Cover Story

God’s Promise of New Life

This past year I turned fifty and received my first mailing from AARP. A couple of months after that watershed birthday my dad died on September 3, 2009. Walking the journey of these past several months has brought a notable increase in the thoughtful pauses that enter my day as my mind wanders and I try to comprehend these changes in life. Leafing through the pages of old photographs brings smiles and tears as I think of my own life story and how different that story will now be in light of Dad’s death.

The day of Dad’s funeral brought a wonderful gift. My niece, Korin, revealed that she had been talking with her son Jacob, who is in heaven, telling him that he was to see to it that there would be a rainbow in the sky on the day of Grandpa’s funeral.

It had been so dry in Ohio that summer, but on the evening of the funeral a light rain started to fall and a rainbow appeared in the sky . . . in fact, a double rainbow! We all stood out in the rain and admired the beautiful sight, holding on to God’s promise that everything was going to be okay.

When we least expect it God breaks through the darkness of death to reassure us that His covenant of love knows no end; that the life of our loved ones lives on and so must we. This thought is reaffirmed in one of the preface prayers used during the funeral liturgy: “Lord, for your faithful people life is changed not ended.” While these words serve as a source of hope the depth of their meaning remains a mystery.

Death and grief are companions from which most of us shy away until they are thrown into our lives like a hot potato that we all too quickly want to toss far away. Inspirational resources for living a purposeful life and preparing for death have become popular in the last several years in books like Tuesdays with Morrie, The Bucket List, The Last Lecture and Our Greatest Gift. Each offers some homespun wisdom for living life to the fullest and seeing all of life as a journey with meaning and purpose.

During the past several months I have wondered why there aren’t more materials available for those who carry the burden of grief, who seek to push their way through the darkness that comes from death. Maybe it has to do with the personal nature of grief and the unique relationship that one has had with the deceased.

Maybe the manner of death and the circumstances leading up to the death of our loved one shape our perspective. Maybe we recognize that this journey of grief is not a matter of completing a list of things to do, but rather learning the steps of a new dance in which our loved one is no longer physically present to join us.

Certainly, the personal experience of loss has a power that can knock us off track.

The familiar path we walked for weeks, months and years has suddenly become strange and unfamiliar. Death brings an end to the patterns of old and in time we come to realize that we can’t get back on that same path again. Life is changed. I am changed. Family dynamics have changed. My way of relating to the world has changed.

In the midst of change some things remain familiar. As humans we interact and relate to one another through the help of our senses. A favorite song, the smell of cologne, the sight of a favorite chair, can take us back to a memory of our loved one in a heartbeat.

The Book of Ecclesiastes reminds us that there is an appointed time for everything: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to weep and a time to laugh (Ecclesiastes 3: 1–2). The author goes on to say, “Sorrow is better than laughter, because when the face is sad the heart grows wiser.” This is a reminder that all of life is a school teaching us how to love. Too often we look upon the good times as the only blessings in life. Like our founder, St. Gaspar, we can learn from Jesus that our wounds can also teach us.

The grief and pain that accompany death seem to unite us with others who are hurting. Emotions well up inside of us as our heart says , “I know what you are experiencing.” The precious dignity of life that we find through our inner quest reminds us that we are all one blood. This shared identity also stirs within us a longing for a time when all pain and sorrow will be gone and we are united with God forever.

A number of years ago I was sitting with my Uncle Tom, who had lost his wife to cancer some years earlier. He said, “You know, Angelo, your love for someone can continue to grow even after they have died.” I have thought of that scene several times over the last couple of months. I believe Tom’s wisdom was born out of a faithful journey of listening for the life that goes beyond death, a life that is found in the risen Lord.

The Emmaus story offers us an example of the disciples wrestling with their grief. With eyes blurred by tears they don’t recognize Jesus. Navigating the uncertainty of this new existence they wonder what the new normal is going to be. It is in the familiar breaking of the bread that they recognize the presence of Jesus and see that life is changed not ended. As one of our Missionaries, Fr. Clarence Williams, C.PP.S., likes to say, “What we thought was the end of the road is simply a bend in the road.”

In the celebration of the Eucharist we gather to be nourished at the heavenly banquet. As we gather around the table of the Lord we believe in faith that the faithful departed are sharing in the same food from heaven. When I preside at the funeral of one of our priests or brothers I think of all of the Congregation’s members who have gone before us and I imagine them gathered behind me at the altar as I look out to the members who are living. With this perspective we can see the faces of all who believe, living and deceased, reflected in the cup of salvation and celebrate the truth that we are redeemed in the Blood of Christ.

The new life that we speak of at the time of death is not just for the person who has died. It also points the way for those who survive and must look upon their future as a new life. Embracing this truth helps us to appreciate and be patient with the awkward journey that marks the movement from grief to deep peace.

Placing our hope in God we find consolation in Paul’s words to the Thessalonians: “For the Lord himself, with a word of command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet of God, will come down from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. Thus we shall always be with the Lord” (1 Thessalonians 4: 16–17).