The Rejoicing Mood

Learning to seek solace in the resurrection

12/15/2019

Matthew 11:2-11 When John the Baptist heard in prison of the works of the Christ, he sent his disciples to Jesus with this question, "Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?" Jesus said to them in reply, "Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them. And blessed is the one who takes no offense at me." As they were going off, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John, "What did you go out to the desert to see? A reed swayed by the wind? Then what did you go out to see? Someone dressed in fine clothing? Those who wear fine clothing are in royal palaces. Then why did you go out? To see a prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written: Behold, I am sending my messenger ahead of you; he will prepare your way before you. Amen, I say to you, among those born of women there has been none greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he."

The third Sunday of Advent is traditionally called “Gaudete Sunday” which is Latin and means “Rejoice Ya’ll” (the plural of ya’ll is “all of ya’ll”). But rejoicing is the last thing I feel like doing this weekend. Why? Well, it has been an especially hard and heavy Advent this year, not only for me, but for many people. Let me explain. This past week 14 year-old Claire Schluterman died in tragic circumstances. Two weeks before her Gene Bruick and Rick Reedy died very unexpectedly from massive heart attacks. In that same time period David Araujo died after a long and grueling battle with cancer. His body was worn down to skin and bone. And next Wednesday, we will have the funeral Mass for Ann Miller, a beloved nurse in the Fort Smith community with deep Italian roots in Tontitown. Her maiden name was “Pozza.” Have you ever heard of Pozza’s Pasta? That was her family. In the face of all these sad deaths, can you blame me if I really don’t feel like rejoicing today on Gaudete Sunday?

This past week I shared with Trinity Junior High students three lessons I’m learning in the wake of Claire Schluterman’s passing. Claire was an 8th grader at Trinity, and so her tragedy hit our school especially hard. Maybe these three lessons will give you a little perspective, or a glimmer of peace, or at least dull the edge of the pain, in case you too don’t feel in the rejoicing mood. First, I am learning that life is fragile. A precious human life can be lost in the blink of an eye. Sometimes teenagers think they are bullet-proof and invincible. I remember foolishly thinking that, too. Sometimes we as Americans can think our country is bullet-proof and invincible, too, but time and again we are proven wrong: by mass shootings, terrorist attacks, and even the skyrocketing suicide rate.

Fr. George Tribou, the principal of Catholic High School for Boys told us something startling at our graduation that I will never forget. He said, “Five years after you graduate, one of your classmates will die.” We didn’t have to wait five years. Three years later my friend, Tim, died in a car accident. Today, Claire, Gene, Rick, David and Ann teach us that same lesson: Life is fragile. Don’t take it for granted. Hug your family and friends frequently. And tell them you love them while you have will and voice and lips to do so. Say you are sorry and don’t hold grudges. Life is fragile, and therefore “handle with care” as it says on the sides of important packages.

Secondly, practice a little self-care, that is, take care of yourself. Eat healthy food, exercise regularly, get enough sleep. I have always been mystified and frankly a little miffed by the recommended actions in case of emergencies on an airplane. Before take-off, we hear the emergency protocol: “In the unlikely event of loss of cabin pressure, oxygen masks will fall from the ceiling. Secure the mask on yourself first and then help someone else in need.” That announcement always annoys me because I want to say, “No! I will help others first before I help myself. That’s the Christian thing to do!” But the fact of the matter is you will help no one if you are passed out on the floor from lack of oxygen. And you will actually be able to help more people if you practice a little self-care. By the way, self-care is usually harder for men than it is for women: have you noticed? Why? Well, we men tend to think we are tough, and we are fine, and we don’t need care. But we are all human and we all feel hurt and we all need help. We all bleed when we are cut. Practice some self-care, which is what I wish I could have said to Claire, Gene, Rick, David and Ann.

And third, the rude reality of death makes me reflect on the reward of the resurrection, namely, heaven. I cannot help but ask myself: where is Claire, where are Gene and Rick, where are David and Ann right now? We pray they are in heaven, and our faith help us feel that’s the case. But the after-life is not one big after-party, where we do whatever we feel like doing. That is, there are certain “rules of the resurrection,” which happen to be the same rules we learn to live by here on earth, namely, the two-fold commandment of love of God and love of neighbor. Good coaches preach to their players: “You play like you practice!” If you do not practice well, you will play poorly (Razorback football). The same principle applies to heaven and earth: if we practice loving God and neighbor poorly on earth, we will not know how to play well in heaven. The after-life will not be one big after-party; only those who practice on earth will know how to play in heaven.

Did this homily put anyone back in the rejoicing mood? Probably not. The raw reality of death makes real rejoicing only possible with the dawn of the resurrection, when the Jesus, the Son, rises, returns in glory, and dispels the darkness of death. We will only be able to rejoice fully and finally when we see Jesus face to face, and our loved ones face to face, like Claire, Gene, Rick, David and Ann. In the meantime, on every Gaudete Sunday, maybe that hope of heaven can at least help us to crack a smile.

Praised be Jesus Christ!