A Holy Moment

Today I said prayers at the internment of a women in our congregation. I didn’t know her. She has spent the last few years of her life out of state and is only returning now to her parish for burial. When I arrived at the graveside it was pouring rain and the family was huddled in black, under umbrellas, around the urn. I knew none of them. It seemed an unpromising beginning to a sad affair. But the introductions were warm and their hearts were open. There was great grief present, but it was a reflection of great love given to and received from this dear departed lady. The group listened intently to the prayers, tears streaming as the son lowered his mother’s ashes into the ground. We said the Lord’s Prayer together. At nearly the conclusion of this very short service, one of the grown granddaughters began singing “Amazing Grace.” She had a gifted voice and sang four verses, and then she sang the first verse again. For that final verse, everyone joined her. It was a holy moment. In the midst of a cold rain, a huddled circle of people singing, in harmony, in joy, in tears, in love, in defiance of what “should” be a dark event, instead proclaiming that love wins. That God’s grace is greater than death. That harmony with each other is an expression of God’s Kingdom. That love never ends. 

Often the holy is beyond words. It is found in music, in art, in poetry, in meditation, in nature, in holding hands, in dance, in ways too numerous to list. When it happens, we can only fall to our knees in gratitude and wonder.