The Sound of Yearning

Recently I went to a funeral for the son

of a friend who died way too young

from the despicable disease called cancer.

Because he was a popular teacher and 

soccer coach at a Catholic high school, 

the church was packed.

I hadn’t been in a Catholic church 

since high school and only knew 

the structured liturgy and constant motion

of sitting, standing, kneeling and sitting again.

We had to park blocks away and were a bit late.

As we stood at the door, 

the hundreds of voices singing in unison 

drew us immediately in.

I had been so focused on the grief that

I wasn't prepared for the sense of holiness 

that would hit me upon entering that church.

Though it was a funeral service, 

though tears were streaming,

though high school soccer players

were leaning on one another for support,

there was a transcendent hope in that place.

I heard voices joined together declaring 

the resurrection power of God's love.

It wasn’t the sound of many voices; 

it was the sound of one voice.

The sanctuary was big and ceilings were high,

and candles were everywhere.

It spoke of strength and light—and holiness.

Maybe on a different occasion,

in a different setting, a different era--

shoes would have been off.

The Light of the World was there to invite us

to join in, to listen, to respond.

And I heard the sound of yearning.

This sound was the yearning

to be a part of something bigger,

to be part of a living symphony of faith.

The sound was the yearning to be one,

 yearning to love more deeply,

yearning to pierce the spirit of grief 

with the sound of hope,

yearning to live life full of faith

in the One who conquered death 

that we might truly live.

The sound was the yearning for holiness

to return to our familiar lives again.

I am haunted by that sound

and am praying the haunting 

stays until it changes me.

There is this yearning...