(Thirteenth Sunday of the Year (B): This homily was given on July 1,
2018 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani. Read Wisdom 1: 13-15; 2: 23-24; Psalm 30; 2 Corinthians
8: 7-15; Mark 5: 21-43.)
[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Thirteenth Sunday 2018]
Death is a mystery. Now
the good news is it’s a mystery that every single one of us will someday solve;
the bad news is we won’t be around to tell anybody about it!
Actually when I use the word “mystery” here I’m using it in
its theological sense. Theologically speaking, a mystery is a truth that
we can know something about (whatever God has revealed to us), but which we
cannot understand completely with our finite human minds.
And that’s the way it is with death. There are certain things, thankfully, that
God has made clear to us about the end of our lives on this earth. He’s done that through his written word and
through his Church.
But there’s a lot about death and its aftermath that we
don’t know—a lot that remains hidden from our mortal eyes. As I indicated a few moments ago, there’s
only one way to find out that information—and I presume most of us are not too
anxious to have that “enlightening experience” anytime in the near future!
So today I’ll focus on what we do know. My homily will be about some of those aspects
of the mystery of death that we do
understand—some of the aspects that God has revealed to us already. I’ll also deal with some erroneous ideas
about death that I’ve encountered in certain Catholics and others during my 32
years of priestly ministry.
The first point to be made in this regard is that, although
some people blame God for the existence of death, he’s not the source of it. He’s made that clear to us. As today’s first reading from the Book of
Wisdom puts it, “God did not make death, nor does he rejoice in the destruction
of the living. For he fashioned all
things that they might have being. … God formed man to be imperishable.”
Death became part of the human experience only after Adam
and Eve made the free choice to sin, in response to a temptation by the
devil. God didn’t do it; it’s not his
fault! As the writer of Wisdom puts it, “But
by the envy of the devil, death entered the world.”
So if we’re going to blame anybody,
we ought to blame Satan.
God is “the Lord and giver of life”, not the dealer of
death! It’s precisely because he’s the
Lord and giver of life that he sent his Son to die on that cross 2,000 years
ago. Jesus said, “I have come that they
might have life, and have it more
abundantly.”
Jesus also said, “For God so loved the world that he gave
his only Son, that whoever believes in him may not die but may have eternal
life.”
When Jesus refers to dying in
that last verse, of course, he doesn’t mean physical death; he means “spiritual
death,” “the death of the soul,”—what the Bible sometimes calls “the second
death.” Physical death is unavoidable. (It’s one of the residual effects of original
sin.) The second death, on the other
hand, IS avoidable by the “sanctifying grace” that has its source in the cross
and resurrection of Jesus: the grace that comes to us for the first time in the
sacrament of Baptism, and is preserved in us by a life of faith and charity.
If, perchance, we ever lose this
grace by committing a mortal sin somewhere along the way, the good news is that
it can be restored. The ordinary way for
sanctifying grace to be restored is in and through the sacrament of
Reconciliation.
The condition of our soul at the
time of death determines what happens to us afterward. In death, our soul is separated from our body
(that’s what death is: the separation of body and soul). Our soul is then judged by God, and according
to how it’s judged it goes to one of three places: heaven, hell or
purgatory. Those who go to purgatory are
assured of their salvation. They’re on
their way to heaven—and they know it. But
they also know they’re not quite ready for heaven, since the Bible says that
nothing impure can enter the kingdom of God.
You can’t even have one little sinful attitude in your soul and get
through the pearly gates. (Rev. 21:27). Besides
that, you also need to attain a certain level of holiness to enter. That’s why the Letter to the Hebrews tell us
to “strive
for that holiness without which no one can see the Lord.” (Hebrews 12:14)
Some non-Catholics don’t believe
in purgatory because they mistakenly think that the Catholic Church teaches
that purgatory is a “second chance”—but that’s wrong. Those who die without sanctifying grace in
their souls go to hell. There are no
second chances for them. Souls in
purgatory are in the state of grace, but need to be “cleaned up a bit” before
they can enter the eternal wedding banquet.
Of course, the real tragedy is
when Catholics reject the teaching on purgatory. And some do.
I hope those Catholics never have Masses offered for their deceased
relatives and friends; because, if they do, they’ll be contradicting
themselves! The only reason to have a
Mass offered for a deceased person (the only reason to pray for the dead at all)
is if purgatory exists! If purgatory
does not exist, then there’s only heaven and hell. But souls in heaven don’t need our prayers to
get into the kingdom, since they’ve already arrived; and souls in hell can’t be
helped by our prayers, since hell is eternal.
Once you’re in, there’s no way to get out.
When we have Masses said for the
deceased (or pray other prayers for them) we are doing something that presumes
the existence of purgatory. I pray for
my deceased relatives and friends every day.
Since none of them is a canonized saint, I presume they all need some
purification on their way to the kingdom.
But, Fr. Ray, what if
they’ve already been fully purified and are now in heaven?
Well, then the grace will go to
help other souls who need it. No prayer
for the dead is ever a wasted prayer.
What I’ve said so far concerns
our souls. But what about our
bodies? Every human person, after all,
has both a soul and a body. This,
incidentally, is why when someone dies it’s wrong to say that they’re now “an
angel in heaven”—unless we’re speaking metaphorically. That’s because angels are pure spirits. They have no bodies (although when they’ve
appeared to people over the centuries God has sometimes allowed them to assume
a human form).
Now since we do have bodies as
human beings, we are, in a very real sense, incomplete without them.
Which is our initial situation
after death. As I said earlier, when we
die our bodies and our souls are separated from one another. Under normal circumstances, our bodies then
decay and decompose. But, happily, that’s
not the end of the story. As Catholics
we believe that our bodies will be raised up in an immortal, glorified state at
the Final Judgment at the end of the world.
At that time our souls will be reunited with our bodies—our risen
bodies—and everyone will end up (body and soul) in either heaven or hell.
Purgatory will cease to exist
when everyone who needs to pass through it has done so.
This is why we show respect for
the body of a person even after that person has died. Their lifeless physical body is still important,
because it’s a foreshadowing of the risen body they will have for all eternity. Therefore, it should be interred in some
fashion (e.g., in a grave or in a mausoleum)—even after cremation. It does not show proper respect for Uncle
Joe’s cremated body to scatter his ashes to the four winds at Westerly Town
Beach because that’s where he liked to hang out every summer! Nor does it show proper respect for mom’s
body to keep her ashes on the mantel above the fireplace in your living room!
Hopefully we’re all clear about
that.
I was trying to find a way to
conclude this homily on the mystery of death, and lo and behold I came across a
little story that a parishioner emailed to me 15 years ago. Let me read it to you now. It will end things on a positive note.
A sick man turned to his doctor, as he was preparing to leave the examination room and said, “Doctor, I’m afraid to die. Tell me what lies on the other side.”
Very quietly the doctor said, “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? You, a Christian man, don’t know what’s on the other side?"
The doctor was holding the handle of the door—on the other side of which came a sound of scratching and whining. As he opened the door, a dog sprang into the room and leaped on him with an eager show of gladness. (Sounds like Fr. Najim’s dog!) Turning to the patient, the doctor said, “Did you notice my dog? He’s never been in this room before. He didn’t know what was inside. He knew nothing except that his master was here, and when the door opened he sprang in without fear. I know little of what is on the other side of death, but I do know one thing …
I know that my Master is there, and that is enough.”
May it also be enough for us.
