Another Dance with Death

Greetings, God and All...

About ten days ahead of Easter, I got a phone call from one of the music coordinators whom I work with; asking my availability for an upcoming funeral service. She started her conversation with "It's funeral season..."

I almost cringed when I heard that. Ultimately, she was correct; since March 20 I have participated in six services for the departed. One of the parishes scheduled two on the same day; Catholic Church law prohibits the holding of funeral Masses over the Easter weekend, from Thursday through Sunday.

It's the most recent one that has me reaching for the keyboard, in spite of the fact that because of my declining visual acuity and tingling extremities (a consequence of type 2 diabetes with which I was diagnosed in 2022) I don't write reflections as much as I used to.

Just after Easter, a member of my extended family ended a battle with cancer at age 63. I received a call from a surviving brother that morning. I immediately offered my condolences and intentions to pray for all concerned; and placed myself at his disposal. If there was anything I could do, please let me know.

Initially it was intended to hold a full funeral Mass, but because of the Church's restrictions over Easter (see above) the venue would not be available in a suitable time frame. Because of this, and because I had the privilege of putting to rest others of my extended family over the years, I was called upon again to officiate at the visitation service at the funeral home and the final commendation at the cemetery. Leading the service meant I would give a brief homily based on one of the Gospel passages commonly associated with resurrection themes.

This wasn't going to be a large turnout. (Most funerals aren't largely attended, especially these days.) It would be an intimate gathering of family and co-workers who know the importance of paying their respects and offering consolation and prayers.

Over the years I have undergone a sort of spiritual evolution. God has provided me the means, the time, and the inspiration to go where He sends me. All that is another story for another time. It's important to mention it only because one has to reflect on what should be said and done in an effort to allow God's consolation to be sensed. Because of the number of services I'd sung in recently, I sensed I wanted to do something different. I knew my audience; I already had ideas swimming in my mind; I just needed God's help in making it flow smoothly. I decided to let the Holy Spirit direct me, rather than write it all out. In the past I would write them out only to have a stray but relevant thought cross my mind during delivery, and then ramble a bit to get back to my written text. But I also floated some ideas across a few 'outsiders' to make sure I wasn't taking a wild step off a cliff which might upset people who neither needed nor deserved it. Now, three days later, I am trying to commit what I said to writing, because it flowed so well at the time.

So, after a few short prayers, and giving the assembled mourners a chance to share a story of an event or relationship they had with the departed, I launched into a passage from chapter six of the Gospel of St. John, the part that reads "and I will raise them up on the last day" (probably because that morning I had been singing the well-known hymn "I Am the Bread of Life").

And I went on...something like this.

What is heaven like?

It's a question I don't know I can truly answer, but one I know we have contemplated at one time or another, or are contemplating now.

No doubt you've seen artists' renditions of heaven, with scores of angels too many to count gathered around magnificent thrones on which are seated God the Father and His Son, the Lord Jesus Christ; inspired by some verses in the book of the  Revelation to John (the last book in the Bible).

Then we have what Jesus says about His Father's house in John's Gospel, chapter 14 (a favorite citation at funeral Masses), where He says, "In my Father's house there are many dwelling places (mansions)." I think the best example of that is given to us by Matt Groening, the creator of The Simpsons, who gives us separate spaces in the hereafter for the Catholics, the Protestants, our Jewish brothers and sisters, and ultimately the 'nones' who are completely oblivious to the whole thing.

When my wife and mother left this world ten years ago, my association with heaven was that of an eternal banquet. the biggest buffet in the cosmos. That concept has just recently been challenged by a lay Catholic evangelist who reminds me that it's not about the food.

And there's the concept that God in His heaven is this infinite source of energy, none of it bad; and when we get to heaven we become one with that energy for eternity.

But these are all human interpretations.

St. John also writes in one of his letters that God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God; and God abides in them. This should indicate that there's an inexhaustible presence of intimacy, one that is expressed to us in earthly life as sacrificial and superabundant in mercy. So much so that there is no place for hatred, anger, disease, political intrigue, counter agenda of any kind. In short, a better place than the here and now. And God puts in our hearts a longing to be in that better place. When someone close to us passes into eternal life, he/she crosses the bridge built by the sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the cross at Calvary, under the escort of his/her guardian angel. God is present in this room right now, through the presence of the guardian angel each one of us has been given.

What we do know then, in our limited sense, is God loves us in a deeply intimate way, and longs for us to be one with Him where He dwells and is found. When we pray for our departed loved ones, we are performing what the Church calls an act of mercy. We long for them to be at peace, forever and ever. And we're curious to know how it turns out, aren't we? We long to see it play out, and to be in that better place. Let's make the most of every opportunity to make our own lives mirror, to the best of our ability, that better place. Let us be thankful for the gift of family and friends in our lives.Together, through past, present, and future, let us continue our journey to that better place.