We are gathered here today to perform the seventh corporal work of mercy, to
bury the dead. Ironically, the last work of mercy—to bury the dead— is the first
kindness shown to these little ones killed in the abortion mills.
Our Lord, hung on the cross, was held in scorn— reviled, hated, rejected by His
own people. These unborn babies have been taken up into his suffering and when
we took their bodies off of the loading dock, it was as if we had taken Christ
off the cross.
These are the very least of Christ’s brethren, the poorest of the poor. Why are
these aborted babies the very least? Because they’re small, helpless, utterly
and completely dependent? Yes. Because in terms of what the world values, they
didn’t contribute anything? Yes. But the real reason is because they received
the least charity. Indeed, while they lived, they received no charity at all.
This is the key to ending the holocaust: charity. We must show real love toward
those whom the world hates. We must become saints and be filled with the
compassion of saints. Why are four thousand preborn children slaughtered every
day? This slaughter is a harvest of hate and despair— hate for God and the
mystery and beauty of creation and despair over human existence itself.
A return to true Christian charity: this is what will end abortion. And it is
not a very easy route, but it’s the only one that will really work.
These are the bodies of God’s children crushed up in a scream of “no” to Him.
These are real people who really lived once, who were really killed, and so over
their bodies, that bear literally in their limbs the horror of their deaths, we
It is the faith of the Church that must sustain us, that enduring faith that
teaches against all despair that the dead shall rise. These babies, baptized in
their blood, shall rise. Seven hundred and twenty-one human beings shall rise
from this tomb. Justice will be done for them.
Jesus has promised it to us and to them. He shall wipe every tear from their
eyes, and there shall be no more death, mourning, crying out, or pain, for the
former world has passed away.