We are performing funeral services for Leonida “Lee” Bodner. They began last evening with the Vigil Service, and continue this morning and this afternoon with the Funeral Mass, a reception meal, and the burial. I have been asked to be main celebrant at all of the services, as the priest who is a rather distant family member has some problems needing medical attention.
The Scripture readings and prayers constituted the Vigil, with some time for “family sharing.” When I speak, as I did last evening, I am mindful of being heard by all present. But sitting where I do in the sanctuary during the brief remarks by others, I hear little that is said, as most speakers are not used to using a microphone or addressing a large crowd. One must speak up to be heard. At least I could hear several of the sharings last evening, and I could hear some audience responses.
Yesterday morning (Sunday), between about 0300 and 0500, before walking Moses in the park, I spent considerable time choosing readings for the Vigil, and typing two of them up.At that time I also narrowed my choices of readings for the Funeral Mass to be celebrated at 1100 today. I put considerable time and effort into choosing, sometimes editing, sometimes typing up the readings. I welcome suggestions from family members, but none were made this time. Sometimes families want to select the readings, which I must find and type up for lectors; as I have learned, their selections are of varying suitability or quality. After some thirty years of presiding at funerals, I can say that it is far more prudent and beneficial to have the one who is preaching select the readings, perhaps in some consultation with close loved ones. This has become all the more necessary as fewer Catholics have much knowledge of the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures. Often I have had to deal with families who do not understand why one cannot read some letter or story at the Funeral Mass, rather than have readings from the bible. Of course, the Bodner family has been too actively Catholic to have this expectation. Thankfully, they left the choice of readings up to me.
Now I will finalize the readings for the Funeral Mass, and think out the homily. I put a considerable amount of time into preparing homilies for funerals.Why? Because dying is such a large and heavy part of life, and because of the magnitude of the loss of those present, especially close family members and dearest friends; because the one who died deserves the effort; and because not to try to do a good job would be irresponsible and dishonor the Creator. These purposes may or may not be understood by “practicing Christians.” Still, honoring the God who gives life, thanking Him for the life of the one who died, entrusting the deceased lovingly to God, and seeking to help console those present (especially closest family and friends) are ever the main goals I keep in mind in preparing and preaching a funeral homily. The four goals listed are not randomly chosen, or just words off the top of my head. Often I have asked myself: “Why are we celebrating this funeral? What are we doing here?” I ever try to keep the goal(s) in mind.
Yesterday a faithful Catholic man in our adult faith class in Centerville said that he does not attend funeral services “for the dead, because it doesn’t mean anything to them,” or similar words, and added, “I am there for the living.” I tried to explain: “Not so fast. They are not dead, but deceased; and we do owe it to them to remember and to honor them, and especially to honor and thank God.” It looked as though he squirmed in his chair, but said nothing in response; he may or may not have understood what I meant. There is a cliche commonly heard today about “celebrating life,” and “we are here for each other,” and calling those who died “dead” (as in the expression, “dead and gone”). My thinking is very different.
First and foremost, funeral services are a time publicly to honor and thank God for the gift of life to us, His creatures. Not to do thank God would be ungrateful, and to share in the mindlessness of our age: God is irrelevant for many people today, so thinking about honoring and thanking the Creator barely surfaces in many peoples’ minds. Even supposed “Christians” often are relatively mindless of God in their daily lives, and this attitude of course surfaces at funeral services. When I die, I hope that the one preaching thanks God for my life, and for any good achieved in me or through me. “Not to us, LORD, not to us, but to your Name be the glory.” Either one lives in openness to God, or one does not. What happens at a funeral manifests our faith or lack of faith, love of God or lack of love of God. Christian funeral services have not become pagan, but at times border on the atheistic with the predominant attitude: “It is all about us, the living.” How wrong we often are.
I, too, am mindful of the one who died, but within the effort of seeing them “in the light of eternity,” in God. Hence, a few remarks on the person’s life may be apt, especially if they display God’s presence in the person. Years ago in Maryland, when I and most priests still allowed family members to stand and talk at funerals, I heard much nonsense. So often I would hear how “Johnny loved golf,” or “grandmother knew just what color lipstick to wear.” Not only were these comments inappropriate, but they dishonored God, insulted the deceased, and insulted the living—although many did not seem to know that they were being insulted by such inanities. What people share when they are gathered as families before or after the services, is their business, and then they can recall touching human stories, and should do so. But in the funeral services, all must be seen in God, in light of God. Of course, such a task is not possible for those who lack genuine faith. And as noted, ours is an age in which most people live as though God is dead, or at best, irrelevant in their lives. I do not intend to share in this oblivion, not even for the sake of “comforting loved ones present.” Actually, the truth about God, about life and death, about love, will comfort human beings far better in the long run than blathering words about the way the woman cooked, or the man played golf.
