Just for kicks

Rich went on a macabre bent and diagnosed his wishes for his funeral.  (by the way, this is a good idea to do, you never know when He's gonna call, afterall.)

Fr. Fox's comment (number 10) brought up a memory for me from my grandfather's funeral now two weeks ago.  Fr. Fox wrote: 

A little known fact: the Archbishop has specified the In Paradisum to be sung at all priest's funerals; perhaps he has simply make it clear he wants it, without making it a "mandate"; but it was sung at Fr. Schuh's funeral. It is properly sung, I believe, as the deceased's remains are borne from the church.

Sometimes it is sung as the remains are incensed, which may be allowed (who knows anymore?), but another prayer, "Saints of God, come to his aid" is normal there, too bad not to have both.

FYI, if you have even a small number of competent singers as a choir, a chant such as In Paradisum works very well (hint, get a group together and offer such services in your parish). I know a parish priest who sings it himself.

At the end of the Visitation, grandma wanted the family to say a decade of the rosary together, as they used to say it as the children (my mom's generation) were all little.  Well, guess who lead it, perk of having a priest in the family, I guess.

Thinking that we are a Catholic family, I started the Fatima tune at the end of the decade.  What I intended to be a chorus ended up to be mostly a solo.

I was fine with it, just unexpected.

Funeral Homily for Edward L. Dietz

From the foundations of this country as a mainly Protestant country, there has always been an underlying current that wants to separate holiness from happiness. From our study of American History, we learn about the Puritans who banished dancing and all seeming enjoyment. The Quakers were ‘quietists’ who sought to eliminate any type of emotionalism to have a ‘pure’ religious experience. These two factors, plus many others, eventually lead to Prohibition, the outlawing of all alcohol outside of religious use in this country; absolutely horrifying for someone of German descent!
It is something that still exists today in Pop Culture, as those who are presented as ‘holy’ are usually also presented as ‘dour.’ They have no fun, they are always serious, there is never enjoyment to be found, rather they spend all of their time on the knees in reparation for sins.
It does not take long for anyone who has known my Grandfather, even for the shortest amount of time, to recognize that this is not who he was. Over the last few days, after Grandpa passed on, the one comment that always comes to the fore about Grandpa: “He was quick with a joke.” Seemingly, he never met a joke he didn’t like, and he was always on the lookout for an unsuspecting new acquaintance on whom he could pull out the old stand-bys, in addition to the latest he heard from where ever. For his grandchildren, this was always a nerve-wracking position as we introduced an unsuspecting girlfriend or boyfriend for the first time at a family gathering. Grandpa would get this sly little look on his face, slowly slide over by the neophyte, and unleash a torrent of his recent favorites. The appropriate grandchild would dutifully role his or her eyes and want to climb into a hole somewhere, embarrassed.
But, grandpa’s love for jokes was not self serving; he never did it to bring attention to himself, but used this great love for humor to make others feel welcome and at home. He could take a tense and anxious situation and bring a relaxing calm to all present. What a wonderful gift that is to be able to share with so many, friends and family alike. And what a wonderful way to acknowledge the Love that God has for each one of us through the mystery and gift of laughter. As Fr. Pat led us through the discussion about Grandpa the other day, this was the idea that Jim, Larry, Mom, Diane, Mark and Lora all kept coming back to: Grandpa used the jokes to break down barriers, to establish friendships, and make people feel at ease.
While this love of humor was certainly one Grandpa’s most public aspects, it was not the deepest aspect of who he was. Being a farmer, something which never leaves the blood, is a great lesson in the trusting in the deep providence of God in all things. The family was reminiscing how during planting time, Grandpa was always testy, anxious for the coming year and how the crops would turn out. This deep reliance on the providence of God, though, was expressed in many ways. I remember learning to serve at morning Masses here at Immaculate Conception, and Grandma and Grandpa were always sitting in the same pew, praying the rosary, saying their prayers after Mass. Just as prayer marked the rhythm of life in a monastery, prayer was what marked the rhythm of life for grandma and grandpa, and very little would stand in his way. In fact, so important was Sunday Mass, that at one point the farm was snowed in. Even though he felt it was too dangerous for the children to come into town for Mass, he walked both ways so that he would not miss his Sunday obligation. (Either that, or he was tired of being cooped up with Jim and Larry, and decided a walk through several feet of snow was a good thing!)
As it is for so many who work the land and rely on the Providence of God to survive, prayer was something real, something personal, something powerful, and any opportunity to steal a moment in prayer was taken advantage of. Grandma related on Thursday that he would often pray a rosary while either planting or plowing, bragging often: I got two full rosaries in today! (As an aside, this is much better than Uncle Larry’s option of falling asleep at the wheel of the tractor!)
One final aspect that cannot be skipped over is his devotion to his family. While his was not a love that was worn on the sleeve, the love and concern that he had for his family was something that was always present, guiding how he treated his children, grandchildren and now great-grandchildren. Family was always important and he was generous in his own way. While for many years, all you would receive is a hearty handshake and a firm ‘yep!’, his devotion to grandma, especially in their years of retirement, is an example to us, his friends and descendents.
The legacy that he passes on to us continues these three themes: humor as a way of inviting others into relationship, faith, and family. Through all of this, his dedication and hard work provide the blue-print to a success that is not measured in dollars, but is measured in friends. Last night, as we were leaving the funeral home after the visitation, I thought of the funerals I have had for those in their 90’s. The crowds tend to be small, a few friends who are remaining, family scattered about. Grandpa, as he did with so many things, greatly exceeded expectations. So many friends, so many family members (many of whom I did not even know!), came to pay respects for a man who was deeply loved and respected, who enjoyed his life, but also had a deep and profound faith.
And the common consensus was: where are we going to get our jokes now?

