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You may not know this
and may even have been wondering about it as you came into church this
morning, but Nancy wanted her
funeral to be celebrated in this downstairs chapel, not in the
church upstairs. Why? Every Sunday morning, Nancy and
Charlie would go on a “date” with God.
This chapel is where
their weekly date began, normally with the 7:30 a.m. Mass. Nancy
always preceded Charlie into church, sort of like the two-year old boy
walking behind his mother. For Charlie, this may very well have
been a demonstration of his love and reverence for his wife, Nancy, as
well as his desire to keep things on schedule. How do I know this?
When Nancy would greet me and we’d get into a little bit of a
conversation, Charlie would gently nudge Nancy toward the main aisle and
say to her, “Let’s get going, Nance, it’s almost time for mass to
begin.”
However, I’m not so
sure the nudge was so much about Mass starting on time as it was also
about the second part of their weekly date.
Why? Following Mass,
Charlie and Nancy would go to Dunkin Donuts on Main
Street just past Egypt Road. I think the coffee and those donuts
are what Charlie really had in mind. Furthermore, knowing that I
normally give a short homily (Nancy often would opine that she wished
that I would talk “just a little bit longer”), the second part of the
weekly date was surely going to happen earlier on this Sunday morning.
So, even on Sunday morning, God came first in
Nancy’s marriage, then the coffee and donuts!
How fitting, then, we bring
Nancy to this chapel—for her last time—to offer our Eucharist—our prayer
of thanksgiving for Nancy’s life—to God.
On
behalf of all of us who have gathered here this morning and our pastor,
Monsignor Tom Murray, let me first
extend our heartfelt consolation to:
•
Charlie: on the death of a beloved wife;
•
Sam, Michael, Joseph, and Ann Marie, on the death of a loving mother;
•
Cathy and Stanley: on the death of your sister; and,
•
Alexander, Jordan, and Christopher: on the death of a doting
grandmother. You brought her so much joy. Know that your
grandmother loved each of
you very much. Each time she would speak about you, your grandmother’s
face would light up!
If you
were listening attentively, you may have noticed that I extended
heartfelt “consolation” to the members of Nancy’s family
beginning first with Charlie, her devoted husband. Perhaps you expected
me to extend “warm condolences” or “sincere sympathy.” But, I
didn’t…and for a reason.
In the
history of the English language, the word “consolation” merits special
mention today. We don’t use this word much today and a lot of
people probably don’t know what
it means. A consolation is
a “medicine” or an “ointment” that heals what is broken or troubles human
beings.
By profession, Nancy was a nurse.
I chose
to use the word consolation because Nancy’s
profession required that she bring consolation to her patients.
Nancy brought the consolation of nursing care for the body. And,
this is what’s really important, Nancy brought the consolation of God’s
love for the soul.
I extended our heartfelt consolation today to
call to mind Nancy’s dedication to a profession—her personal
vocation—through which I hope to bring healing to the brokenhearted and to calm troubled minds.
Hearts
are broken because the most pernicious of all evils—the dread of disease
and darkness of
death—has taken the life of a woman whose life taught us something of
God’s goodness. During Nancy’s more than 75 vibrant years of life, she
touched each of us in ways that revealed something very special about
Nancy: she was a child of God. As St. John reminded us in this
morning’s Epistle: “See what love the Father has bestowed on us that we
may be called the children of God.” Whether God revealed Himself
through Nancy in the role of loving wife, mother, sister, grandmother,
co-worker, friend, or patient, the God dwelling in Nancy’s generous
spirit leapt forth from deep within her soul to console us, in much the
same way the baby leapt within the womb of Elizabeth when Mary came to
visit her kinswoman, bringing consolation to Mary. Recall those special moments when—in Nancy’s
presence—we knew we were experiencing something truly awesome and
wonderful.
Those
were truly graced moments for God was revealing Himself to us through Nancy.
Reflecting upon those graced moments: How often did we recognize the
Giver of the gift? How often did we take the gift for granted? And:
How often did we give thanks to God for the gift?
If we didn’t, we shouldn't consider this unusual because, after all, St.
John reminds us:
“The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him.”
The lesson for us gathered here today is: to the degree that we did not
recognize the God who took up his dwelling place in Nancy, that’s the
degree to which Nancy’s life reminds us that we need to establish a
better relationship with God so that, “when God is revealed, we shall be
like him, for we shall see God as he is.” That is, just as Nancy’s
life was a consolation for us, so we also must make our lives a
consolation for others.
Let me
suggest that we are brokenhearted and in need of consolation because
Nancy’s death compels us to realize the ugly truth of what the evil we
call “death” has taken from us. Hope as we might that Nancy will
suddenly appear from around the corner in the condo, bound from the
kitchen into the dining room bearing yet another platter of eggplant
parmesan, or chat with us while doing her workout at the gym, those
hopes will never, ever be realized. Those special moments when God
revealed Himself through Nancy are now part of our life’s
history. We cannot hold onto the past, for it has “passed away.”
Speaking of history,
the story is true that Charlie and Nancy invited me on Thursday evening
to dinner at their condo. Nancy had slaved all day long preparing
her finest dinner: eggplant parmesan. When I arrived, we enjoy
some adult beverages, homemade meatballs, cheese, olives, and good
Italian bread. That was dinner enough for me! Nancy then
served dinner which consisted of eggplant parmesan and some rapini
(broccoli rabe) with copious pourings of red wine. Everything was
delicious, except there was one small problem: I can’t stand eggplant.
