Reading Francis

“Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed. We do know that when it is revealed we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.”  – I John 3:2

What do you say to the dying?

A friend of mine asked me something along those lines, which made me grateful that I was never called to pastoral ministry, because I have no idea. I only know death from this side, and while I was able to accompany my father on his last day, I have a lot more experience with us folks who are left behind by those who have died. Though, of course, we are all dying from the moment we’re born.

I’m really comforted by this verse from John’s first letter, which, as it happens, will show up at mass Sunday. John was the Beloved Disciple*, one of the three who saw Jesus at his best (the Transfiguration) and worst (Garden of Gethsemane). He was the only one of the twelve men Jesus chose to stick around for Jesus’ crucifixion. And he was the only one of the apostles who, by tradition, wasn’t martyred and lived out his days into old age.

(*I mean, he was the Beloved Disciple according to the Gospel of JOHN, so feel free to sprinkle a grain of salt there.)

Assuming this letter was written by THAT John or one of his disciples, it has to be comforting to know that he, this guy, didn’t really know what comes next. Because if he wasn’t sure, then we can all be forgiven for not being certain, either.

This is all I can be certain of:

1. God has been there. The crazy story of Christianity revolves around the idea that God becomes human and suffers and dies. And then shows that death is not the last word.
2. God has been here. I find myself often reflecting on the fact that God knows grief, knows what it is to lose someone you love to death. You look at a crucifix often enough, and that begins to sink in. But what takes more time is realizing that God grieves, present tense, for each of us, and not just for Jesus of Nazareth. It’s sort of easy to see how God might grieve for Jesus on the cross, the way that Jesus grieved for his friend Lazarus when he died. But the point of the whole story of Christianity is that we are all as beloved by God as was Jesus, which means, when we grieve and when we suffer, God feels it like a parent does for their child.
3. There’s something else. I’m not super attuned to supernatural stuff. I’ve stayed in places that are supposed to be haunted and felt creeped out, but that doesn’t mean anything other than that I’m susceptible to a good ghost story. I have encountered and witnessed things that seem like signs from the departed, but I am not 100% sold. I’ll just say this: the most persuasive rationale for the existence of Christianity, 2,000 years on, is that this guy Jesus lived, died, and then a whole bunch of people experienced him alive again. They didn’t know exactly how to explain that experience, but it was real enough to power a rapidly expanding 1st century Jewish sect at a time when there were plenty of other competitors in the marketplace. If we have the theological details wrong, I can’t say. But there’s something else.

There’s one other thing that I’m not certain of, so much as comforted by, like that caveat verse from I John. In the Gospel of Luke’s story about the crucifixion, one of the other guys being crucified asks Jesus to remember him when He comes into His kingdom, and Jesus replies, “Today, you will be with me in paradise.” I take from that the idea that, whatever of us desires God, desires Love, Joy, Peace, is enough for God to hold onto in us. Even the most rotten of us is eligible for Love if we want it.

Like John, what that looks like, I have no idea. Apparently it looks like what the first disciples saw in the risen Jesus. Or else it looks like being in the presence of Love, Joy and Peace. We can approximate it now, when we allow our lives to be formed by Love, formed for Joy, formed toward Peace. But eventually, I hope we find out for real.

That’s what I think. What do I say to the dying, though? Probably nothing. There are times that you don’t need words so much as the assurance that you aren’t alone, that someone is there by your side.