Saturday, November 15 @ 11:00 AM
Mass for Deceased Clergy
St. Augustine Cathedral
And so, my dear friends, as these weeks of autumn slowly progress and the cold months of winter are approaching, I find myself very naturally more reflective, more lost in my own thoughts. Perhaps it’s simply that the afternoon ends more quickly in twilight, and when I wake and rise, the skies are still dark.
Of course, as the days grow colder, who here does not want to find a refuge in their own homes, in the man-made light we create to dispel the darkness and to be lost, perhaps, in our own thoughts? Yet it seems to me that nature, each year, does a great service to us by creating these conditions— as darkness continues to grow in our midst— to prepare us for the celebration of the coming of the Light, which we will begin in short order.
A Light, of course, which is not of natural origin, a Light that is supernatural and divine in nature. A Light that was welcomed by the angels. A Light that you and I are baptized into— a Light who is the Light of the world, the coming of our Savior and Redeemer, who shines through the darkest of darkness.
You and I are baptized into that Light. In the moment when we entered into the mystery of the life of the Trinity, we were enlightened by grace. We were given the gifts of faith, hope, and charity. Our sins were forgiven. We were made temples of the Holy Spirit. We became witnesses of the Light that will never end.
And in our words and in our witness, in the deeds of our lives, we go out into the world as disciples to proclaim that Light— that Light that shines every day, the Light in which you and I have hope. As we heard in the Gospel, those who live in that Light will inherit everlasting life.
But you and I today gather here because, in a very special way, we want to pray for our brothers— our brother deacons, priests, and bishops— who, in the long history of this diocese, gave their lives in service of the Light. For those who are ordained are not just servants to it, but they are ministers of the Light.
In a world beyond the natural— in a world that is becoming ever more accustomed and familiar with the darkness that, again, is man-made: falsities, gossip, ignorance, and all that we create to obscure the truth and not live the truth— those who are ordained give their ministry to the Light. We honor those who have died before us, for they did that to the end.
What did they do? They were ministers of the Light each time they came into the pulpit to preach the truth, to allow the words of our Savior to pierce through any falsity, any darkness, any myth, any alternative that does not lead people to true life.
It is not always easy to preach the truth, my friends. We who do it know it, because we are convicted by our own words and we stand naked before God’s people as the Light penetrates within us to call us to greater holiness. Those who preach the words of Light must be held accountable in their actions; for if we preach one thing and live another, those words are empty.
You could well imagine those deacons, priests, and bishops who lived forty, fifty, sixty years of ordained ministry— ministering to the Light, preaching the words of Light, trying to live them as best they could— in a world that’s comfortable in darkness.
Then, of course, as ministers of the Light, each of us ordained becomes an instrument of grace— a conduit where the Light literally pierces into the souls and spirits of people and lifts them up, forgives their sins, and feeds them the sacred Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus. They live the acts of charity, as we heard in the Gospel— acts that give hope reality.
Once again, it is not easy to live that. It’s not easy for any of us to live it— but most especially when you are a minister of it. And yet, you can imagine those for whom we pray: the great joy they experienced in their lives when they saw chains of sin broken; when they saw the joy on a little infant’s face when, even beyond words, that child was born again to eternal life; when they saw the joy and happiness, the delight of a husband and wife leaving the sacred church and beginning a life together cemented in the power of the Holy Spirit.
It is sacrifice— but there are joys beyond all telling. We honor our brothers who came before us for being faithful ministers of the Light and instruments of God’s grace.
So the weeks march ahead, do they not? Before you know it, it will be Thanksgiving and Advent, and we will begin the festival of Christian Light. As we gather here this morning, my friends, let us pray that all the baptized throughout the world may never lose hope in the victory of Light over darkness; that we may never be discouraged to be heralds of Light in a world that often doesn’t welcome it; and to do it not merely with words, but by the clarity and witness of our lives— so that faith, hope, and the greatest of these, which is love, may shine in our everyday lives.
We pray for those of us ordained— may I beg those prayers of you and for one another. For we are the custodians and ministers of that Light. We pray that we will always be worthy and faithful to do that— that we allow the Light to purify us, to cleanse us, so that we may be ever more worthy of the vocation God has given us.
In a special way, we pray for those who have gone before us— that the Light they served may welcome them into Heaven, shed all their fears, anxieties, sufferings, and pains, heal their hearts, and give them the victory that was promised to them on the day of their baptism.
They were faithful in this life. They knew the Light and lived it as best they could. And now we commend them to the mercy of God.
May they rest in peace, and may their souls and all the souls of God’s faithful, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.
