The solemnity of All Souls, the commemoration of all the faithful departed we celebrate today is a Christian type of ancestral veneration to remember the deceased among us. Death to Christians is counter-cultural in that sense because we keep bringing out death to understand the essence of our belief—the Paschal Mystery. The Christians had to move into death at some point in their life and go through it like Israelites when they passed over the Red Sea. The Pascha literally means pass over from slavery to freedom and from death to life. We all professed this when we were baptized: “What do you ask of God’s church?” The answer is baptism and “What is baptism bringing forth?” “Eternal life.”
St. Paul clearly said this again in the second reading, “Brothers and sisters: Are you unaware that we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were indeed buried with him through baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live in newness of life.”
We die to live as Jesus said, “Whoever saves his life will lose it; whoever loses it will save it.” This is the heart of Christian faith in which we find hope especially through Jesus’ death and resurrection. But it is often hard to accept and understand because death seems a taboo better not to talk about in this society.
My friend Uncle Paul helped me understand that death would be a precious gift prepared by God. When I was at the presbyteral convocation last week, I had to move to a different hotel because the original place where all priests were supposed to stay was full. It was inconvenient for those who stayed in the other hotel to drive back and forth. But one benefit I had in that hotel was a free wireless Internet access. If I had stayed in the original hotel, I would have not received an e-mail from a nurse who is in charge of the medical facility for the homeless and the abandoned in the archdiocese in Korea. I met Uncle Paul about ten years ago there. He was one of the sick; but very distinctive because his body was rigid like a stick. So he looked like posing in attention always, lying down all day. I don’t know how he became like that, but I do know no one from the family took care of him. Amazingly, although his body was fragile, his mind was crystal clear, and so we became good friends. I had sent a regarding letter to him every month with some money when I was in Korea. Anyway the e-mail said he was about to die due to difficulty breathing. I wrote an e-mail to Uncle Paul, wiping away tears. A day later, the nurse sent another e-mail, saying that Uncle Paul died in peace, holding my letter between his fingers. His long toil was over and he didn’t need to pose in attention anymore. He finally rests in God. This new way of his existence is something I didn’t understand first, but in my prayer I have realized death is a precious gift to him like his fragile presence to us for a short time.
I believe we need to face and practice death everyday not to be intimated or afraid. Children need to see the dying and ponder what it means not to see grandpa anymore. Life without death is artificial. Think about the changing colors of leaves in the fall. It is a sign of dying and yet it is beautiful. It is true that anyone confronted by a terminal illness can teach us; as soon as the sick accepts death it loses its power over him. And we have a far excellent example for that. When Jesus Christ freely accepted death, death no longer had power over him. That’s why we gather here as a faith community to celebrate Jesus’ death and newness of life in the Eucharist. In this sacrificial offering, Jesus shows us how to move into and go through death and finally reach new life. “Do this in memory of me!” It sounds like “Live in memory of me. Love in memory of me.” In the end, love is the measure in which we find the way of truth and life. And dying to our old self is a first step for that.
Can we dream to die beautifully someday, trusting in that “The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want!”