Funeral Lectionary: John 6:51-58

Here’s a good Catholic reading:

Jesus said to the crowd:
“I am the living bread that came down from heaven;
  whoever eats this bread will live forever;
  and the bread that I will give
  is my flesh for the life of the world.”
 
The Jewish leaders quarreled among themselves, saying,
  “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?”
 
Jesus said to them,
  “Amen, amen, I say to you,
  unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood,
  you do not have life within you.

Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life,
  and I will raise them on the last day.
For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink.
Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood
  remains in me and I in them.
Just as the living Father sent me
  and I have life because of the Father,
  so also the one who feeds on me will have life because of me.
 
This is the bread that came down from heaven.
Unlike your ancestors who ate and still died,
  whoever eats this bread will live forever.”

For good Catholics, there’s an obvious and expected connection between participation in the Eucharist and the eternal life promised by Christ to his followers. This reading makes less sense for those who are not regular churchgoers. But it makes a very traditional connection between eschatology (the end things) and the life-giving sacramental system.

Jesus’ dissenters don’t seem to get it. But what is described here is a deep intimacy with God. What God shares with us is something as close as the very substance of the divine makeup. If we were to imitate Christ in our relationships with others, it would be as if we were giving our very flesh, our very lives. And that theme is picked up by the Lord at the Last Supper.

John 6:51-58 may be a traditional reading, but it’s also a very dangerous one. Are we prepared to live our lives in imitation of the Lord? Taking his flesh and blood into our systems–that’s what it means. Not every mourning assembly is prepared for a message like this. But if we want to be inspired to follow in Christ’s footsteps, and those of the saints, perhaps a very good message.

 

Funeral Lectionary: John 6:37-40

The context of John 6 will be clear later this summer as we take our triennial sojourn into what is known as the Bread of Life Discourse. Jesus feeds the multitudes (1-15). And it surely impressed the crowds, as they head off in search of the Lord (22-25). They do find him at the end of their pilgrimage, but Jesus seems to put them off. Are they just looking for food? Are they seeking more spectacle? The crowd asks him directly for the bread from heaven (verse 34) about which he has told them (26-27, 29, 32-33). He states (as every Catholic knows) that he is the Bread of Life. And he tells them a bit more:

Jesus said to the crowd:
“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 them on the last day.”

And so the seekers are invited to move from curiosity to faith. Christ is open to “anyone who comes,” an apt reminder for those of us within the flock. And a good reminder for any mourners who may feel distanced from Christ or from the Church. The Father’s very will and desire is that all those who have come to Christ will be raised. It is only for us to accept this will, and cultivate faith according to our knowledge and abilities.

How do we come to eternal life, then? We see the Son and believe. My sense is that this is less an intellectual matter (though it could be, in part) and more one of cultivating a relationship. In John 6, it almost seems like a courtship. People pursue the Lord, and there’s a certain coy quality to these questions and answers, like two lovers-to-be figuring out what’s going on. The Lord comes right out and says it, eventually: Look for food that lasts. Nobody who comes will be rejected. Look for a relationship of faith, and eternal life will be yours.

This is a somewhat frequent choice for funerals. Not the most popular. But it does give a measure of hope for those who might in doubt about the state of the deceased’s soul? Was the person a true seeker? If so, we have the Lord’s will and his testimony that no one given to the Son will be lost. What do you think?

 

Funeral Lectionary: John 11:32-45

Prior to this section in John’s Gospel is Jesus’ encounter with Martha of Bethany. In the option below, we read of the dramatic raising of her brother Lazarus. I’m surprised this passage isn’t selected more often. In fact, I cannot recall a funeral in which it was chosen.

When Mary came to where Jesus was and saw him,
  she fell at his feet and said to him,
  “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
 
When Jesus saw her weeping
  and the people who had come with her weeping,
  he became perturbed and deeply troubled, and said,
  “Where have you laid him?”
They said to him, “Sir, come and see.”
And Jesus wept.
So the people said, “See how he loved him.”
But some of them said,
  “Could not the one who opened the eyes of the blind man
  have done something so that this man would not have died?”
 
