topleft05.jpg (18208 bytes)HOMILY
The Fifth Sunday of Easter (A)
24 April 05


 

During the past few weeks, as many of us watched Terri Schiavo starve to death in Florida and as Parkinson’s disease sapped Pope John Paul II of life in Rome.

As I watched those events, I recalled an interview I watched on 60 Minutes several years ago.  The interview featured Dr. Jack Kevorkian.

You might remember this fellow.  He’s the guy in Michigan who spearheaded the “physician-assisted suicide” movement in the 80s and 90s.  His detractors gave Jack Kevorkian the nickname, “Dr. Death.”

I believe it was Ed Bradley who conducted the interview and asked Dr. Kevorkian: “What is it that you’d like to say to those who are dying?”  Looking straight into the camera, he responded: “Let me ease your pain and eliminate your fears by eliminating you.”

It was a great sound bite and CBS used it lavishly to advertise the interview beforehand.

Wouldn’t it have been nice had Terri Schiavo and Pope John Paul II enlisted Dr. Kevorkian?  He could have assisted in hastening each of their inevitable deaths.  Then, neither of the two would have suffered as each lingered until their demise.  Wouldn’t that have been the most “kind,” the most “caring,” and the most “humane” thing to do?

That’s a question worthy of a well-reasoned response.

But, in light of today’s gospel where Jesus tells his disciples, “Do not let you hearts be troubled.  Have faith in God and in me,” Dr. Kevorkian has, I believe, put his finger on something much more important and deserving of an equally well-reasoned response.  That is, Dr. Kevorkian has offered a prescription to avoid a great fear that terrorizes many people today, perhaps even some of us gathered here.  It’s not the fear of a nuclear, radiological, or biological weapon attack perpetrated by some group of fanatical, lunatic, allegedly religious zealots.  No, it’s the fear of becoming ill, dependent upon on others, and impoverished due to medical circumstances that are beyond our ability to control.  The fear is that many of us may suffer―perhaps suffer great pain―until our body’s systems shut down and we finally die.  This fear terrorizes many people.

So, in a bizarre twist of a physicians logic, people who know they are going to die can visit a physician―a human being who has sworn in the Hippocratic oath to preserve and protect life at all costs―to stop and, if necessary, to eliminate the degeneration that leads inevitably toward death by having a physician gas or poison one’s patient.

“These people are going to die.  It will happen no matter what,” Dr. Kevorkian argued in that interview.  Through physician-assisted suicide, he maintained (and continues to maintain), people can die without having to experience the indignity of waiting for nature to take its course.  With a little bit of gas or poison, those looking death straight in the eye will experience no pain.  They will not suffer.  They won’t linger on as a vegetable and ward of the state.  Instead, they will fall asleep peacefully.  “Dignified” is what Dr. Kavorkian calls his prescription.

Sounds pretty good, doesn’t it?  Considering the alternative, many Catholics as well as many of their fellow citizens concur.

Frederich Nietzsche, the 19th-century philosopher who championed the “Death of God” movement, first envisioned this very physician.  Describing his vision of Utopia, Nietzsche wrote: “A new responsibility should be created, that of the doctor―the responsibility of ruthlessly suppressing and eliminating degenerate life.”

Unfortunately, that is not what Jesus teaches.

In today’s gospel, Jesus tells his disciples: “Do not let your hearts be troubled.  Have faith in God and faith in me.”

All people fear death!  It’s a permanent end to what we’ve come to know through our experience as mortal creatures on planet Earth.  Death means leaving behind everything we possess and the people we love for what may be an eternity filled with bliss, pain and horror, or nothing.

Confronting this reality three centuries before the Resurrection of Jesus Christ, Socrates said in his Apology as he contemplated his death sentence that it is illogical for human beings to fear what they don’t know.  “If death is just falling asleep, what is there to fear?”, he asked the members of the jury.  “If death is an opening to an eternity filled with bliss, what is there to fear?”  Then, putting his finger on what the real issue is, Socrates simply let his jurors contemplate what it would be like if, in eternity, each of them would be held liable by Divine Justice for putting a just man to death.

