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Recalling, remembering, and reciting

Funeral homily stories

One death triggers memories of other deaths, particularly family members and close friends of the deceased and the survivors who have also died. Recalling, remembering, and reciting names of other family and friends who have died can be a moving and faith-filled experience. The words of Ecclesiasticus 44 echo the importance of remembering all who have died in faith: "Here is a list of generous men and women whose good works have not been forgotten. Their descendants stand by the covenants; their glory will not fade. Their bodies have been buried in peace, and their name lives on for all generations. The peoples will proclaim their wisdom, the assembly will celebrate their praises."

funeral remembrances death

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Homage to our dead

Funeral homily stories

"We do best homage to our dead when we live our lives most fully, even in the shadow of our loss. For each of our lives is worth the life of the whole world; in each one is the breath of the ultimate one. In affirming the one, we affirm the worth of each one whose life, now ended, brought us closer to the source of life, in whose unity no one is ever alone and every life finds purpose." This prayer, from the Jewish tradition, could work as a broad outline for a funeral homily. After the first paragraph, specifics about the deceased could be added. After the second paragraph, specifics about the survivors could be added. And after the last paragraph, the challenge and importance for survivors to continue living and to remember the deceased could be expanded upon.

funeral homilies death

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Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion

Please browse our homily library and adapt our award-winning selection to your particular needs.

Authors Anne Marie O'Kelley

funerals sacrament-based holidays holy days special occasions

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We are not meant to suffer alone

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Funeral: Death of a child WE COME HERE TODAY to celebrate a young life. We are still in shock, in disbelief, our tears still flowing freely. N. was a vibrant young person—he/she was simply too young. With hope in our hearts, we also come as a faith community. The eyes of faith have a great vantage point from which we can look down through the millennia. We see another woman who lost her child at a young age. Mary, at the foot of the cross, must have also been in shock and disbelief; her tears tinged with anger. In this scene of excruciating pain, both physical and emotional, Jesus does the most amazing thing. In his very last moments, as he literally hangs between life and death, Jesus creates community. The Gospel of John tells us that Jesus looked at his mother and said, "'Woman, here is your son.' Then he said to the disciple, 'Here is your mother.'" And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home" (John 19:26-27). In his very last moments, as he literally hangs between life and death, Jesus creates community. They were not family by any definition, yet from that hour the disciple took her into his home. John cared for Mary, and Mary, full of wisdom and grace, certainly consoled and supported John in his grief. For the remainder of their lives here on earth they told his story, a story that echoes through the centuries. After the death of Jesus, Mary and John must have gathered with friends and relatives; everyone told their own stories of Jesus and laughter mingled with their tears. Perhaps Mary told stories of Jesus as a little boy. Even though everyone knew the story of when Jesus, at the age of 12, stayed in Jerusalem for three days while Mary and Joseph searched anxiously for him, they told the story again. Remember when Jesus wept at the death of Lazarus. Jesus wept! He loved Lazarus so much. Maybe they recalled the incident when he felt such compassion for the widow of Nain that he raised her son from the dead. Friends and disciples must have gathered to share a meal. And as they embraced one another, they gave one another comfort and hope. In N.'s loving family I saw all of that happen here again and again this week as they planned the funeral. Friends and relatives streamed in and out of the family home, bringing love with food, hugs, kisses, stories, and laughter together with all the tears. [Add a personal story or description of the deceased's traits, such as: As a child, N. showed his poetic side. He loved to walk through puddles as little boys do. But one day, before he made the big splash, he gazed intently at each puddle. When his mother asked what he was doing, he told her that the sky was so big but he could watch the clouds pass by in the puddles. Remember N., his freckled face and big grin. Remember the way he could impersonate people and make us laugh. Remember those long legs and all those track and field events.] N.'s friends have stories to tell, too. Tell those stories again and again. Remember those we have loved and lost continue to live where they have always lived--in our hearts. Let N. continue to live in our hearts. Our hearts are far bigger than this small planet. As Christians we also use the vantage point of faith to see the risen Christ, the Christ that lives among us. Conscious of the presence of Christ, Saint Teresa of Avila once said that "Jesus has no hands but ours." Yes, Jesus is in our hands but also in our voice, our pain, and our love for one another. Our God understands our suffering with such detail and with such depth that in his dying moments, he created community, a community bound by love. We are not meant to suffer alone. So continue to be Christ for one another. Nowhere is the presence of the risen Christ felt more powerfully than when we bear one another's sorrow. Your words of comfort and support for N.'s family will last a lifetime. And if words fail you, just be present, your presence will hold them and comfort them. These are eternal moments, Christ moments; they do not fade but follow us into eternity.

