Most Rev. Joseph C. Bambera, D.D., J.C.L.
Bishop of Scranton
HOMILY
Mass of Remembrance – St. Peter’s Cathedral – July 14, 2011
It’s fair to say that there is a tension that exists as we gather for this annual Mass of Remembrance, during which we hold in our hearts all of our loved ones who have died, especially those who have died in an untimely and tragic manner. The tension that I speak of is not so much a tension related to stress or pressure. The tension that I speak of is more related to balance – a balance between facing the reality of death, grief and pain, on one hand, and faith, consolation and hope on the other. We are all here today because we have faced death and loss. But we are also here today because we believe that the mystery of our faith can and does speak to the brokenness of our lives.
As we remember important individuals in our lives who have died, as we make them present to ourselves in the act of remembering, that very act – for us as Christians – affirms the reality of our faith. Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again. In these familiar words, we further affirm that each of us rises to eternal life through faith in Jesus.
But there is still a tension, isn’t there? Faith gives us hope. But every one of us would rather not be here today – if by some miracle of God our loved ones were returned to us – and we had no need to remember, no need to search for consolation in our grief. But that miracle is one that won’t occur. And here we are.
The great German Lutheran pastor, theologian and martyr, Dietrick Bonhoeffer, who was martyred in one of Hitler’s death camps just weeks before the Nazis surrendered, offered these words about the loss of someone that we love:
“Nothing can make up for the absence of someone we love. And it would be wrong to try to find a substitute. We must simply hold out and see it through. That sounds very hard at first, but at the same time, it is a great consolation. For the gap – as long as it remains unfilled – preserves the bond between us. It is nonsense to say that God fills the gap. God does not fill it. But on the contrary, keeps it empty and so helps us to keep alive our former communion with each other – even at the cost of pain.”
These words make a great deal of sense, don’t they? No one enjoys the pain that comes from grief and loss. To a certain extent, time does heal and allows us to move forward. Yet the intensity of our pain can pour back in an instant, even after years have passed, since those whom we have loved and lost first departed from our physical world. And because of the bonds of love that unite us across this world into the next, I suspect that we are all willing to experience pain if it leads to the blessing of a loved one’s memory and their presence in our hearts and minds.
For as much as we might be grateful for a memory, every one of us would rather have our loved ones right with us, in the flesh, breathing and singing in this Cathedral. Why? Because any death, whether it comes after a long, wonderful life or 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 cause profound grief. Even Jesus grieved over the death of his friend Lazarus whom he loved. Why wouldn’t we?
The scripture passages proclaimed this evening, each in their own way, acknowledge the precariousness of life, as well as the reality of suffering and pain often associated with so many different aspects of that same life. Isaiah announces a year of favor from the Lord “to comfort all who mourn.” Jesus, in the gospel message from Saint John, promises to all believers the gift of his peace – so “do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid.”
But it is Saint Paul’s’ message from his Second Letter to the Corinthians that speaks most clearly to the reality of our celebration. In just five verses, Paul speaks of the Lord’s comfort, encouragement and consolation no less than ten times. Paul is able to offer consolation to the Corinthians with the very consolation with which he himself is consoled by God. The comfort comes from God and reaches the apostle. It then goes from the apostle to those Christians who in their distress are in need of it. … Essentially, what Paul reminds all of us is that it is indeed right for us to long for God’s consolation. But when consolation is granted to us, there is reciprocity, a partnership that we embrace. We in turn should console and comfort others and thank God for his presence in our lives.
As we pray for our loved ones this evening, we do so in the context of the celebration of the Holy Eucharist. We’ve listened to God’s consoling words in the sacred scriptures. In a few moments, we will have the opportunity to receive the Lord’s body and blood in the sacrament of Holy Communion and allow His peace to rush into our hearts. But we are also sustained by the loving presence of God’s people who have taken seriously Saint Paul’s reminder to us in the scriptures: “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, … who encourages us in our every affliction, so that we may be able to encourage those who are in any affliction.” … We receive God’s consolation from so many who have also come to know it in their lives.
In the midst of our gathering this evening, are numerous individuals who serve in parish bereavement ministries. These ministries, in a quiet way, reach out to us when we’re confronted with grief and loss. Some help in the planning of funeral liturgies. Some are present at funeral homes and funeral Masses. Some prepare food for bereaved families. Some make a phone call or a visit, weeks after a loss, when the rest of the world re-engages life while a grieving family just can’t seem to move forward. Some send a card and offer a prayer. Some simply listen.
Yet for as varied as their efforts may be, I’ve discovered that one thing is so common among the members of such ministries. Most every bereavement minister has experienced significant loss in their own lives. They are ordinary people from all walks of life who have received the consolation of the Lord in their journey of life. Now they choose to share that consolation with others – they allow themselves to be an instrument of the Lord. … In so doing, the life and peace of God gives another burdened soul hope. They understand the words of Saint Paul: those who have received the Lord’s consolation, in turn, encourage those who are afflicted.
We all bring a sadness and a pain to this moment. After all, grief is the price that we pay for love, isn’t it? And yet, in the midst of pain, we have reason for hope. The words of the old German proverb underscore that hope: “Those who live in the Lord never see each other for the last time.”
My brothers and sisters, we have hope through the supportive presence of countless numbers of individuals whom God has given to us for our consolation, encouragement and comfort. … We have hope through the blessing of our faith which, even when questioned at times in the midst of our struggles, provides us with the pathway to God’s loving presence. … And we have hope because of Jesus and the power of his suffering, death and resurrection, through which we keep alive all those relationships with loved ones who have passed from this world to the next.
