In Memorial for the life of Allene Mauchenheimer

[I John 3:1-2]
[John 6:37-40]

For most of the history of Christianity, the vast majority of Christians couldn’t read or write. For illiterate believers, the visual arts were another sort of vocabulary that the common Christian could understand. Stained glass, along with sculpture, mosaic, icons, and panel painting, provided depictions of scriptural lessons which the average believer might hear read aloud occasionally, but could not read for themselves. Since it was only the wealthy who would usually have the chance to learn to read, stained glass and other pictorial arts were sometimes collectively called “The Poor Person’s Bible,” – that is, they provided a visual version of the Bible for the instruction and nurturing of the everyday Christian’s faith. The regular Christian could learn the “vocabulary” of these arts; how a saint would be usually depicted with particular symbols, how certain motifs had symbolic meanings, how this sort of arrangement represented the Last Supper, while that grouping over there represented the Ascension. Armed with this special sort of “literacy,” able to interpret the symbols and motifs of the visual arts, regular uneducated Christians could “read” the stories that nurtured their faith, and teach them to their children.

For those who could not read, stained glass and other visual arts were quite truly their Bible, the Bible that they could interpret. This is why Orthodox iconographers do not say that they “paint” icons, but that they “write” them—they are “writing” scripture in a different media, but it is a telling of the same good news, merely in a different language. For this reason, the artisans and craftsmen who made such Christians works of art were not merely skilled artists—they were evangelists. Just as surely as the four evangelists who wrote the Gospels, just as surely as the literate few who read the scripture out loud during services, these artists were also evangelists—“good news tellers,”—telling the scriptures in a language average Christians could understand—the universal language of pictures.

Even today, when the overwhelming majority of Christians in this country can read, stained glass speaks powerfully in ways that mere words cannot. Stained glass calls to mind stories that we know but aren’t thinking about. Stained glass can show forth lessons we think we know well in new ways, so that what seemed worn and familiar is suddenly fresh, even surprising. Even abstract windows evoke the grandeur, majesty, and glory of God. I think one of the terms traditionally applied to icons, “windows into heaven,” might be applied to stained glass windows as well.

Our prayer book reminds us that the liturgy for the departed is an Easter liturgy: It finds its ultimate meaning not in death, but in resurrection. Because Jesus was raised from the death, we, too, shall be raised. Jesus promised, “This is indeed the will of my Father, that all who see the Son and believe in him may have eternal life; and I will raise them up on the last day.’” Indeed, one of the ways that we “see the Son,” is in stained glass. When we see stained glass windows—like the ones Allene and her husband made—we see the Son, Jesus. We catch glimpses of all that God promises us, and we catch inklings and intimations of our future joy. Because Jesus was raised, we too shall be raised. So when we look up at a window depicting Jesus’ resurrection or ascension, we see also our own hope of eternal life.

Allene, was an evangelist, showing-forth the good news in her life and in her art. As different facets or panels of a window may catch an individual’s attention, you all may have seen different aspects of how Allene lived out the Gospel in her life. I myself, not having had the blessing of getting to know her in life, am concentrating on the way she shared the gift of her art with the church, but you all know better than me the many other ways in which she showed forth her faith in her life. But we do not yet know how much more radiant she has become now, that she stands before God face-to-face. In first letter of John, we heard today: “Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when Christ is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is.”

Saint Augustine describes, in the climactic end of The City of God, how the faithful departed stand perfected in the presence of God. The saints who have died in Christ are changed; Paul describes this by saying as a seed changes and grows into something new, so will we. Just as Allene’s windows help “show forth” the glory of God but cannot fully capture the reality they describe, the departed Saints are more fully holy, more fully themselves, even than they were in this life. But, Augustine assures us, both the living and the dead are one Church, one City of God. He writes:

For the souls of the pious dead are not separated from the Church, which is even now the kingdom of Christ. Otherwise they would not be commemorated at the altar of God at the time of the partaking of the body of Christ. Why do we do this, unless it is because the faithful are still members of this body, even when they have departed this life?

Today, we celebrate the life of Allene, and the victory of our Lord Jesus Christ over death—a victory which she now shares, and which we will share. We celebrate not only for her, but with her. Jesus has been raised from the dead, and so shall we. And so, even at the grave, we make our song: Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia!