If you have had the opportunity to read or instead watch the film Dune (i.e., which if you haven’t yet, you should, considering it stars some incredible actors such as Timothée Chalamet and Zendaya) you might be familiar with these phrases: “I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain”.

Just from reading this, one can immediately sense that Frank Herbert, the author, had a very profound intuition into the fundamental realities of existence. Indeed, Herbert is here tapping into one of humanities lengthiest struggles since time in memorial.

Fearing Death

We have all in one way or another experienced fear and its detrimental effects. But I think one of the core fears that we must inevitably face is that of death. So much so that it has almost become taboo to even mention in today’s culture.

Yet without sometimes even being aware of it, we incessantly experience ‘little deaths’, as Herbert puts it. Whether it be discontent at the workplace, financial issues, illness, maybe you’re mocked/humiliated or you’re going through countless quarrels at home, or perhaps, even more severe, you might feel worthless and lost – you mention it – all of these can then trigger even more fears within us and the vicious cycle begins. In other words, like Jesus, it might just well be that right now you feel somewhat ‘crucified’ – defenceless, desperate, completely and utterly exhausted.

Jesus providentially spent three hours hanging on the cross, however, most victims would last there for days – potentially even weeks under excruciating (i.e., a word which means ‘from the cross’) torment. How long have you been hanging from your cross?

Remembering The Resurrection

It is at these moments when we recall an event that occurred around two centuries ago which completely revolutionised our reality – the Resurrection. It is through the Resurrection that Jesus conquers one of, if not the most inherent and inevitable fears within us all; in turn giving life to some of the deepest desires within our hearts.

Jesus affirms that the ‘little-deaths’ and eventually the ‘big-death’ is not something to fear but rather a process of attaining the best of ourselves. As Jesus himself allegorises, in order for a tree to grow, the seed must die. From a microscopic perspective, around three-hundred million cells in a human body die every minute in order for new ones to flourish. I also just recently discovered that the pearl of an oyster is in actual fact the result of a healed wound. This is consequentially and literally what Jesus accomplishes on the cross! He gathers up our pains, our sufferings, our loses, our ‘little-deaths’ and ultimately even our ‘big-death’ and, as Tim Odell beautifully sings in his song ‘Heal’, “like an empty sail that takes the wind”, Jesus transforms them into healing, triumph and ultimately life, all through His Resurrection.

As Dr Scott Hahn, in his ambiguously titled book ‘Hope to Die’ articulates, “we were made for life. We were made for joy…and in Christ that life and joy are already ours”. Further on, Dr Hahn remarks that, “we have nothing to fear from the terrors of the world…they cannot rob us of the hope that fills us – the hope of eternal life”. And this is exactly what we all ultimately desire, whether we are aware of it or not, “eternal life”. Therefore, if I could now rephrase Herbert’s quote, “[w]here the fear has gone there will be nothing [left in the tomb]. Only [Jesus] will remain”.

In light of all this, it doesn’t come to much of a surprise that one of the first things that Jesus utters to the women coming to the tomb post-Resurrection is, “[d]o not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee, and there they will see me” (Matthew 28:10). Remembering the resurrection, therefore, is more than us recalling a past-event; it entails us immersing our self in the present in the events that Christ himself experienced.

Be Not Afraid

This is not, however, the first time that God has spoken to our subterranean desires, encouraging us to be free of fear. As a matter of fact, within the pages of Scripture, the phrase ‘fear not’ (or equivalent translations) appears only slightly over one-hundred times in the Old Testament, as well as about forty-four times in the New Testament.

This is, in essence, the life Jesus calls all of us to live. To live life knowing that no failure, no distress, no discontent and not even death itself has the final word. It is through this way of life that we can also boldly acclaim, “I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me”.

The post How Easter Speaks To Some Of The Most Essential Desires Within Us appeared first on Universe of Faith.

The passion and the crucifixion of Christ are very dear to me. In fact, I sincerely believe that if Christ had to call me to be His disciple, He would call me during that journey. In Christ who is suffering, I do not see a man whom I should pity; in Christ who is undergoing His passion, feelings of guilt and shame stay away from me. As He undergoes his passion, rather, I find myself lost in His loving gaze for me. My eyes meet His and I feel tenderly loved in a complete way, in a way I have never imagined before. I feel immersed in an ocean of unconditional love.

