Let me start with just a few
words to introduce myself.
Currently I serve as a permanent deacon in St. Thomas Aquinas’s
sister parish, Dulce Nombre de María. I have been in Honduras, serving in the
diocese of Santa Rosa de Copán since June 2007. Before that I spent almost 24
years serving in campus ministry and social ministry here at St. Thomas. My guess is that I attended more than 350
TNLs in my years here.
I have been a permanent deacon, the first in our diocese, since
July last year. In many ways I am continuing to do what I’ve been doing there –
forming catechists and pastoral workers, visiting rural communities - often
bringing communion to Sunday celebrations, bringing communion to the sick, assisting
the parish priest, who serves more than 50 different communities in the parish,
and working on various projects: Maestro en Casa scholarships, a coffee
farmers association, and, more recently, a solidarity fund for special needs,
usually medical.
There are very few things that
are different and new for me now that I am a deacon: I’ve probably baptized
more 100 persons from a month old to a young man in his late twenties; I’m
doing pre-marriage interviews and I’ve witnessed one marriage – of a couple in
their eighties. I’ve also presided at a number of funerals.
One of the most moving aspect of my diaconal ministry has been
this ministry of funerals. It is a time of grief and of loss. I don’t know how
many of you have lost a parent, sibling, relative, or close friend. If so, you
know it is a hard time – often a dark time.
We so need to hear the consolation of God, the presence
of God with us. We need to recognize that tears are normal; Jesus himself wept
at the tomb of his friend Lazarus.
We also need to hear that death is not the final word. The
cross is central to who we are, but by the cross and resurrection death is
overcome. God offers us hope in the midst of darkness. Facing death, we
need to hear and experience some signs of hope
Mostly, we, as church, need to be present to those who
are grieving – not offering cheap words of comfort, not counselling
resignation. We need to be present as the Body of Christ, accompanying
the suffering with love, with solidarity, with the mercy and compassion of
Jesus.
This came home to me in one of my first funerals, about a year
ago. Padre German, our pastor, called me
early one morning and asked me to preside at the funeral in a community, where
I happen to know a good number of people. Yes, I said. He told me that a couple
had been killed there, hacked to death in their home with machetes. Shortly
after talking with padre, someone from the community called me and we arranged
the time for the funeral service.
I had just about two hours to
get to the village.
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| The church in Pasquingual, the morning of the funeral |
I chose readings from Genesis –
the killing of Abel, Psalm 128 – out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord, and
Luke – Jesus on the cross, forgiving. I wanted to include this last reading
since in Honduras there is always a temptation of vengeance, because the
justice system does not work due to corruption and inefficiency.
Having chosen the readings, I
had time to reflect on them as I drove about forty minutes to the village.
After offering condolences to
the family and the community, I shared words like these in my homily:
Every death brings sadness and
tears but these deaths have brought us a deep sadness, many tears, and perhaps
some fear.
The first reading tells us how
the blood of the Abel cried out to the Lord, rising up to heaven. So too the
blood of this couple cries out.
In the face of this we have to
cry; tears are necessary. But death is not the final word; the final word is
Life – Jesus.
Jesus is not a God who remains
distant from human concerns. He became human and suffered a brutal death on the
cross. But, even more, he handed over his whole life to give all of us life.
Though Jesus suffered for us,
death is not the final word. The final word is not a word of death, of
vengeance, or even of resignation
The final word is the risen
Christ, the Word of New Life, of Forgiveness, of Reconciliation.
God does not wish the death of
anyone – not of those who have been killed, nor even the death of their killer
or killers. In Genesis, God puts a special mark on Cain, so that he is not
killed.
We need to say “No” to vengeance,
“Yes” to forgiveness. But forgiveness ought to include a resolution to change,
to reconciliation.
We have to put aside the spiral of
violence and vengeance and begin a new way of living, a life of forgiveness,
reconciliation, and solidarity.
Death, violence, vengeance have
to stop.
And where do they stop? where
have they stopped? At the foot of the Cross.
On the Cross, Jesus broke the
spiral of vengeance: “Father, forgive them…” And so Jesus offers us the Life of
forgiveness.
Thus, if you have in your heart a
desire for vengeance for these terrible killings, leave your desire at the foot
of the Cross.
If you are filled with sadness,
leave your sadness and tears in the lap of the Virgin Mary, at the foot of the
Cross, who held the lifeless body of Jesus in her lap.
If you are afraid, leave your
fear in the heart of Jesus, meek and humble of heart.
If the killers are here today and
hear my voice, come to the Cross, asking forgiveness and mercy, and converting!
Let us put all at the foot of the
Cross, remembering that the final word is Life.
Let us seek reconciliation. Let
us seek solidarity. Let us seek forgiveness.
Let us seek forgiveness, but not
resignation. Real forgiveness offers us – and offers even the killers – the
possibility of living in a different, new way: a life of solidarity, a life of
forgiveness, a life of reconciliation, a life of justice.
In the name of God, I call out to
you:
Let
the violence cease.
Let
us stop the spiral of violence.
Let
impunity stop.
If there is anyone who knows who
are responsible for this crime, report them to the authorities. But don’t go
alone. Perhaps the whole village should go to provide strength and courage to
those who report the perpetrators of these and other crimes.
Let us live the solidarity of
Christ, who shares our sufferings. Let us aid the family and be with them in
this terrible time.
And let us create a new society,
here in Pasquingual – a society of life, a society founded in Jesus crucified
and risen.
Such were my words that day.
Central to understanding death,
and praying for the dead, is the incredible love of our God for us, who became
flesh and lived among us, handing over his life for us. The cross – sign of
death as well as glory – gives meaning to life and to death, and to suffering.
A few weeks ago we had a parish
mission where about 45 parishioners went to visit other villages, going from
house to house to help people discover the mercy of God. We gave them each a
small cross which can be held in one’s hand. We asked them to give the cross to
someone who was ill or in need, so that, grasping the cross, they could feel
the presence of Christ with them in their pain, their suffering, their solitude.
This all came home to me again
about two weeks ago.
A man in a neighboring village
had died of cancer. I had visited him and brought him communion. Communion
ministers regularly brought him Communion. And I found out that the
missionaries had visited them.
Padre German presided and
preached at the early morning Mass. But he asked me to sprinkle the casket with
holy water.
The caskets in Honduras usually
have a glass or plastic window so that you can see the face of the one who has
died. As I passed by, sprinkling the water to remind us of our baptism into the
death and resurrection of Jesus, I noted that someone had put the palm cross on
a string and place it around the neck of Don Emilio.
-->
Christ is present with us in
our suffering. Christ offers us hope, consolation, courage, and, above all,
life – but a life of handing ourselves over to God and the poor and the
suffering as he did.
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La homilía en Pasquingual en español acá.
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La homilía en Pasquingual en español acá.
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