Does that
baby get heavy? Yes, the one you are
bouncing in the crook of your arm during much of Mass; the one that you are
toting around in the child-carrier seat; yes, the one that makes you groan, “Oh,
you’re getting soooo big!” every time she insists that you swing her up and
hold her above your head. Yes, that
one. Is she heavy? Of course, it only gets harder to bear when her
older brother insists you pick him up too.
And you only have two arms, so what are you to do if yet another clamors
for a lift?
The people in
the grocery checkout line looking over their glasses at your brood aren’t the
only ones who count children as a burden, though perhaps they see them ONLY as
a burden. But sometimes even to you who
love them, that twinge in the small of your back; that shrill, demanding squawk
when you just cannot respond fast enough; all of these reveal that even the mother’s
or father’s love you have for them cannot banish the law of gravity, or stretch
the limits of time and human strength.
It’s a lot to carry!
This past
weekend, I should have liked to have gone to Justice Scalia’s funeral, but I
had to settle for watching a video recording. Though thousands of people, many famous or
important, filled the enormous church, it was very much an ordinary funeral,
that is, precisely what the rites of the Church prescribe for every departed
Catholic. There was no eulogy, and no
dignitary gave tribute – but that’s the way every Catholic funeral should
be. The homily was about not the
deceased, but about Jesus – but that’s the way every Catholic funeral should
be. I am glad the whole country, and
even the world, was able to see this funeral and share in the grace it
offered. It certainly filled me with
hope! This is what we believe, and this
is what we do when a loved one dies.
The celebrant
and homilist was his son, and my friend, Fr. Paul Scalia. As I watched him preach and offer the Holy
Sacrifice, I was struck by how he referred to the Justice, the great man, whenever
he mentioned him: he called him Dad.
This simple word bored though the enormity of the circumstances, the position,
the veneration and the controversy, and revealed the true identity of the man
being mourned. And it was easier to see
both why he needed our prayers, and why he deserved them.
This was
possible because Justice and Mrs. Scalia raised a son who became a priest. Doubtless, he will continue to pray in a
unique and powerful way for his father. Did
you know that among the various forms of the Mass for the Dead, there is
special one for the priest to offer for his father or mother?
What also
struck me was the identities of the eight men who bore the Justice in his casket
up the aisle. These were his other sons,
and the husbands of his daughters. They also accompanied his widow, their
mother, and supported her literally and figuratively in her grief. These are the ones who not only carried him
to the altar of God, but will also continue to pray for him. They are the fathers of his grandchildren,
who will remember him and pray for him for the rest of their lives.
You don’t
have to have nine children to raise up for God a priest or religious. You don’t need any specific number of
children to receive grateful prayers from generations to come. But as
you try to kneel and pray during Mass only to be interrupted by some small person’s
need or demand, rejoice to remember that you know the answer to the question: Who is going to carry your body into the
church for your funeral? Who is going to
lift you in prayer to our merciful Father?
Who is going to shoulder you into glory?
And smile and say a prayer for that disapproving person in the
checkout line, who may not have anyone, and may not even know what she’s
missing.
Enjoy the
weariness in your lifting arms now. It
will only make you lighter when you’re the one being lifted!
Monsignor Smith
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| The statue of Saint Joseph carrying the Child Jesus in our Chapel. Who would be the heavier lifter? |