As He is enduring the scourging, I do not see Jesus as a victim of human sin, but my Saviour who is freeing me and saving me. I realise how deeply precious and dear I am for God. I find myself wanting to hide and find comfort in His wounds. I find myself wanting to walk all this journey with Him – to be there for Him. And I can see the Spirit of the Resurrection already present.

Why should I be afraid of His passion, why should I seek to run away – when in those moments I can experience his deepest and most tender love for me?

His blood is sanctifying. It heals me. He gives me the courage to follow in His footsteps and also embrace the pains of my life steadfastly. I love the passion of Christ, for I do not simply see a human being who is undergoing pain and suffering from human sin, but the glory of God. Because during this affliction, from Him emerged only light, unconditional love, forgiveness. A torrential of graces were poured on to us! And these are graces which give us the strength to receive and accept the power of the Holy Spirit in our lives. Graces which, when we believe wholeheartedly that Jesus is our Saviour, can give us the faculty to transform our lives completely.

In light of all this, I am reminded of a metaphor that a priest once narrated on a radio-station. He compared the journey of Christ’s death and resurrection to a woman giving labour. The pain and suffering, irrespective of their horror, are ultimately needed for the child to be born. This means that suffering isn’t something that we should always attempt to escape, but to realise that sometimes there is a kind of freedom and potential growth in it. In a sense, the Resurrection wouldn’t make sense without the antecedence of Death. And this death – all form of death – is never separated from He who loves us. Grace gives colour even to the blackness of the tomb.

See More – Top-pope-francis-quotes-on-death/

What-is-the-good-news-of-the-catholic-faith/

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I had just learnt to say my evening prayers by heart, when my aunt told me that Jesus would be sending his angels from heaven to watch over me as I slept. Moreover, the angels always used to leave some goodies under my pillow. I then started attending catechism classes and I still remember vividly with what passion I used to answer the question, “Why did God create you?” Full of enthusiasm and excitement I used to answer, “God created me to know him, to love him and to serve him in this life, in order to be happy with him forever in eternity.” The phrase “… forever in eternity” always used to fill my heart with an enthusiasm, fervour and eagerness to get there.

Discouragement and hope

As the years rolled by, this keenness and zeal for eternity were replaced by fear and a sense of hopelessness. I became aware that reaching eternity is not automatic. Discouragement started creeping in. However, it was at this point that somebody read this wonderful promise, from the Gospel of John, to me: “Let not your hearts be troubled; believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And when I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. And you know the way where I am going” (Jn 14,1-4).

This promise brought a lot of serenity and tranquility to my heart; it filled my heart with a new hope and a new longing to reach eternity.

Slowly slowly, I started realising that life on earth is a journey that leads either to eternal salvation or eternal damnation. Daily decisions have a huge impact on the destination of this journey; on where I will spend eternity. The Pauline term “ambassadors for Christ” (2 Cor 5,20) showed me that, here on earth, I am a pilgrim. Really and truly I belong to heaven, “our commonwealth is in heaven” (Ph 3,20). This truth gave me a new strength and more courage “to run with perseverance the race that is set before us” (Heb 12,1) until I “receive the crown of life which God has promised to those who love him” (Jn 1,12).

The death of my loved ones

Notwithstanding this belief, that heaven is the destination of our journey, when I come face-to-face with the death of my loved ones, it is still not easy. I speak so much about heaven, and I yearn for heaven. Yet, when I am faced with death, fear gets the best of me.

How can I be afraid of death if I long so much for heaven? This takes me back to a conversation I had with one of my best friends. This friend was diagnosed with a terminal illness but kept fighting for her life. In the last months of her life, she would be at death’s door on one day only to recover the next day as soon as she was administered the Last Rites . This happened several times. After one of these episodes, she said to me: “I know that I am going to heaven, so I know where I am going … but what fills me with the great fear is the transition from here to there”. How is this going to happen? How can I prepare myself to face this moment of death?