Authors Catherine Collins

funeral death of a child/baby John 19:26-27

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Exploring the word

22 Aug 2010 - Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle C

ORGANIZER GIZMOS ARE all the rage. You can buy stackable cabinets that turn a closet or garage into a paragon of efficiency. Drop-in devices can keep your sock drawer in perfect rolled pairs so you never risk leaving the house wearing one argyle and one paisley. You can gain control of your possessions! You can get your material world in order! We like order: pegs to hang things on, ways to make sense of the chaos around us. We like it in our thoughts, too: neat answers that solve the problem of living in a world that rarely makes sense. Sometimes this yearning to organize the chaos leads to simplistic thinking. In our desire to make sense of things, we organize the world in black-and-white terms that comfortably exclude nuance. We prefer clear categories of good and evil, safe and dangerous, friend and enemy, right and wrong. We look for the same categorical simplicity from religion. We like creedal formulas, catechisms, prayers to say when we're sick or scared, commandments that clearly spell out what's expected. None of these things are bad, really. We do need pegs to hang things on, truths we can trust. We do need foundational beliefs upon which we can build a coherent moral life. But there's a difference between having a solid foundation for our faith and the trap of fundamentalism. We must respect the distinction between the tools that provide us with a theology-in-progress and an unyielding certainty about God and religion that admits no new information. We really didn't learn the truth, the whole truth, by the time we received Confirmation (or Ordination!). We really do need to be open to the Spirit's ongoing guidance of the church and the continued unfolding of our baptismal vocation into which we are each being invited more deeply each day. God's people have always faced the tension between firm belief and attentive listening to a prophetic new word being spoken in their generation. In Isaiah's time the prophetic proposal was that God wasn't committed simply to the salvation of one nation but to all nations and peoples. That was a staggering idea to a nation convinced they were God's darlings, God's holy people. They were, of course. But that didn't stand in the way of God having other children and calling others to the same holiness. When Jesus was asked if only a few would be saved, the question betrayed the answer anticipated. Jesus refuses to put a number on the saved or erect a fence around the possibility of salvation. Jesus does say the gate is narrow—but anyone and everyone are welcome to walk through it. God isn't putting restrictions on salvation. It's ours to choose. Related scripture links Abraham's deal with God: Gen. 12:1-7 Moses and the law: Exod. 19:1-20:17 David and his house: 2 Sam. 7:1-16 The Levites are special: Num. 1:47-54, 3:5-13, 8:16-19 Catechism links Forgiveness: CCC 545; 588-589; 601-605; 608; 610; 615; 1441-1442; 1473; 1846; Judgment: CCC 1020-1050

Authors Alice Camille

Faith fundamentalism Salvation Truth

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Exploring the word

18 Jul 2010 - Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle C

THE QUEST FOR ultimate answers continues. Just visit the spirituality section of a bookstore, the self-help quadrant of Amazon, or the political blog of your choice. Fundamentalism, always the primary dispenser of definitive answers, is on the rise worldwide: in Christianity as well as Islam, in Buddhism and Judaism, too, and even—gasp!—in Roman Catholicism. Many of us want to know the secret to living a good life, that's all. We want to know how to be happy and avoid suffering. If there's a formula that's eluding us, we'd be glad to hear it. Paul has such a formula, which many have heard and most dismiss: "It is Christ in you." Got it? That's it. Now just live it. But ay, there's the problem. Christ-in-you sounds great on paper. But how does that work at the supper table or in the work place—or in the unemployment line, as the case may be? Bringing Christ or being Christ everywhere we go isn't easy, considering how hugely incompatible many places are with what we imagine Christ-life to be. So let's back up. Christ-in-you resembles another phrase we've heard before: God-with-us. And salvation history assures us God's been with us from the beginning. Consider Abraham under the terebinth of Mamre. Someday I'm going to open a retreat center called Terebinth: It will be a happy sheltering place where God shows up when you least expect it. The most vital lesson Abraham learns is that we don't have to go looking for God in exotic spiritual locations. God is content to show up at our place, wherever that is. You got a shack in the desert? God will be there around dinnertime. Be prepared to offer a spread, because we know how God feels about supper. In a seemingly unrelated story, Jesus shows up in Bethany—also conveniently around mealtime. Like Father, like Son. And Martha pretty much does what Abraham did when she realizes the Holy Presence is here for dinner. She pulls out the stops, goes totally Martha Stewart in the kitchen. And Jesus doesn't criticize her for that. Chances are he can smell some pretty nice aromas coming from out back, and if the gospels are clear on anything, it's that Jesus likes to eat. Martha makes her mistake when she criticizes her sister for not putting on an apron. Martha's a fan of even-steven. She sees Mary's decision to plant herself at the feet of Jesus as an inferior choice. Assuming the posture of a disciple can never be a lesser choice to the service (diakonia) Martha finds most natural. How we arrive into the Holy Presence may find a different expression in each of us. As long as we all make it to the table, the Mystery of the Ages will be waiting for us. Related scripture links Hospitality code: Exod. 23:9; Lev. 19:33-34; Deut. 10:17-19; Isa. 58:7; Job 31:31-32 Luke, Jesus, and meal time: Luke 5:27-32, 33-35, 6:1-5, 7:33-34, 36-50, 9:10-17, 11:37-52, 12:37-48, 14:1-6, 7-14, 15-24, 15:23-24, 16:19-30, 17:7-10, 22:7-20, 24:29-32, 41-43 David and the temple: 2 Sam. 7:1-7 Another Martha story: John 11:1-12 Catechism links Hospitality: CCC 2571 Incarnation: CCC 464-470 Indwelling Spirit: CCC 797-798

