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PAGE 5—November 1,1973
A Christian Death Is Not an Ending
BY DR. THOMAS FRANCOEUR
Death fascinates and mystifies man. This is true whether we
consider the reaction of the little child seeing a dead bird for the
first time, the wonder and awe of the primitive before death, or
today’s man in face of the same reality. We may come to learn
of the inevitability of death, yet great questions remain, as does
uneasiness and fear.
Man has always sensed a life hereafter. He has buried useful
things with the dead for their journey or passage to “happy
hunting grounds.” He has heard his God describe and call him to
the Kingdom of peace and love. But there are those workings of
the mind that may still bring discomfort.
As old age approaches, the advent of death becomes more
real and hope may tend to take on lesser enthusiasm. We find
ourselves taking inventory of our lives, wondering what will
become of our loved ones and agonizing over our unrealized
dreams. Sometimes we feel guilty, sometimes frustrated over the
seeming pointlessness of it all. Then we turn to our Christian
vision of joy, and with some confusion, feel shame at these
negative and saddening feelings.
We hear Christ’s “EVen a cup of water given in my name . . .”
and his simple if serious counsels of love. Then some of the
norms by which we judge ourselves appear far too strict, often
focused on the less relevant. Against his humble demands of
love, the little things of our life begin to stand out and we can
face our life’s inventory with greater pride and optimism.
We begin to understand that just as Christ’s life was
remarkable through constant simple caring, so may ours be
valued in the many little things that have meant a lot. He calls
us to be the salt of the earth, but against the reality of constant
effort. Hope finds its strength in a humble, realistic acceptance
of a life well lived.
We are very much aware of the influence of persons upon us,
even in their absence. We realize as we grow older, that after
death the mystery of our personal influence and care will still be
present and felt. Inspiration embraces, within God’s plan, the
fire of the Spirit of Love, and the food we are to one another in
life and after death.
Therese of Lisieux spoke simple fact when she said she would
spend her heaven doing good upon earth. She knew death in no
way called a halt to caring in the heart that had learned to care.
Feelings of guilt and accompanying fear mingle with our
images of the loving Father. Have we obeyed? Have we brought
growth? The enduring and continual task of building the
Kingdom risks being robbed of its energy by a self-judgment
harsher than the Lord’s. Concentration on his goodness and
upon our sincere effort to build love community will enable us
to face with fascination the prospect of a new modality of
continued, positive building in the transition we know as death.
This series on the personal life of man has led to a
consideration of man’s triumphal entry into the eternal love
community. Success or failure has been seen in relation to man’s
self-image and the goals he sets for himself in terms of life he
learns to value and the hearts he learns to bring life to by his
love.
Retirement from pressured employment enables us, in the
light of our maturing insights, to move with a greater and deeper
vigor in this enterprise in partnership with Christ. Then death
quietly guides us into the peaceful phase of a continuing
creativity.
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(All Articles On This Page Copyrighted 1973 by N.C. News Service)
Know Y our F aith
i-- -
Facing Death,
Sharing Sorrow
BY FATHER JOSEPH M. CHAMPLIN
Our neighbor across the street has two great loves - his family
and his work. He often and unexpectedly leaves the first
because of the second. I frequently hear the door of his green
station wagon slam shut in early morning or late at night as he
goes about the task of burying Fulton’s dead and assisting our
bereaved.
Through conscientious effort over several decades, this man
has built a business inherited from his father into a busy
practice. In the process he has, naturally, acquired insights
about death and dying, principles which I have discussed with
him on many trips to and from the local cemetery.
He, our other parishioner funeral director, and I agree
particularly on this point: a period of calling hours at the family
house or funeral home between the time of death and burial
fulfills deep human and Christian needs.
The revised rite of funerals endorses these “wakes” for the
deceased. Article 3 of its Introduction states: “The bodies of
the faithful, which were temples of the Spirit, should be shown
honor and respect, but any kind of pomp or display should be
avoided. Between the time of death and burial there should be
sufficient opportunities for the people to pray for the dead and
profess their own faith in eternal life.”
When visiting hours and care of the departed’s body are
handled with Christian simplicity and a proper spirit, they fulfill
two functions.
First of all, such practices help survivors face in honest
fashion the fact of their beloved’s death.
I know from personal experience and through 17 years of
priestly ministry that coping with death is never a simple, easy
matter. Even though our faith in the Resurrection may be
strong, we still must endure the pain of separation and loss.
That prospect causes individuals to react clumsily and in
various, unpredictable ways: by open crying, hysterical
screaming, silent withdrawing, unconscious escaping to avoid
reality.
