Homily for All Souls

For daily readings, see http://www.usccb.org/nab/110207.shtml

Why do you wear black all the time? Or do you ever get tired of wearing black? After I give one of my hundreds of presentations on holy orders or on priestly vocations in grade schools, high schools, and youth groups, and open the floor to questions, these are two questions I usually get. And as usual, when I don’t have a good answer for a question, I usually make up an answer that sounds about right. I know that is borderline lying, but we’ll get into that in another homily. As far as answering the question – what’s up with all the black, I usually end up saying that the black symbolizes for a priest the death that he shares with Christ. A priest who acts on behalf of the Church in persona Christi capitis, carries about in his person the dying of our Lord. In Africa, I have heard that priests are known as ‘dead men walking’ Because a priest is celibate, he seems like one who is dead to this world. And that of course, is the point, and so this is the answer I give when people ask me why priests wear black. We wear black because we are supposed to be people who are comfortable with death, who carry about the dying of Jesus.
But I have to admit that even though I believe I am less afraid of death than some people, that even as a priest, who does everything he can to promote faith in Jesus’ resurrection, I know that I am more afraid of death than many people. I am inspired by people who face death with courage and acceptance, who truly carry the dying of Jesus more than I do even though I wear black everyday. I know that their faith is stronger than mine. I am not afraid to go to the hospital, or to the bedside of someone who is close to death, no matter what their age. But I am still afraid of my own death; life on this earth is good, the Jayhawks are 8-0 for goodness sakes – in football! – and I would rather have eternal life added on top of my earthly life, rather than having to face the reality of my own death.
One does not hope for what one sees. This advice from St. Paul tells us that even if we have hope in Jesus’ resurrection, since we do not yet see that resurrection completely, we will still fear our death in this world. And so fear of death is not incompatible with hope. Yet St. Paul says in tonight’s letter to the Romans that hope while not seeing completely does not disappoint. Hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us. So even as we fear our own death, our hope in the resurrection of Jesus ensures that fear of our death does not paralyze us, and does not dominate our lives. Far from disappointing, hope in Jesus’ resurrection frees us to be people of love, and the Holy Spirit constantly brings us the love that casts out fear whenever it threatens to paralyze our lives.
Many atheists say correctly that you do not have to believe in God in order to die for a good cause. Out of natural goodness and love one may find the courage to die for another, or for a worthy cause. But the reason we are here tonight is to celebrate not merely natural human love, but more importantly we are here to encounter again the supernatural love of God, revealed to us in the suffering and death of our Lord Jesus Christ. St. Paul says that God proved his love for us by dying for us precisely because we are sinners. St. Paul is very clear in this point. Christ did not die for us because we are mostly good, but need a little extra help. Christ did not die for us hoping that if given his example, we might someday be able to pay him back. No, St. Paul is precise. God proved his love for us by dying for us for no good reason whatsoever. God is love; he does not need a good reason to start loving. And so Christ died for us while we were still sinners, his enemies. This supernatural love goes beyond the natural human love that can find the courage to die for a good reason. Supernatural love gives completely even when there is no reason to give; Christ gave himself up to death because it was his identity, and thus his mission to reconcile everything to the Father.
Were Christ to die for us out of natural love for us, dying for us because of our potential for goodness, then there would be reason for some of us to boast before God. There would be reason for us to compete to become more worthy of Christ’s sacrifice for us. But since Christ chose to die for us while we were his enemies, none of us has a reason to boast before God, or to compare ourselves with others. No, Christ died for each one of us at the same point; precisely at the point of our greatest failure, our greatest unworthiness, and our greatest weakness.
Were Christ to die only for those who were worthy, there would be every incentive for you and me to hide every weakness of ours from him. Sometimes we try to do this with one another; to get other people to love us by hiding our weaknesses. But since Christ died for us while we were still helpless, for the ungodly, there is no point in our boasting before God. Instead of trying to make choices that make us look more and more worthy of God’s love, we are to make the one choice of letting our lives be broken open, so that we may know Christ’s love at our weakest point, and be sure of that love at the time of our earthly death.
Tonight we commemorate the souls of all the faithful departed, those who have faced the final trial, their earthly deaths, trusting that Christ would be there to embrace them at their weakest moment. Tonight I am remembering especially my own mother, now deceased for over six years. I pray also for Ben Cote, a 7 year old boy from St. Michael parish who died this fall of cancer. I pray for Lauren Dopp, a junior at St. James Academy in Lenexa, who is facing imminent death while we celebrate this Mass. You all have similar people for whom to pray during this solemn liturgy. In commemorating the deaths of our beloved, may we be reminded of the shortness of our lives, that we may gain wisdom of heart. As we help the souls in purgatory with our prayers, may we be reminded to keep death daily before our lives, and to let Christ love us at our weakest points, so that we may hope for his loving embrace at the last moments of our earthly lives. May our reception of the Holy Eucharist tonight bring us all closer to the new and eternal Jerusalem. Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let the perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace. Amen. May their souls, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace, Amen!