{"id":28040,"date":"2014-11-03T15:43:09","date_gmt":"2014-11-03T21:43:09","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/praytellblog.com\/?p=28040"},"modified":"2014-11-03T15:43:09","modified_gmt":"2014-11-03T21:43:09","slug":"remembering-the-dead-in-november-a-homily-for-all-souls-day","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/praytellblog.com\/index.php\/2014\/11\/03\/remembering-the-dead-in-november-a-homily-for-all-souls-day\/","title":{"rendered":"Remembering the Dead in November: A Homily for All Souls Day"},"content":{"rendered":"

by Fr. Edward Foley, OFM Cap<\/em>
\nAnnual Memorial Mass, Old St. Patrick\u2019s, Chicago<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

When I was preparing for full time ministry,<\/p>\n

a long time ago, in a galaxy far away,
\nI envisioned my work \u2026 my service \u2026 my ministry<\/p>\n

would occur among the young and the vital,
\nthe healthy and the strong,
\nmaybe even the affirming and the beautiful.<\/p>\n

And for the first eight years,<\/p>\n

that vision was largely realized
\nas full- and then part-time in campus ministry,
\nmost working with privileged college students<\/p>\n

first at the College of St. Catherine in St. Paul, Minnesota,
\nand then at that small Catholic college to the east of us<\/p>\n

with a gold dome and a pretty good football team.<\/p>\n

There was little room for death or grieving in that world.<\/p>\n

My grandparents were long gone,
\nand my parents had longevity before them.
\nIt was the late 70\u2019s \u2026<\/p>\n

The grim reports of our dead soldiers from Vietnam
\nhad evaporated from the headlines.<\/p>\n

I did lose a 27 year old cousin \u2026 Michael \u2026<\/p>\n

a year older than I<\/p>\n

But his death in 1976 was an anomaly,<\/p>\n

and I would not lose another close relative
\nuntil almost 25 years later.<\/p>\n

Over the past 15 years or so, however,<\/p>\n

death has been a more frequent,
\nvery unwelcomed visitor to my life.<\/p>\n

Both of my parents,
\nall of their siblings and spouses
\nand the parents of virtually all of my friends,
\nwhat Tom Brokaw once called \u201cThe Greatest Generation,\u201d
\nnow gone from our family, theirs, and maybe yours.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve also lost classmates and colleagues,<\/p>\n

cherished friends, invincible Baby Boomers,
\nwho I like to think died before their time.<\/p>\n

And maybe the most distressing<\/p>\n

have been the deaths of the young
\nin my families \u2026 and in some of yours
\ntaken during or even before their prime,<\/p>\n

eternally young \u2026 that seem to leave us
\neternally grieving.<\/p>\n

I offer this little autobiographical excursion<\/p>\n

as a way to admit that this feast,<\/p>\n

or better, this side of the dual feast
\ncelebrated yesterday and today
\nof All Saints and All Souls,
\nof the exaltation of resurrection and desolation of death,<\/p>\n

has become more personal \u2026 and thus more challenging.<\/p>\n

That also makes it a touch more dangerous,<\/strong>
\nbecause since I am the one with the microphone
\nit could devolve into another opportunity
\nfor the preacher to eulogize his beloved dead.<\/p>\n

In order to avoid that pitfall,<\/p>\n

it seems more useful to excavate not just the theologies,
\nbut the emotions behind today\u2019s feast,<\/p>\n

behind the biblical texts we have just heard.<\/p>\n

And I would contend that one consistent affect<\/p>\n

embedded in those designated readings of comfort
\nfrom wisdom, and St. Paul and the Gospel of John,
\nis that of grief.<\/p>\n

Years ago I had the privilege of teaching with<\/p>\n

and then writing with Herbert Anderson,<\/strong>
\na Lutheran pastor and pastoral theologian<\/p>\n

well known for his five volumes on marriage.<\/p>\n

Earlier in his career he wrote All our Losses, All our Griefs,<\/em><\/p>\n

which 30 years later is now a classic in the field.<\/p>\n

He wrote the book with another gifted theologian,<\/p>\n

Ken Mitchell.<\/p>\n

As fate would have it, however,
\nKen died in the writing process.
\nSo the book was both a tribute to Ken
\nand a kind of lament for a lost friend.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Anderson believes that the work of grieving<\/p>\n

happens between remembering and hoping,
\nbetween constructing a treasured memory
\nand anticipating a new future.<\/p>\n

