Thanks mom and dad; and you too, St. Paul

By John Pearring

http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/060620.cfm
2 Timothy 4:1-8
Mark 12:38-44

Today’s reading from 2 Timothy falls on the right day for me. June 6, 1947 was my parent’s (Jack & Louise Pearring) wedding day, and this is their anniversary. In this scripture, Paul claims heaven and an eternity in God's presence as he awaits his demise. Paul was not perfect, but he was certain about how much God loved him. 

God loved my parents just like he loved St. Paul. I know my parents were not perfect. Neither are any of us. I was assuredly a particularly difficult child. They loved me in my imperfection, though. And, they are loved back by me. 

How can anyone of us be so certain as Paul, though? Can we expect, as Paul did, that at our passing we can confidently say, “I have competed well; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith.”

I remember the timing of my mom and dad’s deaths, and I’ve put their mindsets into the scripture Paul left us before his “departure” at the hands of the Roman legal system.

My mother died in 2000, at the young age of 73. She had requested that we honor that dreaded Do Not Resuscitate form, which would stop any of us from intubating her during her final hours. She was not happy when the intubation decision was made over her wishes. Several times during her painful last days she expressed her desire to be let go. She also got to say goodbye to all of us. Rather, we got to say goodbye. That's a treasure we'll all remember.

My father died eleven years later in 2011. He passed less than a month before his 88th birthday. Most of the seven siblings were there to send him off. He had suggested just day’s before he died that he might just stick around forever and not die at all. Not to be. His hubris was always tongue in cheek.

My mother and father had different final day appointments in mind. Mom was ready and willing. Dad didn’t want to leave. Regardless, they both exited with dignity and family and faith.

That’s why I love this reading so much. Not only did we all insist that our parents were traveling off to heaven, we relied (and still do) on their hopes and prayers for our souls. 

From now on the crown of righteousness awaits me,
which the Lord, the just judge,
will award to me on that day, and not only to me,
but to all who have longed for his appearance.

Paul was probably a difficult fellow to like — right away, that is. He was obstinate with God to the point that God grabbed him by the shoulders and called him to a new task. My folks were easy people to like and get to know. They had buckets of friends. Their struggles were a mix of family and worldly woes, and during the upset of Vatican II they both held onto the Church for dear life. Even if they didn’t understand or agree with everything that changed. Grabbing their shoulders wasn't as necessary as St. Paul. 

My mother told me more than once that God is a whole lot nicer than people thought he was. She also thought that God loved us even though were we such ardent sinners. Everything in her faith followed these basic principles, and she was much more tolerant with us because of this. She couldn’t imagine that her love for us was any better than God’s love. That explained so much about her faith. Yet, she didn't think well enough of herself, in my eyes. It's tough to read into your mother's mind.

My father told me that the first question he had for God after arriving in heaven was whether going to Church every Sunday was that big of a deal. He was going to be quite upset, he said cheekily, that if it wasn’t that important he would not be happy about all those Sundays sitting in a pew. He also said he wasn’t certain about his assured salvation. Even though he thought he was good enough for God, also with his typical cheekiness, he suspected that heaven was still a long shot. On the surface dad wasn't very complicated. Underneath, he was a matrix of conflicting philosophies.

I don’t know what happens specifically during the purgation of this life’s evil temptations and sorrowful practices. God only knows the proper methodical means of getting each of our souls into his realm. I truthfully believe, with a biased sense of love readily plastered all over my heart and mind, that my folks have passed any measure of burning off wood, hay and stubble. Their gems, worthy to God in handfuls, have little to do with our Father's mercy, our Brother's pardoning, and the Holy Spirit's already welcomed presence in their hearts. I imagine both mom and dad, if not already, will be crowned, awarded, and then giddy about seeing the rest of us some day.

As Paul put it so eloquently, I think my parents were in full agreement with the warning of persistence, patience, and teaching:

For the time will come when people will not tolerate sound doctrine
but, following their own desires and insatiable curiosity,
will accumulate teachers and will stop listening to the truth
and will be diverted to myths.

Don’t be in that crowd, my folks would say to me. Don’t fall for the lies clothed as worthwhile myths. 

Well, yes mom and dad, I concur with that thinking, and I’ve hearkened to your encouragement. I’ve said as much to our own children, and whispered these things in the ears of every grandchild of mine. (Well, there’s still Marvin to meet, yet.)

We’re charged by the saints to proclaim the word. Thank you Saint Paul. Thank you mom and dad. 

Happy 73rd Anniversary. Key Lime pie for mom. A proper martini for dad.