It was my funeral director-neighbor who suggested that
viewing of casket and body can bring the truth home, especially
for those who only reluctantly come to grips with what has
happened.
Moreover, while excessive concern for the body’s appearance
and casket’s expensiveness does not seem appropriate, sensitive
handling of the physical remains is a praise-worthy procedure.
It speaks silently about our belief in the body as a temple of the
Holy Spirit and destined for a share in the Resurrection.
Secondly, and above all, calling hours give relatives and
friends an opportunity to share the bereaveds’ sorrow, to offer
support and to pray for the deceased.
Most of us dread the thought of those moments. Will we
break down? What is there to say? Can we handle our grief?
“EVEN THOUGH OUR faith in the Resurrection
may be strong, we still must endure the pain of
“Dear Daddy,
Leslie and Douglas pray every night that you’ll be healed.
They don’t understand why someone else they love has to
suffer. None of us do, but we keep trusting that there is a
greater purpose. But we all thank God for the peace you
display. I wonder if you know it shows. We talk about that and
two little people can see some good in every situation and
victory over suffering. Maybe that’s your greatest gift to us.”
(NC PHOTO)
separation loss.” The loss of loved ones long ago is
marked in a small cemetery by a cross and gravestones.
Suzanne’s sister-in-law shared these two letters with me. She
also shared a song her own husband, Ben-Suzanne’s
brother - wrote for his mother and father as the father neared
death.
“But now that we’ve learned what life has meant for
us . . .and cared enough to love enough . . .to share enough
between us . . .You and I know that we’ll always be one. All of
our days we’ll love together.
Death and Religious Education
BY FATHER CARL J. PFEIFER, S.J.
Visitors should not be concerned. A sermon or speech is not
required; mere presence brings great comfort. So does a kiss, an
embrace, a soft word (“Sorry”), an offer of help, a brief prayer
said kneeling before the body.
The family should not fear either. That great influx of
persons who come, who care, marvelously lifts up sorrowing
hearts and proves an enormous source of support in hours of
darkness. One always remembers those who came and easily
excuses others who failed to show.
At this time we also pray for the dead and profess our faith in
eternal life. Individual, private prayer during those hours
presents no problem; public prayer can prove difficult. I usually
find the rosary here long and awkward; but brief excerpts from
the ritual, satisfactory; and a prayer service at the end of calling
hours with just the family and late comers, best.
Suzanne, a young mother of twins, wrote these words to her
cancer-wracked father a week before his death at the age of 63.
A year earlier Suzanne had lost her 33-year-old husband, Ken,
the victim of a brain tumor. In a letter written to her friends
four months after Ken’s death, she described her husband’s last
days:
“The facts sound terrible: Ken could not walk or talk, he
‘ate’ through a tube in his stomach, he was blind, his right side
was paralyzed. The fact was that he was radiant in his faith and
supremely confident in his Lord and he made the rest of us
happy. Leslie and Douglas and I miss Ken very much.
Sometimes I wonder when the hurt will stop but I’m so grateful
for the peace and comfort of the Lord. And we do manage to
keep busy.”
“DEATH fascinates and mystifies man. This is true
whether we consider the reaction of the little child
seeing a dead bird for the first time, the wonder and
(NC PHOTO)
awe of the primitive before death, or today’s man in
face of the same reality.” A dead bird lies on a city
sidewalk, guarded by a companion.
“You and I have a lot to remember . .. .We shall love till the
snows of December . . .Take my hand now .. .stay close . . .next
to me ... As we share our days from now on . .. from now on.”
These hand-written, personal documents of one Christian
family’s grappling with the death of two loved ones within a
year speak volumes. They reflect the human pain and loss
experienced by young and old as death twice shocks the pattern
of family life. They reveal, too, the value of faith in facing so
painful and puzzling an experience. As the Second Vatican
Council observes, “It is in the face of death that the riddle of
human existence becomes most acute” (The Church Today, 18).
These intimate documents of one family’s encounter with
death show how real the Council’s teaching can be that
“through Christ and in Christ, the riddles of sorrow and death
grow meaningful.” (22) Suzanne experienced her dying father’s
peace as a gift to the whole family, a peace arising from his
Christian faith. Ken, her dying husband, “was radiant in his
faith and supremely confident in his Lord and he made the rest
of us happy.” The whole family was “so grateful for the peace
and comfort of the Lord.”
What the Council states dispassionately, the members of this
family express with warmth and love mingled with deep
personal pain. Their words are worth reflecting on, praying
about, for they rise up out of experience. They are the words of
a Christian family whose faith in Christ enables them to find
mutual peace, support and hope in life’s most painful moments.
