Fr Kevin Kilgore

***

Gospel: John 6:37-40

Jesus said to the crowds:
“Everything that the Father gives me will come to me,
and I will not reject anyone who comes to me,
because I came down from heaven not to do my own will
but the will of the one who sent me.
And this is the will of the one who sent me,
that I should not lose anything of what he gave me,
but that I should raise it on the last day.
For this is the will of my Father,
that everyone who sees the Son and believes in him
may have eternal life,
and I shall raise him on the last day.”

The Gospel of the Lord.

***

***

After the death of his wife, CS Lewis, a renowned Christian author, wrote, “Her absence was like the sky, spread over everything.”

Grief is something we’ve all experienced; it’s part of what brings us here tonight. The loss of a loved one – a parent, a spouse, a friend, even a child – can feel like the sky, spread over everything.

***

Jesus himself likened death to a thief that comes in the night. It’s in the nature of a thief to steal, taking what does not belong to itself.

Still, we gather in defiance of death to say that there are a few precious things which death cannot take from us. Not without our permission.

Death cannot steal our faith in God. Not without our permission.

Death cannot steal our memories of our loved ones. Not unless we choose to forget.

And death cannot extinguish the flame of hope burning within us. Not unless we smother it. Rather, we are here to add oil to our lamps, to keep that precious flame burning bright.

***

For some of us, it has been a year or more… for others, only a handful of days. But grief does not hit us all at once; it comes in stages.

There’s the first Thanksgiving. The first snowfall. The first Christmas. The first phone call that goes to voicemail. The empty chair at the table.

Weeks or months go by, and a letter arrives in the mail with their name on it. Suddenly, you pick up their scent in the house – an old t-shirt you found in the closet; or their pillow you still snuggle with at night.

Maybe you hear them walk down the hallway; see an old picture; remember the warmth of their hugs; or the sound of their laugh, a unique burst of joy flowing freely from their soul. 

At first these memories can bring tears to our eyes as we fall back into days gone by, wishing they were still here. 

But over time, that sadness can be transformed into the realization that death is not the end; rather, it is the beginning of something new – and beautiful.

Pope Benedict XVI said Christians can experience a “consoled sadness.” Yes, we grieve deeply because we loved deeply. Yet we also continue to believe – in defiance of death – that Christ is alive again.

And because of him, we shall live, as well.

***

Tonight, as we pray for all souls who’ve gone before us, we remember in particular our loved ones. Their names will be spoken as a family member, friend, or member of our Lazarus Ministry brings forward a candle, placing it in front of the altar.

That candle not only symbolizes the life of our loved one; it also reminds us of the light and warmth they brought into our lives.

The candle’s wax represents our humanity, created from the elements of the earth. Tangible; vulnerable; fleeting.

The wick represents our soul united with Christ. 

As that wick burns bright, its flickering flame reaches towards the heavens – pointing us to where our eternal homeland is – the kingdom of God.

Meanwhile, the wax slowly burns away, reminding us, “He must increase, and I must decrease.”

***

Tonight you may find precious memories suddenly come rushing in. Welcome them. Embrace them. Allow them to let you smile, even laugh. Laughter is not only a healing balm; it can also be an act of faith.

Many years ago, when a priest preached his Easter sermon, he was expected to tell a joke, even if it had nothing to do with Jesus, Easter, or religion.

The goal was simple: to make people laugh so hard they shook the walls of the church. 

After enduring the horror of Good Friday, when Jesus was crucified, died, and was buried, Christians gathered together on Easter to celebrate the glorious joy of Christ’s resurrection – and with that, their belief that death was no longer definitive.

In the words of Saint Paul, “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” 

We will have our own chance to make the walls of this church tremor with love when we gather after Mass to share memories of our loved ones over coffee.

***

“Her absence was like the sky, spread over everything,” CS Lewis wrote after the death of his wife. 

But through the winding valley of grief, he learned that something new, even something beautiful, could be revealed at every turn.

May the Lord reveal himself to us in this bend of our journey, revealing a deeper understanding of the marvelous truth that all souls shall rest comfortably in the arms of Christ.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O LORD, and let perpetual light shine upon them. 

May they rest in peace. 

May their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

***

***

Image credits: (1) sanctifycyrils.chuch (2) magiscenter.com (3) Pinterest

***

Gospel: Matthew 5:1-12

When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain,
and after he had sat down, his disciples came to him.
He began to teach them, saying:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are they who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the land.
Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the clean of heart,
for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness,
for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you
and utter every kind of evil against you falsely because of me.
Rejoice and be glad,
for your reward will be great in heaven.”

The Gospel of the Lord.

***

***

After Mass last weekend, I had a conversation with a family about colleges. Two of their children have applied and are now enduring the painful process of waiting. 

As with most high schoolers, each has their fall back school, their stretch school, and their dream school. 

The problem with dream schools is that they are often just that – dreams. 

With a single digit acceptance rate, most students who apply to places like the Ivy Leagues -Havard, Princeton, or Yale – will never get in, even if they’re qualified on paper.

Each applicant is competing against another student athlete, another president of a senior class, another valedictorian, or another perfect score.

***

Getting into heaven – or being counted among the Saints – can feel similar, as if it’s just a dream.

Who among us is equal to Saint Paul? 

Scholars estimate he traveled 10,000 miles on foot while preaching the Gospel. In the course of his travels, Paul was shipwrecked, beaten, imprisoned, abandoned, and left for dead. 

Shortly before his death, he wrote to his spiritual son, Timothy, using very athletic terms to describe his faith journey. “I have fought the good fight, I have competed well, I have run the race to the finish, I have kept the faith.” 

