We do not want you to be unaware, brothers and sisters,
about those who have fallen asleep,
so that you may not grieve like the rest,
who have no hope.
This weekend, I just got back from Napa,
presiding over the wedding of my nephew, Dominic,
my brother Paul’s son, to his now wife, Molly.
It was a wonderful occasion,
a great opportunity to come together,
but it was a bittersweet reality
because my brother Paul had died
five years ago this month.
Many of you remember as you journeyed with me
as I went through that painful time in my life.
But Molly reminded me of a story
that was more than a story.
It was profound.
So I shared it at the wedding itself
because it was so helpful.
It was five years ago,
the week of Thanksgiving,
and just before Paul died,
Molly had come to visit with Dominic
and to visit Paul, my brother, for one last time.
She knew and he knew
that this would be the last time.
So she said her goodbye,
and then she was planning to get up early,
bright and early in the morning,
before the house was awake.
When she got down to the bottom of the stairs,
my brother had already moved into the lower bedroom
because he could not walk upstairs at all anymore.
But when she tiptoed down in the quiet of the morning,
she was expecting to slip out,
and there was Paul already standing with his walker
right by the edge of the staircase.
She was shocked and said,
“You didn’t have to get up.”
And he said, “Yes, I did.
I love you. I love my boy.
I want you to take care of my Dominic.”
I always remember it.
It was so beautiful.
It caught me when she told it,
and it caught me again
when I told it this last weekend.
I do not know what it cost Paul to get up that day,
because he barely had the strength to put on a T-shirt,
but to be able to dress himself,
get up all the way out of bed,
and walk with the walker that day.
He did not do it for himself.
He did it out of love for his son.
He did it out of love for his future daughter-in-law,
that he would not be there on that day physically.
When I told that story, of course, it was emotional this weekend
to be reminded of what we had.
But Paul was there this weekend spiritually.
See, that is the core of our belief
that when we die,
and this is what St. Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians says.
He said, be assured.
Be not like those who do not believe.
Do not grieve like those who do not believe.
We grieve with hope that we will see our loved ones again,
our loved ones will come to see the Lord,
and that we will be united one day.
St. Paul goes on and tells us
that is the core of our faith.
It is hard because at moments like family gatherings,
it resurfaces all the loss, right?
Everyone is talking about it.
It was sweet, but it was also bitter,
it was a bittersweet weekend for us.
Here is the reality for all of us.
The month of November,
is always dedicated as a month of remembrance,
to remember all our loved ones.
I know many of you have lost loved ones,
and some of you have lost loved ones this year.
The loss is still raw and unhealed.
Others of you have lost many years ago,
and it has softened but never gone away.
Grief is like a fingerprint.
It is completely unique.
No two grieving processes are alike.
When we grieve,
we do so with the knowledge
and the surety of the resurrection.
That is what our faith tells us.
This is what this reading today reminds us:
we do not grieve in vain.
When we grieve with this hope for eternal life,
not just for them, but also for us,
that we will be united.
That is what we celebrate
when we celebrate this Mass next weekend,
called the Mass of Remembrance,
where we bring all our loved ones together with pictures,
and we put their names down,
and we celebrate their entry into heavenly life
and the eternal abode with Christ in heaven.
The challenge for us is this gospel reading,
these ten virgins prepared with oil.
It seems really stingy
for those who are the wise virgins not to share.
But we need to understand oil represented love.
So, the flask is full
because they have done a lifetime of loving.
You see, that lifetime of loving
cannot just be shared in an instantaneous way
at the last moment.
You see, the loving that happens in our life
is filling the oil lamp.
That is what we do when we love our children,
and we stay up late with them
when they are hurting and scared,
or when our teenagers are frustrated and do not understand,
and we just sit and be with them.
When they struggle with life,
whether it be at school or with friends,
we are just present to them.
We want to give them answers but we cannot,
because we know they would have to figure it out for themselves.
That is the love stored over a lifetime looks like.
Or when we sit with an elderly friend
or family member or parent who is dying,
and we have nothing else left to give them
but to sit with them.
See, we are filling the oil lamp.
We are filling our own oil lamp,
so that when our time comes,
we will have plenty of oil left
for our final journey home.
You see, it was not a matter of stinginess.
It was reality.
You cannot give away what others cannot take.
If they have not loved all their life,
the last minutes will not be enough.
It will be too late.
That is the difference between the wise and the foolish.
The wise realize it is the little things that matter:
loving our spouses, loving our children,
loving our parents,
forgiving others for mistakes that they have made,
or maybe even the mistakes they do not claim to have made at all,
but that we come with oil to the Lord.
We live in Silicon Valley,
where we like to fix everything.
We have a plan for everything.
We have a solution for everything.
There is probably an app for everything, too.
But the reality is that there are some things
that cannot be fixed or are not meant to be fixed.
Grieving is not something to be fixed.
It is a process where our soul softens.
When our soul softens enough,
then we are truly healing but never fully healed,
because the soul knows it belongs to God.
Our final journey home
is that completion with the Lord.
We are reunited with our loved ones and with God.
So today, or this week,
we are called to live the gospel
and to love in the simple ways,
just simply ordinary ways.
That is how we fill the oil lamp.
The way you touch your spouse gently after a long day,
the way you assure your children,
the way you give your love to your parents,
the way you embrace your friends,
all of that matters, my friends.
It is storing up oil in the oil lamp.
So do not think of it any other way
other than the embrace of our faith
in life and resurrection.
So here are the words from St. Paul to the Thessalonians again:
We do not want you to be unaware, brothers and sisters,
about those who have fallen asleep,
so that you may not grieve like the rest,
who have no hope.