Rejoicing in the Lord Even Now, Third Sunday of Advent (C), Memorial Mass for Heidi Seubert, December 11, 2021

Fr. Roger J. Landry
Our Lady of Bethesda Retreat Center, Bethesda, MD
Third Sunday of Advent, Year C
Memorial Mass for Heidi Seubert
December 11, 2021
Zeph 3:14-18, Is 12:2-6, Phil 4:4-7, Lk 3:10-18

To listen to an audio recording of today’s homily, please click below: 

The following text guided the homily: 

• “Rejoice in the Lord always. I shall say it again: rejoice!” Those words are particularly challenging as we come together tonight still in shock at the sudden death of our beloved sister Heidi. It’s easy to rejoice on the day babies are born and baptized, children receive Jesus in Holy Communion for the first time, days of consecrations, professions, ordinations, marriages and similar occasions. But St. Paul and the Church emphasize that inconvenient adverb “always.”
• The Word of God we have just pondered gives us several grounds for joy, even now:
  • The first reason we’re able to do so is because God is with us. “The Lord is near” and never leaves. The Lord’s presence, his accompaniment, is the first reason for joy.
  • The second reason we rejoice always is because of the meaning and consequences of our baptism. In today’s Gospel, St. John the Baptist foretells how different the baptism Jesus would inaugurate would be from what John himself was doing. “I am baptizing you with water, but one mightier than I is coming. … He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire.” Christ’s baptism would accomplish what John’s watery rite only symbolized, the forgiveness of sins, spiritual adoption in Christ Jesus when God the Father pronounces us his beloved son or daughter in whom he is well-pleased, in which the Holy Spirit comes down upon us to make us a temple of God’s presence and member of Christ’s body the Church, who, from Mary on down to the most recently baptized, prays for us always and at the hour of death. It was on the day of Heidi’s baptism, soon after her birth on All Saints Day, that Heidi entered into Christ’s death and resurrection, was dressed in a white garment for the eternal wedding banquet and had the baptismal flame of faith lit by the Paschal Candle, as she took that flame and sought to keep it burning brightly, even in the midst of darkness, for Christ the Bridegroom’s return.
  • The third motive is because God hears our prayers. St. Paul tells us, “Have no anxiety at all, but in everything, by prayer and petition, make your requests known to God.” Tonight we have come to pray with loving fervor and confidence for Heidi. And St. Paul tells us that this capacity and awesome privilege allows us to be filled “with the peace of God that surpasses all understanding,” a peace that preserves our “hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.”
  • The fourth reason for joy is because God loves us with an unbreakably faithful spousal love. Zephaniah tells us, “He will renew you in his love,” and sings joyfully for us like a new bridegroom over his bride. Isaiah would tell us that even if a loving mom could somehow forget her child, God could never forget us (Is 49.15). St. Paul would later say that nothing in all of creation, including death, can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (Rom 8:38-39). The fact that we are loved, with an everlasting love, a love that is willing to carry a cross to Calvary and die to forgive us of everything, is the indestructible rock of Christian joy.
  • The fifth reason for joy given by tonight’s readings is because the God who is with us, the God whose life is given us in baptism, the God to whom we turn in prayer, the God who is committed to us with an everlasting nuptial love, is a saving God. Zephaniah tells us in the first reading, “The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty savior,” and we respond with the words of Isaiah in place of the Psalm, “God indeed is my savior; I am confident and unafraid.” This Savior told us in the Gospel, two days after Heidi’s death, “It is not the will of your heavenly father that one of these little ones be lost” (Mt 18:14), something Jesus underlined in his Bread of Life discourse, “This is the will of the one who sent me, that I should not lose anything of what he gave me, but that I should raise it [on] the last day” (Jn 6:39). That faithful commitment of the Lord to everyone given to him, in baptism, and in particular, in the more intimate form of consecration of those in societies of apostolic life, buoys us. And so we come tonight at God’s summons through the Prophet Isaiah, “with joy … [to] draw water at the fountain of salvation,” a sacred font at which Heidi so passionately thirsted and so often drank.
• Tonight, for all of these reasons and a litany of others, we rejoice in the Lord, to whom it is always and everywhere right and just, our duty and indeed salvation, to give thanks and praise. We thank him for the blessings he gave Heidi over the course of her life: being born in a Catholic family of faith; being endowed a huge heart and desire to love and serve others and share with them the gift of God; her receiving a vocation to consecrate herself to helping Christ’s kingdom come; her being blessed with so many talents by which she was able to bring beauty into the world, like her capacity for poetry or for renovating some rather inhospitable places to make them homes; a long list of friends who really loved her; and even the many different types of difficult sufferings she had to endure, which were a crucible that allowed her faith and character to mature.
