Last Monday was the funeral for a very popular Franciscan who died at age 87 after serving 59 years in Navajoland as a missionary priest. He had one of the longest running radio shows that our nation has ever known and it was bilingual, too (in English and Navajo). Apparently it was so widely listened to, he would often meet people on the Reservation who, after exchanging a few words, would recognize him by his voice.
Once a week, until about a year and a half ago, he would come every Friday to say
Mass in Navajo at the Missionaries of Charity's shelter for the homeless. The Sisters needed a driver to take them to the funeral so I had an excuse to attend. I wanted to at least be at the funeral ever since I came across
this ten-year-old article about his life and work from the L.A.Times.
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| Fr. Cormac Antram |
The funeral was in both Navajo and English and very well attended. We sang "Amazing Grace" in Navajo and one of the superiors of the Franciscan order traveled from Ohio to officiate (in the absence of our bishop who was on pilgrimage in Israel). It takes about twice as long to say things in Navajo and we listened to the homily first in English and then, for a
long time, it was read again in Navajo.
One of the highlights for me was a prayer that was first read in Navajo by the only Franciscan Brother in our area who is himself Navajo. It is a Christian form of a Navajo blessingway prayer and I wish I knew who authored it. The closest I have come so far to finding an original Blessingway (not Christian) is
this one, and the brief explanation of what beauty means to the Navajo corresponds to what I have learned so far, too.
Yesterday I came across the Blessingway as it was read at the funeral in Fr. Cormac's own book,
"Laborers in the Harvest," a published collection of some of the articles that appeared in his regular column for the Diocesan newspaper. I am copying it here so I can commit it to memory though I wish I could learn it in the original, it was so beautiful. There were many present who knew it and murmured along out loud as it was being read from the pulpit.
Jesus, God's Son, my older Brother, come to me!
From your home, from heaven, from there, come to me!
From heaven, from the sky hole, from there, come to me!
On earth where you were born, from there, come to me!
From the first view of my home, come and stand with me!
Along the trail leading to my home, come and stand with me!
By the fireplace of my home, come and stand with me!
My feet, you will watch over them for me, I said to him.
My body, you will watch over it for me, I said to him.
My heart, you will watch over it for me, I said to him.
My hands, you will watch over them for me, I said to him.
My lips, you will watch over them for me, I said to him.
My ears, you will watch over them for me, I said to him.
My eyes, you will watch over them for me, I said to him.
My mind, you will watch over it for me, I said to him.
May beauty be before me as I go through life.
May beauty be behind me as I go through life.
May beauty be beneath me as I go through life.
May beauty be above me as I go through life...
Jesus, my older brother, come to me!
Jesus, my older brother, come to me!
Jesus, my God, come to me!
Finally, the funeral concluded with the Franciscans present (there were many!) singing the "Ultima," which apparently is a Marian hymn traditionally sung at Franciscan events, whether joyful or sad. I cannot seem to find a sung version right now (I will keep looking!), but
here is the score, from the Benedictines who evidently also use it.
Eternal rest, grant unto him O Lord: and let perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace
