in the bright springtime on field and forest. How beautiful, how gladsome, how consoling is the sight! See how awakening nature is putting forth her blossoms, how every blade of grass is arising from its winter slumber how thousands and thousands of flowers are perfuming the air with their delicious fragrance, how fields and meadows, orchards and fruit-gardens, are arraying themselves in bridal garments, and smiling as they greet the rising sun. Even the grassy mounds in the churchyard, which rise above the last resting places of the beloved dead, proclaim the same encouraging truth of an ultimate resurrection. The pinks, roses and forget-me-nots with which the graves are adorned begin to unfold their charming blossoms and shed forth their delicate perfume.
Each spring the lovely flowers arise after their apparent decay; can it be possible that the human form, that fairest of flowers, that wondrous fabric, that marvelous microcosm, is doomed to lie forever in the grave, to remain forever what death has made it, namely, a decaying and repulsive corpse, a mere heap of dust and ashes? No, thus it cannot, thus it will not be; there must assuredly be a resurrection!
Therefore, my daughter, I say to you once more: “Weep not!” Weep not despairingly if your dear ones are taken from your side, weep not disconsolately when at length the fiat goes forth that you too must die! Never give way to frantic grief, but weep as a Christian ought to do, and remember that:
When the heart’s most poignant grief
In bitter tears has found relief,
Then the mourner first most truly feels
He is not dead, whom now the grave conceals.
The Peony—Love of God.