This much is evident, and must be kept in mind when preparing for funeral services: many present either do not trust God, or weakly trust God, or do not know how to activate genuine faith in God in the face of death. Most of them have some human feelings for the deceased, but often these feelings and thoughts are not put in the context of acknowledging, loving, surrendering to God. I repeat: For many if not most living today, God is irrelevant. Seeing the deceased in the light of God becomes all the more the task of the one preaching as the hearers cannot do this for themselves, or will not. “When the Son of Man returns, will he find any faith on earth?”That is one of many of the searching questions Jesus asked, as noted in the Gospels. Will we exercise faith or unbelief at our funeral services? Giving lip service to God is not enough. Murmuring fixed and mandated prayers is not enough, not nearly enough.In fact, formal prayers said as if by rote do not honor anyone, in my opinion. They become a neurotic and unfaithful exercise, even though the words sound as though the one praying is speaking about or to God.The prayers must be genuine, a task made difficult by our often stilted, wordy translations now in use. (The present Catholic Sacramentary needs much work; many of the prayers are not intelligible for hearers—even if they are trying to pay attention to the words). If the priest or minister simply prayed from the heart, and omitted some of the usual verbiage, no doubt some “pious and devout Christian” present would complain that “the exact words were not said.” Here is evidence of mental problems grounded in a lack of real faith, lack of openness to the unknown God. The Catholic practice of fixed prayers may aid or invite faith to some extent—especially in children or beginners, who need “training wheels”—but in time and use, praying fixed prayers can cover over a lack of living faith behind Spirit-empty words. Some priests and clergy pray as if they really do not believe in God beyond the verbal prayers.Some pray as if they must “get it right” for the Church authorities, and mutter (however sloppily) the “magic words,” the “right words.” Some clergy really do not believe in the reality of God beyond all of these words and rituals. Is it any wonder so many people are spiritually malnourished? (Of course, most “Christians” do not even bother attending religious services in our “enlightened age”—and sometimes for very good reasons). Clergy are themselves often malnourished spiritually, lacking the Spirit to share. As the Medieval theologians said, “You cannot give what you do not have.” In various ways, funeral services manifest genuine faith, religious beliefs, and lack of faith more directly and intensely than almost anything else in life. With death, “the rubber meets the road,” to use a common cliche. Many people think that religious beliefs are faith, but they are not. They often mask a lack of real trust.
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Faith as trust and as seeing in the light of God. The one preaching at a funeral must exercise real faith, not merely share religious beliefs, or sentimental stories. “Oh, but I tell these little stories to help comfort the family,” a preacher could say. In reality, he or she is displaying a lack of trust in God who comforts at a deeper level—by truth. Other ministers talk about religious beliefs, and think that in them they have genuine faith, but they well may not. The funeral homily must seek to build faith as trust in God, and as seeing reality, including death, in light of God. In truth, I wonder how many priests, deacons, or Protestant ministers have sufficient faith to make this effort, and to accomplish it. I repeat: it is often the case that religious beliefs, opinions, get in the way of reality and the need for unknowing faith. Now, do I have such faith? Can I, with God’s help, see Leonida, who died, in light of eternity, and help those present to do the same? Do I have the “faith working through love” to help Conrad, and their children and grand-children, and friends, lovingly surrender Leonida to God, to thank God for her, to love her in God, and begin to make the transition to a new or more God-centered relationship with Leonida?
God will do the spiritual work if we but listen, trust, love. Leonida is God’s creature, and she has returned to God. “Returned,” but in reality, one is not far from the Creator—closer than a heart beat away, closer than breath. Leonida has entered the light that remains largely unseen to those of us who are not genuinely open to the reality of God. “God is not the God of the dead, but of the living; to God all are alive.” That summarizes the Gospel passage I selected for the homily (Luke 20), because it speaks the truth as truly and as clearly as possible. And that is ultimately all that matters: “to God all are alive.” Some people want beliefs, not living trust. Hence, they want stories about “the Resurrection at the last day,” as did Martha in the Gospel passage I read last night. To them Jesus proclaimed—if they heard—“I AM the Resurrection and the Life.” Others, perhaps on a more intellectual level, speak about “the immortality of the soul,” even as the body “returns to the earth from where it came.” The tale of the immortality of the soul is perhaps the best and most likely tale among those commonly held regarding what happens to the deceased. Some of the prayers last evening entrusted the “soul of our sister, Leonida” to the God of mercy. In the context of prayers, that seems like a good way to put the matter. “Immortality of the soul” is a “likely myth,” using Plato’s phrase.
But the mystery abides, and religious beliefs ought not hide the mystery. No one knows with certainty or clarity what happens beyond death. Some guesses are more likely, more profound, than others. Some guesses are childish and foolish. For my part, I admire the stark simplicity of Socrates after being condemned to death by the Athenian democracy: “Now it is time to go, I do die, you to live; whoever of us has the better fate, is unknown to anyone, except to God.” Death is mysterious. It can be painfully mysterious, even confusing. Or death can elicit faith: “Now we see as through a mirror, darkly, but then, face to face.” When the Apostle Paul wrote these words, they expressed his faith; they had not yet been hardened into the comforting words of mere religious belief. How can I honor the Creator today, thank Him for Leonida’s life, entrust her to God eternally, and speak words of truth to help comfort Conrad and their children and grand-children? First and foremost, be clear about the goals, keep these four goals in mind throughout the service, and especially in the preaching. I have no need to find the exact words to utter now. They must proceed from a heart open to the presence of God. Still, I need an insight grounded in faith and love from which to proceed. What can serve that function? My own trust in Christ who says, “To God all are alive.” That suffices for me. “All are alive” means each and all, not some, not only “believers,” not only human beings. The creature lives ultimately only in the Creator, in the mind of the all-good Creator. The rest of existence passes quickly between life and death, between death and life eternal.
The task of preaching at a funeral, as all preaching, is “to speak the truth in love.” Nothing else will suffice or grace the hearers.
“I AM the Resurrection and the Life. Do you believe this?”
