When any of his friends or relatives died he never tired of speaking well
of them nor of recommending their souls to the prayers of others. He used
to say: "We do not remember our dead, our dear ones who have left us,
nearly enough; and the proof that we do not remember them enough is that we
speak of them too seldom. We turn away conversation from that subject as
though it were a painful one; we let the dead bury their dead, their memory
die out in us with the sound of the funeral knell, seeming to forget that
a friendship which can end even with death can never have been a true one.
Holy Scripture itself tells us that true charity, that is, divine and
supernatural love, is stronger than death! It seems to me that as a burning
coal not only remains alive but burns more intensely when buried under
ashes, so sincere and pure love ought to be made stronger by death, and to
impel us to more fervent prayers for our deceased friends and relatives
than to supplications for those who are yet living.
"For thus we look upon the dead more absolutely as in God, since, having
died in Him, as we piously believe, they rest upon the bosom of His mercy.
Then, praise can no longer be suspected of flattery, and, as it is a kind
of impiety to tear to pieces the reputation of the dead, like wild beasts
digging up a corpse to devour it; so it is a mark of piety to rehearse and
extol the good qualities of the departed, since our doing so incites us to
imitate them: nothing affecting us so deeply and so strongly as the example
of those with whom we come in close and frequent contact."
In order to encourage people to pray for the dead he used to represent
to them that in this one single work of mercy all the other thirteen are
included, explaining his statement in the following manner. "Are we not,"
he would say, "in some sort visiting the sick when we obtain by our prayers
relief or refreshment for the poor Souls in purgatory?
"Are we not giving drink to the thirsty and feeding the hungry when we
bestow the cool, refreshing dew of our prayers upon those who, plunged in
the midst of its burning flames, are all athirst and hungering for the
vision of God? When we help on their deliverance by the means which Faith
suggests, are we not most truly ransoming prisoners? Are we not clothing
the naked when we procure for souls a garment of light, the light of glory?
"Is it not an act of the most princely hospitality to obtain for them an
entrance into the heavenly Jerusalem, and to make them fellow-citizens with
the saints and servants of God in the eternal Zion?
"Then, as regards the spiritual works of mercy. Is it not the most splendid
thing imaginable to counsel the doubtful, to convert the sinner, to
forgive injuries, to bear wrongs patiently? And yet, what is the greatest
consolation we can give to the afflicted in this life compared to the
solace our prayers bring to the poor souls who are in such grievous
suffering?"