As I write this reflection in late October, the leaves are at their peak. As you read this, those same trees are undoubtedly barren; the once-beautiful leaves are withering on the ground if not turned into mulch or compost.
Such is the life of a deciduous leaf in autumn. And from a natural perspective, so too, are our lives. As the Catechism of the Catholic Church states, “Death is the end of earthly life. Our lives are measured by time, in the course of which we change, grow old and, as with all living beings on earth, death seems like the normal end of life. That aspect of death lends urgency to our lives: Remembering our mortality helps us realize that we have only a limited time in which to bring our lives to fulfillment” (1007).
Highlighting the importance of understanding death in the Christian life, St. Paul addressed this matter in the first of the letters that he composed to the communities he founded. In the second reading, St. Paul presents the vision, the reality, of how Christians are to view death. “We do not want you to be unaware, brothers and sisters, about those who have fallen asleep, so that you may not grieve like the rest, who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose, so too will God, through Jesus, bring with him those who have fallen asleep” (1 Thes 4:13-14). In short, there is much more to Christian death than meets the eye.
That is not to say that the death of a loved one is easy for Christians. Our love for them does not die and we retain our human emotions. We see this even when Jesus’ friend Lazarus died. Before Jesus raised Lazarus, Jesus cried, one of only two times that Jesus is recorded as crying. Jesus cried even though he knew that he would raise Lazarus from the dead a few minutes later. When someone we love dies it is hard. It is OK to miss them and to be sad. And it is also not unusual to experience other emotions as well, as we reflect upon the life of someone who had an important impact upon us.
As we experience these various emotions, we are also invited to retain hope in multiple dimensions. Hope that our loved one is experiencing something better than life on this Earth. Hope that we can be together again. And hope that in the interim, we can remain connected through Christ. My favorite prayer in the funeral vigil service is “for those who believe in your love death is not the end, nor does it destroy the bonds that you forge in our lives.”
Yet for those hopes to be fulfilled, we, and the people we love, need to be prepared for death. Jesus made salvation possible, but we must accept that gift through what we believe in our hearts and how we live. The reality of death is a special focus of the Church in November, which began with All Saints’ Day, followed by All Souls’ Day. Many of our readings, including the Gospel passage, remind us that our natural lives will end, and that we need to be prepared. If we are truly wise, we will live out the passage’s concluding wisdom: “stay awake, for you know neither the day nor the hour” (Mt 25:13). If we do so, we have the greatest hope of all: We will shine for eternity (Wis 3:7) rather than meet the fate of the bright tree leaves I am now admiring.
Father Bambenek is the assistant director of the archdiocesan Office for the Renewal of Structures and Office of Synod Evangelization.
Sunday, Nov. 12
Thirty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time
