Summary of a Fr. Gerry Creedon homily from April 2, 2006
"If the
spirit of the one who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, the one who
raised Jesus from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also, through
his spirit dwelling in you."
THE SCRIPTURES THIS WEEK focus less on the dying and rising of Jesus than on the death of his followers.
This week my family remembers the 20th anniversary of our father's death. The evening before he died he climbed over the five-foot high wall that bordered our property and the local cemetery. He wanted to see if there was room in the family plot for him. He sought out the parish priest, who responded, "There is plenty room for you in that plot, Johnny. Put these thought out of your head and let's go down to the pub for a drink." My father had given up alcohol for Lent so they drank O' Douls, which the neighbors said was the death of him. The following morning was Holy Saturday, when there was no morning Mass. My mother suggested he sleep in while she would bring him the paper and breakfast in bed, a rare treat. An hour later she found him dead.
In the days and weeks following his passing, my mother visited his grave with us after early Mass. When we finished the Hail Marys, my mother would bring the concern of the day to him. "Da, use whatever power you have to fix him." When a really serious problem weighed on her, such as a marital problem affecting one of her children, she would walk right on top of his grassy grave, and lean her head sideways. It reminded me of a thrush listening for a worm. She seemed to draw strength directly from his presence. To her he was not dead at all. Their love seemed more obvious than it had ever appeared in life.
The death of those we love reveals the mystery of faith.
I find the same witness in the death of our parish members. St Charles mourns the loss of a cherished parishioner, Celia Coronado. She was one of the founders of Borromeo Housing. More recently she helped initiate the Misa de Gallo, a 5 AM Mass for 9 days before Christmas with Filipino customs, lanterns, tagalog songs and a great Asian breakfast afterwards. From this experience she developed the Philippine Medical Mission (PMM) to bring healthcare and housing to homeless girls and bridge dwellers in Manila and other locations in her native land.
Once she gave me a silver plated frame to bring with me to Ireland for my mother. I noticed that my mother used it to frame a favorite photo. Then I thought, "How can I refuse to support any of Celia's projects?" Of course she knew that already!
When she was stricken with a life-threatening cancer, she refused to focus
on herself. As soon as I had administered the Eucharist to her on my First Friday
call, she was ready to do business; "All I want today is an office in Benedict
Hall." She never would let me go empty-handed. There was always something
to be shared from her garden.
During a particularly boring clergy retreat recently, when many of my brethren
were snoring, I penned these lines;
Celia
She never let me go empty-handed,
A pear, an apple, a tangerine
For bread.
Your hazel, piercing eyes
seek health for diseased girls,
a house for bridge-dwellers.
Celia, may your heart's flame
Light the lanterns of mercy
Till justice dawn.
Let the death of those we love, like the death of Pope John Paul, renew all of us in the unfathomable hope we hold because of Jesus' dying and rising.