By Robert Royal
I recently attended the funeral of a young man who died tragically. It turned out to be a solemn sung Traditional Latin Mass, entirely licit and even ratified by the presence of our local bishop, his retired predecessor, and a couple of dozen priests. That liturgy, however—setting aside all extraneous considerations—was definitely not something that should be reduced to the controversies surrounding the recent consecrations of the SSPX, the back-and-forth over Traditionis custodes (Pope Francis’s drastic restriction of the Traditional Latin Mass) or the short- and long-term repercussions of Sacrosanctum Concilium (the Vatican II document on the liturgy). Everything was directed toward prayer for the eternal destiny of this young man’s soul and the souls of all of us, which—sad to say—seem to receive very little attention in the Church today, even at funerals.
It was a deeply moving experience and afterward made me think about why modern funerals so often are not. There has been a massive shift in the Church toward what is frequently called—even at Catholic funerals—“celebrations of the life” of someone who has died. And there seems to be an unspoken current underlying all this that, despite all Our Lord’s warnings about the narrow gate, everyone ends up in Heaven.
(By the way, it does no good to blame Hans Urs von Balthasar or, more recently, someone like Bishop Robert Barron, among others, for fostering this attitude. I noticed during the Rosary before the Mass that the Fatima prayer contains the formula: “And lead all souls to Heaven, especially those most in need of thy mercy.” Of course. The prayer does not say that everyone is saved, or even that many are. And in truth, judging by Scripture, not all of us will be saved. But it certainly expresses that hope, which we should all have.)
Still, the easy assumption that everyone or almost everyone is saved is not merely a theological matter. We have to recognize that it basically short-circuits the whole of the Christian life, which is, at the very least, a drama, and often a spiritual battle. If it is not, why did Jesus have to die on the Cross to save us? Why, even, does He have to tell us to leave everything and follow Him?
We know that missionary work (today replaced by the more elegant but vaguer “evangelization”) has also dissipated in recent years. Is it far-fetched to think that missionaries are now yet another casualty of the soft, formulaic “dialogue” and “respect” toward other religions (and toward none) that seem to have displaced the mandate to preach the Gospel to all nations? And is that, too, a further consequence of the current notion that almost everyone is eternally all right, regardless of what they believe or, quite often, even of what they do?
There was a time when everyone in the Church, even schoolchildren (in my own case), was taught about the “Four Last Things”: death, judgment, hell, and glory. There was no hesitation in speaking of these ultimate matters, but that was before the advent of the snowflake Christian. All of this is still present in the Catechism of the Catholic Church (¶ 1020–1060). But does anyone preach these truths anymore or take them seriously? And how long before, without renewed attention to the main things, they disappear entirely from catechesis?
There are even teachings, Catholic teachings, in the Catechism about Purgatory. There has long been a debate between Catholics and Protestants over whether Purgatory is mentioned in the Bible. If one accepts the text of the Old Testament used by the early Church, which included prayers offered for the dead (Maccabees), Purgatory is the logical consequence. It is not if one chooses the narrower canon of the Jewish Scriptures, as some Protestants do, which had a complex history but was probably defined some centuries later by rabbinic Judaism after the destruction of Jerusalem and the dispersion of the Jews.
If one thinks about it for a moment, unless Purgatory exists, it makes no sense to pray for the souls of the departed. The families and friends of the deceased may gather to mourn and remember, of course. But without Purgatory, it is no wonder that praying for the dead—even long after their departure—or funeral Masses have lost the depth that the ancient Traditional Latin Mass still gives them.
This stands in sharp contrast to the whole of the Christian past, when the passage from this life to the next was the main thing, literally matters of life or eternal death.
There are still some places where these truths are understood. And that also understand that this perspective on eternity has consequences in this world as well.
In a recent podcast of “Faith under Siege,” I spoke with Archbishop Bashar Warda, the Chaldean Catholic Archbishop of Erbil, Iraq, where Christianity has existed uninterruptedly since about 100 A.D. Among other striking things he said, he spoke eloquently—unplanned on our part—about how the Church there faces a difficult reality, beyond the usual tensions of the Middle East.
Muslims approach them who have dreamed of Jesus and want to know more about Him (the real Jesus, not the historically erroneous Islamic version). This is dangerous, something he frankly tells those who seek—both for them and for the Church—because apostasy from Islam can bring death to all involved.
The good archbishop handles these situations as best he can, but he confessed that he worries about having to appear before St. Peter one day and give an account of how he has treated the people who came to him seeking Jesus Christ. Similar stories are heard of Muslims in Western Europe and even in Iran.
It is a good thing, but relatively easier, to seek peace with other religions, among nations, and even with Creation.
But how many of us reading this—including the author of these lines—assume the greater risks of proclaiming the Truth? It is only done if one can see beyond present things, which will pass away, and that the Last Things are the only ones that finally remain.
About the author
Robert Royal is the editor-in-chief of The Catholic Thing and president of the Faith & Reason Institute in Washington, D.C. His most recent books are The Martyrs of the New Millennium: The Global Persecution of Christians in the Twenty-First Century, Columbus and the Crisis of the West and A Deeper Vision: The Catholic Intellectual Tradition in the Twentieth Century.