Fifth Sunday of Easter
Fr. Anthony Brankin
You know, last week we were talking about modern attempts to help make people live forever. We mentioned how they are thinking to freeze us or manipulate the cells in our bodies. And we mentioned that none of these things could really work. The fact is that everything in this universe—including our bodies—lives on for a while, and then dies. There is nothing in our world that does not end. In fact everything in this world—everything in our lives, points in some way to death. That must sound awful to our ears—but it is true. Yet despite this fact and experience, human beings seem to have an instinct that somehow— someway—we can and will live forever.
All peoples—since the beginning—have had this feeling that death is actually the doorway to another life. That we go through the agony of death and somehow end up—happily, if we are good—where God lives. And I think we can actually prove the existence of a life after death by the very fact that we long for it so deeply and universally. In other words, the universal desire for eternal life is a proof of its reality! It is a constitutive part of our humanity. And the question we all have to ask is “From where does this desire for eternal life come? Well of course it comes from the Creator. God. In fact God seems to have planted the seed of this hope in each one of us and we sense it by means of our experiences. In other words—when we look at all the things in this life that delight us—fascinate us—make us happy—make us joyful we must wonder: What is the source of this joy? Why do we delight in all these things?—is that delight a hint that there is a Source—and Origin of that Joy—that leads us to itself?
Something more
If there is a tear in my eye when I see something incredibly beautiful—what is it that affects me so deeply that I am moved emotionally. Is it the random combination of pigments and brushstrokes that thrill me so deeply? Really? Paint can do that? Stone noses or clay faces can make me catch my heart in my throat? I don’t think so. Those things are not enough in themselves to cause my reaction. The joy—the delight—the tear—is caused by something or someone behind those things—underneath those things—being revealed by those things who is showing himself to me by means of beauty. That, of course, is God.
By the same token, when we remember all the love that informs our lives—the love that leads us on the adventure of life itself—we realize that none of it can be reason enough for its own existence. Love and life must have an Origin—a Source from which our lives and love pour forth. Therefore when we realize that nothing in this life is the cause of itself we understand that there must be a God who is the cause of it all. There must be a God who allows us to share his Life, His Love, and His beauty with us. That is why all humans instinctively feel that our experiences in this life—have their origin in the next life. All of our joys in this world have their fulfillment in another world. And that all our sufferings and sorrows on earth have their solution in heaven.
The older I get the more I yearn to see that the cause of all my joy—to experience the life to the full that Jesus talks about. Oh my goodness—I still love everything here. I love life and its million and one adventures and experiences—but the more funerals I do—the more prayers I say, the more does this life seem to lose its hold on me and the more it all seems to hint at another world, that this is an echo of some future life. That is why I believe that this life holds within itself the seeds of hope of the next life.
Reliving the past
I was feeling kind of mopey once and I went back to my old neighborhood on the southside, Marquette Park—and I drove down my old street and parked in front of the old family house—a bungalow—just like the ones here in St. Odilo. And I sat there, and I re-lived in my mind all the old days. I pictured my mother and father, brothers and sister doing various things in and around the old house—I looked at the gangway and remembered going in and out all those years. I saw the old bridal bush between the houses and remembered how my brothers and I hid behind it a million times for a million goofy reasons. I thought of how the house smelled when the old furnace would kick on for the first time in the fall and you could smell the metal ductwork heating up for the first time. I even thought to myself: Gosh, if I had enough money—I wonder what it would be like to buy the old place—could I go back somehow and live that youth all over again? Of course not—but how comforting to me so many years later were the sounds and smells of so long ago.
And as I sat there in my car at the curb looking and thinking so wistfully about the love and the life of my old days, I wondered: is it possible that all that really died? All those people? All those experiences? When it was over, was it really over? And I concluded—“NO!”—that even if I had never heard of Jesus and the Resurrection—if I had never learned of Eternal Life in heaven—I would still say to myself, “There must be another life—another world—another place where all that beauty and life and love is fulfilled. life is too beautiful for it all to end here. And I would conclude—even on my own—that there must be more.
And that I say—is heaven and the Eternal Life that God will give us if we are good. Someone might say, “Well, what if someone had a difficult life—a hard life full of sadness and sorrow—trials and tribulations—sickness and suffering? How could they conclude to eternal life and God if they never had any of the joy and happiness that the little Brankin boy had? Well, I think they would still be able to realize there must be more than this life—because they would know surely that what little good they did have was still only a foretaste of what they could have. They could conclude that there must be more to this life than the sufferings and sorrow—that it holds the promise of something better—somewhere.
St. Paul tells us that eye has not seen, nor has ear heard what God has prepared for those who love Him. And while Heaven and Eternal Life is certainly seeing God face to face, it must include some portion of what we have seen and experienced here—the love and embrace of our mothers and fathers—our brothers and sisters—our children and friends and neighbors. Heaven must include being with them—as they were—and in the way we were with them—forever. And that makes me want to change my life where it needs changing—so that in the time God has given me—I will do what needs to be done to see my Lord as well as the Blessed Virgin Mary—but also to see my parents and my brothers and sister where we will all renew our lives with all the love we ever had. Easter is not about obscure theology and complicated theories. It is about life—an Eternal life that begins here and finds its fulfillment and reason and source there.