The Grief And Joy Of Death
Raymond Perrier with his England-based parents, Winston and Phil, when they visited the Denis Hurley Centre in Durban in December 2022. Winston died a few weeks later at 81.
The end of the past year saw a spate of deaths: celebrities from the worlds of music, film and fashion; Pope Emeritus Benedict — and then, on New Year’s Eve aged 81, my own father, Winston.
I list my father alongside the celebrities to make the point that, while every death is a personal tragedy, the experience of death is commonplace. In fact, in my parents’ parish in England, we were just one of 15 families dealing with a death at that time. I imagine that everyone reading this will have had to cope with bereavement on a number of occasions: each of us does so in our own way, yet we are all also united in a shared sense of grief.
With my parents in their eighties, and having seen so many of my contemporaries lose one or both parents in recent years, the death of my father was not unexpected. I have written before, in the July 2020 issue, about the value of facing up to death. So while the actual occurrence of a death always comes as a shock, for those who prepare for it, it should not be a surprise. After all, the one certainty in life is death.
As Catholic Christians, we are better prepared than many others to deal with death. We talk about it, we mark death anniversaries, we have a whole month dedicated to remembering the dead, we visit graves, we pray for the dead, we distribute and hold on to “In Memoriam” cards so that we continue to recall our loved ones. Amid all the sympathy cards and messages we received, I know that my family took very special comfort from the many Masses offered for my father.
There is, however, a risk in focusing on the corpse and not on the possibility of new life: “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” Of course, for those who do not have a faith, death is the end and and so likely to bring nothing but sadness.
But for us, as Christians, surely death is something to look forward to — not the end of our lives but the culmination of our lives on earth and the start of our eternal lives reunited with our Creator. Some people do not talk about “a death anniversary” but “a heavenly birthday”. That, after all, is why a saint’s feast day is usually the date of their death.
In preparing my father’s funeral, I wondered if we really do put our faith into practice. The days of very mournful rites — with black vestments and widow’s weeds — are mostly over. But when people try to make a funeral more joyful, they tend to look backwards: there is much talk about “a celebration of the life of the departed”. While that is good — and for those who do not believe in resurrection, frankly, it is all they have — for Christians the joy in a funeral is derived not just from looking back at life but, more importantly, looking forward to resurrection.
Focus on resurrection
So I focused my father’s funeral on asserting this belief in resurrection. It is my belief, it is my mother’s belief, and it was my father’s belief. Some in the congregation shared our belief; some not (so this was a chance to witness to them); some might say the words but need encouragement to truly believe them.
I hoped St Paul might galvanise them: “Now if Christ is proclaimed as raised from the dead, how can some of you say that there is no resurrection of the dead? If there is no resurrection of the dead, then Christ has not been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is useless, and so is your faith” (1 Corinthians 15).
Every week when we recite the Nicene Creed, we assert a belief in “the resurrection of the dead”. The less-frequently used Apostles’ Creed goes one further and affirms “the resurrection of the body”. This was to avoid early Christians falling into the trap of a dualist belief that only the soul is eternal and that our bodies are worthless. Christ choosing to take on a human body in Jesus shows that God does not regard the body as something to be despised — even if we are told that when this “earthly tent” is taken down, we will have a new house in heaven (2 Corinthians 5). St Paul the tentmaker is speaking very personally here!
Surely one of the defining features of being a Christian is to believe that we all have been given the promise of resurrection. Of course, we cannot take it for granted: it is sinful to presume God’s grace. But it is equally sinful to reject God’s mercy when it is offered.
Sides of the cross
In a few weeks’ time in Holy Week, we will once again be accompanying Jesus to Calvary and reflecting on his final hours. In Luke’s version of the Passion we have the striking image of the two thieves hanging either side of Jesus. It is a chance for each of us to decide what Christ’s death means in our own lives. Am I the sinner who sees no hope and for whom death is the end? Or am I — though still a sinner — one who has the courage to say to Jesus: “Remember me when you come into your Kingdom”; and (which takes even more courage) one who is willing to accept Jesus’ reply: “Truly, I say to you, this day you will be with me in Paradise.”
Holy Week makes sense only because Good Friday is followed by Easter Sunday — though it is still shocking to see how many more Catholics take time to gather for Jesus’ death than they do for his resurrection. In the same way, our own lives as Christians make sense only because we fervently believe that for each one of us, Christ offers the chance that the end of this life is followed by the start of a new life.
So let us celebrate funerals in a way that shows that we really do believe in the resurrection.
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