Breaking the chains
of death
We are called to celebrate the paschal mystery every day with deliberate
intent. This forms us, sustains our identity, gives us purpose, and offers
us hope in this world and the next. Although we profess to be a sacramental
people, we somehow lose sight of this, both in liturgy and in life. If
we are who we say we are, we should celebrate liturgy not only with full
participation but with the passionate conviction of a people born to new
life in baptism. That new life joins us in intimate communion with believers
yesterday, today, and forever. That communion of saints should be for us
a source of joy and companionship, intercession and consolation, unity
and inspiration. With them we sing praise to our God with one voice and
share the certainty of the resurrection. We long to stand with them at
the banquet of heaven, even as their desire is for us to join them when
we complete our earthly journey.
When we celebrate funeral liturgies, what we do should reflect all of
this. In the face of death, we celebrate victory over death. We use sign
and symbol to speak loudly of that triumph. We recall the baptism that
makes us one in life and in death, and we call on saints and angels to
carry us home. We speak words of eternal life and the promise of heaven.
We share prayer and communion, and all of this makes us one.
Even knowing that death has been defeated, the loss of those we love
still tugs at our earthly hearts. We should be quick to support those among
us who grieve. Because we are community, there should be no empty churches
at funeral liturgies. No one of us should be abandoned to suffer loss alone
nor walk the path that leads to healing and revelation without companionship.
Never should those rituals that mark the final moments of earthly existence
and brush against new life be celebrated without care.
In this issue of ML, as we continue to reflect on the proclamation of
the great Vigil, we focus on what it means to break the chains of death.
Elizabeth
McNamer describes how our Catholic identity is rooted in the communion
of saints and how this brings together our past, present, and future. Ron
Raab challenges us as ministers to stretch beyond the boundaries of
our own comfort zones and allow the passion of grief and suffering to be
a real part of our liturgies and ministry. Pastoral sensitivity to the
real-life issues of the marginalized demands of us a passion that is too
often absent from our daily lives. Jean Marie DuHamel
reflects on
the grieving process, on loss, and on the role that silence plays in the
movement from darkness into light. Too often our attention to those mourning
a loss is counted in days, or perhaps a week. We want to fill that time
with words, reassurances, preparations. Understanding silence and the very
real time that healing takes demands of us a more disciplined, mature ministry.
Being prepared to minister well means being well informed. Tom Iwanowski
offers us a treatment of the Order of Christian Funerals with cremated
remains, giving an explanation of how the vigil service, Mass, and committal
are celebrated.
Our ability to minister to one another depends on community, and the
development of that community is rooted in our liturgy. If we are not doing
the work necessary to pray liturgy well every season, every Sunday, then
when we need it most, our liturgy will fall short of the mark. God always
shows up, but we’re not always prepared to experience that presence. If
we put the effort into making every liturgy the celebration of death and
resurrection that it has the potential to be, the ritual, enabled by the
Spirit, has the power to carry us beyond our own limitations. Empowered
by that Spirit and free of the chains that once held us bound, we will
rise triumphant with each new day.
This is the night when Jesus Christ
broke the chains of death
and rose triumphant from the grave. ML
