Leaving

"Someday when we meet up yonder,
We'll stroll hand in hand a- gain.
In a land that knows no parting..."

William H. Nelson, "Blue Eyes Cryin' in the Rain"

I'm going to warn you ahead of time. My homily today is going to be kind of like a root canal. It may hurt a little bit, but hopefully it'll be good for you. At least you'll feel better when it's over.

Last weekend Jan and I helped our son, Patrick, move to Huntsville, AL. He's the third of our four kids and he's going to graduate school at the University of Alabama in Huntsville. I don't like to brag about my kids, but along with grad school classes, Patrick was also chosen to be a research assistant at the National Space Science Technology Center, which is on the UAH campus. The reason I tell you that is to make the point that this is a heck of an opportunity for our son. It was an offer that was too good to pass up.

It was also incredibly hard for him, and for the rest of his family and friends. We've been blessed in that none of our kids have ever lived outside the state of Missouri. Mike went to school in Springfield for a year and the other three all went to Mizzou at one time or another. But Huntsville's 441 miles from here, about a six and a half hour drive.

Psychologists tell us that some of the most stressful events in our lives are marriage, divorce, the death of a loved one, losing our jobs, and kids going away to school. Notice that the one thing they all have in common is that they involve someone leaving. Surprisingly, marriage is one of the most stressful of all. But, as Paul says in the second reading, a man must leave his father and mother. Leaving is hard.

As we backed out of the parking lot in front of Patrick's apartment last Sunday, he was standing on the sidewalk waving goodbye and it was one of the saddest things I've ever seen. Each of us (Megan and Tim went along to help) was leaving one person and we were coming back to St. Louis which is familiar territory. Patrick was leaving all of his family, his girlfriend, and all of his other friends to live in a town he doesn't know, to go to an unfamiliar school where he only knows one person.

I'm sure everyone here has experienced a painful separation. Now comes the root canal part. I want each of you to close your eyes and think about a time when you were separated from someone you love. Really think about it. What was it like? How did you feel? Take a minute to reflect on those feelings. It hurts, doesn't it?

Today's Gospel is about leaving. It's a continuation of last week's story. Jesus has begun to teach that He is the Living Bread. He says "Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day."

Today we see how the people respond. "As a result of this, many of his disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him." They left.

As the Son of God, Jesus is all about love. He loves everyone, even His enemies. We know that He has strong emotions. Imagine how he must have felt when all those people, his friends and disciples, turned and walked away.

Patrick is a long way away, but it's still less than a day away by car and a few hours away by air. He'll probably be home for Thanksgiving and we know he'll be home for Christmas. Even when a loved one passes away, our faith tells us that we'll see that person again. The separation isn't permanent.

But, Jesus has just told the crowd "“Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you." This separation is permanent. They've turned their back on the Lord and His teaching. Imagine the grief he must have felt. It must have been almost unbearable.

He turned to the Twelve and asked “Do you also want to leave?” I wish I was good enough to read that question with anything like the emotion that Jesus must have had in His voice. Not only has He lost some of his friends....forever, but He must have felt that He let His Father down, too. He's been sent to spread the Good News and some people just aren't getting it.

Just imagine how emotional that must have been for Him.

So do we really think it's any different now? Doesn't Jesus feel just as much anguish, just as much pain, when we walk away today? Many of our brothers and sisters, some even calling themselves Catholic, have walked away just as surely as those people in the Gospel. Jesus loves every one of us equally. When He loses one of us forever, it must be agony for Him.

Of course, the agony for the ones who walk away won't come right away. We don't know much about heaven and hell, but we do know that the souls in hell are separated from Christ forever. That's what hell is. Constant pain and anguish caused by the separation from our Heavenly Father. Going back to that separation that I asked you to remember earlier, imagine having that feeling multiplied many times over, for all eternity. If that's not hell, I don't know what is.

I know you're all good people. You live good lives and do your best to follow everything that the Lord and His Church teach. But, I know you know someone, probably someone you love, who has turned his or her back on Christ and is in danger of spending eternity separated from God. We MUST do everything that we can to get that person back. It's hard. It's very hard. But we all have someone like that in our lives. Even Jesus had friends walk away. But that shouldn't keep us from praying and doing anything else that we can think of to lead that person back to Christ.

That's our challenge. It's what He wants us to do.

St. Louis IX, King of France

Nowadays, it’s hard to imagine a politician staying out of jail, let alone being a saint. During the middle ages, it may actually have been harder for a man in government to keep his nose clean, what with the corruption that was going on all over Europe, even in the Church.