Little Leslie and Douglas can be thankful that they
experienced these two deaths within such an honest and
supportive family experience. Their mother’s words to their
dying grandfather whose peace in the face of death was so
catching, suggest a model for a catechesis on death: “We talk
about that and two little people can see some good in every
situation and victory over suffering. Maybe that’s your greatest
gift to us.”
(NC PHOTO)
“OCCASIONALLY there appears in history a
character whose true life adventures and
accomplishments seem far closer to fiction than to
fact. One of our rich sources of information about the
lands of the Bible was such a man. He was Flavius
Josephus, ascetic, general, historian, apologist, traitor
and opportunist.” A portrait of Flavius Josephus.
Flavius Josephus
BY STEVE LANDREGAN
Occasionally there appears in history of character whose true
life adventures and accomplishments seem far closer to fiction
than to fact.
In one of our rich sources of information about the lands of
the Bible, such a man is described. He was Flavius Josephus,
ascetic, general, historian, apologist, traitor and opportunist.
Bom a Jew in Palestine of both priestly and royal Hasmonean
lineage, he was educated in the Law and during his late teens
studied and experienced the doctrines of the Sadducess,
Pharisees and Essenes. He even spent some time in the
wilderness as an ascetic hermit.
With this varied background, young Josephus was sent to the
Imperial City of Rome on a mission to obtain the release of
Jewish prisoners. His personality and wit which were destined to
insure him a niche in history were first demonstrated in the
court of Nero where he charmed the Empress Poppaea. These
same qualities were to make him the protege of three later
Roman emperors, Vespasian, Titus and Domitian.
Josephus returned from Rome on the eve of the Jewish revolt
of 66 A.D. Although as a Pharisee, his party was at best
lukewarm toward the revolt, Josephus was nevertheless sent to
take command in Galilee. It is difficult to know exactly what
happened at this time because Josephus himself tells conflicting
stories in “The Jewish War” and his autobiography.
It seems that in spite of his lack of enthusiasm for the cause
of revolution, when the Romans began subjugating Galilee, he
opposed them strongly but futilely.
The Roman forces were under the command of Vespasian,
and it was after Josephus’ surrender to the Roman commander
that he prophesied that Vespasian would become emperor.
In the year 69 A.D. when his prophecy was fulfilled he was
released and on the new emperor’s departure for Rome,
Josephus took Vespasian’s family name, Flavius, as his own.
Josephus joined the entourage of Vespasian’s son and
successor, Titus, and acted as the Roman commander’?
interpreter during the siege of Jerusalem in 70 A.D. Needless to
say, Josephus’ actions were considered traitorous by the Jews.
During the siege of the Holy City, Josephus took notes on
events and strategy and interviewed many on both sides. He also
assisted in the negotiations that took place between the
besiegers and the Jews. At the fall of the city he was able to save
a few friends and relatives.
After the war he returned to Rome with Titus and was
compensated for the loss of his Jerusalem property with Roman
estates. It seems that Josephus acted as he did in the sincere
belief that Rome would inevitably conquer. It was the same
feeling that motivated him to write “The Jewish War,” which
attempted to prove to other subject nations the futility of revolt
against the Empire. The Romans recognized the value of the
work as propaganda and saw to it that it was published and
translated, although Josephus himself wrote the book in both
Aramaic and Greek.
His other great work was “The Jewish Antiquities,” an
apologetic history of the Jews from creation to the start of the
Jewish revolt. The historical value of his works are disputed by
many who question the objectivity of the author and his sources
but they have nonetheless been an abundant source of
information for historians and scholars.
Last year a 10th century Arabic translation of Josephus’
“Antiquities” was discovered that provides us with what
scholars believe is an unadulterated version of what the Jewish
historian said about Christ. Other copies in existence had
obviously been altered by Christian editors to reflect later
teachings.
The oldest translation reads: “At this time there was a wise
man who was called Jesus. And his conduct was good, and (he)
was known to be virtuous. And many people from among the
Jews and other nations became his disciples. Pilate condemned
him to be crucified and to die. And those who had become his
disciples did not abandon his discipleship. They reported that he
had appeared to them three days after his crucifixion and that
he was alive; accordingly, he was perhaps the messiah
concerning whom the prophets have recounted wonders.”
This recent discovery has once again cast the spotlight upon
the writings of Josephus, which have been published in several
modern translations. The details and date of Flavius Josephus’
death are not known but the Romans erected a statue in his
honor that still survives in Copenhagen.