The hour of death

This is exactly what we pray for, when we pray the Hail Mary to our Lady. We say, “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.” The Rosary is a repetitive prayer, but when I understand what I am praying, it makes all the difference. I need to pray over and over again for that specific moment … for the hour of death. Therefore, as we are reciting the rosary, we are preparing ourselves for that specific moment of our lives. Our Lady is called the Gate of heaven because it was through her that our Lord passed from heaven to earth. May we seek her as we journey from earth to heaven. The moment we get to heaven, life is changed. It is not taken away; vita mutator non tollitur.

Heaven – the goal of human life

During the General Audience held on 21 July 1999, Saint John Paul II called heaven “the goal of human life”. However, it is a goal that we don’t usually talk much about. It seems as if talking about heaven is reserved for funeral masses. Monsignor Ronald Knox, an Anglican minister who recently converted to Catholicism, remarked that the human race has “lost all relish for eternity”. Hans Urs von Balthasar, while speaking about the ‘hereafter’, claims that “modern people are scarcely interested in the matter. It is as though their wings had been clipped; as though the spiritual organ for the transcendent had atrophied”.

In 1979, Karl Rahner reported that belief in eternal life ‘has grown weaker in the consciousness of modern people … Christians who are sure of the existence of God … do not think it necessary to show any great interest in the question of eternal life”. Frank Sheed, a Catholic apologist and street preacher,  whose life was marked by an extraordinary amount of evangelism, declares that “practically nobody wants to go to heaven”.

Discovering the hope of eternal life

I truly believe that we need to speak more about heaven. Knowing that we belong in heaven and that heaven is our home will surely impact the way we live on this earth, and the decisions we take. Living life with a perspective of the eternal, will help us live a life worthy of eternity. This desire for heaven should become our driving force to make the right choices and to start choosing heaven as from now. Let us continue, or start this journey of discovery. To discover the hope of eternal life and to glimpse the beauty that “no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man conceived, what God has prepared for those who love him” (1 Co 2, 9).

I wish to end this article with a note which my friend, whom I mentioned earlier, wrote on a card she had given me for my first graduation. It was written a month before she passed away. “May your thoughts during this time be focused on our real Graduation when our Father in Heaven will stand to embrace you! … Our reward is Heaven and no one can take this promise away from us”.

Read more:
– Top Pope Francis Quotes on Death
– The Death of My Brother

The post Heaven Is My Home appeared first on Universe of Faith.

1. The question of death is a question of life

“The question of death is the question of life, and keeping the question of death open, perhaps, is the greatest human responsibility so as to keep the question of life open…But the oblivion of death is also its beginning, and also, a culture that forgets death begins to die within. He who forgets death has already begun to die.”

Pope Francis, Video Message To Young People, Mexico 2019

2. Death affects us all

Death affects us all, and it questions us in a profound way, especially when it touches us closely, or when it takes the little ones, the defenseless in such a way that it seems “scandalous”. I have always been struck by the question: why do children suffer? why do children die? If it is understood as the end of everything, death frightens us, it terrifies us, it becomes a threat that shatters every dream, every promise, it severs every relationship and interrupts every journey.

Pope Francis, Audience, 27^th November 2013

3. Our lives do not end with death

“If we look at the most painful moments of our lives, when we have lost a loved one — our parents, a brother, a sister, a spouse, a child, a friend — we realize that even amid the tragedy of loss, even when torn by separation, the conviction arises in the heart that everything cannot be over, that the good given and received has not been pointless. There is a powerful instinct within us which tells us that our lives do not end with death. This thirst for life found its true and reliable answer in the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. Jesus’ Resurrection does not only give us the certainty of life after death, it also illumines the very mystery of the death of each one of us.”

Pope Francis, Audience, 27^th November 2013

4. The one who practices mercy does not fear death

“The one who practices mercy does not fear death. And why does he not fear it? Because he looks death in the face in the wounds of his brothers and sisters, and he overcomes it with the love of Jesus Christ.”

Pope Francis, Audience, 27^th November 2013

5. God will keep us steadfast even in our final passage of death

“Even death is illumined and can be experienced as the ultimate call to faith, the ultimate “Go forth from your land” (Gen 12:1), the ultimate “Come!” spoken by the Father, to whom we abandon ourselves in the confidence that he will keep us steadfast even in our final passage.”