So Jesus, perturbed again, came to the tomb.
It was a cave, and a stone lay across it.
Jesus said,
  “Take away the stone.”

Martha, the dead man’s sister, said to him,
  “Lord, by now there will be a stench;
  he has been dead for four days.”
Jesus said to her,
  “Did I not tell you
  that if you believe you will see the glory of God?”
So they took away the stone.
And Jesus raised his eyes and said,
  “Father, I thank you for hearing me.
I know that you always hear me;
  but because of the crowd here I have said this,
  that they may believe that you sent me.”
And when he had said this, he cried out in a loud voice,
  “Lazarus, come out!”
The dead man came out,
  tied hand and foot with burial bands,
  and his face was wrapped in a cloth.
So Jesus said to them,
  “Untie him and let him go.”
 
Now many of the people who had come to Mary
  and seen what he had done began to believe in him.

There is a lot to reflect upon here. I’m going to confine my commentary to just two aspects.

Where his people are concerned, God possesses deep emotions for us. I’m reminded of this passage from the Wisdom tradition. In our moments of anguish, we rail against God. We question. We rage. Even if we consider ourselves beloved friends of God. God’s response? Grief, compassion, and union. God becomes one with us through the shared emotion on the death of a loved one. Mourners may not be ready for this, but God’s presence remains a sacramental and spiritual reality.

Second, I observe a dynamic of theological reflection in this passage. Father Robert Kinast penned a book focusing on John’s Gospel as an opportunity to explore theological reflection. In other words, the evangelist presents his readers with an episode in Jesus’ life. The Lord takes the opportunity to teach the disciple something of significance which can be applied in her or his own life. The raising of Lazarus is such an example. On the occasion of his friend’s death, Jesus invites Martha and Mary to a deeper understanding of the mystery of death and resurrection.

Bad things, even catastrophic things, present opportunities for grace. In this passage, deepening faith in the Messiah and God’s clear intention to lift a fallen humanity out of death.

Perhaps it is not so surprising after all that this reading is rarely chosen. Jesus seems indifferent at the time of his friend’s illness and death. Perhaps the tears are unconvincing. This might be a better message for the mourners after some months have passed.

You readers, would you consider this reading? If so, why? If not, why not?

 

Funeral Lectionary: Isaiah 25:6a, 7-9

Many passages in Isaiah hint, suggest, or proclaim a universal salvation. This isn’t confined to the later “incarnations” of the Isaiah tradition post-Exile (chapter 40ff.). One of the most popular Old Testament passages for a funeral lays out a vision in which “all peoples” shall enjoy a banquet of salvation:

On this mountain the Lord of hosts
  will provide for all peoples
[A feast of rich food and choice wines,
  juicy rich food and pure choice wines.]
On this mountain he will destroy
  the veil that veils all peoples,
The web that is woven over all nations;
  he will destroy death forever.
The Lord God will wipe away
  the tears from all faces;
The reproach of his people he will remove
  from the whole earth; for the Lord has spoken.
On that day it will be said:
  “Behold our God, to whom we looked to save us!
This is the Lord for whom we looked;
  let us rejoice and be glad that he has saved us!”

I don’t know why the Lectionary editors omitted the portion in brackets above, 25:6b. Maybe the juicy rich food and pure choice wines won’t be served in the parish hall after the cemetery; only casseroles and lemonade.

Seriously, this passage gives a classic Christian picture of heaven. So why not proclaim and preach it at a funeral? Only four verses, but packed with solid theology and great imagery. A preacher might have to pick and choose from:

• The mountain as the traditional place for the Israelite to encounter God.
• God removes the obstructions of human sin; it is grace that we rely on to remove the tangles of our failures.
• The end of death as a mortal inevitability.
• Our tender God wipes away tears: the gesture of a loving parent.
• Outsiders will have no reason to taunt the redeemed. This, the outgrowth of the ancient competitiveness between Israel (and its God) and the Gentiles (and their pagan gods).
• The power of God’s Word: he has only to say something, and it will be so.
• Those last two lines of this passage strike me as an echo of the Easter refrain from Psalm 118:24.

