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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.
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We gather together this evening with a common purpose – to remember and to pray for those whom we’ve loved and given back to God.
Our loss is heaven’s gain.
As Jesus says in tonight’s Gospel: “I will not reject anyone who comes to me… For this is the will of my Father, that everyone who sees the Son and believes in him may have eternal life.”
Still, tonight is bittersweet. Bitter because part of us is no longer here; sweet, because the people we’ve loved, and pieces of our own heart, are now in heaven with the Lord – just as Jesus promised.
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For some of us, it’s been a year or more…for others, a handful of days.
But we know the loss of a loved one doesn’t hit us all at once; it comes in stages.
There’s the first Thanksgiving. The first snowfall. The first Christmas. The first phone call when they don’t pick up.
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 find in the closet; their pillow you still snuggle with at night.
Maybe you hear them walk down the hallway; see an old picture; or remember their grin; their laugh; the warmth of their hugs.
At first these memories bring tears to our eyes – we fall back into days gone by, wishing they were still here. But over time, that sadness can turn into something sweet – a smile, a joyful tear, a prayer of gratitude that we knew, and, yes, were loved by them.
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The road to healing is long and sometimes rocky.
It requires seeing ourselves differently; imaging a future we never planned; still loving someone who loved us deeply, even though we cannot see or touch them anymore.
It’s a personal road – an intimate road – that no one can walk for us. Yet it’s also a journey that does not have to be walked alone.
“Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy burdened,” Jesus says, “and I will give you rest. For I am meek and humble of heart. My yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
We approach Jesus at this altar – the same altar many of us gathered around to offer our loved ones back to the Lord. We approach him in prayer. We approach him in the silence, when words are not enough.
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We also encounter the Lord in one another.
If you look around the church this evening, you’ll see a community of “all generations” who know what the ache of grief is like – utterly unique, yet common to us all.
Some of you have also discovered our Bereavement Ministry, a place where anyone can go to share their heart, to learn how to cope, and even to find friend who’s “been there.”
After Mass, as you enter the narthex, you will notice some home baked goodies that were prepared by members of our faith community just for you. They’re reminders that you’re thought of; that so many are here to support you.
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My hope is that each person here will experience the peace the Lord offers.
This was, after all, the first word that Jesus said to his disciples after being raised from the dead: “Peace.” In Hebrew, “shalom.”
“Shalom” means wholeness; harmony; prosperity. It implies that something – even someone – has been broken and then pieced back together. We know what the brokenness is like. Now we ask for the healing.
This is the Lord’s will after all – to piece us back together; to transform our grief into hope; doubt into faith; loss into gratitude.
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Whether it’s the first, or yet another, Thanksgiving, snowfall, and Christmas that comes, when you’re reminded of who is no longer there, remember who always is:
Jesus.
The one whose yoke is easy and whose burden is light. He will comfort us all, filling our hearts with that peace, which he alone can give.
And for our loved ones – grateful that God has saved them – we pray:
“Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May their soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.”
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Image credits: (1) Conrad Sangma, Twitter (2) Celebrating Winter Magick with Ice Candles, Pinterest (3) Pin on November, All Souls, Pinterest