Pope Francis, The Light Of Faith, 56

6. Death is defeated, hope is restored

“Through the Cross of Christ the Evil One is overcome, death is defeated, life is given to us, hope is restored. This is important: through the Cross of Christ hope is restored to us.”

Pope Francis, Angelus, 14^th September 2014

Read more:
– “The More We Live Life, The Less We Fear Death” – Dealing With Death
– The Death Of My Younger Brother

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Dealing with death as a child

Peter was only five years old when he lost his grandfather. A few years later, he was sleeping at his grandparent’s house when suddenly, he woke up, in the middle of the night, with a sense of unease. “I have strong memories as a seven-year-old child in my grandparents’ house. In that moment, I came to a sudden realisation of death; death of all the people I love and my own death too. I couldn’t stop crying. It was an existential moment which I was not prepared for.”

In the light of his own experiences, and through his work with young people, Peter believes that talking to children about death can be beneficial: “By talking about death, we can address the taboo. Death is a reality, after all. An interesting study focusing on pediatric cancer showed that children were completely aware that they were going to die. However, they didn’t talk about it because they didn’t want to upset their parents and the doctors. Children are extremely intelligent, so lying or trying to protect them is presumptuous on one level and counter-productive on the other. We owe it to children to develop more sensitive ways of bringing them into this inevitable, and potentially quite a beautiful element of the human experience – death.”

Dealing with death as something which is part of life

Peter shares his experience of the death of another grandparent – his grandmother – who died only a few years ago. “When my grandmother passed away I was the only person in the room with her.  I was holding her hand when she died.  It was a very profound and transformative experience for me; something that turned into a joyous experience which in some ways revisited my earlier childhood memory and transformed it. There is a quality of beauty rooted in love, in acknowledging the transience of human life and how valuable every moment of life is; how life is a gift from the universe to the universe, and we are all participating in this giftedness of Life.”

The experience of accompaniment during his grandma’s death transformed Peter’s views on death. “I don’t think I did anything when my grandma died, to make that transition from the head to the heart. It just happened. It was a profound experience. I’m sure that my formation facilitated the experience. As a person with spiritual life, I think it was an expression of the Divine which took me into its mystery. I’m grateful I was open to it.”

“Death is not a permanent ending”

Peter continues: “When somebody’s life ends, it is not dissolving into nothingness. There is something very powerful about what the person has shared and received during life, which lives on. That is what I received from the experience of my grandmother’s death; that endings are strange things and that there isn’t this finality that some people feel about death; that death is a permanent ending. The same goes for beginnings. Where do we begin? At conception? But we are also linked with the story of our parents, our grandparents, all the way to the first spark of Life in our universe. So, if it is so complicated to think about when did I begin? I think we should have the humility to say that it is also very complicated to say when do we end?”

Accepting Death

As a society, we are usually bombarded with messages that exalts youth and beauty and shy away from death. Yet due to COVID-19 death became something that we hear of every day. Peter describes how one theory in the area of death studies focuses on the fear of death. “We live in a culture which glorifies youth and life. Many theorists in the cutting edge trans-human and post-human movements are very much into the idea that we should live forever. The idea that death is an enemy to be conquered. However, we have never been so bombarded with images of death as much as we are today.  In my work with young people, I perceive that they are more exposed to death and violence, through news or fiction than ever before.”

“We need to balance the very natural fascination with death with what it means to die and with the experience of the death of others; with this fear of the unknown and this cult of youth and life. I don’t know whether we are running away from death or whether we are negotiating a new relationship with it. It is a very exciting place but also a very complicated space to be in, both for young people and for the rest of us.”

The Last Things

Peter believes that the Church has somewhat set aside the discourse about the last things (death, judgement, hell, heaven). He thinks that the Catholic Church can find new ways to talk about life and death, by building on what was done in the past. “I am drawn to the historical relationship of the Church with the concept of the last things through the memento mori, the remembrance of death. I think that the memento mori also works in a more secular space. As a Church, we need to appreciate that people are seeking new ways of experiencing spirituality. It would be very strong of the Roman Catholic Church to be open to engaging with non-Catholic and non-Christian people as well. It is not only about talking to the faithful It is also about talking to those who are challenging the faith of their family, of their past, and to the people of no faith who can benefit from these important spiritual lessons.”