In this Easter season, we recall that death is something Christians should neither fear nor allow its attendant pain and suffering to terrorize them.  We are able to overcome what is a natural instinct as Christians not because it is logical but because as we welcome and embrace our mortality that we discover God’s presence.  We learn this from Jesus who welcomed and embraced his mortality on Good Friday and discovered God’s presence at dawn on Easter Sunday morning.  As his disciples, we have the Resurrection not logic to lead us along the pathway to death.

We don’t have to look very far for evidence to demonstrate just how close God is to His People when they welcome and embrace their own mortality.

We can look to Calcutta and recall the example of Mother Teresa.

Rather than suppressing and eliminating decrepit and degenerate life, as Dr. Kevorkian has recommended, Mother Teresa welcomed and embraced the very dependency many of us fear, the loss of control we dread, and the filth and indignity we abhor.  Does the thought of Mother Teresa welcoming and embracing those lepers and streetpeople who remind us of everything we try to shun with all of our might terrorize us?  Is it because we live in fear of our own mortality and are terrorized that might find ourselves needing the welcome and embrace of a Mother Teresa one day?

Well, maybe not.

Then, let’s look to Rome.

When Pope John Paul II was dying, many people would ask me why the Pope wouldn’t retire.  Before I could respond, most of them would explain that they felt saddened at seeing the Pope degenerating as Parkinson’s disease took its toll.  And, indeed it did!  Some suggested also that the Pope no longer was the strong and powerful presence he had once been and, it was obvious, never would be again.  That certainly was also true!  “If the Pope would only retire,” almost every one of these people reasoned, “there would be a new Pope, hopefully a young, healthy, and energetic Pope, who would pick up and carry on where Pope John Paul II left off when he became ill and then retired to some backwoods monastery in Poland where he’d neither be seen nor heard from again.”

Everyone, then, would be happier with the decrepit and dying Pope out of camera’s range.

Those reasons might make sense, unless we understand not only what natural death can teach us about the dignity of human life but also what dying can teach us about the dignity of human life.

Through his suffering and death, Pope John Paul II steadfastly maintained that he wanted to teach the world that the elderly, the sick, the infirmed, and the dying are not commodities that have outlived their “shelf life,” like the articles found on a grocery store’s shelves.  The elderly, the sick, the infirmed, and the dying aren’t to be shuttled away like young children when their parents have other adults over to the house, neither to be heard nor seen until the guests are gone.  No, the elderly, the infirmed, and the dying are human beings.  That’s what John Paul II wanted to teach by his example.  God created them in His divine image and likeness.  They deserve, at an absolute minimum, the same dignity and respect accorded the healthy, the energetic, and those who can take care of themselves.  Perhaps the elderly, infirmed, and dying deserve more!  At least, that’s what Jesus teaches us when he welcomed and embraced sinners, the ill, and just about everyone else who no one else would come near or touch for fear of being infected by them.

Did the thought of watching a decrepit and dying Pope terrorize any of you?  Did seeing the Pope on television, incapable of talking because of his tracheotomy and drooling from the side of his mouth disgust you?  Did his witness to the dignity of the elderly, the infirmed, and dying force you to contemplate the idea that you, too, may one day become frail and decrepit as you die?  Did the witness of the Holy Father get you to wonder whether you’d also end up hanging on too long, as others wish you’d simply just die and get it all over with?

Pope John Paul II’s witness to suffering and pain―the indignity of it all―may well have made people consider how Dr. Kevorkian’s solution is the best possible solution not only for the dying but also for everyone else involved.

For those who have faith in God and in Jesus, however, Pope John Paul II’s witness testified to the dignity to can only be discovered as human beings welcome and embrace their mortality and discover God present in it.

Death can teach us about the dignity of human life, if we do not fear death.  Then, as we welcome and embrace our mortality as Jesus did, we can teach others that they needn’t fear death nor allow it to terrorize them.  Likewise, as we welcome and embrace the pain and suffering that end in death, we can witness what it means to welcome and embrace the dependency we fear, the loss of control we dread, and the filth and indignity we abhor.

