By Michael Burgess
“I have fought the good fight, finished the course and kept the faith.”
(2 Timothy 4:7).
In John Bunyan’s famous allegory of the Christian journey through life, Pilgrim’s Progress, there’s a moment when one of the characters, Mr. Valiant-for-truth, realizes that the time has come for him to die.
“Then, said he, I am going to my Father’s: and though with great difficulty I am got hither, yet now I do not repent me of all the trouble I have been at to arrive where I am… When the day that he must go hence was come, many accompanied him to the river side, into which as he went he said, ‘Death, where is thy sting?’ And as he went down deeper, he said, ‘Grave, where is thy victory?’ So he passed over, and all the trumpets sounded for him on the other side.”
As we gather today in the shadow of an earthly loss, we also stand firmly in the light of an eternal hope. We are here to remember Sister Anitra whom God has called home, and to celebrate her life and legacy with love and thankfulness.
We feel a mixture of sorrow, because we shall miss her, of course, yet also profound peace because we know she is resting safely in the arms of her Creator, who loves her – and each one of us – as if there were no one else to love. I admit that I cannot begin to understand how this can be, but I believe with all my heart that it is true, and it brings me incredible comfort.
Christian funerals are always both sad and happy occasions. Sad because the death of someone we care about is painful as we mourn their loss and come to terms with the realization that we will never see them again in this life. At the same time, we are happy because we know that their sufferings are at an end and that we can be confident that no troubles will ever touch them again. More than that, as Christians, we rejoice and take comfort today in the thought that Anitra is now, corny as it sounds, safe in the arms of Jesus.
As the very first hymn written by Fanny Crosby more than 150 years ago reminds us:
Safe in the arms of Jesus,
safe on His gentle breast,
there by His love o’ershaded,
sweetly my soul shall rest.
Hark! ’tis the voice of angels,
borne in a song to me,
over the fields of glory,
over the jasper sea.
There is no safer or more comfortable place to be than that.
I feel flattered and deeply honoured, not to mention a tad overwhelmed, to have been asked to speak on this occasion as I understand that it was Anitra’s wish that I should do so. I had no idea that she trusted me so much. In fact, I feel totally inadequate to even scrape the surface of who and what Anitra was. There was a time when we knew one another extremely well, since she was my spiritual director for some years. It was a task she took very seriously indeed and performed extremely well. I hope and believe that we learnt from one another.
Being a spiritual director is a two-way street since, if the relationship is to work effectively, both parties need to be scrupulously open and honest with one another. I believe that Anitra and I achieved this, and I was richer because of it. I hope she was too. I trusted her implicitly and truly appreciated the fact that she never let me get away with anything, although I didn’t always feel like that at the time! If (perhaps it would be more accurate to say when) I tried to slide over something or attempted to present myself in a more flattering light than I ought to have done, Anitra would swiftly bring me back to reality. Never once did she dump on me – I always left feeling encouraged and more hopeful about myself – but neither did she allow me the luxury of pretending things were better than they were, or I was better than I was. After a while, I didn’t even try to make myself sound nicer and more loving than I really am. It was a total waste of time. Anitra always saw through me as, of course, does God, so I am not sure why I even used to make the effort.
I will always remember that, very gently, and always with immense good humour, Anitra helped me laugh at myself. I won’t go to the stake for this, but she may even have told me, always lovingly, of course, that God laughed at me too, as God almost certainly does. Still, that’s a great deal better than weeping over me, though I expect there are times when God does that too. Anitra insisted I take my failings seriously (as I was typing this, I felt she was looking over my shoulder and suggesting that it might be more honest if I used the word sin rather than failings) but she also insisted that I didn’t take myself too seriously.
In dealing with me, Anitra always showed incredible patience, something which I doubt came naturally to her any more than it does to me. I appreciated that more than I can say. I will remember her as an immensely kind person.
I mean no offence when I say that when we look at Anitra’s life, we do not see a perfect life, but we do see a faithful one. Were I to suggest that Anitra was anything other than flawed, she would probably come back to haunt me!
In the words of the Apostle Paul, Anitra lived out the truth of having “fought the good fight” and “kept the faith.” And the faith that she kept was not a passive one. She actively chose love, kindness, and devotion every single day. And she understood that these had to be worked hard for, that they didn’t fall into one’s lap.
Anitra, who was proud of her Danish roots, ran her earthly race mostly with patience, although there was a good deal of impatience as well, anchored by prayer and a deep love for God, God’s Word and God’s people. Like all of us, she didn’t always find it easy to live with those with whom she shared her life, but she knew that she wasn’t always easy to live with too. And although she found it challenging, she did her best to live her best.
During her almost 49 years with SSJD, Anitra served in a wide variety of roles. She worked in the kitchen, the laundry and housekeeping, was Guest Sister, Librarian, Archives Sister, Retreat Director, ACPO Assessor (which was where I first met her), and Spiritual Care Sister at St. John’s Rehab. All these were tasks she loved, some more than others.
The truth of it is that the best sermon about Anitra has already been preached—not by me today, but by her, in the way she lived her daily life, which was an open book of devotion to God, this community, and to all with whom she came into contact.
Because of Anitra’s vibrant faith, we do not mourn today like those who have no hope. Scripture reminds us that death is not final, like walking slap bang into a brick wall, it is simply the doorway into eternity, a life beyond this, infinitely more wonderful than we are capable of imagining, a life in the closer presence of God.
According to Revelation 21:4, Anitra, together with all those who die in faith, has entered a place where God wipes away every tear. There is no more pain, no more sickness, and no more sorrow. The long-awaited reward of looking upon her Saviour face-to-face is finally hers. Her earthly building is complete, and she has stepped into her eternal home.
For those who were closest to Anitra, and who therefore have the deepest and longest-lasting memories, there will certainly be moments when they will feel her loss very much. But at those moments, we shall at the same time hear the distant echo of triumph for a woman who lived life well, and departed from us respected, honoured and loved. Someone who “fought the good fight, finished the course and kept the faith.” (2 Timothy 4:7).
Someone for whom, as Pilgrim’s Progress puts it, “all the Trumpets [have] sounded … on the other side.”
May Anitra rest in peace and rise with Christ in glory.
Note: those who were unable to view or attend the Requiem Eucharist celebrating Sister Anitra may watch a recording here.