A procession of mourners is escorting the coffin of a departed loved one to the cemetery. Suddenly, a stranger appears. He approaches and comforts the dead man's mother. Everyone stops and is taken aback when the stranger touches the coffin. Then he orders the dead man to rise. Shock gives way to anger: Is this some kind of bizarre, cruel joke?
Anger quickly turns to astonishment as the dead man returns
to life. The stranger reunites him with his grieving mother. Suddenly, mourning
turns to dancing!
Mysteriously, the compassionate stranger’s touch and voice
have power over death, and are able to bring everyone together to praise the
Author of Life. The stranger seems to be the key to a transcendent unity that
reaches through and beyond death, declaring, “I am the resurrection and the
life.”
The stranger, of course, is Jesus, and this scene is
depicted in the Gospel of Luke (7:11-17) as a demonstration of his compassion
and ability to give life and restore unity. Yet, something greater is also at
stake. As baptized Christians, we are incorporated into the Mystical Body of
Christ, which makes us that stranger with the touch and voice overpowering
death. We are not only those who die and mourn. In Christ, we also give comfort
and the witness of eternal communion with the dead and the mourning. Together,
we share the life-giving gift of the Holy Spirit by crying out with one voice:
“Abba! Father!” (Romans 8:15).
One of the primary ways the Body of Christ overpowers death
is through prayer, individually and communally. Praying for the dead—or more
aptly, praying that the faithful departed may enjoy the fullness of Life—has
been a vital component of the Catholic tradition since the early days of
Christianity.
Although the Church’s teaching on the matter was not fully
developed until the Middle Ages, praying for the dead has its roots in
antiquity. Scripture mentions the practice in the Second Book of Maccabees (Ch.
12:43-46), indicating that “this holy and pious thought” was prevalent among
Jews in the century before Christ’s birth. The early Christians adopted the
practice, as evidenced by inscriptions in the catacombs of Rome and the tombs
of early martyrs, writings of the Church Fathers, and in surviving texts from
ancient liturgies.
What accounts for this need to pray for the dead? How do we
go about it? Our tradition is very rich in this regard, but a few points are
worth reflection.
Staying connected. The Church identifies
praying for the dead as one of the seven spiritual works of mercy. It is one
way in which the compassionate stranger’s touch and voice overpower death and
unite all members of the Body of Christ—in this life and the life to come.
“Just as in their earthly life believers are united in one Mystical Body,” said
St. Pope John Paul II, “so after death those who live in a state of
purification experience the same ecclesial solidarity which works through
prayer.”
The dead need and depend on our prayers, just as the living
do. St. Thomas Aquinas said that praying for the dead is the greatest act of
charity one can perform on behalf of anyone—living or dead.
“There is, death notwithstanding, still a vital flow of the
life between them and us,” says Fr. Ron Rolheiser, O.M.I. “Love, presence, and
communication reach even through death. … Our lives are still joined. Hence we
pray for the dead in order to remain in contact with them. Just as we can hold
someone’s hand as they are dying … so too, figuratively but really, we can hold
that person’s hand through and beyond death.”
Finding freedom and healing. Death was not—and
is not—God’s idea (cf. Wisdom 1:13-14a, 15). It became a reality because of
humanity’s sin, our turning away from the Source of Life to follow our own
designs.
However, out of his great mercy, God sent his Son to take on
our sin, redeem us through his death, and restore us to life through the
Resurrection. As a result, humanity is redeemed and promised eternal life.
Still, it is a life we must claim as our own in a world
still plagued by the effects of sin. God’s gift invites a response, a
willingness to become holy as intended in the true image of our Creator. So,
our choices matter in this life. By choosing against God in this life, we
create our own eternal hell, so to speak. By choosing God, and through grace
living pure, perfect lives, we see God’s face after death, enjoying heaven.
Since living pure, perfect lives is something most of us
cannot do, and since “nothing unclean will enter” heaven (Rev. 21:27), those
who have nonetheless striven to love God in this life are in need of further
cleansing after death. Purgatory, then, is a state of transition on the soul’s
journey toward eternal rest.
The Light of the World “burns” away the stain of our
imperfections, much as the newly risen sun burns off the early morning fog.