I think this passage is well-paired with Psalm 23, complementing how God actively pursues and provides for the psalmist with the Isaian expectation of God’s salvific grace for the entire believing and faithful community. That’s a lot of ground to cover. What do you think about Isaiah 25 as a passage for a funeral?

 

 

Funeral Lectionary: John 11:17-27

The Gospel of John provides so many possibilities for the Christian funeral. If the mourning community likes a story, why not select excerpts from the raising of Lazarus? Today’s passage highlights the conversation of the Lord with Martha of Bethany. Martha confronts Jesus, then accepts and receives his reassurance. Her conclusion? A statement of faith not unlike the one uttered by Peter (Matthew 16:16).

[When Jesus arrived in Bethany,
  he found that Lazarus
  had already been in the tomb for four days.
Now Bethany was near Jerusalem,
  only about two miles away.
And many of the people had come to Martha and Mary
  to comfort them about their brother.
 
When Martha heard that Jesus was coming,
  she went to meet him;
  but Mary sat at home.]
 
Martha said to Jesus,
  “Lord, if you had been here,
  my brother would not have died.
But even now I know that whatever you ask of God,
  God will give you.”

Jesus said to her,
  “Your brother will rise.”
 
Martha said to him,
  “I know he will rise,
  in the resurrection on the last day.”
 
Jesus told her,
  “I am the resurrection and the life;
  whoever believes in me, even if they die, will live,
  and everyone who lives and believes in me
  will never die.
  Do you believe this?”
 
She said to him,
  “Yes, Lord.
I have come to believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God,
  the one who is coming into the world.”

There is an option for a shorter reading, omitting verses 17-20, the bracketed text above. I really don’t know why one choose to read that. While the story of the raising of Lazarus is familiar to most believers, and this passage, after all, is about Martha and her faith, I think those verses are an important way to refresh memories about this encounter.

The heart of this passage really begins with Martha’s challenge. Is it a simple statement of faith? A reminder intended to sting her friend? Perhaps she is questioning his commitment to her family. Without seeing her body language, it is impossible to know. Perhaps it is all three.

A mourning community will have these kinds of mixed feelings. Some might feel God had the power to save their loved one. Some will be angry with God for not doing so. Others will question God’s love–assuming that because God didn’t “save” the deceased that he has withheld his love in some way.

On second thought, this passage might be untimely for many funerals. Martha confronts Jesus, but her profession of faith is very close to the surface–if we take this brief encounter literally. Many Christians speak of Jesus as friend. And he is that, no doubt. Jesus is also the Son of God, and this relationship with the Father and with believers is something that transcends friendship. If we are prepared to acknowledge Jesus is more than a friend who comes at our beckoning, who does small chores and duties for us, then perhaps we are ready for a relationship with the one who is “the resurrection and the life.”

Maybe this passage is better saved for later in the grieving process, after we have taken Martha’s path of denial (Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died), then bargaining (But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you), then a somewhat stiff recitation of what she “should” know (I know he will rise, in the resurrection on the last day), giving way to a final and more heartfelt creed (I have come to believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world).

 

Funeral Lectionary: 2 Corinthians 5:1, 6-10

With the pivot of chapter 5, verse 1, this reading continues an exploration of the end we encountered in the other Second Corinthians reading for a funeral.

We know that if our earthly dwelling, a tent,
  should be destroyed,
  we have a building from God,
  a dwelling not made with hands, eternal in heaven.
 
So we are always courageous,
  although we know that while we are at home in the body
  we are away from the Lord,
  for we walk by faith, not by sight.
 
Yet we are courageous,
  and we would rather leave the body and go home to the Lord.
Therefore, we aspire to please him,
  whether we are at home or away.
For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ,
  so that each one may receive recompense,
  according to what he did in the body,
  whether good or evil.

The Scripture scholar Jan Lambrecht, SJ, wonders about a progression in Saint Paul’s theology of death. He suggests a certain progression starting in 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18, continuing through 1 and 2 Corinthians, and arriving at a deeper sense with death in Philippians 3:20-21. I don’t think this theological progression is suitable homiletic material for mourners. Unless the deceased was herself or himself a Pauline scholar. But it might influence the suggestions to the mourners. From Professor Lambrecht:

In 1 Thessalonians and 1 Corinthians Paul sees the time period after death still as a state of “sleeping”; in Philippians and presumably in 2 Corinthians as well this situation is depicted as “being with Christ.”

