Death, Where is Your Sting?

This week I would like to share with you something personal. Today I buried my father, Breandán Ó Madagáin (1932-2020) and had the privilege of being able to celebrate his funeral mass, although, as you can imagine, it was very difficult. The following is what I shared at the mass.

My father and I, June 2019

My uncle Kevin, a priest of Dublin diocese who died several years ago, used to always say this at funerals: ‘We are never ready for someone to die. It always comes as a shock. But it’s good to remember that it wasn’t a shock to God. The Lord had been expecting him.’ When you think of that, it reminds us that there is a bigger picture that we forget about. All things are in his hands and everything fits together perfectly. God knew the exact moment when his earthly life would be complete and now he begins his eternal life with God, which is what we are created for.

There is a line in Scripture which refers to someone who has lived a long life, which says, he died ‘full of days’. That doesn’t just refer to length of life, but fullness of life. My father lived a full life, with seven children and fourteen grandchildren. He was married for 57 years. Initially he studied to be a priest and spent all seven years in Maynooth, the national seminary, but thankfully for us he changed his mind before he was ordained! He had a passion for life and for the Irish culture and lived his whole life in passing on the Irish language and culture. He loved the outdoors and gave us a sense of the marvels of all that has been created.

He also had a strong faith, which he carried with him until the end of his earthly life. Being a scholar he studied everything, sometimes to my great annoyance, as I would come home from the seminary and mention a book that I found interesting, but he would have nearly always have already read it. Once I gave him a book on St. Peter as a gift. Having read it he said it was quite interesting, but that it was actually heretical! I should have read it first. Now a wonderful thought, is that all the questions that he had during his life to do with his faith, have all been answered. Everything makes sense and everything fits together. We will only enjoy that clarity when we die ourselves. For now we will continue with all the questions that faith brings. We know what we believe, but it is still a very mysterious thing.

Drumacoo cemetery, which goes back to the 6th century

My father was a very talented man, with a brilliant mind. He achieved many things, and wrote many books. Probably his greatest achievement was to be become part of the Royal Irish Academy. But of all the things that we achieve in this life, the greatest thing we are called to, is to love. There is nothing greater than this, because this is how we imitate God ourselves. Love is our highest calling and we know that this is what he did his best to live, not just with his family but with people he came to know everywhere. This is our purpose on earth, to love and to serve those around us. During our time on earth we learn what it is to love and to serve and we must choose to do this, or not, to accept God, or not. We have been given this freedom.

There is a beautiful sculpture I came across a few years ago, which depicts an old woman about to go through a doorway. She has one hand on the door and is looking back over her shoulder at her life. Then you can see on the other side of the door, the same person coming through as a young lady, meeting Jesus. That is what we believe happens. We are created to be with God and that is what awaits us unless we reject it, which we can do.

In one of his letters to the Corinthians, St. Paul expresses it this way: ‘If our faith in Christ has been for this life only, then of all people we are the most to be pitied.’ If we think that this life is everything, then we have completely missed the point. The point is that we have been created for something wonderful and our time on earth is a getting ready for that.

Sometimes at funerals people talk about the person who has died as if that were the end of their existence. We hear that ‘their memory lives on,’ as though that were the only thing that lived on. That is not what we believe. Breandán is more alive now, than we are, because he is no longer restricted in the way that we are. He is no longer limited physically, or emotionally, as we are and he lives more intensely than we can. That is also what awaits us and what could be a greater hope than that?

The cruelest part of death, is that we are left with so many questions. The person we love is taken from us and we don’t know what they experience now. We know what we believe, but we haven’t experienced that yet and so it is very mysterious. God knows how painful this is for us. When these questions come up, think of the words of St. John's Gospel: ‘Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid. Trust in God and trust in me.’ Jesus is telling us that he knows this doesn’t make sense to us, but it will when we die ourselves. Meanwhile he asks us to believe that what he taught us is true. ‘When you are ready, I will come to take you with me.’ Then everything will make sense.

I would like to finish with this quotation from a Protestant minister called John Owen. When he was dying he was dictating letters to some friends. He said, ‘Write down, “I am still in the land of the living.” Then he said, ‘No, change that. Write down, “I am still in the land of those who die. Soon I hope to be in the land of the living.”’

Ar dheis Dé go raibh a hanam dílis. (May his sweet soul be at God's right hand)