Grieving, from those perspectives,<\/p>\n

can be understood as both a very human act
\nand an exercise of faith.<\/p>\n

From the viewpoint of human development,
\ngrieving is an attempt to fill in a gap,<\/p>\n

to reconstruct an individual or family life
\nin the felt absence of a loved one.<\/p>\n

How that occurs is different for each of us,<\/p>\n

for the gap is unique,<\/strong>
\nthe loss distinctive,
\nthe feelings particular.<\/p>\n

At a Capuchin gathering after my mother died,<\/p>\n

I was surprised how many of my brothers said:
\n\u201cI know exactly how you feel.\u201d
\nI wanted to punch them in the nose \u2026
\nand say, \u201cNo you don\u2019t.\u201d
\nI did neither,
\nBut it confirmed in me the conviction
\nthat all grief is unique \u2026 as unique as the beloved that we grieve.<\/p>\n

Some of us discover in our grieving<\/p>\n

and attempts to build a cherished memory out of that grieving
\nthat there is anger in the loss,<\/p>\n

or other \u201cnegative emotions\u201d<\/p>\n

that might appear unseemly in the face of death.<\/p>\n

If you\u2019ve ever seen the movie Steel Magnolias,
\nyou know the scene when Sally Field as the grieving mother
\nRages against the premature loss of her daughter.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve witness the lost of the precious young
\nand the tidal waves of sadness and anger,<\/p>\n

rage and remorse,<\/strong>
\nthat submerge us in such events.<\/p>\n

A number of years ago I heard a story from a brother priest<\/p>\n

of a woman who asked about going to confession \u2026
\neven though she didn\u2019t believe in God anymore.
\nwhen the priest asked her why,
\nshe said that her only son at 17 had committed suicide.<\/p>\n

How can one believe in God who would allow that to happen?<\/p>\n

My wise friend sat a long time in silence with her
\nbefore suggesting that God may have some empathy for her<\/p>\n

because God lost an only son too \u2026<\/p>\n

Anderson notes that even if we believe death is part of God\u2019s plan,<\/p>\n

we will rage at death and maybe even rage at God,<\/strong><\/p>\n

as though an unwelcome thief has robbed us of people we love.<\/p>\n

Isn\u2019t that what Jesus did,<\/p>\n

grieving over the loss of his friend Lazarus,
\nin his own way raging at death \u2026 as he did on the cross,
\nand maybe even having to recalibrate his Abba,
\ndemand that God\u2019s reign break through not only in justice to the outcasts,
\nbut in new life to the dead.<\/p>\n

Unfortunately, unlike the Son of God,
\nwe cannot restore the dead to life.
\nBut we can create a new kind of life<\/p>\n

requiring a bold new faith,
\na living memory that holds the beloved close in God.<\/p>\n

A few years ago<\/p>\n

I preached at the funeral of a friend, husband, father, grandfather
\nwho was winning the battle against cancer, but died suddenly from an aneurysm.
\nThe only daughter grieved publicly
\nthat the \u201cgrand twins\u201d would forget their grandfather<\/p>\n

who spent so much time caring for them
\nin their first two years of life.<\/p>\n

There is no doubt that the grandfather could be forgotten<\/p>\n

if the healing memory work is abandoned.
\nOn the other hand, when that work is done
\nsuch a memory not only brings consolation,<\/strong>
\nbut even joy.<\/strong><\/p>\n

And while that might sound a little mad \u2026 crazy\u2026<\/p>\n

that is exactly what the gospels are and do.
\nWe call them good news \u2013 a source of hope and joy.<\/p>\n

But in some ways we can also consider the gospels<\/p>\n

as serious and seriously inspired memory building,
\ngrief work by a community who had lost their beloved,<\/p>\n

who had lost their Lord.<\/p>\n

So Matthew, Mark, Luke and John,
\ntheir communities, each in their own way,
\ncreated an enduring and living memory of Jesus
\nthat recalled his gifts and some of his rants,
\nwoven into a life-giving memory
\nand enduring legacy of hope.<\/p>\n

The work of the evangelists,<\/p>\n

like Paul writing to the church at Rome,
\nreminds us that grieving is a shared enterprise<\/p>\n

between parents and siblings,
\ngrandchildren and children,
\nuncles and cousins and friends.<\/p>\n

It is also a shared enterprise between believers,<\/strong><\/p>\n

which is why we gathered to ritualize
\nat the death and burial of our beloved.<\/p>\n

