Benedict XVI on death and silence

Benedict XVI, Zagreb, Croatia, 5 June 2011

[Wikipedia; photo]

One of the most beautiful passages on death that I have ever read is from Pope Benedict's encyclical letter on hope, Spe Salvi, No 48. I have often quoted from this passage at funerals.

Spe Salvi, 48. Pope Benedict

In hope we were saved (Romans, 8:24).

The belief that love can reach into the afterlife, that reciprocal giving and receiving is possible, in which our affection for one another continues beyond the limits of death—this has been a fundamental conviction of Christianity throughout the ages and it remains a source of comfort today. Who would not feel the need to convey to their departed loved ones a sign of kindness, a gesture of gratitude or even a request for pardon?

. . . We should recall that no man is an island, entire of itself. Our lives are involved with one another . . . The lives of others continually spill over into mine: in what I think, say, do and achieve. And conversely, my life spills over into that of others: for better and for worse. So my prayer for another is not something extraneous to that person, something external, not even after death. In the interconnectedness of Being, my gratitude to the other—my prayer for him—can play a small part in his purification. And for that there is no need to convert earthly time into God's time: in the communion of souls simple terrestrial time is superseded. It is never too late to touch the heart of another, nor is it ever in vain. In this way we further clarify an important element of the Christian concept of hope. Our hope is always essentially also hope for others; only thus is it truly hope for me too. 

Pope Benedict quotes above the opening line of a poem by English poet John Donne (1572-1631), No man is an island, entire of itself. Here where I live we have three funerals of Columban priests this week, those of Fr Austin McGuinness, ordained in 1965, Fr Michael Doohan, ordained in 1952 and Fr Jeremiah Cotter, ordained in 1954. The deaths of these men whom I knew, along with that of Pope Emeritus Benedict whom I greatly admired, speak to me through the words of John Donne's poem.

Read by Peter Baker

Pope Benedict loved the music of Mozart and often played it on the piano. He would have been very familiar with Mozart's Requiem, a setting of the Requiem Mass in Latin.

At the end of a performance of this work in Lucerne conductor Claudio Abbado, below, remained in prayerful silence for forty seconds before turning to the audience and allowing applause.

Benedict XVI on Silence

Here there is a first important aspect for us: we live in a society in which it seems that every space, every moment must be 'filled' with projects, activities and noise; there is often no time even to listen or to converse. Dear brothers and sisters, let us not fear to create silence, within and outside ourselves, if we wish to be able not only to become aware of God's voice but also to make out the voice of the person beside us, the voices of others.

These words are from the homily of Pope Benedict XVI in Sulmona, Italy, on 4 July 2010 marking the 800th anniversary of the birth of Pope Celestine V who resigned from the papacy in 1294 and was canonized in 1313.

The Death of St Joseph

Bernardo Cavallino [Web Gallery of Art]