Homily
for November 11, 2007
Liturgical Year C - Cycle I
32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time
By Fr. John Carney Topic:
Preparing for Death
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Today is the 32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time.
Isn’t that exciting? Next week is the 33rd Sunday in Ordinary
Time. You catch on quick. Then the following week is the
feast of
Christ the King and that’s the end of this liturgical year. The
church year begins on the first Sunday of
Advent which is just three weeks away.
Of course, there are four weeks in Advent and then Christmas.
It’s been so warm we forget how close
Christmas is. As we approach the end of
the year, the Church discusses the end of our lives or at least our
earthly
lives. It fits the season as well. The days grow shorter.
The sun comes up a minute later each day this
time of year and it sets a minute earlier.
Tonight, I believe it sets at 5:00 PM.
A month from now, I guess it sets about 4:30 PM. The days are short.
Darkness seems to be winning out over light and the beautiful trees
are,
many of them, are beginning to appear to be dead. I really love
the cottonwood trees, our
namesake in Los Alamos. They are
magnificent trees, huge and they grow quickly.
When they turn color, this time of year, they are a treat for the
eyes. In a month from now, or so,
they’ll appear to be dead. Several
times, I’ve had guests visit me in New Mexico and they look at the
cottonwood
trees and say, “Why don’t you knock down all those dead trees?” I
tell them.
“They’re not dead, they’re alive.”
They say, “Oh stop.” I mean
nothing looks deader than a cottonwood tree in winter. Isn’t that
the truth? The appearance then is of death and of
dying. For this reason, the Church focuses on the
reality of death and asks us to all think about that. It is not
only a time to pray for those we
love who have died. Really, the purpose
of these few weeks is for us to consider our own death, which of course
is
inevitable, which of course will come.
We should do that for a number of reasons, to prepare for it. It
is the most important moment of our lives
that moment of death. How we are found
at that moment determines where we will spend eternity. It is the
most important moment of our
lives. It’s the great graduation. Not to prepare for it,
not to recognize it,
not to believe it will happen, is to live the life of a fool.
People, who are most afraid to die, live
poorly. People, who are not so afraid to
die, live fully. We want to live fully,
all of us, in the days that we have left. The rector of the seminary when I was
in seminary was
Monsignor Terry Fitzgerald. He was
called to visit an elderly aunt who was dying.
He came back from the funeral and he told us about his aunt. She
was well into her 80’s and had been sick
her whole life, I mean seriously ill.
She had cancer four or five times.
She had heart disease, kidney problems and many, many times she was at
death’s door. Terry visited her when he
was a teenager, and when he was in his twenties or thirties or forties
and she
would always say, “I wish God would take me.
I’ve had enough of this suffering.
I’m ready to see God. I wish God
would take me.” So finally, she was
really dying and Terry went to see her.
He said, “Auntie, you’re finally going to get your wish.” She
said, “Not yet, not yet.” There’s always that doubt. You know as a priest, I hear many
stories about people
approaching death and they’re fascinating.
Now, when I was in seminary, I was probably told that these are some
pathological experiences; that they are not real but I don’t believe
that. I think they are real. My mother was, like most of
us, afraid to
die, but several months before she died, I was bringing her coffee at
6:00 on
Sunday morning. She spent the weekends
with me in the rectory. I’d pick her up
Friday and then by Monday, she was sitting on the couch with her coat
on, her
purse close at hand and she would say, “Take me home. I’ve had
enough of you.” So, this one Sunday morning I was bringing
her, her coffee and she had this tremendous look on her face. I said,
“How are
you doing Mom?” She said, “I just saw my
mother.” I said, “What? No. You mean in
a dream.” She said, “No, it wasn’t a
dream. I saw my mother and she was young
and beautiful and she was calling me, but there was a screen or window
between
us. I really saw her.” My mother being Irish would add a
little to
every story but she didn’t add to that story.
