DYING WITH HOPE 

DYING WITH HOPE 

 

 

       At a meeting of catechesis a young man intensely expressed concern and worry about the resurrection of the dead. He did not know for sure if the dead could live again when the cemetery was only silence and bones, and how resurrecting the dead.
    All suddenly they fell silent because that question worried even more than his companion and eyes were fixed on the catechist.
   The catechist, somewhat nervous, was glad to get out this important to the Christian faith and to man it. He read slowly Chapter 15 of the First Letter of St. Paul to the Corinthians, and said to the boys: “Man has always resisted to admit that death is the ultimate experience of life and death, injustice, pain and suffering due in the course of history. it has always longed for the triumph of God over these realities and that success would come from the same God. the resurrection is the other love of God the Father to all the work and person of Jesus Christ, unjustly treated and crucified on the cross.
What comparison do to understand the resurrection of the dead? The San Pablo using! “What you sow does not come to life unless it dies And what you sow is not the body that will sprout, but a bare kernel, perhaps of wheat or some other word God gives it a body at will..; each seed a peculiar body “(1 Co 15.37 to 38).
    Martín Descalzo said: “Dying is just dying. Just die. Dying is a runaway fire. It is through a door drift and find what much-sought “. We do not know how the dead raised but it is certain that your personal identity will be preserved and that God will come looking for your humanity, purified and redeemed. “

 

  Serve this poem as a tribute to all those who die with comfort believer of the Resurrection.
I’ll get on that place of no return
those who huddle in the heart
from caves to skyscrapers.
Ah, yes, I’ll get on that eternal embrace
that crosses the threshold of the immediate,
what we play nothing but look
but immediately it becomes grotesque!
I’ll heat up the divine burning
but leaves the internal frost absorbed,
one that hardens in the crevices
from head to passion.
Ah, yes, I’ll get on that place low
but that does not break the stillness of the living,
only that which we travel from dawn to dream!