“The memento mori, the remembrance of death – the fact that we are mortal beings and that one day we will die – puts a powerful focus on life. It helps us realise how important it is to live every moment, in the here and now, to the full. It helps us to be open to living the mystery of being alive because life is transient. Life is not a permanent experience. This is one thing that the Church could do. It could remind us gently and lovingly that what we have is the here and now, that God is already present in our life. By bringing us into an awareness of the present moment, the Church can do a lot to deal with the anxiety of death. This is so because that anxiety of death comes from projecting ourselves into an unknown future or by dwelling upon a painful past. So, I think the remembrance of death (memento mori) is a beautiful gift from the ancient teachings of the Church.”

Dealing With Death In A Positive Way

Peter suggests three ways that can help us deal with death in a positive way. “Firstly, the key to dealing with death in a positive way is to bring ourselves into the present moment instead of running away. This we can do by getting rid of the many distractions and deflections that stop us from living authentically. Secondly, there is prayer. Centering prayer can help us return to the ‘breath’: The ‘breath of life’ which God imparted to Adam, in that beautiful metaphor, at the beginning of Genesis. In Hebrew, ‘ruah’  is cognate with the Maltese word ’ir-ruħ’ and ’ir-riħ’. Thirdly there is therapy. One might benefit from professional help in dealing with death or difficult grief. The important thing to remember is that the more we become present in this moment, the more we become alive and less afraid of death. By being alive there is no anxious fear of death, because we are too busy experiencing life. The worry and anxiety fade away in the face of what it means to simply exist.”

Dealing With The Fear Of Death

Sometimes, when people are dying they are afraid. Peter sees this as a natural fear: “I think it is perfectly natural to be afraid in this situation. This is a process, in which the person has to adjust to a new kind of reality. Therapeutically, we would explore the moments of worry or anxiety. Then we look at what is left unfinished, or simply accept that life has beauty in its incompleteness. However, it all comes down to being in the here and now. This even if we have no control, rather than fantasising about the future. It is about renouncing control. Rather, the illusion of control, because in reality, how much control do we have over so many things in our lives?”

“Dealing with death is a difficult topic for a lot of people. Some of the earliest human rituals enacted by our prehistoric ancestors, of religious or spiritual significance, were burials and memorialisations of the dead. This shows that there has always been this fascination with death and the afterlife. You can also see this fascination in children. Children will wonder how someone who used to talk and interact with them has suddenly disappeared from their life.  This has a jarring effect because, on some level, we immediately think that this is also going to happen to us and to those whom we love. In the face of the dead, we also see ourselves.  That can be very terrifying for people who aren’t capable of living in the moment. Also, for those who cannot accept the inevitability of their own demise. It is most helpful when we become aware that life is a gift. When this happens, we develop a sense of gratitude for this great gift of being alive. Not holding onto dear life and not trying to control it, but simply and gently allowing ourselves to enjoy life for what it is.”

Read more:
– The Death Of My Younger Brother
– The Art Of Dying Well

The post “The More We Live Life, the Less We Fear Death” – Dealing With Death appeared first on Universe of Faith.

It must have been late October or early November when I braced myself:
“How long does he still have to live?

The consultant’s voice was low, and her look searching:
“A few months.”

“So he’ll start next year, and then . . . it’s the end.
“Just so.

It was very sad. I had helped to bring him up and now he was slowly but surely nearing his end.

I wanted to journey the last few months with him

I had no doubt I wanted to accompany him as far as I could on this last leg of his journey. I telephoned him every day, and visited him every week. I unceasingly prayed for him. On my first visit after I talked to the consultant, I took him a small wooden crucifix. He received it silently and reverently, giving it pride of place on his bedside table.

He had just became a grandpa

He was no longer young but he earnestly desired to live. Some months before, he had become a grandfather, and I knew how eagerly , yet hopelessly , he wished to be spared long enough to see his only grandson grow, at least beyond babyhood. His favourite pastime was hiking, and I was also aware of how happy he would have been to go rambling again in the outskirts of the village where he and I and our siblings had seen the first light of day. But “there’s a time to be born and a time to die. (Ecclesiastes 3:2)

Gradually he accepted the hard truth

The denial phase had been long, but gradually he had accepted the undeniable truth, much helped by the fact that he was now on oxygen. Every time I went to see him he looked more and more emaciated.