I believe she saw her mother. I
know she did. She wasn’t in any kind of
dementia. Death is real, it is coming for all of
us, and that is a
good thing. It’s a good thing because we
can then prepare. There’s a Polish
expression that says, “When death is on the tongue, repentance is not
difficult.” Yet, we have to fight this world in
which we live because
it denies death. It doesn’t want us to
think about these things. The world
wants us to think we’re going to live forever, here in this body, in
this
place, and in our homes. We’re not, but
society wants us to believe that, it seems.
Yesterday, I read this by an author
named Ted
Slater. I’m not familiar with his work
but as I was “Googling” my way around the Internet, I came across this,
“Modern, advanced democracies have the lowest birthrates in human
history.” That’s very true, in the U.S.,
even more so, as you probably know, in Europe, especially in Italy.
“Modern, advanced democracies have the lowest
birthrates in human history; they are not producing enough children to
replace
themselves. And it may be that our
anti-natalism, (Anti-children having), has much to do with our
understanding
(or misunderstanding) of our mortal condition.
We readily ignore death, making procreation seem less urgent to men and
women who think there will always be more time; and we desperately
evade death
making procreation seem less important than sustaining the healthy self
into
the indefinite future. A death-denying
civilization is also, it seems, a child-denying civilization.”
But that’s for another sermon. Death. You can’t
bargain with death; your wealth, your power, your prestige, your
position, mean
nothing. I read recently, “Like the milk
container in your refrigerator, you have an expiration date.”
There’s a certain equity or democracy in
death. The Czech’s say, “Death alone
measures equally.” The Russians say,
“Death carries a fat Tsar on his shoulders as easily as a lean beggar.”
An Estonian proverb says, “When death comes,
the rich man has no money and the poor man has no debt.” Let me just quote a few of the Fathers
of our
Church. This time of year, in the
Liturgy of the Hours, many of the readings talk about this reality of
death, to
prepare us. St. Ambrose wrote, “Death is
a Passover to be made by all mankind.
You must keep facing it with perseverance. It is a Passover from
corruption, from
mortality, to immortality, from rough seas to a calm harbor. The
word death must not trouble us; the
blessings that come from a safe journey should bring us joy.” I can imagine some souls being brought
before the Lord
struggling not to be there, as ridiculous as it seems. St Gregory
Nazianzen, encouraging us to go
willingly said, “Receive us Lord.
Prepared indeed by fear of you but not troubled, not shrinking back on
that day of death or uprooted by force like those who are lovers of the
world
and of the flesh. Instead, may we set
out eagerly for that everlasting and blessed life which is in Christ
Jesus our
Lord. To Him be glory for ever and
ever.” St. Anselm, when he was contemplating
the death of a
beloved brother, wrote, “Christ’s death is life for all. We are
sealed with the sign of his
death. When we pray, we preach his
death. When we sacrifice, we proclaim
his death. His death is victory. His death is the sacred
sign. We see that death is gain, life is loss. Let us then
die with Christ. We should have a daily familiarity with
death; a daily desire for death. By this
kind of detachment, our soul must learn to free itself from the desires
of the
body. Death, then, is no cause for
mourning for it is the cause of mankind’s salvation. Death is not
something to be avoided for the
Son of God did not think it beneath his dignity nor did he seek to
escape it.” Yes, the church tells us to look
forward to our
death. “He that fears death lives not.” I read this in yesterday’s New York
Times. It was an article by an Italian writer named
Antonio Monda, actually, he wrote a book called, Do You Believe? By the
way,
Monda is Catholic. In this book, he
interviewed 24 very successful, popular, famous people. He refers
to them as eminences. He talks about interviewing one woman who
asked him a question. She was an atheist
and she has since died. Nevertheless,
she asked him, “What is there for you after death?” Monda
answered, “True life.” “And what”, she said, “is the life that
we’re
living at this moment?” He answered, “It
is a passage and a gift.” A passage, may
your journey be a good one. And it’s a gift,
may we all treasure it and use it well and realize how sacred life is. Finally, these words by John Donne:
Death, be not
proud, though some have called thee Mighty and
dreadful, for thou art not so; From rest and
sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure;
then from thee much more must flow, One short sleep
past, we wake eternally, And death shall be
no more; Death, thou shalt die.