It’s one of the few things I don’t like. Nancy was mortified and
every time following that dinner when the Carfagno’s would invite me to
dinner, Nancy and Charlie were always sure to tell me that
eggplant parmesan was not on the menu. So, I am the priest who was
the subject of the story Nancy and Charlie have told all of you...and it
is a true story. The sad and painful but simple fact is, however,
there will be no more dinners with Nancy.
Yes,
this consolation of letting the past be the past is harsh medicine for
we must confront and struggle with grief today if it is not to destroy
tomorrow. We all know that wallowing in grief
never does anybody any good; but, the medicine of confronting and
struggling with grief is very difficult because it means letting go.
But, only this medicine has the power of healing us our broken hearts so
that we can recognize the wonderful gift we
have been given through Nancy’s life and to give thanks to God for it.
Rather than dwell on our personal loss and grow increasingly depressed, this medicine
of confronting our grief by letting go of the past possesses the power to heal our broken hearts, as gratitude
slowly fills the void of emptiness we experience today and drives out the
darkness of grief tomorrow.
For
what are we to be grateful? Our God is so good that in God’s infinite
wisdom, He created Nancy with a divine purpose and inserted Nancy
directly into our lives. Brokenhearted and sad as we may be today,
consider how impoverished each of us would be if had God
not chosen to insert Nancy into our lives and to reveal something of
Himself to us! Some of us, like Nancy’s children and grandchildren
would not be here, to be sure!
I’m
pretty sure Nancy herself would tell us, “Don’t walk around being sad”
or “Come on, now, wash that sad look off your face.” Or, perhaps even
more strongly, “Get up off your keester and get on with your life.”
Why? As a nurse, Nancy saw first-hand how wallowing in pain and
suffering leads only to greater sadness and yet another ruined day.
Each day when Nancy went to work, she brought her patients the same
consolation that Elizabeth and her baby brought Mary: care for the body
and spiritual care for the soul.
As Nancy taught us through the example of her life, God wants us to live
each day to the max. We know this for sure: God has entrusted each of
us with one life. Whether that life is long or short matters not. What
matters most is how we live each of those days. We demonstrate our love
for Nancy and what she taught us by her life when we “do this” in her memory. In sum, the purpose for which God created Nancy
will be brought to
fulfillment—it is memorialized—when we don’t allow the power of evil in
the disguise of grief and sadness to
destroy our days...however many or few those may be.
Our
consolation must also heal our troubled minds. It just doesn’t
make sense, does it, that God would allow the power of evil, in the form
of a disease like pancreatic cancer, to destroy the life of a good
woman, like Nancy, so quickly? It was but nine months after
diagnosis that Nancy’s body finally capitulated to this great evil. Even the littlest of God’s little ones among us
today—Nancy’s grandchildren, Alexander,
Jordan, and Christopher—as
they contemplate what appears to be a gross injustice, want to know why God would allow their
beloved grandmother to suffer.
Why would God allow Nancy to be
afflicted with a terminal disease and to
suffer until her body finally gave in to the power of death? That an
excellent question and it demands an excellent response if our troubled
minds are to be consoled.
The
first reading suggested that “no torment shall touch” God’s children for
they “are in God’s hand.” Yes, they are “chastised a little” by the
power of evil, but God finds them worthy of Himself. Like Nancy, as
pancreatic cancer introduced pain and suffering into her life, when we
contemplate that we are in God’s hand and don’t allow chastisement or
punishment to deter us from abiding with God in love, we experience
grace and mercy because, as scripture taught, God’s care is with those
who offer themselves in sacrifice. As we make our pain and suffering a
holy offering, today’s scripture reminded us, God’s care is with us.
It is when we try to avoid or to deny the inevitable pain and suffering
that is part and parcel of life in this world—like the pain and
suffering associated with grief—that we slowly but surely forget about
what truly matters: life in God’s kingdom.
It’s so
much easier, isn’t it, to demand that God explain himself and tell us
how it is just to allow the good to be chastised, to be punished, to
suffer, and then, to die? But, it must be asked: Where do these demands lead us? Nowhere but further along
the pathway of despair where life in this world is nothing more than
some cruel, cynical, and sick joke ending in pain, suffering, and death. Sadly,
we render meaningless what is most
enduring—faith, hope, and love.
The
medicine that heals what troubles our minds today is faith, hope, and love…not
things, not people, and certainly not self-pity, but the God who reveals himself to us
through those people, like Nancy, whose lives translate the Gospel of
Jesus Christ into lived experiences. When our minds finally grasp the truth
that God is not the author of pain, suffering, or death but that God is
the Father
who loves his children, we will believe what we don’t necessarily
understand, confidently expect that of which we only have seen glimmers, and
sacrifice ourselves by loving God and neighbor more than we love
ourselves even when we are in pain and suffering. Isn’t that what a
wonderful wife does? Isn’t that what a strong mother does? Isn’t that
what a doting grandmother does? Isn’t that what a kind friend does?
And, isn’t that what an authentic nurse does?
As we
contemplate the gift God has given us in Nancy, may this consolation
bring healing to our broken hearts and troubled minds, driving out the
darkness of grief and allowing the light of God’s love to restore us to
health.
V.
Eternal rest grant unto
Nancy, O Lord.
R.
And let
perpetual light shine upon her.
V.
May Nancy’s soul and all the souls of the faithful departed,
R.
Rest in
peace.
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HOMILY
