Thursday, May 22, 2014

The adventure continues

Here is the text of the homily I prepared for the celebration of the funeral we celebrated today: a moment to celebrate a life well lived, and a life just beginning.


Funeral homily for Michael McAnulty

Today, friends, family members and colleagues of Michael McAnulty are here in this church to reflect even for a brief moment on the adventure that has unfolded in his life.  Some if not many of you who are here could recount the many details and adventures that Mike lived, beginning with his childhood in Goward, how he met and fell in love with Robin, the day they joyfully welcomed the birth of their son Sean, and the joy that was his when he saw his family grow to include Cathryn and Liam.  I’m sure that if someone took the time to pen the entire story, there would be a number of volumes.  One would be dedicated to family and friends, another to a career that took Mike and his family to various locations in Ontario as he dedicated his talents and efforts to ensuring quality health care for so many others.  At least one volume would have to be dedicated to travel across this land, and of course there would have to be a volume dedicated to voyages on the sea.  Each of these volumes would include the many lives that intersected with his, the effects they had on him, and the ways in which he challenged them to always strive to be all that they could be.

Throughout his seventy plus years of life here on this earth, there was also a story of faith that unfolded in Mike’s life.  This story was begun on the day of his baptism.  Remembering that day, we sprinkled his mortal remains with holy water when he was brought into the church today.  Each of us can recognize moments in our lives when we paid particular attention to careers, or to family, or to faith, and each of us can also recognize moments when these aspects were overshadowed by other concerns.  The flame burns brightly atop the Easter candle on this day to remind us that we are all beloved children of God, and Saint Paul reminds us today that God is never far away from his beloved children: with God on our side, who can be against us?  When Michael first learned that cancer was ravaging his body, he must have felt that someone (perhaps God) was trying to reign in his adventures.  When we’re living life to the full, and he certainly was, we are always discovering new adventures – some that challenge us and others that reward us, but God has always been right by his side, sharing the adventure as it has unfolded.  In fact, God is so close to us that no created thing can ever come between us and the love of God.

So it was that just a few weeks ago, I met Mike.  Measured by the clock, the days we had to interact were few, but I hope that in some small way, our visits were opportunities for me to help him to set his soul at peace, to finish writing the part of his story that we had the privilege to share with him here on earth.  The gospel passage we read this morning reminds us that we are all called to heed the words that Jesus spoke to his disciples: Be like people waiting for your master to return … ready to open the door as soon as he comes and knocks.  Our lives here on earth are but a period of waiting for the Lord, and when he comes to take us home, the Master will put on an apron, sit the servants down at table and wait on us. Therefore our meeting with our God should never be something to be feared, but rather an appointment to be joyfully anticipated.  As we prepare for that day, we should constantly be on the lookout for opportunities to be of service to one another.  Even small acts of kindness done with great love can do wonders to heal wounded souls, to comfort aching hearts and to bring peace to those who are plagued with doubts.

Today, we pray in thanksgiving for Mike, for the life he lived among us, for the years we were privileged to share with him, for the lessons we learned from him, and most of all for the gift of love that we were privileged to share.  We commend his soul into the hands of God, where no torment can ever touch him, and we give thanks for all the blessings we have been privileged to share.  As for us, how are we to comprehend the truth that is unfolding before us?  Perhaps the description of a well-known American author may help:
I am standing upon the seashore.  A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.  She is an object of beauty and strength, and I stand and watch until at last she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other.  Then someone at my side says, ‘There.  She’s gone!’ Gone where? Gone from my sight, that is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and just as able to bear her load of living freight to the place of destination.  Her diminished size is in me, not in her.  And just at the moment when someone at my side says, ‘There she goes!’ there are eyes watching her coming and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, ‘Here she comes!’    (Henry Van Dyke)

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