One day on the telephone he told me resignedly: “It’s the end.”

Was I imprudent, or was it an inspiration by the Holy Spirit? I immediately blurted:
“Or is it the happy beginning that has no end?”

He sighed as if he sincerely wished it were so and ended our conversation.

He became too weak to hold a conversation

Soon afterwards he asked me not to telephone anymore because he was now too weak to converse. Then came several transitions – to hospital and back to the home; once more to hospital – where he spent Christmas – and then again to the home.

We were at the end of January. I was not surprised when I learnt that an ambulance had been called for him during the previous icy-cold night. The next morning I went to see him. As I did not know what had happened to the crucifix, I took him another, a friend’s souvenir from the Holy City.

I found him sitting in an armchair, not looking too bad, and quite calm. The nurses came to see to him and left him lying in bed.

“Shall we say the Rosary?” he said.
But he went only as far as the first two decades:
“That’s enough. I’m too tired.”

He looked sleepy and I thought it better to leave.
“I’ll come back tomorrow,” I said, “but . . . before I go . . . I’ve brought you a crucifix.”

His emaciated face lit up and he eagerly put out his hands.
“Give it to me,” he implored.

He held on to the crucifix

He took it so very thankfully in his lean hands, clasped it lovingly, reminding me of the psalmist’s yearning: ‘”As the hind longs for the running waters, so my soul longs for you, O God” (Psalm 41:2). He then turned on his side, away from me, with his face to the wall, holding on to the crucifix for dear life – or better – for dear death.

When I left him it was late afternoon. Early next morning a telephone call told me he had passed away.

My sense of loss was deep but my heart was full of gratitude

My brother was four years younger than me and we were very close. In the following weeks and months my sense of loss was indeed deep but notwithstanding, my heart was full of gratitude, grateful thoughts and gratifying questioning flooded my mind and soul. What did the crucifix held so lovingly mean to him? Had he been abiding his time until he could make the mysterious passage fortified by the courage and comfort afforded by what the crucifix meant? Was it what encouraged him to let go? Did it help him to actually look forward to the homeland to which God calls his faithful to return? Did it help him welcome his final transition?

It’s beautiful – and one of the greatest privileges – to help a person die well.

Read more of this story in When Cancer Hits Your Brother.

Read more:
– The Art Of Dying Well

The post The Death of My Brother appeared first on Universe of Faith.

1. “We understand what shall be through the Gospels” – St Ambrose Of Milan

“Though Christ has not touched the bier, yet He has received the spirit commended to Him, and if He has not called the dead by the bodily voice, yet He has by the authority of His divine power delivered my brother’s soul from the pains of death and from the attacks of wicked spirits. And though he that was dead has not sat up on the bier, yet he has found rest in Christ; and if my brother has not spoken to us, yet he sees those things which are above us, and rejoices in that he now sees higher things than we. For by the things which we read in the Gospels we understand what shall be, and what we see at present is a sign of what is to be.”
St Ambrose of Milan, On the death of his brother Satyrus, Book I, 29

2. “Grieve, but not without hope” – St Augustine Of Hippo

“Of necessity we must be sorrowful when those whom we love leave us in death. Although we know that they have not left us behind forever but only gone ahead of us, still when death seizes our loved one, our loving hearts are saddened by death itself. Thus the apostle Paul does not tell us not to grieve but “not to grieve like those who are without hope. Let us grieve, therefore, over the necessity of losing our loved ones in death but with the hope of being reunited with them. If we are afflicted we still find consolation. Our weakness weights us down, but faith bears us up. We sorrow over the human condition, but find our healing in the divine promise.”
St Augustine of Hippo, Sermon 172

Thank you to Fr Jonathan Farrugia from Malta and Mike Aquilina from Canada for their support in compiling the Fathers Of The Church quotes.

Death and faith quotes

The post Death and Faith Quotes by the Fathers of the Church appeared first on Universe of Faith.

