It was my privilege to preach at Father Malchy McBride's funeral this morning at Queen of Peace Parish in Aurora, where I served for 14 years some time ago. Here's some of what I said. At least this is what I wrote ahead of time. A few other things came in as well.
One of the best decisions I ever made in my life was to go to St. Louis in 1995 to persuade a recently returned Capuchin missionary to accede to his provincial’s offer for him to work with me in serving the people of Queen of Peace Parish in Aurora. Little did I know during that trip that I had just met someone who would be one of my most treasured friends in life.
You know that he went to Papua New Guinea in 1963 to serve people whose meager clothing was made out of grass and who were only recently aware that there were people who had white skin, who wore clothing their whole bodies, who wore shoes, and who believed that God became a human being. He, and other Capuchins like him, would hike into “the bush” to find clusters of people, wherever he could find them, make friends with them, learn their language, love them, and teach them about Jesus.
Father Malachy McBride spent 30 years among the natives of PNG teaching about Christ, initiating people in the sacraments of the Church, building hospitals and churches and schools - for and with them. He became a ham radio operator so as to be able to connect with other mission compounds since travel between communities took days and days of hiking, before there were roads. He learned how to make electricity and set up mini power plants to flood the compounds with light and all that can happen thanks to electricity.
When he left the U.S. back in 1963 on his journey to PNG for the first time, he was scared to death. Would he be meeting cannibals? How primitive were these people he was being sent to? At one of the stops, perhaps in Guam, he celebrated Mass and was blown away by the Introit for that Mass: “If you love me, Simon Peter, feed my lambs.” When he read that Scripture, he knew it was a message meant for him, sent directly from the Lord to give him his purpose for living. All fear left him and never returned.
He embraced another Scripture that fleshed out for him his reason for fearless confidence. It was our 2nd reading that I built my life on, so much so, that I had a synopsis of these lines engraved on the bottom of my chalice when I was ordained: “Nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Malachy had many tastes of heaven not only in doing his ministry in PNG, but also here after he returned home from having been stoned almost to death by a gang of bandits who were out to violate the nuns and nurses living at his mission compound. Malachy saved the women, but lost his eye in the process.
His tastes of heaven were both mystical and relational. Who here has not been profoundly touched by Malachy, almost as if touched by the love and kindness of God Himself? How many people do you know who had as much joy in living as he did, and a joy in responding to people in need, whether for an anointing, or a confession, or a funeral, or a hand reaching out for assistance.
How fitting that he died on the true day of Ascension Thursday! The Ascension is all about heaven. Let me explain Malachy’s desire for heaven.
He often told me of his favorite poet, St. John of the Cross who described heaven in sublime poetry; and Malachy and would quote him often to me: “I die because I do not die!” In other words, he loved God so much that he yearned for the day he’d see the Lord face to face. How could a man who so thoroughly enjoyed life say, “I die because I do not die”? You see, Malachy was a mystic. His habit of getting up at 4 AM and communing with the Lord made his heart fixed on heaven, fixed on Christ, so much so, that this relationship with Christ transformed his interpretation of everything else. You see, if we keep our focus on heaven we begin to taste it here on earth. If our heart’s first desire is the Living God, then we begin to live in joy here in this life. In other words, the hope for heaven makes us come alive in this life in such a way that even death cannot stop that life we find in Christ. Did we not hear just Sunday, “Where Christ has gone, we hope to follow.”
I’d like to close by reciting part of that poem that was like Malachy’s life put into lyrical form. It’s a description of someone yearning, even suffering for want of seeing God face to face. It’s a poem about heaven, which is what the Ascension is all about.
1. I no longer live within myself
and I cannot live without God,
for having neither him nor myself
what will life be?
It will be a thousand deaths,
longing for my true life
and dying because I do not die.
2. This life that I live
is no life at all,
and so I die continually
until I live with you;
hear me, my God:
I do not desire this life,
I am dying because I do not die.
3. When I am away from you
what life can I have
except to endure
the bitterest death known?
I pity myself,
for I go on and on living,
dying because I do not die.
5. When I try to find relief
seeing you in the Sacrament,
I find this greater sorrow:
I cannot enjoy you wholly.
All things are affliction
since I do not see you as I desire,
and I die because I do not die.
May Malachy’s passion for life, and even greater passion for heaven stir into flame the love in our hearts for all the people God gives us, and stir into even greater flame our yearning for seeing God face to face.
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