Hope Does Not Disappoint

Celebrating the sixth anniversary Mass for Noah Antony

02/03/2023

Rom 5:1-5 Brothers and sisters: Since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith to this grace in which we stand, and we boast in hope of the glory of God. Not only that, but we even boast of our afflictions, knowing that affliction produces endurance, and endurance, proven character, and proven character, hope, and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.

Today, February 3, 2023, marks the sixth anniversary of the passing of Noah Antony, my nephew. Now, the word “anniversary” comes from two Latin words “annus” meaning “year” and “vertere” meaning “to turn,” or better, “to return.” I’m sure Izzie knew that since she studies Latin at OCA. An anniversary like today, therefore, means to return (to go back) to the year when something memorable happened, and that’s why we are having this sixth anniversary Mass: to return and to remember.

But an anniversary means much more than simply to go back and relive those tragic events. We are not here merely to reopen old wounds. Rather, for Christians, an anniversary afford the opportunity to see those events through the eyes of faith, and feel some hope. Faith and hope go hand-in-hand. They are the twin lenses through which Christians gaze at the world. They are rose-colored glasses that allow us to love God and neighbor. Faith and hope.

At the moment something tragic happens the trauma clouds and obscures everything, especially the glimmers of hope and peace that are also present, but they are hidden and disguised. In other words, every year on the anniversary we can return and revisit that event and try to see them with new eyes, not full of tears and loss like in 2017, but maybe eyes a little more full of faith and hope like in 2023. Hindsight is 20/20, they say, and looking back at events has a way of sharpening our eyes of faith.

By the way, every year on February 3, we celebrate the feast of St. Blaise, a physician, a bishop and martyr who died in 316 AD. As a doctor, and finally a martyr, St. Blaise experienced what St. Paul meant in the first reading from Romans, where he said faith allows us to glimpse hope in the midst of suffering. That is exactly what St. Blaise experienced as a doctor and a martyr.

Listen again to what St. Paul wrote: “Not only that, but we even boast of our afflictions (our sufferings), knowing that affliction produces endurance, and endurance, proven character, and proven character, hope, and hope does not disappoint.” In other words, as each anniversary goes by, our eyes of faith allow us to see what happened on February 3, 2017 was always in God’s hands. God is always present in our lives. That is how faith helps us to feel hope, and hope does not disappoint.

Would you mind if I shared some thoughts from my funeral homily from six years ago? Perhaps we can hear these stories a little differently than we did back then, and perhaps even smile and even laugh a little easier today. From an early age, Noah wanted to share God’s love with others. His maternal grandmother, Tessie Auntie, recalled that Noah loved to pretend playing priest at Mass at home. He would hand little potpourri to each family member seated on sofas as a form of Holy Communion. He invited Isaac to participate, as the deacon, of course. Isaac could be Dc. Chuck while Noah would be Msgr. Scott Friend. When you’re the director of the play, you can make yourself the leading role.

Here’s a story that Michael, Noah’s uncle, really appreciated from because I borrowed a scene from The Lord of the Rings movie: “Noah didn’t always pick on Isaac, though. My brother Paul recalled when Isaac was born he was in the NICU for several days. As the family was waiting to leave, a nurse came and said the doctor had ordered one last test. As she was about to wheel the cart carrying baby Isaac out of the room, Noah stood in front of the cart, put both his hands on the cart to stop it defiantly, and said in a voice with all the force of Gandalf confronting the Balrog on the Bridge of Khazad-dum, “You shall not pass!” And that is exactly how Noah said it.

Here is a story about Noah’s friends and their closeness: “It is true that Noah went through a “Justin Bieber stage” in styling his hair. That was something his uncle Michael called, “Bieber Fever.” Michael being a doctor, he knows a fever when he sees one. And Noah was not above a little friendly rivalry either. When he was first getting to know Pollo he said, “Hey, you should come over to my house more often because my dad likes you more than Chris.” Noah was always pushing his friends forward. Chris remembered Noah gave him the courage to speak in front of the youth group, something Chris was terrified of doing.”

Here’s a memory about Noah’s head and his heart: “Noah did well academically at Baylor, too. One professor, Dr. Richard Edward, wrote a recommendation letter in which he praised Noah’s leadership, saying, “I would place him among the top five percent of students I have taught over the past thirty years in terms of his ability to communicate effectively in public speaking, interviewing, and interpersonal situations.”

Noah was part of the BIC (Baylor Interdisciplinary Core of the Honors College). Now, that’s what Noah’s head was doing, but what about his heart doing? His heart was in a group called the “King’s Club,” a community service group, where Noah played with Hispanic kids after school like a big brother. He saw these Hispanic kids had bigger boulders to remove in their lives much bigger than Noah himself did. And he wanted to help.”

And this is probably my favorite Noah story because it includes his Catholic faith and devotion to the pope: “Two years ago in 2015, Noah went with the church group to see Pope Francis in Philadelphia. Noah hoisted Isaac on his shoulders and carried him for 20 minutes so Isaac could get a picture of the pope. He carried Izzie piggy-back style so she could see the Holy Father.

Noah’s own view of the pope was completely blocked, so he simply told Izzie: “Just tell me what he looks like and what he’s doing.” That was enough for Noah; he was happy that he had removed the obstacles for others to see the Vicar of Christ pass by.” Noah was a typical college kid at Baylor, but he was also a remarkable young man of faith.

What we want to do on this sixth anniversary of Noah’s death is not just return and remember the past. As if to reopen old wounds. We also want to see how faith helps us look to the future with hope. Faith and hope are the two lenses through which Christians look at the world, and we can see more than others can see. What hope are we talking about? The hope of seeing Noah again.

I love the lines in the funeral Mass that speak about this hope in the final prayer, which says: “Before we go our separate ways, let us take leave of our brother. May our farewell express our affection for him, may it ease our sadness and strengthen our hope.” Now comes the best part: “One day we shall joyfully greet him again when the love of Christ, which conquers all things, destroys even death itself.” And that is why hope does not disappoint.

Praised be Jesus Christ!