“Not only man is tormented by pain and by the advancing deterioration of his body, but even more so by a dread of perpetual extinction. He rightly follows the intuition of his heart when he abhors and repudiates the utter ruin and total disappearance of his own person. He rebels against death because he bears in himself an eternal seed which cannot be reduced to sheer matter. All the endeavors of technology, though useful in the extreme, cannot calm his anxiety; for prolongation of biological life is unable to satisfy that desire for higher life which is inescapably lodged in his breast.

Although the mystery of death utterly beggars the imagination, the Church has been taught by divine revelation and firmly teaches that man has been created by God for a blissful purpose beyond the reach of earthly misery. In addition, that bodily death from which man would have been immune had he not sinned will be vanquished, according to the Christian faith, when man who was ruined by his own doing is restored to wholeness by an almighty and merciful Saviour.

For God has called man and still calls him so that with his entire being he might be joined to Him in an endless sharing of a divine life beyond all corruption. Christ won this victory when He rose to life, for by His death He freed man from death. Hence to every thoughtful man a solidly established faith provides the answer to his anxiety about what the future holds for him. At the same time faith gives him the power to be united in Christ with his loved ones who have already been snatched away by death; faith arouses the hope that they have found true life with God.

Pope Paul 6th, Joy and Hope, 18

Read more:

– The “Last Things”: Hell, Heaven and Purgatory – In this article Jesuit theologian, Josep Gimnez discusses the concepts of heaven, hell and purgatory.

-The Art Of Dying Well –  Based in the Catholic tradition but open to all, this website features real-life stories about dealing with the journey through death to eternal life.  It offers a helping hand to those grappling with issues around death and dying.

-Regrets of The Dying – An article by Bronnie Ware, a nurse who worked in palliative care whose life has been transformed by the patients she met. Based around this article, Bronnie has released a full length book titled The Top Five Regrets of the Dying , A Life Transformed by the Dearly Departing.

The post Pope Quote About Death appeared first on Universe of Faith.

In this article, bereavement specialist Ms Bernardette Briffa says that giving yourself the permission and the time to grieve is imperative to heal from grief and loss. She gives six helpful tips to deal with unfinished grief.

Goodbye means “ouch!” Saying goodbye is always stressful. If you’ve ever had to say it, then you’ve experienced some amount of grief. Certainly the death of someone close causes grief, but so do lesser losses of daily living, only to a smaller degree.

Big losses, little losses; big griefs, little griefs, when you lose something in which you’ve invested yourself, it always causes stress. It hurts and leaves a wound that must be healed.

Grief is the process of healing that follows the loss. It is natural. And it is necessary. People react differently to loss, but regardless of how it is expressed, accepting and acknowledging the pain is an important first step in healing. Tolerance within the family for the many forms of expression is important. If the healing process is short-circuited by refusing to acknowledge suffering, the distress is compounded. When feelings are hidden to numb the pain, the healing process is delayed.

Unrecognised, unhealed grief leaves festering wounds. Unresolved grief is a factor behind a surprising amount of stress-related diseases. At least one-third, possibly up to one-half, of people hospitalised are suffering from a recent loss experience. Unfinished grief is a powerful source of distress.

So, what do you do about the stress caused by loss?

1. GO AHEAD AND GRIEVE

Grief isn’t the problem; grief is the solution.

2. GIVE YOURSELF TIME TO GRIEVE

People who go through surgery usually accept the fact that they won’t regain full physical strength for quite some time. Often, however, persons with an emotional loss won’t give themselves time to heal. They compound the problem by becoming impatient. You need to give yourself permission to feel the pain that follows loss.

3. INVEST IN YOURSELF AGAIN

After you’ve been hurt, it’s natural to hesitate to make new investments. Grief, however, calls for new investments. Look for people and challenges in which you can reinvest your love and attention.

4. USE STRENGTHS RESULTING FROM GRIEF

Although grief is seldom an experience people choose, it is an opportunity for growth.
As a result of your pain, you will find you possess a new set of strengths. Use them to help yourself and others.

5. WORK ON YOUR FAITH

Loss signals life’s impermanence. Grief reminds people of death. Faith helps you deal with others’ deaths as well as your own. Every grief experience invites you to renew your acquaintance with the mysteries of life.