It’s not just Saints who do this.  It’s also normal, regular saints who do this.

Look back to Littleton, Colorado.

Remember the young high school student who confessed her faith in Jesus Christ as the power of Evil looked her straight into the eye?  For her confession, this young woman was murdered in cold blood with a single bullet to the head.

Remember the teacher whose body was riddled with bullets as he shepherded students to safety?  Then, the students he saved, in turn, themselves shepherded their teacher as they worked in vain to revive him and save his life.

I look to the small Midwest town of Pekin, Illinois.

There a dear friend, Dorothy Slatterly, was dying of cancer several years ago.  Her body had shriveled from 130 pounds to 80 pounds in a matter of just a few short weeks.  Though Dorothy was not in pain, it was a pathetic sight for others to watch on as she withered away and died.

Because Dorothy did not opt for the Kevorkian solution:

·       A daughter’s love motivated Susie to minister to her mother and also to her father, as he watched on helplessly and in sadness as the love of his life slowly disappeared.

·       A grand-daughter’s love motivated Jennifer, who at the time was a nursing student at St. Louis University, to come home on weekends not only to nurse her grandmother as she lay dying but also to bolster her spirits.  Jennifer would remind reminding her grandmother concerning what faith teaches about life and death.
 

What does faith in God and in Jesus Christ teach?

Faith teaches us that it is precisely in our human nature, with its lack of perfection and, ultimately, its mortality, that God is very much present.  It is in our dependency, in our neediness, and in our brokenness that God manifests His presence to us.  Mother Teresa, Pope John Paul II, the martyrs of Littleton, CO, Susie and her daughter, Jennifer, these are the living stones we heard about in today’s Epistle, who offer themselves spiritual sacrifices.  These are the people God places into our lives to serve us and remind us of God’s abiding love when we experience our mortality first-hand.  These women and men live in God and God lives in them.  Their words are God’s words.  And, their work is God’s work.

These disciples―the “living stone”?

Don’t look for beautifully packaged, “designer” human beings, as if it is what’s on the outside that counts.  Because they are united with God, God dwells in them and they dwell in God.  They see people as God sees them.  They perform spiritual works for those terrorized by the fear that one day they will be neglected or destroyed, just as we do with stray animals.  In God’s eyes and in the eyes of those who suffer, whose bodies are riddled with pain and whose death is immanent, these living stones are beautiful indeed!

Even in the terror of the moment, when we find ourselves dependent, needy, and broken, whether the squalor and stench be that of the suffering in Calcutta, the pathetic sight of a failing Pope, the evil present in Littleton, Colorado, the reality of death looking a daughter and grand-daughter in the eye in Pekin, Illinois, these disciples rejoice for the opportunities that another’s dependency, neediness, and brokenness presents them to love others as God does.

Jesus says, “Do not let you hearts be troubled.  Have faith in God and in me.”

“But,” Thomas asks, “Lord, how can we know the way?

“I am the way, the truth, and the life,” Jesus responds.

In our own day and in our own experience, Jesus continues to remain faithful to his word if we just look around ourselves!  The Lord has not abandoned us by returning to his Father in heaven.  All we need is faith in God, in Jesus, and in his living stones.

Mother Teresa, Pope John Paul II, the martyrs of Littleton, Colorado, and Susie and Jennifer who live in Pekin, Illinois, are the living stones who offer spiritual sacrifices.  They live in God and God lives in them.  Their words are God’s words and their work is God’s work.  In these living stones, Jesus has remained faithful to his word.  We need not fear.

“Do not let you hearts be troubled,” Jesus has said.  We will never be abandoned, neglected, or destroyed if we have faith in God, in Jesus, and are his living stones.  As Jesus’ disciples, these women and men witness in our own day to the dignity of all human life, as the Knights of Columbus pray, “from the moment of conception to natural death.”

 

 

mail2.gif (2917 bytes)      Does today’s homily raise any question(s) that you would like
                   me to respond to? Mail your question(s) by double clicking on
               
    the mailbox. I will respond to your question(s) at my first
                   available opportunity.


   Double click on this button to return to the homily
                                         webpage.