But our patron Saint was no ordinary politician. He was a devout Catholic and ruled France as a good Catholic should. Louis was raised by his mother, Blanche, which was unusual for royal children in those days. Usually the queen would ship the kids off to a nurse so they could spend the day being queen instead of being a mom. But Blanch would have none of that. She hand picked Louis’ tutors and took him to church every day.

Louis VIII died when Nine was only twelve. Like most royal courts, there were vultures waiting to take over, but Blanche was ready for them. She had young Nine crowned king at the earliest possible date, with Blanche acting in his place until he reached the age of nineteen. The barons still tried to take over, but the new king had the support of the people which was something he never forgot.

At the age of twenty, Louis married Margaret. Even though Margaret was Blanche’s choice for Louis, her jealousy got the best of her and she never did like the girl. But, Louis and Margaret actually loved each other and Blanche couldn’t keep them apart. It must have worked out, they had six daughters and five sons.

Louis had great compassion for the poor. On ordinary days more than a hundred poor people ate at the palace and many more on holidays. The king often served the guests himself. He founded hospitals and gave money to the poor. He was especially generous to religious orders. He literally helped build the Abbey at Royaumont and spent hours there with the monks after it was finished.

Louis defeated King Henry III of England in a battle at Tailebourg. He treated Henry so fairly that years later, when Henry had a dispute with his barons, both sides agreed that Louis was the fairest man in all of Europe. They would let him mediate the dispute and both sides agreed to abide by his decision, which they did.

Louis’ compassion for the poor led him to get involved in the Crusades. In 1267 he announced that he was going to make a second trip to the middle east. He got as far as Spain, where he and his son John caught dysentery and died. He was only 56.

On the day Louis died, he opened his eyes and repeated the words of the Psalm, “Lord, I will enter into Thine house: I will adore in Thy holy temple, and will give glory to Thy name.” Three hours later he spoke again, “Into Thy hands I commend my soul.” He closed his eyes again and was gone.

Frank

On June 11, Frank sat right over there, in about the second or third pew, and watched me baptize three of his ten great grandchildren. He was surrounded by family. In fact, it may have been the biggest crowd I've ever seen at a baptism. There were so many people that the reception was held at the banquet center on Telegraph because no one had a large enough house to have it.

On July 2, Frank sat in the shade at his granddaughter Kelley's house for the family Fourth of July celebration. He health hasn't been so good lately, so he sat there in the shade and people brought him anything he needed. I guess the best word to describe Frank would be patriarch. He sat there and admired his large family, surrounded by their love.

This Tuesday, August 2, the family gathered again. This time it was in the intensive care section of Missouri Baptist Hospital. They were about to take Frank off of life support. He had been sick before, but this time he wasn't going to get well.

Frank's family includes five children, fifteen grandchildren, and those ten great grandchildren. Most of them were there Tuesday evening. They barely all fit into the room. But, before disconnecting all the machines, the ICU staff invited the family into the room to say their goodbyes. And a remarkable thing happened. Frank opened his eyes.

He opened his eyes and looked at his family one last time. One by one, they approached the bed and squeezed his hand. "I love you Frank." "I love you dad." "I love you grandpa." And each time, he seemed to respond. He squeezed their hands back. He seemed to nod his head. He seemed to fight to keep his eyes open. Finally, after all the goodbyes had been said, the family went back to the waiting room.

I was allowed to stay in the room while the two nurses removed the respirator and all of the tubes and wires. They patiently explained each step to Frank so he would know what was going on. When they pulled the trach tube out of his throat, he let out what seemed to be a heavy sigh, as if to say, "Finally. Thank God it's almost over."

Once all the paraphenalia was removed, the family was allowed back into the room. For a while, Frank's body fought to stay alive. His heart rate dropped and then came back up again. Then a second time and a third. Finally, the heart rate monitor told the story; a few spikes and then a straight line. He was gone.

In today's readings we're warned that we'd better not let our neighbor lapse into sin. If he does, he will die. If we see him sinning and don't try to stop him, and he keeps sinning, he'll die and we'll be held responsible. If we do try to stop him and he keeps sinning, he'll die, but we'll be off the hook.

I think that's scary. Not only are we responsible for our own sins, we're responsible for keeping everyone around us from sinning, too. At least we have to try.

Once in a while you run into a man like Frank, who leads by example. He raised a large, very loving family, and showed them how to live a Christian life. He didn't have to tell them. He showed them. And at the important times in life, they were all there together. He touched a lot of lives.

If not for Frank, my son's wife, his granddaughter, would not have been born. And if Jen hadn't been born, my granddaughter wouldn't be here, the cutest baby ever. And for that, I'll always be greatful.