Nobody dies better than faithful Catholics

Nobody dies better than faithful Catholics. 

Last month, I shared my story of the death of my beloved father-in-law. Within a two-week period, five other people connected to my faith family passed on to their final journey. At my age, I have had many close people die, including folks from all different faith backgrounds and some with no faith at all. If we know (or even if we don’t know) when we are going on to eternity, being aware of our end goal changes how we experience the termination of this earthly life. 

I have learned that it is not an easy process when someone dies naturally. From an observer’s perspective, the undertaking generally entails suffering. For people without faith, it is just suffering, but watching a faithful person who sees the value of offering up their suffering, the effort becomes a beautiful moment of grace. I can’t speak for the sufferer, but for those who observe such behavior, you can see a horrific challenge turn to joy, with a sense of peace for the person and the loved ones who benefit from the observation. 

This claim does not condemn pain relievers, as there is a place for them. Instead, when the ailing has accepted the purpose of their natural state in life, the grace is not only received by the sufferer, but the gift of grace is shared with those who are with them. We know the most profound love Christ expressed for us was not in the joyful minutes but rather on the cross. Although not immediately, because it is a challenging time, serving and supporting that loved one “on the cross” is fulfilling. That, I believe, is a rich witness of deep faith and an unforgettable, extraordinary gift. 

A few months before my loved ones died, my parish priest did a homily on dying a happy death. Being that this “happy death” subject is rarely talked about, it was in God’s providence that I listened and heard what Father was saying. Fortunately, I had the information when needed. When our family had to engage in the spiritual dimension of death, which included contacting the priest for anointing, confession, and receiving the Eucharist, we felt empowered that we were helping prepare our loved one for life’s most significant journey. We accepted the rhythm that came with the end of their time here and the commencement of the life after. 

Personally, I found the grief was lessened when we purposefully and peacefully participated in our loved one’s significant and consequential passage. 

For reasons I can’t understand, our culture appears to be moving away from the traditional rituals that have existed forever. Too often, even when the loved one lived a faith-filled life, a gathering at a hall, park, or tavern seems to be the new norm in place of a funeral, as if the send-off were primarily about we who remain instead of celebrating the new state in life our loved one is embarking on. 

I understand the need for a piece of the memories to help and support us as we continue to go on here. However, as Catholics, we know the primary focus must be our work cooperating with grace as we petition our heavenly Father to usher our loved ones into eternal paradise. 

The formalities that mark the significance of this undertaking include the rites and rituals that we have come to expect. I find comfort in knowing the funeral rite and accepting the purpose, which helps reinforce and remind us what we each can hope for. The funeral Mass beautifully uses Scripture to direct our minds to the purpose of this faithful person’s life. Furthermore, the celebration eloquently brings to light our anticipation that this significant person is at the brink of actualizing a meeting with our heavenly Father, a mystery beyond comprehension. 

After the Liturgy of the Word, we know it gets even better in the Liturgy of the Eucharist. As we are united with Christ, through the Holy Spirit, in the reception of Holy Communion, we get to celebrate the hopeful union our loved one is experiencing at the exact moment. I can’t think of a party or service in a hall, park, or tavern that can be more powerful or beautiful than sharing this perfect union where heaven and earth quite literally join us not only with the three persons of the Trinity but with our loved ones as well. 

When I attend these celebrations of life at an alternative site outside of a Mass, I often leave feeling like this experience is incomplete. The sense is even more profound when I knew the person was raised and lived a Catholic life. Sometimes the event option of a non-spiritual gathering is the family’s wishes and not so much that of the person who passed. 

This year, and most recently these past weeks, I have experienced up close and personal the beauty of the rhythm, rite, and rituals accompanying a Catholic funeral. I never feel closer to that person after death than at the Mass, and I am confident that is what God has intended for us, to be in an eternal union that provides a depth of comfort nothing earthly can provide. 

Happy Easter. 

Betsy Kneepkens is director of the Office of Marriage, Family, and Life for the Diocese of Duluth and a mother of six.