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In
the United States, Christmas is marked by gift giving. Not so in
European countries, however, where Christmas is celebrated for what
it is, the day God’s only begotten Son entered this world in the
flesh—what might be called a “celebration of a theological
mystery”—and where gift giving is left for the Solemnity of the
Epiphany, which the Catholic Church celebrates today.
Traditionally, both we Americans and our Europeans brothers and
sisters think about this solemnity from the perspective of the gifts
which three Magi from the East brought to the infant. There was
Melchior (the elderly Persian with the long beard bearing gold—the
symbol of kingship), Caspar (the young, beardless Indian bearing
frankincense—the symbol of divinity), and Balthazar (the black
Arabian bearing myrrh—the symbol of sacrifice). Their gifts
symbolized who the infant was and would become in the flesh.
Today, I’d like to shift focus a bit, to think not about the gifts
the three Magi brought to the Christ-child but to think about the
gifts we will bring to Christ when our life on this earth comes to
its end. I’ve selected this focus because I was privileged
yesterday to attend the funeral of a man named Ed Barrow, whose
daughter’s marriage I performed a couple of years back. Ed had
suffered for the past several years from Parkinson’s disease and its
debilitating effects finally caused his death this past week, what
his wife called “a happy death.”
As
you may have already figured out, I’ve attended lots of funerals
during the course of my lifetime. But, it isn’t often that I use
the word “privileged” to describe my feelings about attending
someone’s funeral.
In
light of today’s solemnity and considering what gifts we will bring
to Christ when our lives end on this earth, just what made Ed’s
funeral a “privilege” to attend?
Well, it certainly wasn’t the size of the crowd, which was rather
sizeable. No, the size of the crowd actually perturbed me because,
as many of you know, I like to start mass on time, even if the
cantor isn’t ready. But, with all of the people attending Ed’s
funeral, the viewing prior to the mass delayed its start by one-half
hour.
It
could have been the homily delivered by the pastor, Fr. Rich
O’Leary, which was first-rate. I even learned something I didn’t
know from Fr. O’Leary’s homily. “What’s that?” you may ask. While
I did know that St. Joseph is the Patron Saint of fathers, workers,
laborers, carpenters, numerous nations, those who fought Communism,
and unofficially of those who have doubts and hesitations, what I
didn’t know is that St. Joseph is the Patron Saint of a “happy
death.” “Why?” you may be wondering. Because, as legend has it,
St. Joseph died peacefully in the presence of Mary and Jesus. Now,
isn’t that how we’d all like to die? To be with those who love us
and who we love as we fall asleep and then, after passing through
the pearly gates, are introduced to our heavenly family? St.
Joseph must have been watching over Ed when he died.
But, even Fr. O’Leary’s homily isn’t the reason I considered myself
privileged to have attended Ed’s funeral.
Just what, then was it that made Ed’s funeral so extraordinary?
Well, just before the funeral mass was finally to begin, Ed’s two
sons walked up the main aisle to the pulpit and addressed the
congregation. “Geez, another one of those never-ending,
interminable eulogies,” I thought to myself as I glanced at my
watch. “This funeral isn’t going to start for another one-half
hour.”
As
I listened to Ed’s eldest son speak, many of the lessons he detailed
Ed teaching him sounded exactly like the lessons my father taught
me. Before retirement, Ed was a salesman—as was my father—and
taught his sons:
·
“Start every day of work with a clean and freshly pressed shirt and
tie the knot of your tie tight… this creates a good first impression
which says you are thorough.”
·
“Polish the tops of your shoes until they shine and your soles and
heels so they don’t shine… this communicates a lot about your
attention to detail.”
Those two lessons caught my attention. I must admit, however, my
dad used much more colorful language when teaching me, especially if
my shoes weren’t properly shined.
But, then, Ed’s sons began to detail some other lessons that
captured my attention making the time it was taking his sons to
relate these vignettes of Ed’s paternal teaching role meaningless:
·
Ed
encouraged, but did not demand, that his four children get involved
in team sports and activities. When they did, either Ed coached or
attended every one of their games and events. That was smart:
Ed protected his children from harm by occupying their time in
wholesome group activities.
·
Ed
drove his wife and children to the 7:30 a.m. Mass every Sunday.
During his homily, Fr. O’Leary noted that he really didn’t know Ed,
but he could identify Ed when the associate pastor said, “Ed Barrow
is the guy at the 7:30 Mass who sits in the second row on your
left-hand side next to the lady who likes to sing loudly.”
Apparently, everyone in the parish knows that Mary Ann Barrow likes
to sing loudly. Another good move: worshipping as a family
where children see their all-powerful father bowing his knee before
a power greater than himself.
·
Ed
came home from work every day and had dinner with his family.
Hanging on the wall next to the kitchen table was a reproduction of
the Ten Commandments. Each night, dinner started with a very
practical and down-to-earth lesson about one of the commandments
with its application for life. What a great way to teach the
faith. And, for a father to do so is even better!