…

From 2 Corinthians onwards, death before the Parousia belongs to the normal course of events and Paul himself reckons with his own death. In 2 Corinthians he is still somewhat afraid of death; in Philippians he is longing for it.

What does this mean? Today I’d say the more important reflection for a mourning assembly is that the “sleep” after death strikes people as metaphorical. It might really be that the dead are put on hold until Christ’s Second Coming. But after two millennia, that seems like tremendous uncertainty. Billions of believers have died since apostolic times. What they experience is a great mystery. But our ministry to the dying and to mourners has enough obstacles without introducing doubt and wonder.

Does Paul seem afraid in the passage above? I wouldn’t say so. He’s just as focused on the unseen aspects of faith. And his trust in Christ is absolute. He spends a lot of words convincing his Corinthian friends of this. Paul’s earnest appeals in 2 Corinthians may give just enough of an emotional connection to mourners. Personally, I prefer Phil 3:20-21, but you can’t go wrong with this passage above. This reading also has that classic line, reminding us “we walk by faith, not by sight.” That sets up the preacher very well indeed for the proclamation of Christ in the Gospel and the unfolding of the message in the homily. And a Christ-centered message at the funeral Mass is often a welcome word, if handled with pastoral care.

 

Funeral Lectionary: 2 Corinthians 4:14—5:1

Of all Paul’s letters, Second Corinthians is the most intimate, the most revealing of the man, and the most emotional in terms of what we see in the apostle’s trials and sufferings. Not unlike the human spirit encountering the death of a loved one. Raw feelings–even discontent and anger may rule the day.

It is not surprising that the funeral Lectionary draws upon the apostle’s reflections on suffering for two readings used somewhat commonly. As Paul shares his experience of suffering, he places Christ at the center of it to give it substance and meaning. Another common theme of the New Testament is the notion that suffering is redemptive and can point to the grace and power (glory) of God.

We know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus
  will raise us also with Jesus
  and place us with you in his presence.
Everything indeed is for you,
  so that the grace bestowed in abundance
  on more and more people
  may cause the thanksgiving to overflow for the glory of God.
 
Therefore, we are not discouraged;
  rather, although our outer self is wasting away,
  our inner self is being renewed day by day.
For this momentary light affliction
  is producing for us an eternal weight of glory
  beyond all comparison,
  as we look not to what is seen but to what is unseen;
for what is seen is transitory,
  but what is unseen is eternal.

For we know that if our earthly dwelling, a tent,
  should be destroyed,
  we have a building from God,
  a dwelling not made with hands,
  eternal in heaven.

Perhaps we tire of Saint Paul’s complaints in Second Corinthians. But I think the apostle places his discontent in two important contexts. First he has hope. He focuses on the unseen and the eternal. Beyond the senses, and beyond the logic of the world, the apostle urges believers to look to a final experience that cannot compare in weight or in time with the present-day afflictions.

Most importantly, he also places Christ at the center of his sufferings. Christ brings purpose to affliction, as he has experienced it himself. And it is through the Paschal Mystery, the dying and rising of Christ, that we are able to have hope. It’s not a logical thing. But it is a reality we celebrate and remember at every Mass. God’s offer of grace to his people is real. What happened to Jesus Christ is real. What happens to our beloved deceased is real. And we have hope to follow in these footsteps.

If mourners are ready for it, this is a good message. Hope is difficult, though. Sometimes it’s easier to preach on love or faith. Not that love and faith are easy, but in comparison, I think many of today’s cultures have great difficulty with hope. And perhaps we affluent of the First World, most of all.

 

Funeral Lectionary: 1 Corinthians 15:51-57

In the whole of 1 Corinthians 15, Saint Paul is less comforting the mourners and more trying to exhort the believers into a better expression of the Christian life. This passage we look at today is definitely aimed at the mourners, even if their situation is somewhat different than the ancient Church at Corinth.