A review of the week and preview of coming attractions

This is a few days overdue.

First, a very heartfelt and sincere thank you to those who expressed condolonces, offered prayers, and showed some type of sympathy at the death of my grandmother. They were all very much appreciated.

Grandma's funeral was a good celebration of her life. The visitation period was not very busy, as she had been out of the loop for the last few years while she battled with the Alzheimer's, so there was a chance to spend a bit more time with each visitor/caller than some other funerals that I have been to. It was nice to catch up with folks and relatives that I had not seen in quite a while. It seems like these are the only times that we get together, sadly.

For her funeral, Grandma would have been very pleased and honored that there were six priests present, especially one who was her grandson. I firmly believe that most of them would have still been there had I not been a priest, as priests always held a special place for her. I know that there were more who wanted to attend, but were unable to because of other commitments. Thanks to all my brother priests who offered prayers and Masses for her.

The other aspect that was nice, at least for me, was that this was not an automatic canonization funeral, either. It was certainly hope-filled, and the good things that Grandma did in this life were extolled, but there were also discussions about her struggles, her failings, and pleadings that her generosity outshine her human weaknesses. This is what funerals should be.

Fr. Pat's (pastor at my home parish) homily was really quite excellent. He focuses on a key word or two that embody who that person was. He nailed it with 'abundance.' My mother was always mad at the holidays when there would be one dessert per person, and Grandma would cook enough food for 50 people, instead of the 15 or so that would actually show up. Yes, abundant indeed.

Her abundance was not limited to the groaning of the dinner table at the holidays, either. She was very generous to a number of charities, especially the local chapter of St. Vincent dePaul. She was Grandpa's primary care giver as he died of cancer 9 years ago. She rarely met a stranger, and had a huge gathering of friends with whom she would converse often.

Yet, the lasting image I have of Grandma and Grandpa is them, sitting together on their back porch at Indian Lake, watching the water and boats go past, listening to Marty and Joe call the Red's games. For someone who missed the last few years because of her struggle with Alzheimer's, this is a tranquil and peaceful image that will be with me for quite the while. It is a memory of my youth, of the guidance and wisdom that they shared with us, and the joys of keeping a simple life in the midst of a chaotic world.