Authors Alice Camille

fundamentalism disciple Abraham supper

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Homily stories

23 Nov 2014 - Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, Cycle A

My father, who most everyone knew as Big John—a name that said as much about his hearty personality as it did about his large frame—did not leave this world without a grand sendoff. “Epic” is how one of my father’s friends described his wake and funeral Mass. As de facto patriarch of a large Irish family, many people from around the world made their way to Chicago to pay their last respects. At one point in each evening of his two-day wake, mourners were invited to say a few words about my father. These moments quickly transformed into revival-style gatherings with people waiting in line to “testify” about Big John. They told of his random acts of kindness, his broad embrace of family and friends, his long nights of drinking and storytelling. Aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, and co-workers wanted to describe the impact Big John had on their lives. My cousin John, a young father at the time, described in hilarious detail the many things he learned from Big John, including the art of conversation, how to make a sale, and the importance of pacing yourself during a long night on the town. He then ended his tribute describing one last lesson learned: “We were at the Tuohy Picnic—I was probably 17 or 18 at the time—and Big John was bouncing one of the cousins’ babies in his lap. He looked at me smiling and said, ‘Johnnie, there isn’t anything softer than a baby’s foot.’ At that moment, he taught me what it means to be a man.”

Authors Patrice J. Tuohy

funeral

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Be healed

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Funeral: Death of a nurse or other medical professional "Be ye healed from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes!" Oral Roberts used to loudly command on his television program broadcast in the 1950's. As the entire assembly fervently prayed and family members and friends stood by, pleading with God, expressing their hopes and fears—much like those of us who have a friend with cancer or who has been involved in a sudden, catastrophic illness or accident—and Oral himself winced in concentration. "Be ye healed . . . ." And of course, the sick person was. Crutches were cast aside, arms upraised in exultant joy and praise for the God of Jesus Christ, who proclaimed the reign of God not only with words but with his miraculous deeds of healing. N. was a healer, too. Less spectacular, perhaps, than Brother Oral and Jesus, but no less real, no less miraculous, no less sacred. She was, with the best of medical technology and her God-given talents and abilities, a miracle-worker, a healer. Just ask the patients for whom she cared and their grateful families, whose tears of joy were every bit as real as any cried on that television program. Suffering and death are not God's will. In fact, Jesus described his life and work to John the Baptist's disciples as one of healing, of liberation from every illness, from anything and everything that weighs us down, anything that keeps us from living full, purposeful, joy-filled lives. This was Jesus' mission. This is God's reign, and N., who cared for the ill and suffering, contributed to its coming more fully among us. Suffering and death are not God's will. The painful problem is: This healer herself wasn't cured. [Cause of death] took her. All the best knowledge and skill of the best healthcare professionals could not—did not—save her from death. Unbelievers and skeptics will announce death's ultimate victory and medical skills as temporary band-aids that merely "buy time" until death arrives and takes another loved one away. But God is stronger than death and has created us for life: never-ending, eternal, everlasting life. This was not only Jesus' work when he lived on this earth—and people like N. who carry on his mission—but his dead-certain promise for the future, for the "end time," when he will return again in majesty. Death will be conquered. God will one day "swallow up death forever." Until that day, as we "wait in joyful hope for the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ," we gather together to pray in the presence of N.'s body. We console one another in our grief. We tell stories about her and pledge to keep her story alive. At the very start of our liturgy we affirmed that she was claimed for Christ at her baptism, plunged into-yes-his passion and death but also with him from mortality to immortality, into a new life for God in Christ. We clothe her in that garment by which she put on Christ on the day of her baptism, and we are enlightened by the paschal candle, the light of Christ, with which she goes out to meet her God. Very soon, we will prepare the table and celebrate that meal which Christ shared with his friends, in which he pledged to give his life for theirs and ours—and N.'s. We will honor her body with fragrant incense as we pray to the saints and angels, our ancestors, our grandmas and grandpas, parents, family members and friends who have gone before us in faith—the holy ones—to receive her soul and together present it to God Most High. We will lay her body to rest in Mother Earth to await that final day, when death is swallowed up in victory, and we shall join in the joyful song, "Where, O Death, is your victory? Where, O Death, is your sting?" This is our faith. This is the faith of us who are gathered here today as his church, and we are proud to profess it—even through our tears—in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Authors Thomas Johnson