Let’s read:

Behold, I tell you a mystery.
We shall not all fall asleep, but we will all be changed,
  in an instant, in the blink of an eye, at the last trumpet.
For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised incorruptible,
  and we shall be changed.
 
For that which is corruptible must clothe itself with incorruptibility,
  and that which is mortal must clothe itself with immortality.
 
And when this which is corruptible clothes itself with incorruptibility
  and this which is mortal clothes itself with immortality,
  then the word that is written shall come about:
“Death is swallowed up in victory.
Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?”
 
The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law.
But thanks be to God
  who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

The first part of this passage echoes an earlier writing of Saint Paul in Thessalonians. We looked at it here. I like this first part of the reading. Paul calls us closer, like he’s sharing a very important insight: a professor quieting down and getting the whole class’s attention. Or a trusted guide taking us aside and gesturing to the trail ahead, drawing back the curtain on some new wonder. And so it will be.

Paul borrows from deeper in his Judaism, too. Isaiah (25:8, another funeral selection) contributes verse 55 (green) and Hosea gives verse 56 (blue), and the two quotations from the different prophets make for a fitting taunt of human mortality. I suppose it’s fine for us to poke at death, the eventual vanquished, from behind the robes of the Lord.

I do think that the passage from Isaiah 25:6-9 makes for a good pairing with this 1 Corinthians. It gives the mourners a message of hope. It’s a quiet sequence in which we acknowledge things don’t seem right–just yet. Perhaps we think our hopes have been defeated, and we doubt the time after death. But the apostle Paul is a trusted guide. And even more, we can rely on Christ. If this message of comfort needs to be built up in the mourners, then chose a good gospel message to follow. Let Jesus have the last word, because it’s sure going to be a good one when that last trumpet wails.

 

Funeral Lectionary: 1 Corinthians 15:20-24a, 25-28

The funeral Lectionary includes two passages from Saint Paul’s fifteenth chapter of First Corinthians. In this chapter, the apostle addresses the Christian belief in the Resurrection in three stages. First, he teaches on Christ (15:1-11). Next, he addresses the skepticism seemingly rampant in the community at Corinth (15:12-34). And finally, he gives a theological treatise on the Resurrection as a truth of the faith, but a mystery we do not fully comprehend (15:35-58).

The funeral Lectionary includes one selection from each of these last two subsections. And we’ll look at the core of the Paul’s effort to persuade the doubters here:

Christ has been raised from the dead,
  the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.
For since death came through a human being,
  the resurrection of the dead
  came also through a human being.
 
For just as in Adam all die,
  so too in Christ shall all be brought to life,
  but each one in proper order:
  Christ the firstfruits;
  then, at his coming, those who belong to Christ;
then comes the end,
  when he hands over the kingdom to his God and Father,
  when he has destroyed every sovereignty
    and every authority and power.
For he must reign until he has put all his enemies
  under his feet.
 
The last enemy to be destroyed is death,
  for “he subjected everything under his feet.”
But when it says that everything has been subjected,
  it is clear that it excludes
  the one who subjected everything to him.
 
When everything is subjected to him,
  then the Son himself will also be subjected
  to the one who subjected everything to him,
  so that God may be all in all.

Why might people choose this reading? It’s clearly Christ-centered. Death is a mystery, to be sure. But Christ has transcended death and defeated it. If we accept Jesus Christ as Lord, then we accept that we will be drawn under his power and we will rise at Christ’s final triumph over death. Adam sinned, then died. And we possess this heritage as mortal living things.

As believers, we are also subject to God. And if we stand with God, then with the  Son, we will enjoy a final victory over death.

Does the Pauline argument convince you? Is it too much? A shorter passage is an option, but I think I’d prefer the fuller picture here. I think it’s good to claim death as an enemy, and to look forward to its final destruction. It’s something of a pep talk. And sometimes at funerals, that’s okay. I’d rather be cheering based on the grace of Christ and what he accomplishes in us, rather than hearing a rah-rah eulogy and base my hope solely on the goodness of the deceased.

What do you think? Good reading? Use the full or the short version?

