ABERAVON – AWAY DAYS
Tuesday 10 November 2009
Deceased Clergy

In a number of St Paul’s letters, he indicates that the people to whom he is writing were under the illusion that the end times had arrived – their days were numbered and they would pass from this world to the next. So they gave up working and waited complacently for the Lord to come.  Thank God there’s no such idleness or complacency here in the Diocese of Menevia!  Paul rebuked the people and told them to go on working, so that they would not be a burden to anyone. From time to time we too will get reminders of the passing of this world, contemporary examples of the disasters named by Jesus in the Gospels. Ours take the form of calamities such as a tsunami in Thailand or a terrorist attack on the Twin Towers in New York. Further reminders of weaknesses of this passing world come in the form of senseless wars: in Iraq and Afghanistan; as well as setbacks contained in anti-Christian legislation passed by increasingly secularist states, like the Assisted Suicide Bill, as well as perplexing interpretations of Equality regulations or Health & Safety requirements. Jesus’s message is the same today as it was 2000 years ago: Do not be frightened by these things. For, the presence of Jesus re-assures us that the powers of evil will not triumph. In fact, quite controversially, embracing the cross like Jesus did will make every sadness or setback of ours all the more bearable. The temple that will last is Christ’s body.  Each one of us is called to be a living-stone of that temple, ready to do as Jesus did: to stand up and be counted or even to lay down our lives for our friends.

In this Mass today, we remember colleagues who in the past stood up for the Gospel, and selflessly gave time and energy to their people: not just their friends but their foes too, in different places the length and breadth of the Diocese. Can we say their lives had any relevance or impact?  Of course they did, because by virtue of their ordination, they were other Christs. They stood in the name of Christ and in the place of Christ. They were Christ for others.  Others saw the person of Christ in them. The good that they did has lived on after them. Some even have epitaphs on their gravestones to make sure we remember them. One old friend of mine had: “As I am now, you soon shall be, so be content to follow me.”  However, an even older colleague and perhaps wiser man commented that two further lines should be added: “To follow you I’m not content, until I know which way you went!”

It is the privilege of the priest frequently to see people of devout faith stand shoulder to shoulder with people of no faith at all – and see each group find faith and hope where they had never known faith and hope before.  It is natural that during our lives we believe that our thoughts and prayers can make a difference. Sometimes, though, we have to live with the realization that our prayers are found to be unworthy.  We have to persevere with a struggle, continuing to make desperate cries to the God whom we feel has forsaken us. Jesus was the first to say: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”  He too felt the desolation we feel, particularly in seeing a lively, vibrant person reduced to old age and infirmity. Even Christ at times found it difficult to go on.  He cried out to the Father to let his cup of suffering pass him by. It didn’t, and he accepted it. From time to time, we too suffer on our own cross. Like Christ, we have to go on, to break through the barrier. Amidst the agony of suffering and death around us, we are presently the ones who may lack complete understanding. We may not understand, and we ask the Lord to help us to cope. Gathering us together in this church, Christ invites us to approach the altar, to come and eat and advance on the way of understanding. He invites all of us to come to him, we who labour and are overburdened.

We are formed by suffering and by carrying our own cross alongside Christ. In doing so, we come to understand the gospel rule of compassion, to take up our cross and follow, and in time we will understand our true identity. Meanwhile, we might change our view of God, from being solely an all-powerful being, the almighty one, Mr Fix-It, presiding over a world charged with the “grandeur of God”; and now see him as:
Humble God, sharing personally in the bits and pieces of daily life, the messy Eucharists of our everyday lives – in a kiss here, in a laugh there, and in our tears too, yet offering a pearl necklace round the neck of sadness and grief.
Let the silence of our grief over a friend or relative be a process in the metabolism of the being of love.  As that love we have for each other changes and deepens, it will give us the strength we need. When the earth trembles beneath us, our faith may sometimes be shaken, but not destroyed, because we are thrown back on God. For, deep down, I also know that it is in the turbulent episodes of life’s dramas that I find re-assurance that God is not dead too, but is still alive and present.  I know that it is often in the crucible of doubt and disappointment that my faith and the faith of others is strengthened.  Just as the tide turns at its lowest ebb, so too in absorbing the awfulness of death we search for new energy and purpose again.  We have to find God again in his apparent absence.

Everyone who dies, and particularly every priest who answers this second call from God, becomes like God. They are the immortal reaching out to the mortal. From our side, we touch the immortal in the mortal; the divine in the human;  the lasting in the passing; and we are fortified for the next stage of the journey.  Then we can go to face whatever life throws at us on our pilgrim road, since we are secure in the knowledge that, even during our dark nights and sad memories, we will not be alone, but will find protection in the folds of God’s gentle wings.

And one thing is for sure. When our turn comes to be called to the next world, our friends – and even our foes – will be standing at the gates of heaven to greet us. Meanwhile, in this Mass today, we acknowledge in the brief span of their lives that they gave so much to so many. The best thing we can do is to ask them to share a little of the happiness that they enjoy - with us, now, and in the days and months to come. May God’s love and blessing shown to them be ours too.