I don’t always write dripping with
sarcasm. However, there are times when
this side of me (unfortunately) comes out.
Lest anyone think that I have
finally lost it, I want to assure you that I am no more insane than usual. Nor am I suicidal. Nor have I been given a vision of my own time
of death. However, I have been present
at far too many priest funerals (and many others) where I was simply disturbed,
and occasionally, disgusted by the general content. So many of the deceased people were
automatically canonized that I just
couldn’t wait to add them to my copy of Butler’s Lives of the Saints. The
level of faith commitment of their lives must surely rank up there with those found
in the Christian (Roman) martyrology. The
ridiculous stories about, frankly insignificant
incidents in their lives (how good Father
was at playing poker!) seemed to miss the entire point of why there was a Mass of Christian Burial being offered
in the first place.
Let me preface everything by
emphasizing that the funeral Mass is more importantly about what Christ has done for us than what any of
us have done ourselves. We cannot forgive our own sins. We cannot
resurrect our bodies from the dead. The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass is being
offered in reparation for any and all sins committed. What occurred on Calvary and at the Last
Supper is once again re-presented for us.
When I hear the term Life
Celebration describe a funeral, my stomach starts churning and I know that
I had best start searching for the nearest bathroom.
I must add this as well: too often the music at a funeral (and, sadly,
at most parish Masses) can be horrendous and belongs back in the 60’s or 70’s
with Bob Dylan. (Have you heard his
voice as of late? It has been lost completely
and is somewhere out there blowing in the
wind. But I digress.) We cling to songs (I can’t bring myself to
call them hymns) from Jesuits who
might just have left the priesthood or well-intentioned protestants who write
something trying to resemble a not-so-catchy off-Broadway show tune. Barf! There goes my stomach again. Then there are the divas (occasionally a divo)
who make their leader of song task
into a performance of ultimate off-off- (add
as many offs as you would like) Broadway quality. Take my advice please: make yourself less-significant so as not to become a distraction. The Mass is not your stage. Lead the congregation and don't become the
main attraction.
Then there is the eulogy. Add a eulogy or two before or during the
Mass, as is often the case at many parish funerals, and I begin praying my
rosary so that my head does not literally explode. The ridiculous things often
stated have nothing to do with eternal salvation. “Grandma made the best cookies,” “Uncle Joe
could drink everyone under the table,” “Aunt Jean sometimes cursed like a
sailor”. . . . Really? Is this truly relevant to one’s eternal salvation? I just
can’t take it anymore!
Now that I have gotten all of
that out of my system, the following is what I would like said someday when I
die:
Death comes to us all. We do not necessarily like to talk about it
or to face it until we are forced to
deal with it. But it indeed comes to us
all (except for, possibly, the Blessed Virgin Mary.)
The important question is: was I ultimately prepared for this day? I knew it was coming eventually. When it finally
arrived, was I in the state of grace? Was I prepared to meet Almighty God and be
judged?
Eternity means forever. This is not something to ignore or to joke
about foolishly. Jesus warned His disciples to be
prepared “for you know neither the day nor the hour. (Mt. 25: 13)” How many parables had this or a similar message: the Wise
and Foolish Virgins (Mt. 25:
1-13);
the Foolish
Servant who buried his coin in the ground (Lk. 19: 11-28); the Rich Fool trying to build bigger barns to store his grain (Lk. 12: 16-21);
the Rich Man and Lazarus the
beggar (Lk. 16: 19-31). I could go on. Read and reflect on these parables. They put things in proper perspective.
I aspired to be a saint someday.
From the time of my ordination I wanted to be a good, holy priest. I hoped that the epithet on my tombstone
would perhaps be: He was Christ-like. There
could be no greater honor than for this to
be true for me or anyone.
At the same time, there was a continual
battle in my life with temptation and the sinful world in which we live. What was it that they say? We need to fight repeatedly against the world, the flesh and the devil. Being truly holy and conforming my life to
Christ completely seemed, at times,
an insurmountable task. My grace is sufficient for you . . . (2 Cor. 12:
9). Thank
God for the Sacrament of Penance and Reconciliation. Good old confession. I was on my knees more and more frequently
through the years. “Forgive me Father for I have sinned . . ..” The words of absolution were a tremendous
comfort to me. I highly recommend using it often, not just occasionally.
Please don’t assume that I am in heaven—instantly or otherwise. No “sancto
subito” for me. I often joked about just
being satisfied sneaking in through the back basement-window of purgatory. Yes, I believe in purgatory and I will be happy to do whatever it takes and to spend
as much time as necessary there as long as I will eventually have the undeserved
privilege of dwelling eternally with God.
Please pray for me. Please have
Masses offered for me. If I make it someday,
I will remember you. I promise. I will have an eternity to complete this
task. And God will remind me of the
promises I made.
This homily (as all funeral homilies) needs
to emphasize primarily the saving action of Christ. Without Him we are nothing. He forgives our sins. He gives us the hope of eternal life through
His salvific death and Resurrection. His
death and Resurrection provide us with a Christian hope that one day we may
follow a similar path as Him.
He is the one who also called me to be
His priest, His disciple. For the times
that I failed to live up to this task, I am heartily sorry. For any time when I did not lead people to
Christ, I am heartily sorry. For
whatever I failed to do as a priest—my sins of omission—I am heartily sorry. Mea
maxima culpa.
I am tremendously grateful for the
privilege of offering holy Mass for my limited time on earth as a priest. What an opportunity to speak the words of
Christ: This is My Body; This is My
Blood. If ever I did this
unworthily, I am heartily sorry as well.
Please be present faithfully at Mass each week. Someday, you will regret the times that you were
not there. Always remember to receive
Holy Communion while in the state of
grace (not conscious of any grave or mortal sin) and not automatically or
robotically. Again, please have Masses
offered for my eternal salvation.
Someday, it is my hope that there will
be a great reunion in Heaven with those I loved and who loved me. I cry
tears of joy just thinking about it!
May God’s Forgiveness and Mercy cleanse me/us
of our sinfulness and temper His Justice.
Lord Jesus, crucified, have mercy
on me a sinner.
Immaculate Mary, my spiritual Mother, please take me to Jesus, your Son.
Amen.
