11/11/01

November and the Last Things: Death, Judgment, Heaven, Hell

One of the pictures from the events of September 11 that restored a sense of hope after the destruction of the World Trade Center was the photo taken of firemen carrying out of the rubble the body of the Franciscan priest who was their chaplain. Father Michael Judge’s death spoke of hope in the midst of hatred. Killed while giving the last sacraments to another fireman, this priest sacrificed his life to save others for all eternity. The contrast of his self-sacrifice for others’ salvation with the death of those who killed themselves and others out of hatred makes clear the depth of the difference between good and evil.

This gulf is pictured by Jesus in the parable of Lazarus and the rich man (Lk. 16: 19-31). The great chasm between the rich man in hell and Lazarus in the bosom of Abraham is there because there is an intrinsic difference between good and evil. Those who would question the possibility of human moral actions being intrinsically evil should return to the pictures of September 11. The deaths of the thousands killed in the attacks on New York City and Washington D.C. are with us still in November, when we pray for the dead, especially those who have died in the past year.

Why pray for the dead? Why have Masses offered for them? Because our faith tells us death is not the last event of our lives. Beyond death there is judgment. After judgment there is heaven (with purgatory as a place of final preparation for the vision of God) or hell. Death, judgment, heaven and hell: these are the four last things that, like the events of September 11, remind us that life is not a soap opera. Our actions have eternal consequences.

A believer’s whole life is a preparation for death, but the final preparation is through the sacraments of penance, anointing and the Eucharist as Viaticum or food for the final journey. The anointing of the sick is for their healing, yet “even more rightly is it given to those at the point of departing this life; so it is also called the sacrament of those departing ... [it] fortifies the end of our earthly life like a solid rampart for the final struggle before entering the Father’s house” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1523).

After death, we are not alone. We are still part of the Church, the Church of the saints in heaven, of the souls in purgatory and of believers on earth, which remembers us and keeps us in prayer. In faith, we know that the prayer of the Church and her members, especially their offering in, through and with Christ, of the Eucharistic sacrifice, works to purify us of the effects of sin. The sins of those who are saved are forgiven in this life, but the effects of sin linger and have to be purged before one can enter into the vision of the all-holy God. Centuries ago, St. Monica told her son, St. Augustine, shortly before she died far away from her African homeland: “Bury my body anywhere you like. I have only one request to make of you—that you remember me at the altar of the Lord wherever you may be.”

A Catholic funeral Mass celebrates a person’s life in Christ, not an individual’s accomplishments. Nor does our gratitude for Christ’s resurrection from the dead, which gives hope to us all, diminish the immediate pain of separation. The tragedy of September 11 has again brought before us the horror of a violent death, and there are many violent deaths in the neighborhoods of Chicago and its suburbs. President Bush reminded those gathered at a memorial service for those killed in the terrorist attacks that, “we are in the middle hour of our grief.” At a funeral Mass, the reality of death is not masked, nor is its pain. But the core of the Mass is our entering into Christ’s passion and death in order to participate in his resurrection, in God’s own time. And our access to that time in faith is the source of our hope.

During November, many Catholics of the Archdiocese send me the names of those they love who have gone before us in death; and they ask them to be prayed for. I keep these names in the chapel of my residence. Besides praying for the dead at Mass, we might also visit their graves. The Mexican people often include such visits in their celebration of the Day of the Dead, el Día de los Muertos, All Souls Day. Many of the mausoleums at our Catholic cemeteries contain not only the remains of the dead but also splendid artistic representations of the mysteries of faith to console the living. A visit to a Catholic cemetery and mausoleum brings us face to face with the last things and lifts our lives to a different level. The burial or entombment of our bodies, hallowed and anointed by the sacraments, is a reminder of the burial of Jesus’ body. We return from the cemetery more able to put the many details of our existence into the perspective of faith.

The terrorist attacks and the struggle in which we are now engaged are great tragedies. Yet out of them some good can come if they cause us to look more carefully at the last things, at what lies ahead for all of us sooner or later. In that careful look, we see a God who loves us in good times and in bad, a God who, in the poetic words of the Irish blessing, holds us in the palm of His hand. May this God bless you and fill your lives with consolation and hope.

Sincerely yours in Christ,

Francis Cardinal George, OMI
Archbishop of Chicago

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