funeral Death of a nurse/medical professional

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The courage to teach—and to grieve

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Funeral: Death of a teacher Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote, "To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived . . . this is to have succeeded." Here, before this altar, we gather to mourn the death and celebrate the success of N., who, as a teacher, has most certainly given innumerable lives the ability to breathe easier—not only his/her students but all those who have been touched by his/her presence. Teaching is no easy job. It is a work of sacrifice and of love. It was the work of our Lord, Jesus, whose title, rabbi, fell from the lips of all who followed him. The life of Jesus, our Rabbi and our Lord, holds many powerful lessons. Today, as we celebrate the life of N., one lesson stands out: Being a teacher takes courage. "The courage to teach," wrote renowned teacher Parker Palmer, "is the courage to keep one's heart open in those very moments when the heart is asked to hold more than it is able so that teacher and students and subject can be woven into the fabric of community that learning, and living, require." Today, as we come together—a community of family and friends of N.—it seems our hearts, too, are being asked to hold more than they are able—so much pain, so much emptiness, so many memories all pressed together into moments already filled to the brim with grief. When we lose someone we love, grief moves us almost as if in a dream. We walk in shadows doing what needs to be done while part of us wonders when we will wake up from the nightmare. We grieve with the psalmist who said, "How long must I struggle with anguish in my soul, with sorrow in my heart every day?" We grieve with the apostles, who, with the death of Jesus, their friend and teacher, knew what it was like to lose someone they loved so much; someone who had loved them in return beyond measure. Their grief drove them to the upper room, fearful, distraught, doubtful of their ability to go on without him. Surely they wondered, as we will wonder, "How does one live without the teacher who taught, not only with words, but through a life of love and affirmation?" We grieve with Jesus, who understood all too well the pain of abandonment, of loss and of death. Isaiah describes Jesus as "a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief" (53:3). Even as Lord, Jesus wept openly at the death of Lazarus, his friend, and in empathy for the pain of Lazarus' sisters, Martha and Mary. He cried to his Father from the cross, "Why have you abandoned me?" We, like him, may feel abandoned and cry to our God with anger or fear born of this new and abiding emptiness. Surely, N. would understand. N. was a teacher and hers/his a vocation of the heart. Listen to Parker Palmer's beautiful words: "As good teachers weave the fabric that joins them with students and subjects, the heart is the loom on which the threads are tried, the tension is held, the shuttle flies, and the fabric is stretched tight. Small wonder, then, that teaching tugs at the heart, opens the heart, even breaks the heart—and the more one loves teaching, the more heartbreaking it can be." Life itself teaches us that the more one loves anything, especially another person, the more one's heart breaks with the loss. Grief comes to each of us in its own way and cannot be denied. Just as with teaching, it takes courage to grieve." Grief comes to each of us in its own way and cannot be denied. Just as with teaching, it takes courage to grieve. Right now it is hard to imagine life without N.'s guiding light, his/her wisdom or his/her encouragement. Now is the time to follow the example of our Lord and allow ourselves the opportunity to grieve and acknowledge the pain of loss. Ecclesiastes says, "To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven: a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance" (3:1, 4). Now is the time to weep, to share memories of a special life and, in doing so keep that life alive in the hearts of others. But, as N. would undoubtedly say, the best teachers form their students for the future, encourage them to step forward with confidence and hope, and without fear, into the life that lies before them. For those who died in Christ, there is the promise of new life in the Resurrection. Today, N. would encourage us to have the same confidence, the same hope in the promises of God, repeating the words of Our Lord, "Be not afraid. I go before you always."

Authors Mary Morrell

funeral death of a teacher Isaiah 53:3 Ecclesiastes 3:1,4 educator

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