“Then Jacob called his sons, and said: ‘Gather around, that I may tell you what
will happen to you in the days to come’ —And this is what the father said to them when he blessed them, blessing each of them with a suitable blessing” (Genesis 49:1,28)
This reading concludes the passages of Great Lent. We then move to Palm Sunday and the Passion Week. My soul is warmed when I listen to these parting words of Jacob to his twelve sons. He died content. He had fulfilled his, or rather God’s purpose for him on earth, and he was certain that his offspring would continue to fulfill the sacred covenant that the Lord promised to his grandfather, Abraham, and that his father Isaac carried on in his generation. That program of sacred history is maintained by Jews even to these days, and if we understand and accept the gospel message, it is fulfilled not only by them but also by us, the Orthodox Christians, in our day. We celebrate an unbroken chain that was started by our father Abraham, then sustained each generation through David, into and beyond the exile, then to Jesus Christ, extending to us.
As Americans, we tend to ignore or belittle history. It’s as though our parents and grandparents by crossing the Atlantic Ocean left tradition behind them. Nevertheless, they brought with them their sacred faith, and that faith includes the continuity of that precious tradition that they inherited and passed on to us. And that’s what makes me sad.
Our parish has achieved the Biblical age of forty, and I’ve been here from its inception. In the early decades we would average several, as much as five deaths each year. In the 1960’s most died in their sixties. In the 1970’s they averaged mid-seventies. Even since, those living into their eighties are considered fortunate. Nowadays those who served their nation in World War II and their wives are in that time frame of eighty plus years of life. We have come to that stage when we bid more and more of them farewell until we meet again in the Kingdom of heaven.
It’s rare that they struggle against dying. They’ve already faced death while serving their country in the war. To their credit, they’ve also imbibed something from the lessons of our Lord Jesus, especially from His personal example of having surrendered His life for our sakes when He was less than half the age of our veterans. They’ve completed their lives here on earth, and it appears that they even look forward to the life ahead—not without regrets for the parting from those they leave behind, but nevertheless with a sense of courage and faith in the Father of us all and the promise of life eternal.
My inner sadness is that unlike our father Jacob, many times their family name dies with them. When I record them in our book of records, I realize that they leave no heritage to continue the faith of their ancestors. The funeral is served amidst an assembly of strangers. They are well mannered, they are present to “pay their respects,” however that’s done; but I feel like a music conductor, giving hand signals when to sit or stand, and my homilies are sent out into bland, blank faces. When we bury Grandpa and Grandma, we conclude our relationship with the whole clan.
The most I pray for is that they have found some faith somewhere that will nourish their souls. I suspect, however, that for the most part they are among the masses whose existence is taken up by the attractions of secular society. They have no ecclesiastical year to form and frame their seasons, but live for entertainment, favorite teams, Saturday night bashes, television shows, parties, and whatever amusements that our so-called culture provides.
On the other hand, how precious to me are those children who are with us in body, soul and spirit, and how blessed are the parents and grandparents who set an example of Christian love, and the life in Christ worthy of emulation.