Our Lady of the Angels, Nuneaton

Thursday 3 September 2009

Given by Father Philip Harrop, Parish Priest

In that gospel reading St John takes us in spirit to Calvary, to stand at the foot of the cross on that first Good Friday - the day of the death of the Lord. He takes us to the cross where we see and hear one of the most moving moments in Christ’s suffering and passion, that moment when the dying Son looks down at his heartbroken mother, and she looks up to her son.

Perhaps her mind in those moments wandered back to a happier day when Jesus was just 40 days old, the day she and Joseph took him to the Temple in Jerusalem for his Presentation - just for a moment like any other Jewish family.

But perhaps now by the cross she remembered again those words of the old man Simeon they’d met there on that day, words which at the time had seemed so strange, so odd: ‘A sword of sorrow shall pierce your heart.’ (Luke 2:35). She knew now what he had meant all those years before, as she struggled at the cross with her helplessness, of not being able to hold and comfort, let alone save, her Son.

The picture St John paints for us does indeed seem bleak. And few looking at it at the time, even the apostles, would see in this terrible event any spark of hope or light. Few would see that this was the setting for the greatest event in the history of the cosmos - the resurrection - and yet, that is precisely what it was.

Of Louis as a baby, a happy baby mum says, contented as long as he had a bag of Cheesy Watsits. Of the baby who grew into the child and who loved to play with Lee and Sam on the slide, or getting soaked in the paddling pool.

And from being quite small, a child who used to love to dress up as a soldier until, finally, he was old enough to join the army cadets - bit by bit getting closer to his dream of becoming a real soldier. Of course Louis had to become a teenager too - of becoming his mum’s very own Kevin and Perry. I’m sure that these, and so many more memories of both family and friends will be memories to treasure.

Then there was his other family, his adopted family if you like, the Royal Fusiliers - that at last he became what he had long dreamed of becoming. He loved doing it and died doing what he loved.

In some ways like the barren, dusty and seemingly hopeless scene that the gospel described, Louis death far away in Afghanistan seems an unlikely setting for hope, of something beautiful.

Yet in how he died and in the way he died - trying to save a comrade, a brother in arms - there is a great deal that is awesome. That in Louis we now see incredibly clearly a maturity, a bravery, a generosity that is truly remarkable.

Jesus once said: ‘Greater love has no man than this, than to lay down his life for his friends.’ (John 15:13). That although Louis was so very young, he showed a stature, a strength of character, a commitment to his superior officer, his comrades and friends that is truly inspiring.

Secondly, Louis died on what for Catholic Christians is a very important Feast day - it was, this year, the Feast of the Assumption of Our Lady - and, coincidentally, our Parish Feast here in Nuneaton.

It is the day we celebrate Mary’s entrance into Heaven at the end of her earthly life. It reminds us that Easter, the Resurrection of Jesus, isn’t just about Christ and what happened to Him, but about those who die in him, who trust in him - it can be about us too, it is a pledge of the Lord to us.

And as he handed it to them the priest said: ‘Receive the light of Christ. Parents and godparents this light is entrusted to you to be kept burning brightly. This child of yours has been enlightened by Christ. He is to walk always as a child of the light.  May he keep the flame of faith alive in his heart. When the Lord comes may he go out to meet him with all the saints in the heavenly kingdom.’

The time when Louis was called from this world was a time none of us would have hoped for or expected. And yet it has come. But I know from things he said to his mum that the flame of faith was alive in his heart - a faith that quelled his fear of the future, of what may come - that whatever happened, he was in God’s hands.

That as St Paul, who himself knew a fair bit of suffering, and eventually death by the sword, reminded us in the second reading today: ‘That ‘neither death nor life, no angel, no prince, nothing that exists, nothing still to come, not any power or height or depth, nor any created thing, can come between us and the love of God made visible in Christ Jesus our Lord.’ (Romans 8: 39).

Amen