·
Ed
also was especially keen that his children learn the catechism, and
especially that they understood clearly that there is such a thing
as “mortal sin.” To this day, his four children can recite by
chapter and verse the three characteristics of a mortal sin. What
are they? First, knowledge of the gravity of the offense.
Second, intention to commit the offense. And, third, to
commit the offense. A homerun! There are limits
beyond which no one should trespass and Ed taught his children how
to measure those limits.
·
Every night before he went to bed, Ed could be seen on his knees,
beside his bed, praying the Rosary. What can I say?
Imagine the impact this has upon children when they see their father
praying each day.
·
Ed
was also an extraordinary minister of the Eucharist. While he was
healthy, Ed would take the Eucharist each Sunday to parishioners who
couldn’t attend Mass. Sure, they all sat in the car while Ed
brought communion to the sick. What must they have talked
about as Ed ministered to those wanted to receive the Body of
Christ?
·
Each fall, Ed would walk door-to-door to his fellow parishioners’
homes collecting money for the Catholic Charities drive. When they
were old enough, Ed would also take his children along. After they
had observed Ed making his pitch and closing the deal, Ed would then
send one of his children to the next house to make the pitch and
close the deal. Sometimes Ed would send one of them to the house of
a non-Catholic to test their mettle. “A good way to learn
salesmanship,” Ed told his sons. More than that, a good way
for young people to develop an evangelical attitude.
·
One
year—it was 1974—while making the rounds to collect money for
Catholic Charities, Ed came to the house of a woman who was very
poor and suffered from severe birth defects. Instead of asking her
the woman for a donation, Ed asked the woman what she wanted for
Christmas. She told Ed that she dreamed of getting a stereo. Well,
for those of us who were around in those days, $150 dollars was a
lot of money. But, Ed went ahead and purchased a new stereo for the
woman. But, more than that, Ed figured the woman also would need
some records to play on her new stereo. So, Ed purchased a
collection of what his son said were “terribly boring” adult-type
albums. The woman couldn’t believe it when Ed along with his wife
and children dropped in on Christmas day to present the woman with
the stereo she could only dream about receiving for Christmas.
Sort of puts into appropriate context what gift giving at Christmas
is all about, no?.
Yes, it was indeed a great privilege for me to attend Ed’s funeral.
What I learned from his children about being an authentic disciple
provoked those feelings of privilege in celebrating the memory of a
man whose life revealed what it really means to love God and
neighbor and to make that the bedrock of how to live one’s life each
and every day.
For
moms and dads, consider how Ed responded to his vocation to be a
husband and father. Forget the little “life’s lessons” about
shirts, ties, and shoes, as important as those may be. More
importantly, think about how Ed taught his children the Ten
Commandments, the catechism, devotion to family and Church.
Consider how he taught the virtue of religion, not simply by praying
the Rosary each day but also by attending Mass each week, taking
Holy Communion to the sick, collecting alms for Catholic Charities
to distribute to the needy, and actually reaching out and touching
impoverished human beings rather than simply throwing some money
their way.
Alongside his wife, Mary Ann, Ed raised four children during the
tempestuous 70’s and 80’s. Yet, no drug addictions, no felonies
committed, and no jail time. Oh, so b-o-r-i-n-g! Only four
marriages that have, thus far, produced not one divorce and nine
grandchildren. Putting God, spouse, and family first actually does
work! At Ed’s funeral yesterday, it was as if his children were
testifying to their father’s heroic witness as a disciple, not in
extraordinary ways but in ordinary ways done extraordinarily well.
“Well done, good and faithful servant of God,” they seemed to be
saying. “Now let’s celebrate this mass so you can enter into the
rest of your heavenly Father.”
I
relate the story of how privileged I was to attend Ed Barrow’s
funeral on this Feast of the Epiphany because the narrative of this
feast raises an all-important question: What gifts will we bring
when we meet Christ the Lord? Will we bring gold, symbolizing the
virtue of faith that has been tried by the fire of actually living
and teaching the faith? Will we bring frankincense, symbolizing the
virtue of hope which—like smoke rising upward to the heavens—raises
our eyes from being concerned with ourselves, our feelings, and
everything we want to being concerned with God and others as well as
how we’ve developed and used the gifts and talents that God has
given us to provide for spiritual and material needs of other
people? And, will we bring myrrh, the precious ointment
symbolizing the virtue of love, which heals the wounds caused by sin
and makes it possible for us to look at others with God’s eyes?
I
hardly knew Ed Barrow but, after listening to his sons testify about
their father’s faith, hope, and love evident in love of God and
neighbor, I felt privileged to hear once again how God continues to
work today through husbands and wives who give their children the
precious gifts of faith, hope, and love. Even more
importantly, when these moms and dads bow down to worship Christ the
Son of God who sacrificed his life for us, they present as gifts the
gold, frankincense, and myrrh characterizing their children.
This Solemnity of the Epiphany, let our prayer be that when we
present Christ our gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, he will
testify of us as Ed’s sons testified of their father, “Well done,
good and faithful servant. Enter now into your heavenly Father’s
rest.”
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HOMILY