God Bless, Grandma, may the angels and saints lead you to your heavenly home.

Homily for Mollie Summers

When you are studying to be a priest, they never tell you the gory details. Today was one of the hardest days I have had as a priest. Things hit a little too close to home. I hope the words I shared gave some solace and comfort to the family. I share them here because some asked about having a copy:


Tom and Sue, Emma, Elizabeth, William and Henry, Grandparents, cousins, and friends,
on behalf of the staff here at Visitation,
I offer you my condolences and sorrow.
I want to thank you for inviting me to be a part of this celebration,
whatever little I may be able to say at a time like this.

As a priest,
there are days that are tremendous joys,
but there are also days that I feel very small
and insignificant.

With Mollie,
I have now felt both.

One of the highlights
that I will always remember in my life as a priest
is the privilege of giving Mollie her First Communion,
the same day that her brother Henry
was welcomed into the community
through Baptism.

There were very few dry eyes that day
as she was brought forward
to receive Jesus for the first time,
my own eyes included.

It was special for me not just because of Mollie,
but because I also have a niece who is special needs.
I saw in Mollie my niece Tristyn, and vice versa.
These two girls
who have taught me so much
about what it is to embrace life,
who teach us all what Jesus means
in the Gospel passage that we just heard proclaimed.

The world tells us that someone like Mollie is a burden
that our lives will now be better off because she is gone.

If that was case,
why were there so many tears in my eyes
as I wrote out this homily?
Why do I miss this girl whom I really,
barely knew?

It is true that to have a child such as Mollie is a sacrifice,
for her parents,
her siblings,
and her friends.
There were certain things that the Summers family
could not do because of Mollie.
Is that fair?
Is it just?
No, I would be lying if I said it was.

But I challenge anyone who knew her
to say that Mollie was a ‘burden.’

Because in reality,
there is something about Mollie
which teaches us all something more.
We hear this passage:
"Unless you become like little children,
you cannot enter into the Kingdom of God,"
and we think of cute little thoughts and smiling faces.
We have that image
of a perfect life for our family and children.

With a child like Mollie,
The image of perfection is unfortunately shattered.
Hopes, dreams, wishes
all must slowly evaporate.
We grieve for our child while she is still alive.

But as these dreams die,
something else grows in their place.
We open our eyes to what God is doing instead.
It takes some time to realize,
but eventually every family with a child like Mollie
needs to see her as a gift from God,
and a gift meant to teach us something more,
something different,
something unique.

What Mollie was able to teach us,
in her own unique way,
is that to be a little child in God’s eyes
is to be totally reliant on someone else
for everything that we need.
And when we have those needs met,
there is a joy that is contagious.

The world cannot answer how this is could be.
But with faith,
we are able to not only see the answer,
but to embrace the love that comes to us from God.

For some strange reason that only He can understand,
God sent Mollie to all of us to teach us a lesson:
embrace life to it’s fullest every day.
And, just as Mollie relied on so many people
to be able to thrive in her own way,
we also need to rely on God to thrive in this world,
to overcome our own suffering,
and to experience the joy that comes solely from God.

In another passage,
this from Gospel according to John,
Jesus tells us that he is going to heaven
to prepare a place for us,
a room in God’s mansion that is just for me or you.

If we believe,
if we look at the example of the Gospels,
Jesus always reached out to those most in need,
Jesus always reached out especially to little children.

It gives me some comfort,
some solace,
to know that Mollie
is now able to run and jump and play
in a way that she was never able to do
while she was here on earth.

Her chair on earth sits empty,
a reminder of the loss that we have suffered.
But she needs no chair in heaven.

Mollie,
take this chance to stretch your legs,
to reach out with your arms,
to laugh and smile.
Jesus is there to welcome you
and to give you what you did not have in this life.
We now send you home to heaven,
and we ask you to continue to help us,
to prepare our place with you,
so that we may join you
when our time here on earth is over as well.

God Bless, Mollie,
we all love you and will miss you.