Paul is a towering Saint. What hope can there be for us?

***

Well, there are Saints who lived more ordinary lives.

Some were cooks, farmers, maids, soldiers, or soccer players. 

One of my favorites is André Besset, a Saint of the 20^th century.

André was never ordained a priest; he was a religious brother who cut hair for a living, charging a nickel a visit. Four thousand haircuts later, he saved up enough money to build a small shrine to Saint Joseph in Montreal, Canada.

André then spent the final 33 years of his life standing at the front door, greeting and praying with pilgrims. Miraculously, he healed more than 10,000 people from physical and spiritual ailments.

After his death, his simple shrine was expanded into a sprawling basilica.

André Besset is a Saint.

***

Still, how many of us can compare ourselves to the likes of Paul or André? If their lives provide the criteria for being admitted into heaven – being shipwrecked, imprisoned, or performing thousands of miracles – then I, or maybe we, don’t stand a chance.

This, I think, is one of the unintended consequences of canonizing people as Saints. It creates an artificial barrier between holiness and ordinary life, as if we could never be them.

***

This is why I identify more with ordinary people of good will, men and women who have never been canonized as a Saint by the Church, and probably never will be. Yet God’s divine love was undoubtedly poured into their hearts with good measure, flowing over.

For example, this week I learned about a woman who lived in southern Mississippi. Her name was Oseola McCarty. Oseola never went to college; she barely had a sixth grade education.

She was never married. She never had children. She never owned a car. The home she lived in was given to her by her uncle. To get her groceries, Oseola walked a mile to the store with a push cart, even on muggy Mississippi mornings.

For 75 years, she made a living by washing people’s clothes. She’d scrub the darks on a washboard, boil the whites in a big black pot, then hang them up to dry.

In 1995, at the age of 87, she donated most of her life savings – $150,000 – to the University of Southern Mississippi, establishing a scholarship fund for underprivileged children.

She died four years later.

For her humility, her simplicity of life, and for opening doors for other people – doors which she herself would never walk through – Oseola McCarty is a saint.

***

Ultimately, Oseola is you. She is me.

She is any one of us who give quietly of ourselves for the good of others, like parents who routinely sacrifice for their children; people who care lovingly for an aging parent or spouse; or the student who sits with that kid at lunch who has no other friends.

Oseola represents all of the ordinary, often anonymous, saints whom John sees in our first reading from the Book of Revelation, dressed in white, raising their palm branches high, singing Hosanna as they enter the kingdom of God.

***

For many of us, college was the next – and necessary – step after high school. I personally never applied to my dream school, Oxford University. I felt I stood no chance of getting in; I didn’t have the scores, the resumé, the gifts.

But I knew what I could do – in fact, what we all can do – is strive for the kingdom of God.

Cut hair. Wash clothes. Open a door.

Live an ordinary life with extraordinary love and we, too, will be welcomed into the communion of saints.

May the Saints in heaven– Paul of Tarsus, André Besset of Montreal, and Oseola McCarty of Mississippi – pray for us.

***

***

Image credits: (1) Benedictine Sisters of Mount Scholastica (2) Sermon on the Mount, Carl Bloch (3) National Catholic Reporter

***

Gospel: Luke 14: 1-6

On a sabbath Jesus went to dine
at the home of one of the leading Pharisees,
and the people there were observing him carefully.
In front of him there was a man suffering from dropsy.
Jesus spoke to the scholars of the law and Pharisees in reply, asking,
“Is it lawful to cure on the sabbath or not?”
But they kept silent; so he took the man and,
after he had healed him, dismissed him.
Then he said to them   
“Who among you, if your son or ox falls into a cistern,
would not immediately pull him out on the sabbath day?”  
But they were unable to answer his question.

The Gospel of the Lord.

***

***

I studied Russian in college.

One of my professors grew up behind the Iron Curtain. She often told stories about the dreariness of Communism, the long lines for bread, the rationing of food, the relentless propaganda, and indoctrination of children.

But one thing she brought with her when she emigrated to the United States was the idea of rest.

“Here,” she said, “I have to work 24/7. If an email is sent on a Saturday and I don’t respond to that person immediately, then they wonder why!”

This was 20 years ago.

“Work should happen during the week,” she said. “On weekends, we should be free.”

***

Jews held a similar idea of the Sabbath. It was a day of rest, honoring the seventh day of creation, when God rested from his labors. No work was permitted; not even charity.

Yet, in today’s Gospel, Jesus heals someone for the third time on the Sabbath, asking, “Is it lawful to cure or not?”

The heart of the issue is not about a rule, but the rule breaker. 

Jesus’ interpretation of Jewish laws differed from the scribes and Pharisees. To them, he represented a potential mass exodus away from their school of thought, compromising their authority.

Jesus believed that certain things like charity were not simply permitted on the Sabbath, but required when called for.

***

What might this mean for us today? As Christians, should we honor the Sabbath?

Absolutely. But not just for religious reasons; many also need to rediscover the idea of genuine rest.

For example, when was the last time we spent a day – or even a few hours – without our phones? How long does it take before we start scrolling through social media? 

When was the last time we took a stroll through a park, paused to watch an eagle soar, called a friend just to talk, or read a book without interruption?

***

I need the Sabbath. Perhaps we all do, because we’re not machines; we’re human.

Find a few hours – even a day – for authentic rest this week. Doing so will not only honor the Lord, but also our often overexerted selves.

***

***

Image credits: (1) Auckland Physiotherapy (2) Feasts of Israel, bible.org (3) Crossroadsnewport.com