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A dwelling place

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Readings: Job 19:1, 23-27a; Psalm 122:1-2, 4-5, 6-7, 8-9; Romans 8:31b-35, 37-39; John 14:1-6 When someone we know and love dies, we usually wonder, fret, or worry about at least three things: We wonder what our lives will be like from now on. The person who died once occupied a large space in our lives that now stands empty. With what will that space be filled in the future? We also want to be sure that our loved one is "OK"; we hope that he or she is "safe" and with God. Third, we wonder whether we will ever see our loved one again. Will we be able to recognize not only ourselves but those we love when we die? Jesus' disciples had these same questions—even though they didn't really know it at the time—and he provides answers at the Last Supper. The first thing Jesus says to his disciples, and by extension to all of us gathered here today, is: "Do not let your hearts be troubled. You have faith in God; have faith also in me." In other words, Jesus is saying, You've got a powerful tool—it's your faith. Don't forget that. Use it. Ask for comfort and direction whenever you need it. You are never alone. I am with you always and God is with you always until the end of the age. This is your faith. It is a bottomless well of life-giving water, an infinite universe of comfort and consolation you can draw upon endlessly and forever. All you have to do is know it, and ask. Thus we have our first answer: The empty space will be filled with the love of God. Jesus understands that for us there is no mystery greater than death; no wall more impenetrable to the human mind than the one that separates life from what comes after, and he calms our fears right away: "In my Father's house there are many dwelling places.' Jesus understands that for us there is no mystery greater than death; no wall more impenetrable to the human mind than the one that separates life from what comes after, and he calms our fears right away: 'In my Father's house there are many dwelling places.'" He offers us an image that is at once simple and multifaceted, comforting and surprising, familiar and fascinating. We understand that a house is a home, a refuge, a place where comfort and security reside, where our friends and family are waiting for us. We picture our favorite chair with a stack of books nearby, or a window with a view of a garden or the street; we might think of a special corner where our treasures are arranged on a table; or maybe we imagine the kitchen, where everyone gathers to help prepare a meal and share the news of the day. We can picture it: Heaven really is a house. And so we can trust that the one who has died--the one whose life we are celebrating today—is dwelling in that house, with Jesus and God and everyone else who has gone before us. And, Jesus tells us, someday we will be in that dwelling place, too. Thus he addresses our third concern. 'I will come back again and take you to myself, so that where I am you also may be." We are assured that we will all be together again someday, that death is not a final separation, and that in time all of us will be gathered together in God's house. In the second reading, Saint Paul powerfully reaffirms his belief in this promise and shores up our own doubts in the process: "For I am convinced that neither death nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor present things, nor future things, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature will be able to separate us from the love of God." These words provide much reassurance about how we will fare and the fate of those who go before us. But celebrations like this one are also a time to reflect upon the here and now, to consider our own lives and the state of our own souls, to ask ourselves the questions, What am I doing with my life? Where am I going? Jesus has something to say about this as well: "I am the way and the truth and the life." If we follow Jesus' "way"—which is not a road as the disciples hope, but a mindset—we'll come from all directions, but we'll all be heading toward that awesome, enormous house of dwelling places where God and your loved ones are waiting for you—for us.

Authors Ann O'Connor

funeral all manner of death mystery of death Job 19:1, 23-27a Psalm 122:1-2, 4-5, 6-7, 8-9 Romans 8:31b-35, 37-39 John 14:1-6

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Trust in the unseen

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Readings: Wisdom 3:1-9; Psalm 23:1-3, 4, 5-6; Romans 8:31b-35, 37-39; John 14:1-6 WHAT A MYSTERY DEATH IS. Even when death comes close, as it has in the loss of our dear N., we are left struggling to find feelings that fit and thoughts that make sense. When death comes suddenly and unexpectedly, it crushes us with its cruel completion, and the strings of our world are cut short. Even when death is welcomed, as it is with those who have suffered long the agony of disease or carried the burdens of infirmity far past human dignity, life's end is like a movie winding up without the theater lights coming on. We stumble in the darkness trying to find our way through what just happened. So with this tumble of thoughts and feelings we come to church because church is where we celebrate the things we don't understand and nurture our hope in a whole world beyond what we see. We call this place God's house, and that's appropriate because you're all here. We can't see God, but we believe that the real, living presence of God, revealed to us in Jesus Christ, is in you, the members of Christ's Body. That's a pretty awesome leap of faith, but it is the foundation of what we believe. Christ took a full share of our humanity, being born of a woman, living life, and suffering death under the burden of almost every human weakness. It is this reality that we hold sacred in every human life. When we brought N.'s body into the church, we welcomed him with water, the visible sign of his baptism. We remembered that at the beginning of his journey, N. received God's gift of eternal life, so that just as Christ shared in N.'s death, so would N. share the Lord's resurrection. This white covering on N.'s body reminds us that his baptism was for the forgiveness of sins. So no one can bring a charge against N., and nothing in his life can separate him from the love of God that he has in Jesus Christ. And this candle was lighted to remind us of N.'s mission in life and the purpose for which we all live: to be lights in the world, to shine the brightness of compassion, care, and forgiveness on the people God sends to us. To the degree that N. lived out his mission, you came to experience God's love for you through him. The grace of God given to him, he gave to you, and you in turn gave it back to him. The hidden love of God is shown through all of us, both in the giving and the receiving. When we look at a tree growing in the forest, we see only half of it, the part above the ground. But the tree reaches below the surface into the unseen world, connecting with the source of its life. In the same way, we see only the visible half of what we believe, the outward signs. But we trust in what we don't see and we hope in what lies beyond our understanding." Because this mission of being lights for the world is not easy and we often fail, we are served at this table the Body and Blood of Christ. Though we see only bread and wine, our faith is that it is our communion with God, the Real Presence of Jesus Christ in us. It is God's pledge of eternal life and the forgiveness of our sins. Those are the things we believe about ourselves and God, about N. and God. When we look at a tree growing in the forest, we see only half of it, the part above the ground. But the tree reaches below the surface into the unseen world, connecting with the source of its life. In the same way, we see only the visible half of what we believe, the outward signs. But we trust in what we don't see and we hope in what lies beyond our understanding. We've only experienced the outward half of N.'s death, the part we can see, so his passing away seems to us to be the end of his life. But today we remember that he is at peace; his life is in the hands of God. We believe beyond our understanding that in those last moments when death approached N., the Eternal Savior made good on his promise. When N.'s body could no longer sustain the gift of life given to him X years ago, Jesus appeared with an eternal place for him to dwell. We will leave here today renewed in our hope that Christ joins us along the way, is in our lives, and speaks what we know to be true in our hearts. We will remember, too, that God offers eternal life to all and the forgiveness of sins. Finally, we will remember that N. is alive and on the last day we will see him again.