 

Funeral Lectionary: Romans 14:7-9, 10c-12

Except for the Psalms and John’s Gospel, Romans is represented in the funeral Lectionary more than any other book. Possibly because of the apostle’s clarity of theology and teaching.

In chapter 14 of Saint Paul’s letter to the Romans, the apostle is addressing a particular situation in this community. Verses 1-6 argue for the community to be tolerant. This is followed by some more specific advice, with verse 10ab excised to give the whole text a rather general cast:

No one lives for oneself,
  and no one dies for oneself.
For if we live, we live for the Lord,
  and if we die, we die for the Lord;
so then, whether we live or die,
  we are the Lord’s.
 
For this is why Christ died and came to life,
  that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living.
For we shall all stand before the judgment seat of God;
  for it is written:
“As I live, says the Lord,
  every knee shall bend before me,
  and every tongue shall give praise to God.”
 
So then each of us shall give an accounting of ourselves to God.

The section in color is thought to be a possible ancient hymn fragment or a credal statement: three couplets with something of a poetic sense. Whether original to Saint Paul or not isn’t relevant. The apostle uses it as a springboard to remind his hearers that all believers are accountable to God. For those latched on to the idea of quoting ancient Christian hymns, this section has a sort of symmetry, if you will. The quotation marks outline a poetic prophecy to Cyrus in Isaiah 45:23. In Paul’s day, just as subjects of an emperor bent knee and acknowledged authority, so too Christians do likewise before the judgment seat of God.

When might this passage be selected? Where authority is valued–by either the deceased or community of mourners, perhaps. To underscore the centrality of God and of Jesus the Son in the funeral liturgy. I suppose if the first reading were more suggestive of the qualities of the deceased, this Scripture would tend to give more of a balance before heading into the Gospel.

It’s a passage that might comfort some–those who in their lives rely on God and acknowledge divine authority in their lives. But it’s a message of which we never hear too much.

 

Funeral Lectionary: Mark 15:33-39; 16:1-6

Mark’s account of Jesus’ death and resurrection is mashed together as one option for a funeral Gospel:

At noon darkness came over the whole land
  until three in the afternoon.
And at three o’clock Jesus cried out in a loud voice,
  “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?”
  which is translated,
  “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
 
Some of the bystanders who heard it said,
  “Look, he is calling Elijah.”
One of them ran, soaked a sponge with wine,
  put it on a reed, and gave it to him to drink, saying,
  “Wait, let us see if Elijah comes to take him down.”
Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last.
 
The veil of the sanctuary was torn in two from top to bottom.
When the centurion who stood facing him
  saw how he breathed his last he said,
  “Truly this man was the Son of God!”
 
When the sabbath was over,
  Mary Magdalene,   Mary, the mother of James, and Salome  
  bought spices so that they might go and anoint him.
 
Very early when the sun had risen,
  on the first day of the week,
  they came to the tomb.
They were saying to one another,
  “Who will roll back the stone for us
  from the entrance to the tomb?”
When they looked up,
  they saw that the stone had been rolled back;
  it was very large.
On entering the tomb they saw a young man sitting on the right side,
  clothed in a white robe, and they were utterly amazed.
He said to them,
  “Do not be amazed!
  You seek Jesus of Nazareth, the crucified.
He has been raised; he is not here.
Behold the place where they laid him.

The Lectionary gives the option of just proclaiming the section from chapter 15, the part that concludes with the centurion’s testimony–no resurrection. I think the resurrection section makes this passage, to be honest.

I feel somewhat ambivalent about Passion narratives being used for funerals. On the plus side, it tends to focus the Liturgy of the Word more on Christ, rather than on a recounting of good deeds done by the deceased. On the other hand, when we celebrate a funeral, we’re not exactly associating the faithful departed with the Lord himself. We follow where the Lord has gone, certainly. And while I’m not one of those folks who thinks of the funeral as a “Mass of the Resurrection,” (which it isn’t, really) I do think the Resurrection narrative gives comfort to mourners while keeping the focus of the Mass on Christ.

