Vaticano: Cenizas de difuntos no deben esparcirse tras cremacion

VATICANO, 30 Mar. 2012 / (ACI/EWTN Noticias) - La Librería Editora Vaticana presentó recientemente la segunda edición del Rito de exequias, en la que se subraya que los católicos no deben esparcir las cenizas de un difunto luego de ser cremado, ya que esa práctica, muy de moda actualmente,es contraria a la fe cristiana. Las cenizas deben ser enterradas.

En este documento en italiano, que fue presentado en la sede de Radio Vaticana, se ha revisado todos los textos bíblicos y de oración, y se ha incluido un apéndice dedicado enteramente a las exequias en el caso de la cremación.

Mons. Angelo Lameri, de la Oficina Litúrgica Nacional de la Conferencia Episcopal Italiana (CEI), explicó que se ha colocado la cremación en un apéndice aparte para subrayar el hecho de que la Iglesia, "aunque no se opone a la cremación de los cuerpos cuando no se hace ‘in odium fidei’ (por odio a la fe), sigue considerando que la sepultura del cuerpo de los difuntos es la forma más adecuada para expresar la fe en la resurrección de la carne, así como para favorecer el recuerdo y la oración de sufragio por parte de familiares y amigos".

El texto también señala que excepcionalmente, los ritos previstos en la capilla del cementerio o ante la tumba se pueden celebrar en el lugar mismo de la cremación. Se recomienda además el acompañamiento del féretro a dicho lugar. De especial importancia es la afirmación de que "la cremación se considera concluida cuando se deposita la urna en el cementerio".

Todo esto porque aunque algunas legislaciones permiten esparcir las cenizas en la naturaleza o conservarlas en lugares diversos del cementerio, "estas prácticas producen no pocas perplejidades sobre su plena coherencia con la fe cristiana, sobre todo cuando remiten a concepciones panteístas o naturalistas".

Otra de las novedades del rito de las exequias se refiere al momento de la visita de la familia, que no se contemplaba en la edición anterior. Mons. Lameri afirma al respecto que "para un sacerdote, es un momento para compartir el dolor, escuchar a los familiares afectados por el luto, y conocer algunos aspectos de la vida de la persona difunta con el fin de ofrecer un recuerdo correcto y personalizado durante la celebración de las exequias".

Otra novedad es la secuencia ritual, revisada y enriquecida, en el momento de cerrar el ataúd. Se proponen textos adecuados a diversas situaciones: para una persona anciana, para una persona joven, para quien ha muerto inesperadamente. Una nueva adaptación permite ahora pronunciar palabras de cristiano recuerdo del difunto en el momento de la despedida. Asimismo, se ha añadido una amplia propuesta de formularios para la oración de los fieles.

El nuevo Rito de las exequias quiere ser también un instrumento para profundizar en la búsqueda del sentido de la muerte.

El Obispo Alceste Catella, Presidente de la Comisión Episcopal para la liturgia de la CEI, señaló para concluir que "este libro atestigua la fe de los creyentes y el valor del respeto y de la 'pietas' hacia los difuntos, el respeto por el cuerpo humano incluso cuando ya no tiene vida". "Testimonia la fuerte exigencia de cultivar la memoria, de tener un lugar cierto en el que deponer el cadáver o las cenizas, en la certeza profunda de que Esto es auténtica fe y humanismo auténtico", concluyó. (Aciprensa)

Cora Coralina - To Live Well

A reporter asked the brazilian poet Cora Coralina what is to live well. She replied:

I'm not afraid of the years and I don't think about aging. And I'll tell you, don't think about it. You should never say you're aging, you're getting old. I don't say it. I don't say that I'm old, and I don't say that I'm listening poorly. Of course that when I need help, I ask for it.

I always try to read and keep updated with the facts and this helps me to overcome the difficulties of life. The best script is to read and practice what you're reading. The best thing is to always be productive and never sleep during the day. Also not saying to yourself that you're becoming forgotten, because that way you become even more. I never say that I'm ill, I always say: I'm fine. I never say that I'm tired.

Don't use negative words. The more you say you're getting tired and forgotten, the more forgotten you become. You start to convince yourself and the others. So be quiet! I know that I still have many years. I know that I'm from the last century, and that I bring with me all ages, but I don't know if I'm old. Do you think I am?

I can say that I'm the land and don't wanna be anything else. Daughter of this blessed land of Goiás. I call upon the old aged as myself, or older than me, to exercise their rights. I know that someone will have to bury me, but I won't bury myself.

I'm conscient of my authenticity and I search to overcome my personality every single day, setting apart inside of me everything that is old and dead, because struggle is the vibrating word that raises the weak ones and determines the ones who are strong.

The important thing is to spread, make millions of smiles of solidarity and friendship. I search to spread optimism and grow seeds of peace and justice. Saying what's in my mind, with hope.

I think about what I do, with faith. I do what I should, with love. I struggle to be each day better than the day before, because kindness can also be learned.


Even when everything seems to fall apart, it's up to me to decide between laughing or crying, going or staying, giving up or struggling; because I've discovered, in the uncertain path of life, that the most important thing it's deciding. (Cora Coralina - translated from portuguese by Alice. To read in portuguese, click here)

Wise Quotation - Charles Dickens

W. C. Fields as Mr. Micawber 

"Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure nineteen nineteen six, result happiness. Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure twenty pounds ought and six, result misery." (Mr. Micawber, in David Copperfield, by Charles Dickens)

Wilkins Micawber is a fictional character from Charles Dickens's 1850 novel, David Copperfield. He was modelled on Dickens's father, John Dickens, who like Micawber was incarcerated in debtors' prison (the King's Bench Prison) after failing to meet his creditors' demands. (Wikipedia)

Budrus

Iltezam, Ayed Morrar's daughter

The people of Budrus are trying to live a normal existence in an occupied region of Palestine, near the Israeli border.  Many of the families have lived there for generations and believe they have the right to continue to do so in peace and with freedom.

It is a village of farmers, whose livelihood depends on olive trees; trees that are being “confiscated”, uprooted, and destroyed by the Israeli government, who are building a separation barrier to keep Palestinians out of Israel. The men and women of Budrus have cared for these trees for generations and would rather die than see them destroyed. The scene is set for a tense conflict, as Israelis and Palestinians clash to protect their way of life.

Budrus is a documentary that follows the story of Ayed Morrar, the unlikely founder of a resistance movement attempting to halt the construction of the Israeli wall on Palestinian farmland. It is a charming portrayal of family life, community spirit, and justice in the face of segregation and violence. It is a document to the power of civil disobedience and an essay on the practical application of the “Gandhi Method” of passive resistance. (The Film Pilgrim) 

The documentary is directed and edited by brazilian Julia Bacha. It tells an important true story about humanity.

A Visit from St. Nicholas

by Clement Clarke Moore

St Nicholas by Thomas Nast

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro' the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar plums danc'd in their heads,


And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap —
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below;
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny rein-deer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and call'd them by name:
"Now! Dasher, now! Dancer, now! Prancer and Vixen,
"On! Comet, on! Cupid, on! Donder and Blitzen;
"To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
"Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"


As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys — and St. Nicholas too:
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound:
He was dress'd all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnish'd with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys was flung on his back,
And he look'd like a peddler just opening his pack:
His eyes — how they twinkled! His dimples: how merry,
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.


He had a broad face, and a little round belly
That shook when he laugh'd, like a bowl full of jelly:
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laugh'd when I saw him in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And fill'd all the stockings; then turn'd with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprung to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew, like the down of a thistle:
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight —
Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.