A Fountain to Purify Us

Homily for the Funeral of Sr. Margaret Anne Floto, O.S.F.

When it was suggested that I preach for Sr. Margaret Anne’s funeral, I asked if she had designated any of the Scripture readings for the funeral Mass. The form that she filled out simply states that we should choose anything that is appropriate. This statement caused Sr. Mary Mark to ask (as only she would) whether Sister thought we would choose something inappropriate. So, I want to begin my homily by saying that I chose the readings, and I hope that we can agree that we have followed her wishes.

It stands to reason that Sister had a great devotion to the most Sacred Heart of Jesus as I am sure that most of you do. However, her devotion was firstborn of her love of Jesus, a love that was expressed in her life of prayer and sacrifice. Consequently, I first went to the passages that are suggested for the liturgy of the Sacred Heart. The passage which I just proclaimed from St. John’s Gospel is one of the choices that is cited. The first thing that struck me about it is that St. John is the only evangelist that records this incident. That immediately tells me that there has to be a reason for which he recorded it. As so often is the case in St. John’s Gospel, there is a strain of intense irony here. In the eyes of the soldier, Jesus is now simply an irrelevance, a problem done away with, a dead object to be disposed of. In truth, Jesus is the word through whom all things were made. He is the Only Begotten Son, whom God sent because God loved the world so much. In the eyes of the Jews, the dead body of Jesus is an obstacle to their perfect celebration of the Sabbath and Passover. The law demands that the body of Jesus be taken down from the cross before sundown. However, if only the soldier and the chief priests new, Jesus has here brought to completion all the work of creation; the Son of God has here fulfilled all Old Testament law and prophecy, and now he was resting in the sleep of death.

St. John sites for us to Old Testament text which support his understanding of what he saw. First, from exit us, Moses instructs the Israelites not to break any bone of the Paschal Lamb. The blood of this land was the sign for the destroying angel pass over the chosen people – their passport, therefore, to life, and to freedom from slavery, and to a new covenant with God. There is also an allusion here to Psalm 33 where the just one, God’s servant, is said to be rescued from all his trials – the Lord takes care of him amid all his afflictions so that not a bone of his will be broken. Then from the prophet Zechariah, we hear that they will look on the one whom they have pierced. The context of this verse is important, for Zechariah is speaking, albeit quite obscurely, about how on the Day of the Lord, God will come to save the people. On that day, according to the prophet, a fountain will open up to purify them from sin, and then God will pour out upon them a spirit of mercy and of supplication.

Just as the blood of the Paschal Lamb was a passport to freedom for the Israelites and the source of a new covenant with God, we are the beneficiaries of that new covenant. The new covenant was prophesied by Ezekiel: “I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.” It sounds very much like the covenant that Moses struck with God with one important difference. Moses had framed the words as a conditional statement – if you will be my people, then I will be your God. Ezekiel and his fellow profits realized after years of people forsaking the covenant, God never did. Ezekiel proclaimed therefore: “you will be my people, and I will be your God”; unconditional love.

When the soldier opens the side of Jesus, the fountain of which Zechariah spoke, a fountain that would purify us of our sins, a fountain of blood and water flowed out. Blood and water are present at every human birth, and this blood and water gave birth to the Church. What John saw and what he reports to us was a stream of blood and water pouring out from the heart of the dead Jesus. But he understood was that the death of Jesus is for us the source of life. The water and blood flowing from Jesus’ side are not merely a sign; they are full of divine power – power to wash away our sins, to redeem, to cleanse, to forgive, to bring about a new birth, to heal, to make us children of God, to sanctify, to divinize. In this blood and water, we are also certainly meant to see the sacraments of Baptism and of the Holy Eucharist, whose ever fertile source is Christ’s death. In baptism we bathed in the saving stream. In the holy Eucharist, and holy Communion, we approach so closely as to drink directly from the wound in the side of Jesus.

Just as the blood and water flowed out of the side of Jesus, St. Paul reminds us in his Letter to the Romans that the love of God has flowed out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit. Jesus died for us because we were hopelessly lost because of our sins. However, Jesus has taken the guilt of our sins on himself and freed us from death; we are justified by his blood though undeserving of his sacrifice for our sake.

Yesterday, we gathered to share memories of Sr. Margaret Anne. We remembered her indomitable spirit, her love of community, the service to others as a nurse, and her desire to strip yourself of everything that was unnecessary. I will always remember her as someone who was greatly devoted to the Sacred Heart, to her Franciscan vocation, and as someone who enjoyed some of the same things that I enjoy. We spent many a day in the dining room trading our interests and sharing our often-divergent viewpoints. However, as was mentioned yesterday, Sr. Margaret Anne always listened attentively even when we disagreed. Her devotion to the Sacred Heart and to the Franciscan way of life were two things that we shared together.

We have gathered around us altar to remember the sacrifice of Calvary, to invoke God’s mercy upon us all, and to praise and thank God for the life of our beloved sister. She is, I am sure, resting in peace.