Authors Father Paul Boudreau

funeral all manner of death mystery of death Wisdom 3:1-9 Psalm 23:1-3, 4, 5-6 Romans 8:31b-35, 37-39 John 14:1-6

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What will separate us from the love of Christ?

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Funeral: Victim of suicide Scripture: Romans 8:31b-35, 37-39: What could separate us from the love of Christ? [1014-5 (790-6)] WE ARE HERE TODAY because of the tragic and bewildering death of our [brother/sister] in Christ, N. Many of us are experiencing a complex mix of emotions—shock, grief, anger, and disbelief. The news that N. is no longer with us takes time to sink in. Maybe you’ve been imagining alternate scenarios to the one we’re in now. For instance, could you have said something to N. or done something that would have caused things to be different today? Could someone else have intervened with N. in some way? Could N. have chosen to act that day in a way that preserved their life, rather than in a way that resulted in us being here, mourning the loss of someone so dear to us? I want to begin this sermon with three important points that I know someone needs to hear. First: This is not your fault. Second: This is not someone else’s fault. And finally: This is not N.’s fault. As humans, when our lives have been shattered, we want to know why. We might be tempted to blame someone or something for the situation. And we may have some sense of why. [If appropriate, acknowledge the overwhelming pain of a mental or physical health struggle, etc.] But the truth is, even if we think we know what caused N. to end their life, only God knows what was on their heart and in their mind in their last moments. We will never fully know. And that adds to our pain. There is something we do know, however. We hear it repeatedly in scripture, and it’s something we heard here today, in the second reading. Paul tells us in his letter to the Romans that nothing will separate us from the love of God. Not death, not anguish, not distress. Paul tells us in his letter to the Romans that nothing will separate us from the love of God. Not death, not anguish, not distress—his list encompasses forces that are as powerful today as they were in biblical times. Paul assures us that Christ can overcome all of these challenges and deliver us—and N.—into the safety and peace of God’s merciful and steadfast love. Even though scripture is clear about that fact, we may still feel far from God’s love. The pain and suffering of losing N. is real. It’s awful. We don’t just “get over it.” Rather, like Christ, we must transform it. In the Jewish tradition, when someone dies, mourners are told, “May their memory be a blessing.” This saying has become more familiar to people outside Judaism in recent years, and for good reason. Yes, N. has left us—but they have also left us with some cherished memories that will remain with us longer and more deeply than the grief we feel now. I’d like you to take a moment to think of a time with N. that blessed you. [Pause] In the difficult times ahead, let this memory continue to bless you. Let it empower you to connect with other members of N.’s community who may also be struggling in their grief. If you can’t think of a memory right now, I’ll share one [or two] that X and X mentioned to me this week. [Add a brief, positive memory or two from family or close friend—one that won’t be mentioned in the eulogy]. N.’s life mattered. It still matters. N. may no longer be with us, but their influence is. Even as we ache in N.’s absence, the special qualities they shared with us—[again, add specifics: their laugh, their artistic spirit, devotion to a sports team, fashion sense, etc.]—still enrich our life. I want to return to the three points I mentioned earlier: This is not your fault, it’s not someone else’s fault, and it’s not N.’s fault. There’s one last point I want to add. N.’s death is not God’s fault. Death does not come from God. But if you’re a person of faith, you may still find yourself wondering how God could let this happen. It’s OK to be angry at God. God can handle it. God loves us through our anger. As Paul explains, nothing is big enough to separate us from God’s love. That’s true for us here today, and it’s true for N. Going forward, as you work through your pain and anger, draw on the memories of N. that were a blessing to you. Most of all, remember—and help others to know—the truth of God’s healing, redemptive love—love that is available to all. Love that now fully enfolds N.

Authors Heather Grennan Gary

funeral suicide Romans 8:31b-35, 37-39

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