Facing the Storms of Grief, Fear and Disappointment
As a Deacon, my husband is often asked to do graveside services for deceased members of our parish and sometimes at the local veteran’s cemetery for out-of-area veterans who are being buried there. Ed tries to make himself available whenever asked. He gathers whatever information he can about the deceased and personalizes the prayers and a brief homily to give comfort to the family gathered at the gravesite.
However, he’s noticed a disturbing trend lately. More people are forgoing the Mass of Christian Burial for their deceased loved ones and asking that prayers or some sort of service be held either in the funeral home or directly at the gravesite instead.
Ed has been asked numerous times to conduct this type of service—even for very devout Catholics who rarely, if ever, missed Mass in their lives. It is disturbing him that people—whether the family requests it or that it was at the request of the deceased before death—don’t want the graces that flow forth from the beautiful funeral liturgy.
Recently, a dear friend who was a retired deacon—the longest-ordained deacon in the Archdiocese of Philadelphia—died at the age of 92. As is the custom in our archdiocese, there was a vigil service—or wake—in the church followed by the Mass of Christian Burial. One of our Bishops celebrated the Mass, with several priests in our parish and others who knew this kindly and holy man, concelebrating. There were also several deacons in the sacristy. All were united with this man’s wife and children, and 26 grandchildren and great-grandchildren, in celebrating the life of this wonderful deacon.
Because of who he was—because of how he lived his life—many were mourning deeply. Tears flowed in every pew. There was also some laughter, as John was a humorous man who raised six children, so you can imagine the antics and stories from that home.
I couldn’t help thinking how healing the Mass was for all of us, and I thought of all the people who were opting out of this glorious ritual. The beautiful music, the prayers, the scripture readings and homily, and the Eucharist all helped those present to be reassured of life everlasting. Through the Mass of Christian Burial, the Church is showing that we should be confident in the belief that death isn’t the end.
The USCCB website states:
At the funeral liturgy, the Church gathers with the family and friends of the deceased to give praise and thanks to God for Christ's victory over sin and death, to commend the deceased to God's tender mercy and compassion, and to seek strength in the proclamation of the Paschal Mystery. The funeral liturgy, therefore, is an act of worship, and not merely an expression of grief.
Going directly from death to the vigil service and on to the Rite of Committal—that is, the burial—deprives us of remembering that we share in the death and resurrection of Christ. The Mass is a most beautiful way to commend the deceased to the mercy and compassion of God and to remind all of us of Christ’s victory over death…a death He suffered for us so that we could be reunited with Him when our earthly life is over.
I know we live in a fast-paced world. I know that when we are grieving, selecting the readings and music for a Mass can be overwhelming and even make us sadder. We often feel like we want to get the burial over with so we may quickly experience all the stages of grief in the hope that we’ll move on faster.
But that isn’t the way. This tells the story of an ordained deacon, but the graces and comfort received from the funeral Mass are for all Catholics.
Listening to the Word of God soothes our soul, and it gives us a way to reflect not just on the deceased’s life, but on our own as well. Sharing in the Sacrament of the Eucharist restores us, brings us to the foot of the cross, and more importantly to the empty tomb, knowing that our own loved one will be raised as well.
This is not the time to take shortcuts. It is the time to receive all the grace God bestows on us through liturgy in order to move on.
At the end of our deacon friend’s Mass, as his beloved family members took the casket out, many of us cried. Yet, the music, the community we felt with one another, and the support we were offering his beautiful wife and precious children and grandchildren gave us renewed hope. Hope for him, yes, but hope for ourselves as well.