• I first got to know Heidi when she sent me an email on February 19, 2012, at 5:19 pm, introducing herself, saying that she was experiencing some profound struggles and, conscious that I had begun giving spiritual direction to some other consecrated women, asking whether I would be able to see her as well. The following day was the President’s Day holiday and was mostly free and so I invited her to come with another consecrated woman who was planning to make the trip from Rhode Island to New Bedford, Massachusetts.
• For the last ten years, I’ve had the chance to accompany her through what the Second Vatican Council called the “joys and hopes, griefs and anxieties” of the people of the age and of all Christ’s followers (GS 1). During those years I was able to witness, at a depth only a spiritual director and priest might, her profound faith, ardent charity, zest for life and joy, energy, hospitality, love for travel, zeal for young people, overflowing generosity, resourcefulness, and practical know-how. I also was able to experience on a few harrowing occasions how terrible a driver she was and how absolutely clueless she was about what a maniac she was with the wheel in her hands. Because of her maternal nature that led her to plant deep roots and transform houses, rectories, convents and even retreat center hallways into homes, the transitions necessary in a missionary society were often arduous — and she had many of them! — but faithfully she packed up, moved and eventually bloomed. I saw up close her sincerity and diligence as she worked through some difficult experiences and memories, needed grace, asked for it, received it and perseveringly, sometimes heroically, cooperated with it. I also accompanied her, to the extent that she let me and the few others who knew, through two dark nights of excruciating depression, before the prayers and medications finally helped her to emerge.
• Over the last few days, I’ve been going through a decade of the letters, emails, texts, WhatsApp messages, poems, drawings and photos she’s sent me. I thought it would take me a good five hours. It took me much longer. Looking at everything together gave me a perspective on some things I hadn’t noticed along the way. The first thing I noticed was that she never missed my birthday, Holy Thursday, my ordination anniversary, and Christmas. Every year, on each of those four occasions, she sent me a card with a long, handwritten note, and, with the exception of expressing thanks, never said the same thing twice. Sometimes she would apologize for sending me, a guy, a card full of flowers, but somehow would excuse herself, claiming it was a masculine card because the flowers were black and white…. Last year when I turned 50, she decided to give me a spiritual bouquet of 50 things for which she was thanking God for gifts she said she had received from him through me. The letter was 26 pages, complete with illustrations of each of the 50 points. I was blown away by the time that took, the care, and the contemplative heart that treasured and wove together everything. Whereas I hadn’t looked forward to that milestone, after her letter, I was grateful that at least I wasn’t 60!
• The second thing I noticed was what an extraordinary capacity for caring for friends she had. She would regularly reach out to so many with her pen and phone. On her apostolic travels, retreats, and other mission-related trips, she would always make time to visit those she knew. Over the course of years, I had introduced her to some other directees of mine, whether cloistered nuns, medical doctors, apostolic religious and others. Back in 2015, she and Lauren were also able to come on a pilgrimage I led to Rome, where she met my parents, many of my parishioners in Fall River and other pilgrims. From that point forward, every time she came to see me in person in New York, I would begin to find out that she had visited basically all of these people, crisscrossing New England, New York and New Jersey, and inevitably bringing them all little handmade gifts and lots of joy. Each summer she would somehow end up in Lowell, Massachusetts, to spend a day with my parents visiting some island or other exotic location. Most years I would find out about it only after when she would send me a photo or my mom would call me to describe the wonderful day they’d had. She would similarly make scores of friends through things like FaceBook, going well past the superficial notion of friendship that is basic to the platform to something far more human and apostolic. She was not only capable of friendship but of sacrificing for friends who a short time before were complete strangers.
