Scottish Catholic Observer

IT’S November, the month of Holy Souls when we remember all those who have gone on before us and for me, in a strange way, this month always reminds me why I am pro-life but perhaps not for the reasons you’d normally associated with being pro-life.

This is because at this time of year I always recall two friends from my primary and high school years who both tragically passed away through different illnesses. One, not long before we all left high school and the other in the years shortly afterwards.

These were two very promising lads who were both blessed with good natures and good humour. Even now, my old school friends and I still recall them both with great fondness.

One was defined by his gifts of kindness and gentleness, and when I think on him now I still recall having great fun with him.

I am reminded of the happiness of childhood and of an individual who was only ever warm and happy. The other was blessed with a carefree enthusiasm and a confidence which I did not possess as a young man.

Today, when I find myself in an anxious situation, I still think of my old mate and what he would do in my position. I know he’d just brass it out and laugh off any mistakes, and so when I too take on this positive approach to life in high pressure situations, I always know that I have been gifted his ‘gallusness.’

Even so, despite the time that has passed, the deep pain of loss never leaves their families; yet I believe that both individuals lived short but good lives full of meaning and worth.

I believe that they had lessons to teach us and that they both left their mark on those around them.

I’m also convinced that these formative experiences later helped shape my own, and others, views on issues such as abortion, euthanasia, severe disability and how we care for our sick and the very elderly.

This is mainly because, later in life, I realised that we must never under estimate the profound affect we all have on each other, no matter how short our lives may be, no matter how ill a person may be.

Neither should we ever forget the value of each and every human life, regardless of how modern society might value the so called ‘usefulness’ and ‘worth’ of a person.

This point seems especially relevant for us today as the culture of death continues to grow across vast swathes of the Western world, despite our collapsing birth rate, with the number of abortions carried out in the United States since Roe vs Wade now hitting well over the 54 million mark, according to some estimates.

Meanwhile in Belgium we’ve seen the implementation of legislation allowing voluntary euthanasia for children, and in the US we’ve seen the illegal and monstrous activities of Planned Parenthood’s selling of body parts.

Indeed, one might even start to wonder why we continue to choose to bring children into this uncertain and dangerous world.

But as Stanley Hauerwas writes: “We have children as a witness that the future is not left up to us and that life, even in a threatening world, is worth living—and not because children are the hope of the future but because God is the hope of the future.” Hauerwas goes on to say that ‘people of God do not let the world determine how they respond to tomorrow.’

Yet, there is always hope, and I have been fortunate enough to experience this hope for myself by recently spending some time at a L’Arche Community, where the value and dignity of human life and the importance of the communion of saints is central to the life of the community.

If you’ve never heard of L’Arche, they are communities founded by the philosopher Jean Vanier which celebrate people with learning disabilities and build circles of support around them.

At L’Arche they go beyond basic needs to attend to people’s emotional and spiritual lives. One of the ways in which they do this is by continuing to pray for those community members who have passed on and in doing so celebrate their lives and death.

As the one-time pastor and a spiritual adviser to L’Arche, Henri Nouwen writes: “We think about them every day, we have their pictures on the wall. They continue to send their spirit and their love to me. They continue to tell me what life is about.

“The more I hold on to their memories, the more active they are in my heart and my life, just as they needed me when they were with me. They continue to teach me something about who I am and where I am going, and to whom I belong.”

And so, during this month of Holy Souls, perhaps you might take a moment to sit in silence and remember those people outside your immediate circle of friends and family who are no longer with us.

And maybe even try to remember them, not with sadness, but with gladness and gratitude that they entered into your life and impacted on you in some small way.

Most importantly, let us always continue to pray for all those parents who have had to endure the loss of a child. For such families, time isn’t really a great healer, but perhaps your prayers and thoughts might be.

Finally, later this week I’ll go up to the old Greenock cemetery with my own two sons to the family plot where some of my own forefathers lie buried and we will pay our respects.

Carl Heinrch Ahlfeld is buried there—he died very young in 1898. Carl Heinrich is buried next to his father Berhardt Dietrich Ahlfeld who died a few years later.

Written on Carl Heinrich’s headstone are the words: “We will meet again on the resurrection morning, but for now, you are with Christ, which is far better.”

These words never fill me with sadness. Rather, they make me think of a love between father and son and they fill me with hope, hope in the cross and in the resurrection which has given us life and hope in our own resurrection too.