A SERMON FOR THE 4TH SUNDAY IN LENT
“In the midst of life we are in death.” It’s a familiar quotation, one that we hear at funerals all the time. It’s meant as a salutary reminder not to become so wrapped up in living thislife that we forget about the next one—the life of the world to come. Today’s message, however, seems to convey the very opposite. We are in the midst of Lent, about to enter into the even more somber period of Passiontide next week, and yet, today’s Fourth Sunday in Lent is known as “Laetare Sunday”. Laetare—“Rejoice!” How odd that we are called to be joyful today…
In the midst of life, we may very well be in death, as the saying goes. But today, we are reminded that in the midst of death, we are in life. In the very midst of all the penances we endure, there is the joy of knowing that we suffer for God. And in the very midst of our observance of Christ’s Passion and Death, we have the joy of knowing that we suffer withGod. The knowledge too that he is suffering with us. For indeed in this life, we have much to suffer and not for nothing is it called a vale of tears.
All our sorrows have a purpose if only we would stop focusing on our own miserable aches and pains long enough to see the big picture. That what we suffer is nothing other than our own participation in Christ’s own suffering, by which he opened up the gates of heaven for us, and now by which we can make sure that we, as individuals, benefit from those open gates by walking through them one day. There’s joy in abundance to be found in these thoughts.
This week we heard the sad news that a loyal, traditional Catholic priest, Fr. Joseph Collins has been diagnosed with Stage 4 pancreatic cancer. As we all know, that is nothing short of a death sentence. It is now in God’s hands whether the remainder of his life is measured in days, weeks or months, but what is certain is that, short of a miracle, the cancer will eventually overcome him. Of course, we must all pray for him. But how should we pray? For a miracle perhaps? Certainly, if it’s God’s will. Miracles are rare, because if they weren’t rare we would start taking them for granted. But miraculous cures are certainly something God can grant if he so wishes. The point though is that it’s ifGodwishes, not you and I. Pray for a miracle, but only if it’s God’s will, and if not, then pray for a happy death.
A what? A happydeath? That sounds like a contradiction, and yet it’s a very Catholic notion. Think of it in today’s context of Laetare—“Rejoice” Sunday. In the midst of death we are in life. Yes, poor Fr. Collins may be coming to the end of his earthly passage, but so too shall we all, one day or another. The Grim Reaper comes for us all, and neither money nor power nor influence nor holiness will add one second to our life beyond what God has planned for us. And so it behooves all of us to be constantly aware that this life is not the main thing. This life is transitory, temporary, a measure of time during which we are simply tested for the main event to come. Whether or not that event is something to look forward to or dreaded is up to us, how we act, and how clear our conscience is.
St. Gregory the Great reminds us that “the Lord cometh at the hour of judgment. He knocketh when by the pains of sickness he warneth us that death is nigh.” If our response is one of fear, it’s because we dread to go before our judge, him whom we know we have offended, and even despised. “But” says St. Gregory “whosoever is confident through hope and by reason of works done for God, when he heareth the Judge knock, openeth to him immediately, for to such an one that coming is blessed. Yea, when the hour of death is at hand, such an one is of good cheer in expectation of the blessedness which will follow on judgment.” If God were to knock on your door today, what would be your response? Fear or good cheer? Something to think about…
So yes, we pray for a happy death. Both for ourselves, and for those who go before us, including, it seems, our dear Fr. Collins. Because death can be happy if we’re in the state of grace. Death is nothing more than the gate of heaven, and why should we feel anything but the pure joy of anticipation to walk through that gate? We think about “poor Fr. Collins”, and naturally we wish him well and pray for his miraculous recovery if it be God’s will. But let us not be like the heathen, for whom death is the end of everything, as St. Augustine reminds us. Let us rather take to heart, and especially on this Sunday of Laetare, the words of today’s Gradual, taken from Psalm 121, Laetatus sum in his quae dicta sunt mihi: In domum Domini ibimus—“I was gladwhen they said unto me, we will go into the house of the Lord.”
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