• The third pattern you see in these letters was the depth of her prayer life. Even during the times she thought she was struggling, she would share some very beautiful meditations that the Lord had given her in prayer, on Mary of Bethany, the Woman at the Well, the Woman in Simon the Pharisee’s House, on the Wedding Feast of Cana, of Jesus asleep in the boat during the storm, the raising of Lazarus and Jesus’ conversations with Martha and Mary, on Calvary, on Jesus’ risen appearance to Mary Magdalene and more. When she began last year the 19^thAnnotation of the spiritual exercises of Saint Ignatius in daily life, her meditations grew in breadth and depth. As did her sincerity and humility in response to what the Lord was revealing. Wherever she was, in whatever state she was, she would almost always rise early to pray, to awake the dawn with the Lord, and the Lord blessed her efforts. And on the occasions when she would be dry in prayer, she would go to her favorite vocal prayers, the Anima Christi to Christ, and the Memorare to our Lady.
• One thing she had to pray about a lot was suffering and how to embrace it when God gives it. She wrote me, “I saw that in Jesus there is a certain courage and willingness to suffer. I saw Him showing me that he was asking me to embrace the pain all this was causing me personally. I also sensed, more than once, that he was saying to me, ‘I ask this of you because I know you will be willing to bear it. I could not ask this of everyone, but I know who will bear suffering for me and I know you will.’  I don’t say that in a proud way at all, even if it might sound proud. My love is weak for Jesus and I really feel I am hardly capable of it at all. But nevertheless he asks.” In her suffering, she sensed the Lord saying to her, “‘Heidi, can you still love?’  I thought, ‘Yes, yes, … of course…I can!’ And he simply said, ‘That’s all I want from you. Just keep loving.” That put, she said, all her inner turmoil in its proper place, seeking to love the Lord in it and through it.
• But in order to love that way, she knew she needed God’s help — and asked for it regularly, even desperately. She once transcribed the fruits of her contemplative prayer, telling me she said to God, “Lord, help me where I am weak, wounded and blinded, to know you, to know your love. I want to see you, to see your face and receive your gaze of love, not only in my joys, but also in my sorrows. Help me, when something feels rocky, to reach for you, to grasp for your hand, your Heart, and hold on to you, to let you be my Rock and not pull away. Let me be still in your embrace, in the shadow of your wings. I desire your love first, and before, and with, any other love. Thank you for the Love you have so extravagantly given me. Help me, as small and insignificant as I am, to love you in turn. I love you Jesus.” We pray that her desire to be still in Jesus’ embrace has come to fulfillment.
• I finish with a story. When Heidi was a senior in high school, she was in a car accident after cheerleading at a local basketball game. Another car failed to stop at a yield sign and Heidi had to slam on her brakes to avoid being hit straight on. She lost control of her car and it began to roll. She was not wearing a seatbelt. She prayed as she slid, “God help me.” He did. After the car stopped flipping over, she crawled out of the back seat of the overturned car … without a bruise. She was about a half-mile from home and the driver of the other car gave her a lift. She walked in while her family was praying the Rosary, as it did every night, all kneeling. She prayed with them, told them what had happened, filled out the police report, and then went upstairs to her room. Her family went to the site of the accident and returned. From her room, Heidi heard her mother tell a relative on the phone, “If you saw the car, you would think she should be dead.” Heidi turned to her sister Lucia who was sitting beside her and told her, with teenage metaphysical certitude: “I couldn’t have died, Lucia, because I haven’t fulfilled the mission God has for me.”
• None of us knows what happened last Sunday when Heidi crossed the finish line of earthly life and met Jesus face-to-face. But we pray that she was enveloped by his extravagant, merciful love for her to the end in a way that far exceeded even what he had inspired her previously in prayer to ask. We pray that the petitions she humbly made to the loving Mother to whom Jesus on Calvary entrusted her to pray for her at the hour of her death were fully efficacious. We implore that what she regularly asked Jesus in the Anima Christi, “At the hour of my death, call me and bid me come to you that with your saints I may praise you for ever and ever” has been heard. And we pray that rather than being dead, she will be in Jesus very much alive and will continue from his right side the mission God has for her, the mission to which she dedicated her life here on the earth, joyfully proclaiming the kingdom and the eternal merciful love of Christ the King.
• “Rejoice always! Again I say rejoice!” Even now. Especially now. The Lord is near. Come, Lord Jesus!

The readings for today’s Mass were: 

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