A sermon on Mark 13:24-32

By Fr. Mike Paraniuk
St. Mary Catholic Church
St. Benignus Catholic Church 
St. Mary Queen of Heaven
and Holy Trinity Catholic Church

My father, Walter, told me a story that gave him great peace as he neared the end of 96 years on earth. It involved his father, Stanley, who was diagnosed with coronary artery disease in 1956. My grandfather ate copious amounts of fat. (A day without pickled pig's feet fat was like a day without sunshine.)

My father, along with his brother, John, took Stanley to the famed Mayo Clinic to see if the doctors could do anything to save him. The report was grim. There was simply too much fatty plaque in his arteries. Bypass heart surgeries wouldn't be performed until 1973. Life-saving stents were still 30 years away.

Stanley was admitted to the hospital near Pittsburgh on Monday, May 27, 1957. The family stood vigil around his bed. My grandmother, dressed in all black, prayed the Rosary without stopping. My grandfather passed early in the morning around 1 a.m. the next day. He was only 63.

What happened next gave peace to my father. 

He said, "I was driving home to tell your mother Pop had passed. I was crying so hard the tears blurred my vision. I almost missed the road that led to our government housing where we lived at the time. I got out of the car and walked to the door. I didn't enter right away. I just stood there. I prayed for dad that he made it to Heaven. I asked God to give me a sign he made it there. Pop was not a religious man who went to church much. But he made darn sure all his kids went to Mass. Your grandmother walked us to the church. Pop worked hard six days a week, laboring in the steel factory for his kids. He provided warm clothes on our back, shoes without holes on our feet and food on the table. When Sunday came around, he was exhausted.

"Instead of walking through the door, something told me to turn around and look up to the sky. It was a beautiful, clear night. Stars were shining everywhere. That is when God gave me the sign I prayed for. This really big shooting star streaked across the sky. It lasted a long time before eventually burning out. I whispered into the night air, 'So long, Pop. Safe journey. One day I'll see you again.'" 

My Pop's wish came true 65 years later on Aug. 7, 2022. I never saw a shooting star when he passed. The light of his faith was good enough sign for me.

Life as we know it on earth will come to an end. The light of this world will become dark. "In those days after that tribulation the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light..." Yet, we know by faith, life itself will not end. In Heaven, there is no darkness at all. "There will be no more night. They will not need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light. And they will reign for ever and ever." (Rev. 22:5.)

After Stanley passed, my grandmother, Frances, grieved for the next 18 years. She would say this one phrase frequently, "I pray to God I die and go to Heaven." 

She repeated this phrase to everything. We would wish her a "Merry Christmas," or "Happy Birthday," or simply "have a good day." 

Her response to them all: "I pray to God I die and go to Heaven." 

When I was young, I found her refrain strange. I didn't understand what she meant. Now that I'm older I know exactly what she meant. My grandmother was saying now that the joy of having her husband is gone, her true joy will be in Heaven. She could not read nor write but she was the greatest theologian I ever knew. She lived what St. Paul wrote in Colossians 3:2, "Set your minds on things above, not on things of earth."

I am privileged to have prepared so many people to cross over to the next life. They told me what they learned about this life before leaving. I share with you this one lesson I heard the most. They wish they had been more loving to those who were important in their life.

One woman told me, "I regret not saying 'I love you' more often." 

As I finish writing this sermon, my cat Jayden put his front paws on my leg. He wants me to pick him up and show him some love. Maybe God is reminding me to do that more often with those who matter the most.