We do not want to die. Okay, I know that some would object to this statement, but opposing sentiments are usually the exception. These exceptions are generally aberrations due to some form of suffering. We have all heard of suicide victims due to mental illness and depression, emotional trauma, excessive physical pain and handicap, and delusion (as in certain cults). In all these cases there is a running away from something (pain or anxiety) or a fleeing toward something (a higher plain of existence or some other such alternative). The latter comes close to the Christian hope, although with one essential difference, true faith defends the dignity and sacredness of all life, here and now.
Our desire for life is joined with a natural longing for happiness and a supernatural yearning for reconstitution and union. Thoughts of heaven are often filled with joyful images. It is associated with the festivity of a wedding banquet. We will be eternally happy. We will know the peace that the world can only dream about. All our analogies pale in comparison to what awaits us. Popular religion often envisions peaceful angels playing harps while sitting on soft clouds. It is a cute picture, but the reality we anticipate as Catholics is more complex. We want to live forever, but not at all costs. That is why the contrary image of hell is ever so frightful. Instead of happy images, popular piety views it as a dark abode of stifling smoke, eternal flame, and agonizing pain. Again, this is very interesting, but here too, the Catholic contribution would go much further. Why is there joy in heaven and pain in hell?
When we attempt to answer that question, our view of life after death becomes much more mature and realistic. Those who opt for hell, despite the irrationality of it, have mysteriously chosen it. A good God will not force his children to be happy and so he honors this choice. This is the most frightful freedom given to us, the ability to embrace or to reject the God for whom we were fashioned. Unlike the Seventh Day Adventists and similar groups, we do not believe that the dead momentarily pop out of existence or sleep or become unconscious. They are alive. However, the eternal life promised by Christ refers not merely to continued existence beyond the grave but to a participation in the life of God. This is first made possible in this world through faith, the sacraments, and the grace of God. Thus, the elect of God, despite difficult bouts with sin and the need for constant forgiveness, already in this world walk with one foot in the next.
We believe that the souls of the dead, commonly called ghosts, pass from this world into heaven or hell. That journey to heaven may take them through a period of purgation, a time of cleansing in which our prayers are most beneficial for them. While hell signifies eternal frustration and both a hatred of God and self; heaven is understood primarily as the abode of God. Christ has promised a room in his Father’s house to those who love God.
The life of heaven implies perfection into the likeness (holiness) of God. We are not only completely healed from the lingering effects of sin, but grace builds upon nature making us something greater than if left to ourselves. God fills that space in us that only he can make complete. There is union with God and with those who have gone before us. This reunion with our beloved dead is a principal element of our expectation for the life of heaven. Every loss has wounded us. Every death has reduced us. This is given back in heaven. The stagnant image of heaven and eternal life, so prevalent in popular Christian culture, would never satisfy. The finite creature can never exhaust the mystery of an infinite Creator. Heaven allows an exploration into God himself that will never know final resolution. Heaven is endless discovery and satisfaction. By comparison, everything we know now fails quickly to satisfy. Mortal life is short and often filled with disappointments, hurts, and loss. While we are promised a full restoration, body and soul; like our glorified Lord, we will know the wondrous everlasting fruits of his victory over suffering, sin, and death.
There is an irony today regarding our desire for life and happiness as compared to our society in the grips of a culture of death. Our preoccupation with our own personal lives and transitory pleasure seeks to disfigure what life is really about. Many who claim a faith affiliation live and act as if this existence is all there is. When this life becomes difficult, increasing numbers want the option of euthanasia. Quality of life decisions and careers often take precedence over the lives of the unborn, leading to millions and millions of abortions. Many are advocating infanticide for those children deemed defective, as if a handicapped life has no worth, and creating too great a burden upon us. The new deity of science is holding out the prospect of longer lives through DNA manipulation and the harvesting of body parts from clones designated as non-persons. It may sound like Science Fiction, but the brave new world is rushing upon us and the dignity of human life may very well be a casualty.
For more such reflections, contact me about getting my book, CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS.
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The Lord appears to Mary Magdalene, consoles her, and sends her off with the news, “I have seen the Lord!” (see John 20:11-18). The insistence upon the witness of women in the Scriptures reveals to us just how much both men and women were called to be Christ’s disciples. Mary Magdalene proclaims the Good News to Jesus’ other followers, the men with whom he had entrusted his apostolic authority and power. Notice his words to her. She is so thrilled to see him that he must immediately tell her not to cling to him. He exclaims that he is “ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God!” This is one of the clearest statements by Christ that his particular Easter event will also be ours. The words also echo the time when he taught his friends to call God, “Our Father,” in the Lord’s Prayer. We, who belong to Christ, belong also to the one who sent and raised him up. We who are now identified with Christ can appropriately call God our adopted Father. He keeps us in existence and in baptism refashions us into the likeness of his Son.
