Husband, father of three, student of medicine, 23-year-old Christoph Probst, guillotined in 1943 by the Nazis for his part in the White Rose Resistance Movement, was baptized into the Catholic Church minutes before his death. Just before that he wrote his mother:
Thank you for giving me life. Looking back now, I see that it has all been a single road to God. Soon I will be closer to you than before. In the meantime I will prepare a glorious reception for you all. I never knew that dying could be so easy. I die without any feeling of hatred. NEVER FORGET THAT LIFE IS NOTHING BUT A GROWING IN LOVE AND A PREPARATION FOR ETERNITY. (Magnificat, November 2022, page 177)
Every November as we finish the Church year, we Catholics recall the four last things: death, judgment heaven and hell. It is good for the heart the intellect and the will...for the soul. Glancing towards eternity we grow in HOPE: hearts are cleansed, wills are strengthened, intellects are clarified. Everything falls into its proper place: anxieties diminish, regrets recede, joys increase, wisdom prevails, courage abounds, and serenity abides.
We don't think enough about heaven. We don't yearn for it enough: so our desire gets distracted.
Life is nothing but a growing in love and a preparation for eternity. Said the wise, courageous Christoph Probst just after (baptism) and before (death) his birth into eternal life.
Everything else...our achievements, reputation, wealth, health...everything else is not nothing. It all is part of our journey. But it is not everything. Everything is God and heaven and all our life drawn into that.
I want to share with you a theological speculation from a marvelous book: God's Gamble by Gil Baile (a deep thinker whom I consider a friend). We Catholics believe in two judgments: the general judgment at the end of time and the particular judgment at the moment of death when we face Christ, review our life and enter heaven (including purgatory) or hell. Baile, along with other thinkers, suggests another dimension to death. The Church does not teach this, nor does it renounce it. It is something we have liberty to accept or not. I personally strongly accept it. The idea is:
At death, each of us, saint or sinner, encounters Jesus Christ, with his wounds suffered in love for us. He offers us his Mercy. It is for each, in freedom, to accept or reject. The very worst sinner has a chance to receive, to be contrite for sin, to extend forgiveness to those who have hurt him. Likewise, the very best person has freedom at that moment to accept or reject the Mercy of Christ.
This is quite different from the traditional understanding of the particular judgment. That event is itself not an act of freedom; it is post-life and post-freedom, a final review and judgment of up or down. This new view proposes a final act of freedom which may sum up the preceding history of good or evil but might conceivably be a reversal, hopefully for better in the encounter with the Merciful Jesus who suffered so for us.
This is particularly hopeful when we consider those who appear to die in sin. For example, suicide victims. Suicide is itself a taking of a life and therefore objectively a mortal sin. But today we are very aware of the psychological conditions that might mitigate or even eliminate culpability: profound depression, anxiety, dementia, rage, intoxication, mental illness. Years ago the Church would not give a Catholic funeral to a suicide victim. This has changed: we understand the weakness that might cause it and we have a heightened awareness of the triumph of the Mercy of Jesus, especially through the revelations to St. Faustina that were authenticated under St. Pope John Paul.
You are no doubt aware that your great-uncle, Al Remmele (brother of your Grandmother and John, Paul, Mark and Suzanne), sadly took his life after long struggles with mental illness. He was a year younger than me; we were close, friends as well as brother-in-laws. He was very handsome and attractive (tons of girl friends), athletic (varsity basketball), intelligent (math teacher), charming and sweet in personality. He was a deep thinker, reader of theology and philosophy. I personally know that he made every conceivable effort in every direction to seek healing: psychology, exercise, charismatic healing, prayer, self-help groups (he was a leader in Recovery a group for sufferers of inordinate anxiety). He had a beautiful relationship with a wonderful woman who adored him. He made every effort imaginable. His suffering overwhelmed him.
The last acts of Al before his death. He got on his knees and helped Walter, his stepfather, to remove his boots. Before he died from a rope in the garage, he lit a candle. His death of agony was surrounded by an act of mercy and a prayer of hope.
His death was unquestionably the saddest event of our lives. His funeral was even stronger: there was an overwhelming outpouring of love and mercy from so, so, so many people. Just prior to this event, I read John Paul's encyclical that had just been released On Divine Mercy. Throughout this amazing funeral, I kept thinking: "If all these people (hundreds) have such compassion, kindness, tenderness for Al, how much more must our Lord have?"
I have never doubted that Al is with the Lord, his horrendous interior suffering is over, encompassed eternally in Mercy and Joy. His purgatory would be short as he suffered so in this life.
That death was a defining moment for my own life. It's meaning: Mercy. Our family's devotion to the Magnificat Home flows out of the memory of the suffering and goodness of Al.
Regarding this possibility of a final encounter with Mercy at death, one might worry: could this conjecture tempt us to presumption, the false assurance that we can sin all we want and Jesus will still forgive us and we can get into heaven at the last minute? Yes, that is a good point.
However I look at it in a different way. I imagine the beauty of Christ and the joy of heaven and I am motivated to prepare, every day, even every moment, so that I am ready to fully embrace his love. Death is the final contest, the nationals, the world series, the super bowl. I want my entire life to be a getting ready so I am at my very best, peaking at that immense event!
And so we imagine that for each of us, wherever we might appear on the scale of good to bad, Jesus comes at the moment of death, offering his Mercy. Each of us like the two thieves crucified with him. He waits for our petition: "Jesus, remember me, when you come into your kingdom." He yearns with infinite passion and tenderness to assure us "This very day you will be with me in paradise."
These are good things to recall in November.
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