 

 

Funeral Lectionary: 2 Timothy 2:8-13

Scripture scholars think there are ancient Christian hymns quoted, embedded, or otherwise utilized in the texts of the New Testament. One is in 2 Timothy’s contribution to the funeral Lectionary:

Remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead,
  a descendant of David:
  such is my gospel, for which I am suffering,
  even to the point of chains, like a criminal.
But the word of God is not chained.
 
Therefore, I bear with everything
  for the sake of those who are chosen,
  so that they too may obtain the salvation
  that is in Christ Jesus,
  together with eternal glory.
 
This saying is trustworthy:
If we have died with him we shall also live with him;
if we persevere we shall also reign with him.
But if we deny him he will deny us.
If we are unfaithful he remains faithful,
  for he cannot deny himself.

I’ve highlighted in color passages that Saint Paul possibly “lifted” from other sources of his day. The Scripture scholar Benjamin Fiore, SJ, suggests that this passage begins with a quote (in blue, above) from a baptismal hymn or a very early creed. When believers are beset by trials, often they turn (or return) to what they know. The tried-and-true. And what is more foundational than an expression of faith? The dark green passage is more widely noted as a possible baptismal hymn. We can’t really tell, and for the modern Christian, I doubt it matters. What is important here is that Paul demonstrates a sound and acceptable practice: when we are suffering or in pain, we bring that experience to God, we embed our own experience in the context of prayers tried-and-true.

Modern Christians, too, find great solace in the familiar words of much-loved hymns and songs. Like the apostle, we place our pain and sorrows in the very music we sing. There may be few better examples to handle grief and separation than the apostle Paul. And as we do bear these trials, we keep in mind others who have suffered–sometimes more painfully than ourselves. And we rejoice that these sisters and brothers are released from their suffering to be with the Lord.

When might this passage be chosen for a funeral? It certainly speaks to the situation of mourners. It also touches on the nature of temptation and trial that a Christian must suffer. Was the deceased one of these? If so, we can ground our hope in the faith of our departed loved one, and look to our own faith for solace. And there are few better ways to do this, when beset by loss, than to reach out for what has sustained us in the past. Music, especially, has the power to do this. And while we have lost the musical strains of these quotations of Saint Paul, we still have the music of today and of our Christian heritage to draw on for strength and firmness.

 

Funeral Lectionary: Revelation 21:1-5a, 6b-7

Of the three Revelation passages given for funerals, this is the one chosen most often:

I saw a new heaven and a new earth.
The former heaven and the former earth had passed away,
  and the sea was no more.
 
I also saw the holy city, a new Jerusalem,
  coming down out of heaven from God,
  prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.
 
I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,
  “Behold, God’s dwelling is with the human race.
He will dwell with them and they will be his people
  and God himself will always be with them as their God.
He will wipe every tear from their eyes,
  and there shall be no more death or mourning,
  wailing or pain,
  for the old order has passed away.”
 
The one who sat on the throne said,
  “Behold, I make all things new.”
 
I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end.
To the thirsty I will give a gift
  from the spring of life-giving water.
The victors will inherit these gifts,
  and I shall be their God, and they will be my own.

The mother of this passage may be Isaiah 65:17ff. The notion of God erasing evil and starting over with the faithful is not new; witness the Flood, Sodom and Gomorrah, or God’s impatience with Israel and the offer to start fresh with Moses (Numbers 14:11ff).

Not only will God will God do away with tears, pain, and death, but also that oldest adversary, chaos (cf. Rev 21:2; the sea). The end of tears is a longtime promise of God (Isaiah 25:8ff, and so many other passages).

More Isaiah with the promise of water to the thirsty. The promise of Christ, too, in John 4:10ff and John 7:37-38.

This is a message of optimism–for the believers who first heard this in the late first century, as well as for mourners today. At its root, this is a message of grace. Those who have been judged as faithful will be comforted, satisfied, and will inherit the grace of eternal life as adopted sisters and brothers of Christ. It’s a good and true message, knowing that mourners and deceased will be reunited in a restored creation. An easy message to preach, in a time of extreme difficulty and grief especially.

