I have a joke that I sometimes tell about my own obituary. I say that I’ve already written it. Here it is: “Ted is dead.”

It is short and simple. All of my friends will know what it means when they read it. Those who don’t know me will appreciate not having to read a long story about someone they’ve never met.

I’m only half joking about the obituary, however. First of all, what is written and how people grieve after I die is not up to me. I don’t want to put any restrictions on my family in their grief. I’ve been pretty frank in telling them my opinions, likes and dislikes about funerals. And they know enough about me to choose scripture readings and hymns to sing. But whatever funeral or memorial takes place after I die will be for those who are left behind and for their processes of grieving. The community will gather to support them. The songs and scripture will be for them.

Another thing about obituaries is that there have been so many changes in how obituaries circulate and function in the community in recent years that it is difficult to predict what an obituary will be at the time that I die. In each of the places where we served as ministers, I subscribed to the print edition of the local newspaper because the local newspaper was the source of obituaries. Then there was a time when I didn’t need the print newspaper because I could access an electronic version earlier than the print version. Then newspapers started to charge ad rates for printing obituaries. These days, newspapers generally have shortened obituaries and the full stories are most easily found on the web sites of funeral homes. Families can use the words they want without having to pay additional money to the newspaper. They generally run some kind of obituary in the paper, but it is often a shortened version. Some churches have a custom of reading the obituary during the funeral. These days the obituary is often printed on the memorial folder for those attending the service to read.

I have been thinking of obituaries because today is the funeral of a long-time friend of mine who died suddenly last week. I am not able to attend the funeral, and I won’t be missed because it will be a very large funeral with no shortage of mourners. There will not be a shortage of clergy gathered.

His family have written a beautiful obituary. I’ve read it several times. I am aware that it has given me comfort in a way that a short one-liner would not. You can tell that family members are educated and articulate. They write beautifully. Their words are carefully chosen and expressive.

The last sentence of the first paragraph of the obituary says, “He died in a field near that same place working alongside his brothers and life-long friends, doing what he loved.” The words, like the other words in the obituary are true. But here is the thing. They could have been said had Bruce died at another point of his life. If he had died in the pulpit preaching it would have been true to say he died doing what he loved. If he had died volunteering at church camp he would have died doing what he loved. If he had been playing with his grandchildren, or attending a book group with his colleagues, or visiting folk in the hospital, or serving on a community board, or making home or car repairs, or chatting with folks on the reservation, it would have been equally true that he was doing what he loved.

He loved life and he loved his family and he loved his church. He was a man of love.

People often mistakenly think that the New Testament is about what happens after we die and that religion is focused on eternal salvation or eternal damnation. While it is true that some churches and other religious institutions focus significant energy talking about what happens when someone dies, the Gospels and Letters of the New Testament focus on the life of Jesus. Jesus is quoted as speaking frequently about “the kingdom of God” and reminding his disciples that the kingdom is not just a promise about the future, but a present reality. When one lives justice with one’s neighbors, God’s kingdom is revealed. When people care for God’s creation, they experience the kingdom. When they care for their neighbors and reach out to those who are on the margins of society, they live the kingdom.

I think Bruce understood that at the deepest level. He lived as an integrity. The Bruce we met at church was the same person who was a loving husband, father and grandfather. The faithful steward we worked alongside of at church camp was the same person who worked alongside his brothers and family friends on the family farm.

The Lebanese-American poet Kahlil Gibran wrote, “If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body life. For life land death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.” For my friend, and for his grieving family, church and community, a short and simple obituary would not do. What they have prepared is far better. Because as sad as those who gather today are, as deep as the grief is for his family and friends, as hard as this is for the congregation he served and loved, today is not about death. It is about life - a life lived joyously and fully and triumphantly. And Bruce lived life large.

You don’t have to understand the fullness of the gift of resurrection to appreciate his life. You don’t even have to believe in the resurrection to know that his passing is a momentous occasion. For those of us who grieve today, the lesson is clear and well-communicated in his obituary. “He died . . . doing what he loved.”

May we all find the grace to so live our lives that the same might be said of us.