Although there is no Mass, the rituals for Good Friday are very moving and evocative. However, it is the faith that we bring to the ceremonies which gives it importance for us. An outsider to our faith, might look upon such ritual with awe towards its simplicity and yet confusion as to its meaning. This is because we celebrate a theme which much of our culture seeks to ignore or postpone. We commemorate death. Assuredly, it may not be death as many people understand it, but nevertheless it remains something mysterious and even feared. Our society, with its newfound confidence in science, ironically hides the tragic death of the unborn behind the guise of linguistics while many in the medical field go to elaborate techniques to keep certain other people alive, no matter what the cost. One of the tasks of the Christian is to visit the sick; and yet, how often have we hesitated from that duty? And we know why — because to meet an elderly or handicapped or sick person is to face the specter of our own mortality, death. We dye our hair, or wear something over our heads that lost recently at the horse races; we cake our faces in makeup to cover the blemishes and wrinkles of age; we diet to wear clothes that we could not fit into even as teenagers; we take an assortment of drugs to maintain our vitality; we do all this and more to escape the prospect of age and the ghost of death which lingers in the periphery of our lives.
The title chosen for this subheading might make one imagine a romantic setting where some daring spy has an affair with a deadly enemy agent. Such is how our minds and imaginations work these days. The arachnologist might fantasize in some poor anthropomorphic way about the love of two black widow spiders. The male was under her spell. Did he know that her embrace guaranteed new life and the end of his own? Snap! She bites off his head — oblivion, the end of a relationship — now he is merely fodder for a patricidal cannibalistic brood. Sweet and deceptive is the kiss of death. Perhaps the maiden being drained of her blood by a vampire in a late-night B-movie would think so? I digress enough. While these might make interesting if not sick asides; what I want to mention briefly is a far more realistic kiss, a kiss which has touched the lives of each and every one of us.
We are called to pursue something of a personal discernment in regards to our sinful nature. Look at 1 Corinthians 2:10-16. The selection begins, “The Spirit scrutinizes all matters, even the deep things of God.” It is a wonderful and insightful depiction of the interior life. We as Christians do not simply follow laws in blind obedience. We are called not to go through the motions of faith; quite contrarily, we are to be filled within by God’s Spirit.
The message which emerges from our Gospel is sometimes quite unsettling. Take for instance Mark 7:1-8;14-15;21-23. Preachers might even be afraid to bring further attention to it because of the possible angry reactions it might evoke. None of us, myself included, like to be reminded of how imperfect, weak, and sinful we are. We create all kinds of barriers in our lives to protect ourselves from this realization. We try earnestly to project images of wholesomeness and sanctity, even when we realize that we have a long way to go.
Many parishes celebrate “Come Home for Christmas” and “Come Home for Easter” reconciliation services. Of course, Confession is available all year long. Priests delight in being ministers of reconciliation. The Christian regularly needs to examine his conscience and behavior.
Just as Jeremiah images the blind and lame as among the throng returning from exile, Jesus pays particular attention to the crippled and blind. The Gospel scene in Mk 10:46-52 is very touching and telling. Bartimaeus is a blind beggar who has heard about the miraculous deeds of Jesus. Now that Jesus is nearby, he calls out to him. People literally scold him to keep quiet. He shouts all the louder. The crowd did not want to hear him. Maybe they were even ashamed of his presence? Nevertheless, while their ears and probably their hearts are closed to the beggar, Jesus hears his cry. Note what Bartimaeus says, “Son of David, have pity on me!” He is acknowledging that Jesus is a descendant of David and from his royal line is to come the Messiah and Savior of Israel. The beggar cries for mercy, but attached to his plea is a profession of faith in our Lord. When Jesus calls him over, the sentiment of the throng seems to change. There is a total about-face. “You have nothing whatever to fear from him! Get up! He is calling you!” There is a two-fold action. This remains an element of discipleship. We cry out for mercy and God hears our prayer. We seek God and he seeks us out. Note what Bartimaeus does. He throws aside his cloak, jumps up, and comes to Jesus. As a blind beggar he probably had little else besides his one cloak. No doubt he slept and sat upon it, lest it be blown away or stolen. Instead of grasping it tightly around him while walking to Jesus, he throws it aside. He no longer needs what is literally his security blanket. He will be able to find it afterwards because he believes that he shall soon see. He wastes no time and jumps up. Such should be our disposition when God calls us. When he reaches Jesus, our Lord does something a bit peculiar, no doubt for the crowd. He asks, “What do you want me to do for you?” We might ask, is it not obvious? The beggar responds, “I want to see.” What else might he ask? Was Jesus hoping for another answer? In any case, the gift of sight is given him. No more mention is made of the cloak. The beggar’s old life has been swept away. He sees, not only with physical eyes, but with eyes of faith. Jesus tells him, “Be on your way! Your faith has healed you.” Here is where we get a hint as to what Jesus wanted to hear from the beggar. His eyes open, Bartimaeus follows him up the road. He becomes one of the many followers or disciples of Jesus. Can you imagine what laughter would have resulted had he answered Jesus’ question, “I want to be your disciple.” Nevertheless, the result here is the same. Tradition suggests that many of those given restored sight and made able to walk would later be blinded and crippled again in the persecution of the Christian saints. Their little faith that brought healing would blossom into a great faith meriting a share in Christ’s eternal life.
The Lord is ever so patient with us. Look at Matthew 13:24-43. Weed (sinners) and wheat (saints) are allowed to grow together. Where are we in this? What is our response to salvation and Christ’s coming kingdom?


















