Fr Bernard McGuckian SJ pays tribute to his late mother, Pauline, who died last February 2009.
St. Peter says that we should always be ready to offer an account of the faith and hope that is in us. Cf 1 Peter 3:15. This is different from philosophical arguments for God’s existence. Over the years I have wondered why, aside from divine grace, I believe and hope in God. I am convinced that it is because I heard my mother talking to Him every day since I was a child and that I have never found a convincing reason to think that she was only talking to herself.
Yes, it was you who took me from the womb,
Entrusted me to my mother’s breast.
To you I was committed from my birth,
From my mother’s womb you have been my God.
Psalm 21:9-10
Had my mother, Pauline, lived another five months she would have been celebrating her 100th birthday on the 8th of this month of July. She died peacefully in Belfast on 16 February last with her family around her. Her youngest priest son, Fr Alan, anointed her a few hours beforehand. Her married children, Mary, Paula, and John B. and some of her grandchildren were at her bed-side.
My brother Michael and I, also Jesuits like Alan, began to recite the Evening Prayer of the Church prescribed for that Monday evening as the end was drawing near. It could not have been more appropriate.
The second verse of the Introductory Hymn ran:
Grant to life’s day a calm unclouded ending,
An eve untouched by shadows of decay,
The brightness of a holy death-bed blending
With dawning glories of the eternal day.
The Royal Wedding song, Psalm 45, came next, with its antiphon taken from St Matthew’s Gospel: “Behold, the bridegroom is coming; go out and meet him”. Within a couple of minutes this is precisely what my mother did. It was the final answer to a short prayer that she had said so often in her life. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, may I breathe forth my soul in peace with you, Amen”. I was able to say to her with complete conviction. “Mammy, you taught us how to live. Now teach us how to die”.
It was then my privilege to read the Prayer of Commendation. “Go forth, Christian soul, from this world in the name of God the almighty Father, who created you, in the name of Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, who suffered for you, in the name of the Holy Spirit, who was poured out upon you, go forth Christian soul. May you live in peace this day, may your home be with God in Zion, with Mary, the virgin Mother of God, with Joseph, and all the angels and saints.”
The end came just after nine o’clock in the evening in the appropriately named Nazareth Care Village. The event helped me relish another Scripture passage: “Precious in the eyes of the Lord is the death of his faithful”. Psalm 116:15.
As chief celebrant during Mass on her 98th birthday, Alan had announced that Michael would be chief celebrant at her 99th and that, if I lived, it would be my turn at her 100th. This was not to be.
However, I was main celebrant at a much more important birthday than her 100th. In the Christian tradition the most important birthday is the one when we enter Eternal Life.
My mother was married for thirty-three years and widowed for forty-two. As she was married on 17 April 1934, she was due to celebrate the 75th anniversary of her wedding this year. This is one wedding that I am glad did actually take place because she once told me that the only reason that she didn’t become a nun was that she thought that she wouldn’t get a sleep-in on Saturday mornings in the convent! Three of her sisters had become St. Louis Sisters.
Looking back now I think that for me, my mother was a ‘hidden persuader’ in things religious. She rarely brought up the topic of religion in conversation although it was her main interest. On one Friday morning, when I was about twelve years of age she came into my room to ask me if I was going to Mass. I hadn’t planned on going so I asked ‘why’ on that particular day. ‘Today is the Feast of the Sacred Heart,’ she replied. Until then I didn’t know that there was such a thing as a ‘Feast of the Sacred Heart’. Although I knew that she would not put pressure on me I was happy to go to Mass that day with my father, Brian, and herself both of whom were so devoted to the Sacred Heart. The picture of the Sacred Heart had pride of place in our home.
She read the Scriptures, prayed about them and lived them but rarely quoted them. In fact I can only remember her quote a Scripture passage on two occasions. It was the same passage and the occasions were about thirty-five years apart. It was the message to the angel of the church in Laodicea. ‘I know about your activities: how you are neither hot nor cold. I wish you were one or the other, but since you are only lukewarm, I will spit you out of my mouth’. Apocalypse 3:15-16. This passage must have had a profound effect on her from early in her life. She seemed to me to tremble when she quoted it. My mother was neither lukewarm nor cold. That leaves only one other possibility.
Her last full day on earth was February 15th, the Feast Day of St Claude La Colombiere, the Jesuit spiritual director of St Margaret Mary, the great visionary of the Sacred Heart. For a number of reasons he was an object of special devotion in our family. I hope that, with St Claude and all the saints, she is enjoying the reward of her fidelity over her long life.
I nglac Dé i gcónaí í. (May she be forever in the palm of God’s hand).
This article first appeared in The Messenger (July 2009), a publication of the Irish Jesuits.
