CHANGED NOT ENDED

This past Tuesday I celebrated the funeral mass of a cousin of mine who had suffered incredibly from various medical problems during the past few years, and especially the last few months of her life. I gave a lot of thought to the sermon, so I figured I would post it for you today, with only a couple of editorial changes. The gospel at the mass was the story of the two disciples on their way home to Emmaus on the first Easter Day (Luke 24).

My favorite memory of Susan is one that demonstrates her deep faith and trust in God. It dates back to when she called me and asked if I would officiate at her wedding with Fred on October 28 of that year.  “Of course!” I said, “Where's it gonna be?” “In the grotto at Mt. St. Mary’s in Emmitsburg.” “Wait! You mean like outdoors?” “Yes! It’s a really beautiful place!” “But, at the end of October? What about the weather?” “Oh, that won't be a problem. I promise!” And, of course, it turned out to be a gorgeous autumn day, just as she promised. That was my introduction to Susan as a woman of faith.

The Communion of Saints is us!

And speaking of faith, I would like to remind us to avoid expressions such as “Susan's in a better place now,” as if she were no longer here! Our Christian faith tells us that Susan is now with God, but God is everywhere: So, Susan is right here with us. This is what we mean by “the communion of saints:” that includes all of us, you and me, as well as all of our ancestors and brothers and sisters in the faith.

So Susan is here among us this morning, brothers and sisters, but in her new way of being in the communion of saints. (I confess that she helped me write this sermon yesterday.) She is already as we all hope to be one day -- that day when we will all be reunited, with her and with all our loved ones.

Despite our firm belief that Susan is still with us, we have gathered here this morning,  feeling terribly sad, almost submerged by grief at being separated from this loving person whom we loved and who loved us. Christian faith does not try to escape the harsh realities of life. I think it’s important that we admit our sadness, and face our grief,  nor should we pass over the suffering that Susan herself endured during the final few years of her life.

Our Christian faith, in other words, does not try to run away from the brutal realities of suffering and evil. In fact It’s just the opposite. This is the Easter Mystery: that Jesus came to confront evil head on, and took on even death itself -- and he won! Not only that, he brought us with him. As members of his body, we too have already won. 

But while we’re still here on earth, Christ’s work of redemption is not yet complete in us. He walks with us, and invites us to imitate him in confronting head on or our own suffering and sin --and even death. So I invite you to join me for a few minutes in facing head-on the awesome mystery of evil and suffering.

As a passionate student and teacher of history, Susan appreciated the importance of stories as a way of helping us to make sense of our lives.

We just listened along with her to a story from the Gospel of Luke. Two disciples, Cleopas and his friend, on the first Easter day are trudging home the seven sad miles from Jerusalem to Emmaus, sick with discouragement, numb with disbelief, maybe even angry at God for letting such an awful thing happen to such a beautiful, loving person as Jesus. (Maybe these feelings sound familiar to some of us who are grieving for Susan this morning.)

But let’s get on with our story. Jesus has died, and with him  all the hopes of these two disciples, when suddenly, the risen Christ appears beside them and starts walking with them on the road. But, St. Luke tells us, “their eyes were prevented from recognizing Jesus, their beloved friend.

Do you see what’s going on here, sisters and brothers? The risen Jesus is a stranger to them because he doesn’t fit their preconceived ideas. The events of Good Friday were God’s plan, but Cleopas and his friend can't grasp that fact because they’re holding on to their human expectations of how the messiah’s story should go. They are not looking for a failed Messiah --  they’re simply not expecting a suffering and crucified Savior.

I once heard a story from a fellow priest who had been a pastor in Detroit.Some years ago, when he was renovating the parish church, they took down this big beautiful crucifix from the sanctuary. It was a lovely piece of art, depicting Jesus hanging in agony on the cross. The pastor asked the contractor, “What can we do with this beautiful crucifix? Can’t we sell it to someone? Or maybe donate it to some poor church?” The contractor scratched his chin and shook his head, and replied, “You know, father, there’s just no market for a suffering Jesus.” 

Well, what about you and me? Are we in the market for a suffering Jesus, a crucified Savior? Or do we sometimes complain that we don’t understand why God has allowed for so much suffering in our life or in the life of a loved one such as Susan?

Mosaic in St. Peter's Basilica

St. Augustine suggests a helpful image. He suggests that we think of the story of God’s love as a MOSAIC: A mosaic is made up of countless tiny individual pieces. Each one seen by itself in isolation from the entire picture makes no sense.  Some pieces may even appear ugly. The only way it makes any sense is when we are able to step back and gain perspective, and see the entire mosaic at once. But we don’t get to see that whole picture until we get to heaven.

The two bewildered men listen to Jesus as he invites them to step back from the mosaic, as he offers them the perspective of the Scriptures: 

And he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are! How slow of heart to believe all that the prophets spoke! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and enter into his glory?”

“Then he began with Moses and all the Prophets , and explained to them the passages which referred to himself in every part of the Scriptures.” 

But just as the pieces of the mosaic start falling into place for them, they arrive at their home village  and Jesus seems about to travel on farther. But, the story goes, they invite him, “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening, and the night is coming on.”

Now we’re getting to the ending -- the surprise ending: As Jesus takes the bread, blesses it, breaks it and gives it to them, “Their eyes are opened and they recognize him.”  And with that he vanishes!

But the story isn’t over yet: Because now the truth dawns on them, that they have just encountered the risen, victorious Lord! They’ve come face to face with Jesus’ victory over suffering, defeat, despair and death. And everything is changed!

Jesus has given them a glimpse of the whole mosaic! Suffering has been transformed into salvation, defeat has been changed into victory, despair into  Hope and death itself into new Life. Now they have begun to see the crucified messiah through Easter eyes, and they can’t wait to share the  good news: The Lord is risen! We have met Him!

You know, I think that Susan tried to share that same message with us, her friends and her students by the way she lived, by her life as a loving wife, a passionate teacher, and a faithful friend to so many. She had lots of ways of saying: I’ve met the risen Lord!”

But we need to finish the story of these two disciples who want to announce the good news to their fellow disciples. St. Luke tells us that they immediately start back on the seven-mile journey to Jerusalem. What the story doesn’t mention is that the road is uphill. The road to announcing the Easter Message is, for any of us, often an uphill journey. Jesus warns us over and over that to follow him is not going to be easy. We all know that. Susan knew that, of course.

But there’s still one final detail in the story that we mustn’t miss. Remember that the two disciples tell Jesus “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening.” So, these Easter messengers, bearers of the joyful news that Jesus is risen are not just walking uphill the whole way: By now, the sun has gone down.They are walking uphill in the dark! 

We know that Susan walked the last part of her journey uphill, and in the dark. It was a hard journey. She struggled with discouragement and doubt, physical pain during the final, steep uphill part of her road -- in the dark.

Mosaic: Jesus and Children

She relied on the love and the prayers of so many of you sitting here, as well as many others especially in these past weeks as she finished her journey up to Jerusalem. But now, as she is here with us today, she is rejoicing at the sight of the whole incredibly beautiful mosaic. (I remind you that she helped me write this sermon yesterday.)

But meanwhile we are left to look at only the small pieces of God’s mysterious mosaic of love. Fortunately, we have Susan to encourage us not to despair when some of those pieces include suffering and pain. 

She knows now. While she’s enjoying the vision of the whole beautiful mosaic, she's here this morning to reassure us, like those two travelers on the road to Emmaus, with the news: “I have seen the Risen Lord!

Thank you Susan, for the good news.