Lectionary: 292
But because I told you this, grief has filled your hearts. But I tell you the truth, it is better for you that I go. For if I do not go, the Advocate will not come to you. But if I go, I will send him to you.
I knew a fellow who, at age forty, could speak with all four grandparents, all his aunts and uncles, all his cousins, brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews. He had never attended a family funeral. He knew of no deceased friend, teacher, or acquaintance. Nor did he scan the obituaries expecting to find a familiar name. With modern medical care, and humane practices of safety, people live a long time. Death is forestalled and many people have little experience of grief. Beyond the loss of dogs, cats, and goldfish they have never faced the finality of death.
And then they are suddenly clobbered with grief as several close relatives die within a short span of time. Suddenly their world has fallen apart. Although accidents, disease and death are normal parts of human life, their normal and predictable have disappeared.
Unschooled in grief, we might think of it as evil; or at least, undesirable. We may have heard that it comes with certain dark blessings; we may have heard the commencement speaker at our graduations wish for us disappointment, failure, and sorrow. "They are the best teachers!" they might have said. But, given our druthers we’d druther not.
If they were more familiar with death than we are, the disciples still expected the blessed presence of Jesus to remain for always. The Kingdom of God seemed wrapped around him. It was, to paraphrase Saint Patrick, on his right and left, before and behind, above and below, deep within him and emanating from out of him. There were no more tears so long as he was with them. As he said to his disciples:As long as they have the bridegroom with them they cannot fast.
In today’s gospel, taken from the Last Supper Discourse of Saint John, Jesus teaches his disciples the unwanted lesson, “It is better for you that I go.” It was impossible that the Lord should remain alive and healthy as his disciples received his Spirit and ventured to the ends of the Earth with his Gospel. They could not fully appreciate the value of the Gospel nor their own high esteem in God’s eyes unless they witnessed his death and resurrection.
Jesus had added to his remark about the bridegroom, "But the days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast on that day."
Next Sunday most Catholic Churches in the United States will celebrate the feast of the Ascension although they won't be open to the prayerful public. The Ascension is rich with sacred meaning, but we might honor with grief the hit we have taken by the necessary closure of our churches. We have missed our worship of God. Watching live streaming just doesn't do it.
And many people are mourning the death of loved ones, especially those whom we have not been able to honor with a proper funeral.
Our grief is real; it is sacred. In absence we find the presence of God.
I knew a fellow who, at age forty, could speak with all four grandparents, all his aunts and uncles, all his cousins, brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews. He had never attended a family funeral. He knew of no deceased friend, teacher, or acquaintance. Nor did he scan the obituaries expecting to find a familiar name. With modern medical care, and humane practices of safety, people live a long time. Death is forestalled and many people have little experience of grief. Beyond the loss of dogs, cats, and goldfish they have never faced the finality of death.
And then they are suddenly clobbered with grief as several close relatives die within a short span of time. Suddenly their world has fallen apart. Although accidents, disease and death are normal parts of human life, their normal and predictable have disappeared.
Unschooled in grief, we might think of it as evil; or at least, undesirable. We may have heard that it comes with certain dark blessings; we may have heard the commencement speaker at our graduations wish for us disappointment, failure, and sorrow. "They are the best teachers!" they might have said. But, given our druthers we’d druther not.
If they were more familiar with death than we are, the disciples still expected the blessed presence of Jesus to remain for always. The Kingdom of God seemed wrapped around him. It was, to paraphrase Saint Patrick, on his right and left, before and behind, above and below, deep within him and emanating from out of him. There were no more tears so long as he was with them. As he said to his disciples:As long as they have the bridegroom with them they cannot fast.
In today’s gospel, taken from the Last Supper Discourse of Saint John, Jesus teaches his disciples the unwanted lesson, “It is better for you that I go.” It was impossible that the Lord should remain alive and healthy as his disciples received his Spirit and ventured to the ends of the Earth with his Gospel. They could not fully appreciate the value of the Gospel nor their own high esteem in God’s eyes unless they witnessed his death and resurrection.
Jesus had added to his remark about the bridegroom, "But the days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast on that day."
Next Sunday most Catholic Churches in the United States will celebrate the feast of the Ascension although they won't be open to the prayerful public. The Ascension is rich with sacred meaning, but we might honor with grief the hit we have taken by the necessary closure of our churches. We have missed our worship of God. Watching live streaming just doesn't do it.
And many people are mourning the death of loved ones, especially those whom we have not been able to honor with a proper funeral.
Our grief is real; it is sacred. In absence we find the presence of God.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.