Sweet Jesus, grant them rest

Here here is a link to the inspiration for this post, which itself originates from a video here here of a beautiful rendition of "Pie Jesu," which is sung at funerals (the singing starts about a minute in). In his post, Father Allen mentions the translation of the Latin phrase "donna eis requiem" which is "grant them rest." The translation provided in our modern liturgy is "peace," which is technically incorrect since the Latin for "peace" is "pacem."  Now on to my thoughts:

I am struck by the words "rest" and "peace."  The Pie Jesu is a funeral song, an intrinsic part of a liturgy focused on death, judgement, and our hope for Heaven. In this context the Church asks that the deceased be granted eternal rest.

The full richness and depth of rest can only be known by those who have labored long, and hard. To the truly weary, the bone-tired, rest is more than just an end to work. It fills all the senses, like water soaking down into dry soil. It has flavor, fragrance, texture, color. It has silence that is more than the absence of noise, it has silence like music.*

Peace is also a desirable state, and has complexity similar to rest. But peace is a contrast ultimately to conflict, and thus its deeper qualities are most appreciated by those who have experienced violence: victims and warriors. In a sense peace is the correction of an erroneous reality. If the world were in its right order, we would all experience peace.

But even in the most peaceful world, work still needs to be done. "The good man and his good wife with their good beasts on their good farm," to quote C.S. Lewis, will still need to labor for their sustenance. When we have no enemies to overcome, we still have nature, and the work may be even more laborious. We all are called to work, in ways as different from and similar to each other as stars are from suns. Yet even in the midst of work we have moments in which we can put down our work for a time, we can rest.

Thus we can know the reward of rest, its sweetness and its fullness. It cannot be achieved when sought for, yet it is not a mere by-product of the cessation of labor. True rest, deep rest, is given as a grace to the laborer. In this life, we rest, and once rested we can begin again. At the end, we may rest eternally. What richness that will seem!

*borrowed from Mary Stewart in "Madame, Will You Talk?"