And why we hold this feast so dear,<\/p>\n

to recall their shining faces,
\nto celebrate the light and life they were to us,
\nand to know that God has gathered them up
\ninto the eternal memory of Jesus.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s why we do reading from the cherished memory<\/p>\n

we call the New Testament,<\/p>\n

and gather around a banquet table of love,
\nfor our beloved are now where one day we will be,<\/p>\n

taken up into the story of God,
\nand supping at the banquet of the Lamb.<\/p>\n

And in this interim of grace,<\/strong><\/p>\n

between bidding them farewell
\nand meeting them again,
\nwe struggle for hope.<\/p>\n

Not a hope we can possess,
\nBut a hope discovered in the memory work of family and friends and our Christ,<\/p>\n

not so much hoping for something
\nas hoping with someone<\/p>\n

that the gifts of our beloved dead
\nmight be shared through us,<\/p>\n

their stories be told,
\ntheir inadequacies filled up,
\ntheir charities continued,
\ntheir flaws absolved,
\ntheir loves nurtured,
\ntheir unfulfilled dreams realized,
\nand their joys shared.<\/p>\n

And so in our grieving there is mission,<\/strong><\/p>\n

not only for our own healing
\nbut also for the healing of a wounded and grieving world.<\/p>\n

My father was an avid barbershopper,<\/p>\n

won a number of international titles.<\/p>\n

sang at Carnegie Hall.<\/p>\n

When his dear friend and favorite quartet member died,
\nDad stood next to the coffin, blew his pitch pipe,<\/p>\n

waited a moment,
\nand then said that he knew that Ben must be dead,
\nbecause he didn\u2019t get up to sing.<\/p>\n

Dad asked us to perform that ritual for him as well,<\/p>\n

and so before we closed the casket,
\nwe took the pitch pipe we had placed in his hand,
\nagreed on the pitch, and blew.<\/p>\n

We could not hear him sing back,
\nand knew that he was gone from us,
\nso we put the pitch pipe back in his hands,
\nand made our final adieu.<\/p>\n

But while he as did not sing back to us,<\/p>\n

we do not believe that his song was over;<\/strong>
\nrather, in faith, at least some of his children<\/p>\n

believe it was transformed into the song of God.<\/strong><\/p>\n

The poet, Mark Doty, wrote this about the death of a friend:<\/p>\n

I believe with all my heart that when the chariot came for him, green and gold and rose, a band of angels swung wide out over the great flanks of the sea, bearing him up over the path of light [that] the sun makes on the face of the waters.\u00a0 I believe my love is in the Jordan, which is deep and wide and welcoming, though it scours us oh so deeply.\u00a0 And when he gets to the other side, I know he will be dressed in robes of comfort and gladness, his forehead will be anointed with spices, and he will sing \u2013 joyfully \u2013 into the future, and back toward the darkness of this world.<\/p>\n

[\u201cSweet Chariot,\u201d Wrestling with the Angel, <\/em>ed. Brian Couldrey. New York: Riverhead Books, 1995, pp. 9-10]<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Start piano music, \u201cThe Hand of God Shall Hold You\u201d by Marty Haugen.)<\/em><\/p>\n

We believe with all our hearts that our beloved dead<\/p>\n

are now learning the song of the Lamb,<\/strong>
\nthe hymn of the resurrected Christ and
\n\u2013 united with him for eternity \u2013
\nand are singing back toward any darkness dwelling in our hearts,
\ntoward whatever darkness hovers over our world.<\/p>\n

Their voices have been joined to the 144,000,<\/p>\n

and in this mystical chorus,
\nthey are singing our future song.
\nIt is a tune we have yet to learn
\nfor we still dwell on this earth.<\/p>\n

But although we cannot learn it fully on this side of the Jordan,<\/p>\n

even here we are yet invited to rehearse
\nthe hymn of Christ in our lives,
\nwe are cajoled to tune ourselves<\/p>\n

to the aboriginal harmony of the Trinity,<\/p>\n

and in the healing memory of our beloved
\nchallenged to forge a new song of justice, love and empathy
\nin a world so desperate for true harmony
\nand the fulfillment of the gospel love.<\/p>\n

We embrace that mission as yet we pray, \u201cMay the souls of our beloved dead, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.\u201d\u00a0 Amen.<\/p>\n

(Silence, and then the song by Marty Haugen follows.)<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a9 2014, Edward Foley.\u00a0Fr. Edward Foley, Capuchin, is the Duns Scotus Professor of Spirituality and ordinary professor of liturgy and music at Catholic Theological Union in Chicago.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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