The other day I was called to lead prayers at the home of a man who had just died. After we had prayed I just stayed with the deceased for a while and said a rosary for him. Between two of the decades I opened my eyes and found myself looking at his shoes sitting beneath the bed.
And I thought about how every time I wake up I need to figure out where I left my shoes. But this man, having left this world, never has to do that again. His shoes just sit there under the bed, now as superfluous and unnecessary as could be.
Though the body is dead, the person lives on, but in a new way that reminds us who remain that all the little things we worry about each day will be left behind.
The Body of Christ is risen from the dead; this is the core of our faith. And if we are the body of Christ in our communion with him, death is only an ushering into a greater clarity of identity.