Times and Seasons

Last weekend we experienced the relativity of time. With the turn of a knob, or the push of a digital button, we gained an extra hour of rest between Saturday night and Sunday morning. On awakening we had more light to start our day with the trade-off that we had an earlier sunset. The earth stayed the same, the sun and moon continued on their usual path. What did change was our perception and our description of their movement in space and time.

At the same point in time, the weather folks on television were telling us that we had reached the peak of color as the foliage presented a marvelous array of golds, crimson, and browns. The trees with their colors and with their swirling leaves gave notice that we were moving from late summer surely into the fall, and not too far away winter would be coming. The sun was especially bright and the weather clear and crisp, but it wasn’t the summer temperature of beach and surf. Things were changing.

The liturgical season continued to change this week too. We had our religious and secular feast of Halloween. Then it was All Saints on November 1st and All Souls on November 2nd. People in the parish lined up to sign the Book of Remembrance. They and we engaged in a ritual of writing and naming those loved ones who had gone before us in death. We remembered.

Remembering

Religious people do well at remembering. From our Jewish roots, we remember the dead, we mention their names in the gathering of the community and family. In our Christian, Catholic tradition, we continue in that remembering. We remember the Saints of God, now gloriously with God. We remember those unnamed saints, the thousands and thousands of souls. We remember them with the hope that they are with God forever.

Remembering brings consolation and a security to our lives. There is a rhythm to passing through life to death and through to life forever with God. The centuries, and our personal lives and times, are filled with people who have lived, died, and we believe, are now with God. There’s a surety and comfort in that rhythmic remembrance. The living and the dying are of a piece. That’s what the gospel reminds us of: in dying we live and in living we die to ourselves. The Apostle Paul wrote this week in his letter to the Philippians: “To live is Christ and to die is gain”.

In the turning of the seasons, as we move through space and time, we discover that reality. Each time we remember, the more true our faith becomes. November has been such a traditional time to remember. Our seasons turn, our lives turn, our share in the death-to-life mystery of Christ is more fully realized.

The Book of Remembrance

For a number of years, we have celebrated November and our dearly departed with the Book of Remembrance. Some of us a little older than others recall the placing of intentions on the altar table throughout the month of November. Some of us may even recall month’s mind Masses, which recalled the death of parishioners in our communities. The custom of having Masses said on the 9th, 13th, or 30th day after the death of a believer was a common custom of our youths. It had to do with remembering the person, but also our faith. It said who we were and who we are and who we hope to be. We consoled one another with “the assurances of faith”, as the Apostle Paul writes.

Remembering in the Suburbs

The experience of death in the suburbs is different. Our fast pace doesn’t allow us the “luxury” of stopping and marking the seasons of life. At first glance, it seems that death is inefficient, it doesn’t gain us something, or doesn’t put us ahead. Grieving is highly psychological and emotional. Grieving people are left alone, while their neighbors go on with their lives. Unlike smaller communities where whole families gather, the grieving believer here is alone or at least with a very small group of people to remember.

We don’t have the geographical and physical space as markers on the way to remembrance. The family parish church, the family cemetery, the localized gatherings of family and friends on a regular basis just to remember, to share stories of the loved one, and to console each other with the affirmation of faith are not ours. We either don’t have the time, or we don’t take the time.

The custom of walking through the cemetery, the older days of even “picnicking” as a family outing, the fascinating viewing of the architectural markers are by and large gone for us. The inscribed names and dates, the favorite quotes of the beloved, the simplicity and grandeur of the burial plots are replaced with ground level markers with only names and the two dates that mark only the birth and death of the person. What is needed are the stories of all that happened between the dates. What is needed is the history of where they came from. And not least of all, we hold the hope of where they now live forever with God.

Better Than a Walk in the Park

After many years here at Christ the Redeemer, a blessing in the life of the writer is to meander through Chestnut Grove Cemetery in Herndon or Sterling Cemetery. Not uncommonly he gets to walk with “his people” after an interment. Just like a country pastor, I walk through the grave markers, reading the names, the dates, and telling myself a story of parishioners now with God. It’s about remembering who we were, who we are, and who we hope to be. It’s about the communion of saints, the Church one in Christ forever in the glory of the Father. Remember and be consoled. Be encouraged in the life we share.

CDH