In these graves lie the bodies of those who were killed at war and were never identified. On many occasions I stood silent and sad at those gravesides, saying a prayer for a soldier whose body lies in an unknown grave and whose family has never had the consolation of being able to mourn his passing by standing beside his place of rest. I have also taken consolation, however, in the knowledge that, even if no one else knows it, his name is known to God, written on the palm of God’s hand and his sacrifice is still treasured.
This experience of Normandy, Piccardy, Anzio and so many other places comes home to me today, as we recall all those who were laid to rest with sadness and great love in Leigue and so many other cemeteries around this country. Some died before birth or soon after. Some died later from an illness they had from birth or from a one acquired later. Some never reached their full potential, dying before their time by taking their own lives. Some, on the other hand, lived long enough to have contributed enormously to their families and their community and have left a memory and a legacy for which we are truly grateful.
No matter how or when they died, we believe that all their names are now known and have always been known unto God. We believe that they have experienced and continue to experience His eternal love. He carved their name on the palm of his hand at the moment of their conception and He never erased it. He put a deep love of them in the hearts of those who gave them life and shared their blood. And while we may have been deprived of their company in part of our lifetime we have the consolation of knowing that the company of the saints in heaven now encompasses them all.
Today we acknowledge God’s gift of life to all who have died; to those who failed to reach a ripe old age, to those who were stillborn and those who died soon after birth, to those who sought to end the pain of living by taking their lives into their own hands and all those who lived long and happy lives, surrounded by family and friends.
While it is unhelpful to judge the actions of an earlier age by the more enlightened approach of our day, there was something cruel or harsh about the way people were expected to cope with death in the past. Those were the days before bereavement counselling or support groups, a time when mourners suffered deeply in silence. Very much alone, they had to absorb and cope with their grief on their own. It all added up to an enormous burden which marked their lives forever.
Our Mass today is an attempt to acknowledge all of that, to integrate it into our lives and move it towards completion. Today we enter into this world of the silent, sometimes nameless dead and, for an afternoon, we have the joy of bringing them back from the margins of memory, in which some have lain for many years, and placing them at rest once more among us as our own beloved family members who have died.
The faded memory of all young children who died either before birth or shortly afterwards come back into focus for us today. And the pain suffered by their parents and family members is reborn. I feel that we must name and acknowledge one of the most painful parts of their tragic experience, the fear that since these children were not baptised that they now rest in limbo.
It is important for us to realise that neither in Scripture nor in Tradition is limbo named. Nor is it mentioned as a tenet of belief in the Catechism of the Church. For pastoral reasons it was introduced it into the thinking of the Church many centuries ago to encourage baptism.
In recent times the question of limbo has been placed in a new light. We have rediscovered an awareness of the saving will of God. “God our saviour wants everyone to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the Truth”, the letter of Paul to Timothy tells us (1 Tim 2:4) The only conclusion, therefore, to which we can come, that is worthy of a God who had a special love for children, is that the children who did not have an opportunity to be baptised, many of whom we commemorate today, are with Him in Heaven and that they enjoy the fullness of life in Christ’s glory.
In our ceremony today parents, in particular, formally entrust their children to the loving care of the Lord once more. They do so knowing that he will welcome them home to the community and the company of our dead. They do so with faith and hope; freely acknowledging that God’s almighty power can transcend all the theological efforts of the human mind over the centuries. The lives of those whose memory we recall are known to God, they are loved by God and they were never abandoned by him. In mysterious circumstances, best known to Him, they were called from life before they could experience its fullness. Today, we believe that all those who died now enjoy the fullness of life and love in God. And not only that, they now enjoy in the communion of saints, the love of many of those who grieved their loss, lost their company but who, since then, have joined them in heaven.
Today we acknowledge, formally and liturgically, a world of silent suffering. We acknowledge the untold grief of mothers, who saw their children laid to rest. We acknowledge the anguish of fathers who watched their hope of a bright future for their children fade on the margins of life. We recognise the void in the lives of brothers and sisters for a sister or brother they never got to know or only knew for a short time. And we understand the sadness of grandparents, who felt that the Lord had mistaken the generation called.
But we celebrate too and we end on a note of hope; because these children are today named, remembered and restored to their rightful place in the resting place of those whom we believe now form the communion of saints in Heaven. We greet them once more, in the context of the Sacred Liturgy, as our brothers and sisters, as our children or grandchildren. We proclaim them citizens of our eternal home, with whom we too hope to share the life of the Risen Christ.
In conclusion, it is my sincere prayer that our ceremony today will increase their glory in heaven, secure for them a peaceful resting place and help to heal any lingering hurt which we may still feel here on earth.
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