Textbook Funerals

Seeing how Jesus changes death into a doorway

07/07/2025

Matthew 9:18-26 While Jesus was speaking, an official came forward, knelt down before him, and said, ""My daughter has just died. But come, lay your hand on her, and she will live."" Jesus rose and followed him, and so did his disciples. A woman suffering hemorrhages for twelve years came up behind him and touched the tassel on his cloak. She said to herself, ""If only I can touch his cloak, I shall be cured."" Jesus turned around and saw her, and said, ""Courage, daughter!  Your faith has saved you."" And from that hour the woman was cured. When Jesus arrived at the official's house and saw the flute players and the crowd who were making a  commotion, he said, ""Go away! The girl is not dead but sleeping."" And they ridiculed him. When the crowd was put out, he came and took her by the hand, and the little girl arose. And news of this spread throughout all that land.

I presided at two funerals last week. The first one was for an older gentleman surrounded by his widow, his children, his grandchildren, and hundreds of friends. The funeral was here at the church and the man was buried at Oak Cemetery with a colorful Mariachi band to croon farewell songs while the family shoveled dirt on the grave.

It was sad, obviously, but also pervaded with a sense of peace and hope. He had lived a good Christian life and could look forward to his eternal reward, and the family could leave the cemetery fully expecting to see him again in the next life. It was a textbook funeral like they taught us in the seminary.

The second funeral was anything but textbook. It was tragic and doleful, even with a touch of despair that was hard to shake off. The man was detained by ICE agents and held in a local jail awaiting deportation. The cause of death? Suicide. The service was at the funeral home not at church, with only a handful of well-wishers. His widow and children are still in Zacatecas, Mexico. After the funeral the body will be sent back to Mexico for burial.

The funeral was sad, to say the least, and the circumstances made it tragic. They did not prepare us for these “non-textbook funerals” in the seminary. But regardless of how inadequate my homily was on that occasion, I hope people felt like Jesus was present in his priest and in the Scriptures. And that all hope was not lost.

After all, the man had been baptized and received all his sacraments, so I was able to bless his body and his casket with holy water, rich symbol of Baptism. He had sacramentally died with Christ so he can hope to rise with him on the last day. Otherwise, why bother with Baptism at all, if it does not open the door of death for us?

Now, this is not a homily about immigration, but rather about the difference Jesus makes in our lives and especially at the moment of death, surely the most critical moment of our lives. Today’s gospel highlights exactly the difference Jesus makes in that morbid moment of death. Did you notice the wildly different perspectives: that of Christ and that of the crowd?

We read: “When Jesus arrived at the official’s house, and saw the Mariachi band, I mean the flute players, and the crowd were making a commotion, he said, ‘Go away! The girl is not dead but sleeping.’ And they ridiculed him.” Now both perspectives are true, but one is truer. The crowds were right to mourn because the girl had indeed died. Her heartbeat had ceased, and her brainwaves had stopped waving.

Jesus’ perspective, however, is even truer than natural death, that is, he has come precisely to transform the specter of death into the doorway to real life. In that sense, the girl was indeed merely sleeping and Jesus had come to awaken her. And to prove that Jesus has power over death, he brings her back to life.

But of course, like Lazarus in John 11, and the son of the widow of Nain in Luke 7, this girl would have to die again in order to rise in eternity. Maybe that is why Jesus did not just go around raising people from the dead left and right: they would die again. Only the eternal life that is guaranteed by the sacrament of Baptism stops death dead in its tracks and makes it look like sweet slumber.

And that was my message in both funeral homilies last week. That is, thanks to their Baptism, we have solid hope that those two men will be in a better place than we are right now. And therefore our prayer should not be that they come back to us (as most people instinctively pray), but that one day we will be where they are.

They are not the unfortunate ones, we are. They have passed through the door of death and we should not want to make them go through it again. Rather, we should steel ourselves with the grace of Baptism and await our inevitable turn to turn that doorknob. In other words, the funeral of a baptized Christian is always a textbook funeral.

Praised be Jesus Christ!