“Before [Christ’s] gaze all falsehood melts away,” said Pope Benedict XVI in
his encyclical Spe Salvi. “This encounter with him, as it burns us,
transforms and frees us, allowing us to become truly ourselves.”
Purgatory is neither punishment nor a place apart from
heaven. Rather, it is a healing process for the soul moving toward eternal
union with God. As the Catechism of the Catholic Church states, “All who die in
God’s grace and friendship, but still imperfectly purified, are indeed assured
of their eternal salvation; but after death they undergo purification, so as to
achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of heaven.”
Sharing in the Resurrection. As Christians, we
are called to serve others, to help them along the Way of Christ so that we may
all journey with him, in him, and through him to the Father in heaven. This
work of mercy extends beyond death, as we pray that the entire Body of Christ
becomes the “resurrection and the life.”
Just as we pray that our loved ones may enjoy good health in
this life, we must—to an even greater degree—pray that the faithful departed
enjoy the fullness of life. Former Pope Benedict explained why:
The
souls of the departed can receive “solace and refreshment” through the
Eucharist, prayer, and almsgiving. The belief that love can reach into the
afterlife, that reciprocal giving and receiving is possible, in which our
affection for one another continues beyond the limits of death—this has been a
fundamental conviction of Christianity throughout the ages and it remains a
source of comfort today. … No man is an island, entire of itself. Our lives are
involved with one another; through innumerable interactions they are linked
together. No one lives alone. No one sins alone. No one is saved alone. … So my
prayer is not something extraneous to another person, something external, not
even after death. … It is never too late to touch the heart of another, nor is
it ever in vain.
This solidarity in Christ beyond death is the unity of the
Church, which prays through the gift of the Holy Spirit to the Father on behalf
of the entire world. Our prayers assist the departed on their heavenly journey
precisely because they are the same prayer Christ offers for us. Our voices in
him and his voice in us is what touches, heals, and overpowers death to give
eternal life.
Expressing Communion. Practically speaking, we
express this solidarity most fully each time we participate in the Holy
Sacrifice of the Mass—whether or not it’s a funeral. In the celebration of the
Eucharist, time and space are transcended, and the Mystical Body of Christ
stands united—including all who have gone before us and all who are still on
their earthly journey. “It is by the Eucharist that the community of the faithful,
especially the family of the deceased, learn to live in communion with the one
who ‘has fallen asleep in the Lord,’ by communicating in the Body of Christ of
which he is a living member, and then, praying for him and with him”
(Catechism, No. 1689).
Each of the four options for the Eucharistic Prayer at every
Mass asks God to bring the faithful departed into the light of his presence.
The dead are typically remembered as well during the General Intercessions at
each Mass. Memorial Masses are also offered on behalf of the dead, and each
year the entire Church celebrates the Feast of All Souls Day on November 2 for the
dead.
Apart from Mass, devotions such as the rosary can be
dedicated to departed souls. The De Profundis (Psalm 130) has long been
employed by the Church as a prayer for the dead and can be prayed privately.
Formal, extended prayers are not necessary. Simply walking
through a cemetery and commending the departed to God’s care can be very
meditative. Short prayers can also be memorized and said to oneself at any time
of day. I try to say a quick prayer of thanksgiving and intercession for the
dead upon rising from a meal: “We praise and thank you Lord, for all your
blessings, and may the souls of the faithful departed rest in peace.” Of course,
God also hears intentions expressed in the silence of our hearts.
Whatever the form of expression, the prayers of the Body of
Christ help all its members stay connected, find freedom and healing, and share
in the Resurrection—wherever they may be. Christ’s voice in ours is what
reaches out and touches the hearts of all who are part of his Body—whoever they
may be.
This occurs as we pray for the dead, and as the dead pray for us. No matter what stage of the journey we’re on, it is Christ’s voice that calls us together and offers the same promise Jesus made before calling Lazarus from the tomb: “Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die” (John 11:25-26).
NOTE: The above was originally published by Abbey Press Publications as a Catholic Perspectives CareNote in 2010. Since the Abbey Press is "no more," and because it is November (traditionally, a time to remember and pray for the dead), I thought it might be a good time to "resurrect" it -- Br. Francis