 

Funeral Lectionary: Revelation 20:11—21:1

The funeral Lectionary offers three official passages from the book of Revelation. That very short passage about dead believers finding rest in Christ. One on the New Heaven and New Earth (Rev 21:1-8). And today’s on the Last Judgment (Rev 20:11-15)

For a funeral’s first reading during the Easter season, between the Triduum and Pentecost, it would be most appropriate to choose one of the three Revelation readings, or the one from Acts. Other times of the liturgical year, these passages would be proclaimed as the New Testament selection–after the Psalm. Some clergy are less strict about this. Given that votive Masses may be celebrated during the Easter season with Old Testament readings, and some pastors tend to permit a family’s choice in Scriptures, there doesn’t seem to be a hard line about it. I would tend to offer the acts and Revelation readings as first choices. But if a funeral liturgy were pre-planned, or there were otherwise good reasons, I’d be generous with allowing that first text to be from the Hebrew Scriptures.

That said, you have to have guts to proclaim and preach the Last Judgment at a funeral. If there’s any doubt about the deceased, John’s testimony may not be all that comforting:

Next I saw a large white throne and the one who was sitting on it.
The earth and the sky fled from his presence
  and there was no place for them.
I saw the dead, the great and the lowly,
  standing before the throne, and scrolls were opened.
Then another scroll was opened, the book of life.
 
The dead were judged according to their deeds,
  by what was written in the scrolls.
The sea gave up its dead; then Death and Hades gave up their dead.
All the dead were judged according to their deeds.
Then Death and Hades were thrown into the pool of fire.
  (This pool of fire is the second death.)
Anyone whose name was not found written in the book of life
  was thrown into the pool of fire.
 
Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth.
The former heaven and the former earth had passed away,
  and the sea was no more.

That last verse gives a hopeful conclusion (Rev 21:1), and leads into the passage describing New Heaven and New Earth (Rev 21:1-8). But that’s another post on another day.

The dead here in verse 12 refer to 20:5, “the rest of the dead,” in other words, the non-faithful who have yet to pass muster in the coming Reign. If the deceased is considered to be a strong disciple, this reading wouldn’t really apply, would it?

As for this “pool of fire,” the Witness reports here that death and hell (in personified form) are cast into this pool. What does this mean? It would seem that utter destruction is in store not only for these aspects of the universe, but for human beings whose names were not written in the book of life. This seems contrary to the more common understanding of hell as a place of eternal punishment. Is it true that evil will simply be erased from existence at the end? Including people who have consciously chosen evil?

Fascinating and intriguing material, to be sure. Great discussion to have with theologians over a beer or something. Fitting for a funeral? Tread with care, I would say. What about you?

 

Funeral Lectionary: 1 John 3:1-2

Is this reading familiar? If you went to Mass yesterday, it should be:

See what love the Father has bestowed on us
  that we may be called the children of God.
Yet so we are.
 
The reason the world does not know us
  is that it did not know him.
Beloved, we are God’s children now;
  what we shall be has not yet been revealed.
We do know
  that when it is revealed
  we shall be like him,
  for we shall see him as he is.

This is also the New Testament Scripture for the Fourth Sunday of Easter, cycle B. Short passage, but rich. Fairly popular as a funeral choice, I would say.

In the Sacra Pagina series from Liturgical Press, John Painter offers an interpretation on verse one that, of course, brings a smile to me. He points out that the metaphors “being begotten of God” and “called children of God” are distinct. The latter, the one used by the author in the passage above, is more suggestive of adoption than begetting. Though the practice of adoption in apostolic times in both Israel and the Roman culture was far different than we understand it today, the notion of being adopted indeed made a person an heir of the Father. That is the essence of what John is communicating. And if our practice of adoption is more widespread and generous, we should realize in no less a way that what the writer is suggesting is that the believer is, like Jesus, a full heir to everything the Father has to offer. The trials and suffering of Christ of the Passion, certainly. And death remains part of the human experience, to be sure.

But after death, we have a heritage. We may not see it clearly. Sometimes we may indeed hang on with only a glimmer of hope. But we are children of the Father. This “legality” in undeniable.

No wonder this is an excellent Scripture for the Easter Lectionary. No wonder it appears in the funeral Lectionary, too. Proclaim with confidence. Listen with hope.