19 January A.D. 2013
Readings on the
Day of Burial
Funeral Mass
Lorrie died on All Saints day last
year. Due to my recent illness, this was the first time we could get
together to offer Holy Mass for her. Lorrie was a remarkable lady, a
traditional Catholic, and a tri-athlete. A significant part of our library
was her gift to us while still alive, and two or three pieces of her artwork
grace the walls of this church. But Catholics do not eulogize their dead,
so this will not be about Lorrie, but rather about her attitude towards
death—something that will be valuable for all of us.
Lorrie already knew that she was
seriously ill when she found a brief piece written by the Jesuit Father
Daniel A. Lord, entitled “Cancer is my friend.”
Father Lord died of lung cancer in 1955, and before his death wrote a short
essay on the good fortune of not dying an un-provided death. He wrote that
before being diagnosed with cancer, he had always assumed that he “would die
some day of an unexpected heart attack or stroke, and [he] dreaded that
rather Sacrament-less death; cancer seemed kindly....” What Father Lord was
saying, and what Lorrie adopted, was the philosophy that a terminal illness
gave one the reason to set one’s affairs in order and to be spiritually—Sacramentally—prepared
for death. One might die in bed, or along the side of a road, without the
benefits of the Sacraments our Lord wants us to receive at the end of
life—Confession, Holy Communion, and Extreme Unction. To put it another
way, a terminal illness tends to enforce the discipline necessary to die in
the State of Grace. Lorrie and Father Lord seem both to have exercised this
discipline.
But, perhaps we should ask ourselves
if there is really any good reason why we should plan to do things any
differently. We are all mortal. “Seventy is the number of our years, or
eighty if we are strong,” says the Psalmist—a few live into their hundreds
of years—nobody make it to two hundred. We know with absolute certainty
that everyone here will one day stand before the throne of God, who will
weigh the good and the bad we have done in this life. So why not be
prepared for that judgment? Is anyone here so sure that they will live so
much as another day? As one who recently woke up in a hospital intensive
care unit, I can tell you that the night before I had expected at least a
few more years, but when I woke up it was clear that I was lucky to be alive
at all. Not everyone gets that second chance. So the plan is to not need a
second chance, but to live every day with the knowledge that today might be
the day. If that seems difficult, consider the fact that
Lorrie did precisely that.
There are a few things that I always
think are appropriate to mention whenever people gather like this to mourn
their dead:
We pray for the dead, that we might
receive something for ourselves; that by reflecting on the realities of
life and death, of heaven and hell, we might be more motivated to keep His
Commandments and receive His Sacraments in order to ensure our own
eternal salvation. These are things not just to talk about, for they are
realities; we might even say the only realities, for nothing else matters
if we lose our souls.
“It is therefore a holy and a
wholesome thought to pray for the dead, that they may be loosed from their
sins.”[2]
While sins and the punishment due to sin may be forgiven during this life,
our Lord speaks of sins forgiven “in the world to come.”[3]
We pray for the dead that God will
swiftly cleanse them of those small sins and imperfections that might keep
them temporarily from enjoying the glory of heaven. That, by His mercy, He
might quickly forgive the punishment that is due to their sins in Justice.
Finally, we pray for the dead, so
that they will pray for us. The souls in Purgatory need our prayers, for
which they are eternally grateful. Remember that they are God's saints,
soon to share the glory of heaven with Him; powerful intercessors on our
behalf. Let us not forget those who have gone before us, lest they forget
to pray for us.