6. LEAN ON OTHERS

Share your grief with others. It keeps the healing process flowing. Join a group whose members are working through their own grief process and who are committed to caring. Sometimes you can’t do it alone. Reach out.

Compiled by Ms Bernardette Briffa
Source: Helping Teens Work Through Grief – Second Edition, a book by Mary Kelly Perschy.

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Two days after Christmas, she had not woken at half-past six, as usual, to recite the rosary with the radio, and then, hear mass through the same medium.

“Mother . . . . mother . . . .”

There was no answer. She didn’t even move. I looked into her face: her eyes were an expressionless chink; her face, absolutely blank.

It was time to act: I rang up my brother and sister, and then the doctor.

In the three weeks she spent at hospital, she never uttered a word, except once to call me. At her age, ninety-nine and three months, it was practically impossible to recover.

When I went to visit her, I sang to her, because some time before, she had told me:

“When I’m dying, I’d like to hear some of the songs we sing at church.”

Though of course, I could not be sure, because the very little eye communication had completely ceased, I took her to be listening, enjoying, believing, and I went on singing day after day, telling the Lord I trusted him, and wanted to follow him in all weathers, asking him to hold my hand on difficult days and restless nights.

Now in a steady, calm voice, the nursing officer said:

“Your mother is bad. At this point we call the family.”

“Is she bad?” I asked, needlessly.

“Very bad. You’d better bring her clothes.”

I should have known better. As it was, I hoped to reach her before she passed on, so that my prayers would accompany her on the very last leg of her journey on earth. I quickly called my siblings and John, and in a very short time, was at the side door of the small hospital.

“You’d better wait for your sister,” John advised.

I did not heed him. I ran up the stairs, pushed the heavy door open enough for me to pass, found myself in the corridor, and ran towards the four-bedroom ward where my mother was. There was no mistaking it, because hanging above the door was a crucifix.

No sound could be heard. All along the corridor, no person could be seen. Perfect silence pervaded the place. In the ward, the other three patients were in bed, ready for the night. Near one of them, I now perceived a nurse. I couldn’t see my mother: the curtain which separated her compartment from the rest of the room had been drawn, and was hiding it altogether. I found the parting and entered.

Mother was dead: her face was drained of colour; the breathing had stopped; the Ryles tube, which had bothered her so much, was nowhere to be seen. I needed confirmation: I went to speak to the nurse, who came over the moment she saw me.

“Has she died?” I asked.

“Yes,” she answered, almost inaudibly.

I went in again, put my hand up to her still partly open eyes, and brought the lids down. That was the end. I ardently prayed God to welcome her in his heavenly abode, whatever it was.

Then, standing still, in front of my dead old mother, I reflected: we had lived together for so long, but I was not with her when her time came. She had always relished the fact that Father had died with us all encircling his bed – but she had to die alone.

Up to an hour before the hospital called me, there had been my sister and her husband near her. My sister had said Mother was calm, her hands, still, under the bedspread. She was not agitated as she had often been after the stroke. That had put my mind and heart at rest.

She had died all alone . . . But then . . . my eyes rested on her face . . . and understood: alone, she was not! It suddenly dawned on me that she could not have been alone. The face of this ninety-nine- year old woman exuded serenity, sweetness, deep calm. It was a picture of great peace and perfect composure. I suddenly felt convinced that He, for whom she had lived, and loved, and suffered had not left her alone.

And now what? My immediate family was gone. From that moment on, I would live on my own. But presently, in that cubicle, enclosed by that curtain, immersed in the peaceful, mysterious stillness of the night and of death, I saw clearly what I was to do: take up what my mother had laid down. That is how it should be: the children should continue from where their parents have left off. Mother, after raising seven children, and caring for three old relatives until they died, had still to do: to pray, to love, to suffer.

An episode from Acts came to mind: the Angels telling the Apostles, immediately after Our Lord ‘s ascension:

“Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up to heaven?”

It seemed to me then they were urging them to go and complete Jesus’ work. There was a holy life to be lived, his word to be preached, a most beautiful vision to be shared, a great mission to be fulfilled.

Non omnis moriar. We shall not die completely.

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