Most Rev. Joseph C. Bambera, D.D., J.C.L.
Bishop of Scranton
HOMILY
Mass of Remembrance – July 15, 2010
For all that we do this evening, a very significant portion of this liturgy is handed over to the practice of remembering.
At the heart of this mass is the invitation from Jesus to “remember” what took place at the last supper when he gathered together with his friends – took bread and wine, blessed them, shared them, identified himself with them – this is my body broken for you; this is my blood poured forth for you – do this in memory of me – do this when you remember me.
At the heart of our lives tonight are memories of those we love who have passed from this world to the next – memories that for most of us are as vivid today as they were a month ago – a year ago – ten years ago – or more.
And what do we do when we remember someone? We make them present in our minds and hearts. Simply as a practice of our minds and intellects? No. As Christians, when we make a person present in our minds and hearts we really are affirming the reality of our faith. Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again. And we, God’s people through faith in Jesus Christ rise as well and through faith in Jesus, are a part of the communion of the saints – of this world and the next.
When my father died from cancer six years ago this coming August, I printed a quote on the cover of the program for his funeral from the great Saint John Chrysostom. Listen to what he said: “They whom we love and lose are no longer where they were before. They are now wherever we are.”
So when you talk to someone whom you have lost, when you feel their presence, when you know that they are with you – know that you proclaim with all the saints today and yesterday your belief in the resurrection of Jesus.
… Yet for as much as we attempt to find consolation in such moments, everyone of us would rather have our loved ones right here with us, in the flesh, breathing and singing in this Cathedral.
There is never a right time to lose somebody you love. There is never a right circumstance. I have shared this story many times over – a lesson that I learned as a young priest over 25 years ago. I was visiting the funeral home a parishioner’s mother who had died at the ripe old age of 96. Like everybody else, I greeted the family and I said to the parishioner whom I know: “At least you can take consolation in the fact that you had your mother a long time.” And the parishioner looked at me and he said “Father, that doesn’t really help me. Everybody has been saying that to me but you don’t seem to realize that even at 96, this is very painful – because the longer you have a person, the more you think that you will never lose them.”
Any death, whether it comes after 90 years and a wonderful life or if it comes unexpectedly in the life of an infant just a few days old; whether it comes peacefully in one’s sleep, or violently in an accident or by one’s own hands, any death is painful. Any death can prompt disbelief and anger – even with God. Any death can take away our desire to move forward in life. Any death can cause profound grief. But as you’ve heard, grief is the price we pay for love. Even Jesus grieved over the death of his friend Lazarus whom he loved. Why wouldn’t we?
Today’s Gospel offers us some insight and consolation as we face life and suffering and death. Jesus says “Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest. Take my yolk upon you and learn from me for I am meek and humble of heart. And your souls will find rest for my yolk is easy and my burden is light.”
They’re consoling words because they are real words. Jesus doesn’t white wash life. He doesn’t say that if you’re a good person, if you pray, you will never have a cross to carry or a burden to bear. No. He says “Come to me with your struggles and pain … and I will give you rest.”
They’re consoling too because Jesus experienced life as we do. He was a good, innocent, loving man who very unfairly faced a cross and suffered and died.
I suppose God could have chosen to save the world in any way he wanted, but he specifically chose to have Jesus walk our world, live our lives, suffer and die with and for us … so that we in our suffering would have a God who understood because through the incarnation, he became one like us.
Our faith tells us that death was not the end for Jesus. Three days after he died, he rose and promised the same life and gift of resurrection to all who live and die believing in him.
That faith reality won’t necessarily take away our pain but it does have the power to help us make sense of why we feel our loved ones, even in their passing – why we choose to gather in prayer for them tonight. It affirms what we all believe, even if we cannot understand – that there is more to this world than we can see and touch. “If we have died with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with him. We know that Christ, raised from the dead, dies no more; death no longer has power over him.”
There is one more thing that we are all called to consider this night. Jesus’ life had a purpose – from the moment of his conception to his death on the cross. His life and death are means to life and salvation for us.
What purpose does your life now have as you confront the reality of loss and the death of those you love? We can wallow in anger and bitterness for the rest of our lives. We can bemoan the fact that such tragedy happened to us. Or we can acknowledge the pain of loss, admit that it was unfair, and then move forward in hope. That’s what Jesus did when he prayed the night before he died that the cross might pass him by – but it didn’t – and he faced it – as painful as it was, as unfair as it was – and he won life and salvation for us.
And any of us can and should live in hope; can live a life of meaning if we believe what we profess – that we don’t go through life alone. We walk with our brothers and sisters of faith, with the Lord who has given us life and with those who have gone before us in death.
“Those whom we love and lose are no longer where they were before. They are now wherever we are.”
