It seemed to me that it was raining or snowing a lot this week. The world seemed permanently grey. The world seemed permanently grey - both inside and out - and I was thinking about death, and dying.

As many of you know, this parish lost Mildred Hutchins recently. Mildred, who died at the age of 98, had attended St John's for many years. And our dear friend, Karen Mattioli, lost her brother, Maurice. Many of you attended Maurice's funeral here at St John's last Saturday.

The Liberal Party lost two men this week - one very old, and one quite young. Both were devoted to Canada, and to public service, and to something we used to call the common good.

And of course the world: the world lost countless thousands of young people, and old people, and those in between - to natural causes, and (more often than not) to hideous, and violent, and hateful, "unnatural" causes.

In his poem, "The Waste Land," T. S. Eliot wrote: "He who was living is now dead. We who were living are now dying." I turned to Eliot this week, after I first read our gospel for today. "He who was living is now dead. We who were living are now dying." These words seemed to suit both my mood, and the text.

Today's reading is from John. It's the story of a dinner party - a dinner party in Bethany, at the home of Lazarus. The dinner party is in honor of Jesus. Lazarus, of course, is a friend of Jesus. Indeed, Jesus had raised Lazarus from the dead.

Somewhere between the hors de oeuvres and dessert, this quite ordinary event takes a rather extraordinary turn. Mary, a sister of Lazarus, anoints Jesus' feet with costly perfume, and wipes his feet with her hair. It's an extravagant - outrageous - gesture that does not go unnoticed. The fragrance of perfume fills the air, and so too the startled looks, and critical comments, of certain guests. Judas, we know, grumbles aloud about waste and mismanagement. And he feigns concern for the poor. Martha, no doubt, is apoplectic. The perfume in question would have cost the equivalent of one year's salary for an average worker. And certainly her (well-planned) dinner party had careened wildly off-course.

We know that when Judas criticized Mary for her extravagance, Jesus defended her. He said: "Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial." (John 12:7) Jesus implies that Mary was anticipating his passion and death - that Mary's gesture was not only an expression of love and devotion, but prophetic as well.

Jesus implies also that he is aware of the tragedy that awaits him. "You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me." (John 12:8) He seems to be anticipating his own death, to know that his time with his friends is growing short.

There are two themes here that I would like to consider this morning. They seem to me to relate to each one of us. The first concerns our anticipation of the death of a loved one; the second concerns our anticipation of our own death. Or, in Eliot's poetic voice: "He who was living is now dead. We who were living are now dying."

In his book, The Transformative Power of Crisis, therapist Robert M. Altar includes a chapter entitled, "In the Time of His Dying." (225-227) The chapter concerns Altar's advice to a patient whose father was terminally ill. The patient was anticipating her father's death and wanted to know how best to use the time of her father's dying. In three short pages - remarkable pages in my view - Altar attempts to answer this question. I would like to take a moment to share certain of his insights with you, and to relate them to our gospel story.

First, Altar encourages his patient to "use the time of your father's dying for service." He encourages his patient to care for her father's needs to the best of her abilities. In this regard, I am reminded of Martha in today's text - of her service at table in Bethany. I am reminded that, far too often, such practical assistance is under-valued: that the (extravagant) outpouring of one's time, energy and patient endurance in caring for others is radically under-appreciated, if not rendered completely invisible, in our society.

Altar also advised his patient to "use the time of your father's dying for saying good-bye," and "for love." As the author points out, "it is one of the sweetest of human experiences to fully express your love to someone." Surely, in today's gospel, Mary "fully expressed" her love - and devotion - to Jesus. I think that we are called to similar gestures when anticipating the loss of a loved one - to whisper, "I love you," to kiss a cheek, to soothe a hot forehead, to caress cold feet.

Of course, there are often impediments to the expression of love - all sorts of unresolved issues that may have developed over the course of a lifetime. Therefore, this time of dying may be a time to seek reconciliation also: a time to forgive, and to ask forgiveness, to resolve old differences, and to heal old hurts - all to the best of our emotional ability.

Each of us is imperfect, and our relationships too are characterized by imperfection. For this reason, such reconciliation - even with loved ones - may prove impossible. But, for our own sakes, and for the sake of the other - for love's sake - it is, I think, always good to try.

As I say these words, I am conscious that time with a loved one who is dying is a very precious gift, a sacred gift. I am conscious that many of us have been, and will be, denied the opportunity to say any final farewell. For this reason, we are commended to serve others - and to express our love to others - at all times. Indeed, throughout our lives, "death is on our shoulder whispering [this] advice in our ear." (Wesley White, reflecting on a image portrayed by Carlos Castaneda)

The final word that I would share with you from Altar is his exhortation to his patient to "use the time of your father's dying for greeting your own life with gladness and love" - with celebration, if you will. Altar writes: "Go out into your life with senses sharpened under the shadow of death, and love your life.... Love the day. Love the night. Fiercely love it all, and be glad for it."

In this passage, I believe Altar alludes to the anticipation of our own death. Our gospel is, in my view, particularly informative in this regard. Jesus seems to have known that his own death was approaching. ("We who were living are now dying.") Consider: what was Jesus doing prior to his final entry into Jerusalem, prior to his own passion and death on a cross? Jesus was at table with his friends. He was spending time with his friends, enjoying a party with his friends, celebrating with his friends. He was with his friends - "bearing their griefs and carrying their sorrows." He was using the time of his own dying just as Altar would have us use the time of a loved one's dying - in acts of service, expressions of love, and the celebration of life.

Today is a bright, and beautiful, and blue day. There is neither snow, nor rain - and not a hint of grey. I am thinking once again about death and dying, but my thoughts are colored by the example of Jesus, by the coming of Easter's miracle, and by Altar's exhortation - to greet "your own life with gladness and love" - to "go out into your life," and to "fiercely love it all."