Writing a Funeral Homily (My Own!)

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.