Some years ago in a previous parish assignment, St. Thomas More, in Washington DC, I was accustomed to take a Friday afternoon walk to focus on my homily for Sunday. At the beginning of the walk I’d often stop by the nearby house of an elderly parishioner, Lillian, and give her communion. She was quite elderly, her mind was beginning to fail and for these reasons it was difficult to get to Church. In mild weather she often be in her wheel chair on the front porch and, as I’d walk up she’d say, “Oh Father! It must be Sunday!” “No, Lillian,” I’d usually say, “It’s actually Friday.” And she’d usually say, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
I was thinking of the calendar most times I answered her, but she she was long past worrying what day the world said it was. And so, Friday after Friday, as I’d stop by she kept asking if it was Sunday. Friday it was, but she kept looking for Sunday. “Is it Sunday, Father?”…. “No Ms. Lillian, today is Friday.”
The world has a saying: “Thank God, it’s Friday.” But in the Church, especially among African Americans whom I serve, there is an older expression: “It may be Friday, but Sunday’s coming.” It is a thoroughly Biblical reflection wherein Friday represents our sufferings, our own “Good Fridays” and Sunday represents our rising from the dead, our joy and the fulfillment of our hopes.
When Lillian saw her priest, she thought of Sunday, she thought of Jesus and Holy Communion. So, in a way for her it was Sunday, for a moment. But, to be sure, Lillian was in the Friday of her life. She had all the crippling effects of old age: dementia, arthritis, weakness, hearing and eyesight problems, sugar, and you name it. ”I’s gotten ooooold, Father.” Yes, Friday had surely come for Lillian.
At her funeral I could think of no other way to begin the homily than to say, “It’s Sunday Lillian.” And the congregation nodded, some just hummed, others said, “Thank you Jesus.” Lillian had gone to Jesus and Sunday had come. Surely she, like all of us, needed some of the cleansing purgation wherein the Lord wipes away the tears of all who have died (cf Rev 21:4) lifts the burdens of our sorrows, regrets and sins for the last time. For those who die in the Lord, die in the care of the Lord. The souls of the just are in the hand of God (Wis 3:1).
Yes, Sunday, glorious Sunday, for all those who trust in the Lord. The Fridays of life will come but if we trust, Sunday will surely follow.
”Oh, Father! It must be Sunday!” ….”Yes, Ms. Lillian, it is surely Sunday.”
Every day is Sunday, that’s what the Lord’s Prayer teaches me.
Well, I dunno, the Lord is pretty clear we have to take up the cross like he did and journey through Friday to get to Sunday. I have had some Fridays in my life.
I like that analogy better than mine
Thank you.
Beautiful, beautiful. Thank you.
Monsignor, first of all, I believe that we are so blessed to be able to read and hear the wonderful reflections the Holy Spirit has inspired in your heart. Anyone in the world with a computer linked to the internet can share the words that once would have been limited to the people in your geographical vicinity. Second of all, I think you are so blessed (and it seems you know it) to minister among your people who have such a living faith, that so permeates their lives, their thoughts, their modes of expression. Finally, I have often heard of people like Lillian, usually in funeral homilies. I deeply hope that, whatever particular path of suffering lies ahead of me, I will be able to approach it with the serene faith of people like Lillian. Thank you, Monsignor, for your cooperation with the Holy Spirit in sharing what you have received! (and don’t let the negative commenters get to you.)
Beautiful reflection, Monsignor. Thank you.
I just lost my mom at 97 years of age two weeks ago.
.And at the end she really was in her Friday..
Thank you for this reflection..surely her Sunday is here…
Because of HIS Sunday, we can face our Fridays with the sure Joy and Faith that Sunday will come!
Vivat Jesu!
Saturday July 31, 2010 my ninety year old stepmother passed away in Christus St. Michael Hospital in Texarkana. She had been in slow decline for the past two years and lost consciousness suddenly on Friday due to a brain hemorrage. My five older siblings and I always called her Belle instead of Mom because she had been our Aunt Belle, my mother’s sister, until my father married her when I was five and a half, after several near tragic events made our father realize he could not raise six kids on his own. Our mother had died of cancer when I was fifteen months old. Because I had no memory of her I never felt the separation anxieties as the rest of my family and even now my older siblings and I don’t feel the pain and anxiety that our two yonger siblings are feeling at the loss of the biological mother and our stepmother, Belle. I know what they are going through because with the passing of our father over 23 years ago, all eight of his kid’s were in deep sorrow. All these many yearsof life and our religious upbringing and religious culture has left a deep curiosity to find some peace and resolve with death, faith and God. I’m sure that at the funeral I will not be able to refrain from tears as will not the rest of my siblings. Belle was as good as any mother could ever be and she was the last of her generation in our family. No more uncles or aunts to feel as though some family member could relate a lifetime we all longed to remember and share in. I found some interest in understanding the nature of experience we call life through a limited understanding and studying of physics as well as through the Church and scripture. I came to find that if one reaches the speed of light, time stops. I suppose Belle and all the other faithfully departed have reached that point where all is eternal light and the effects of time and space no longer hide what God has in store. Eternal rest grant unto them oh Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them
God be praised and lifted higher as you minister the hope of Sunday! What wondrous love, adoration for the King, Who will one day call us to Himself. This message brings hope to the hopeless beauty for ashes, peace that passes understanding, and a longing for Sunday. Bless your heart with the anointing from the love of Christ, as you minister His Word. What a blessed HOPE! SUNDAY IS COMING
I am humbled you would use my video with your beautiful message. I will print it, and post it in my Bible.
God be with you on your journey.
In Christ,
Linda
Soundingjoy
Gloria.tv
Msgr. Pope,
I try to read your blog every week. You are a blessing to the Church.