Words that run deep

Here is the homily I prepared for the funeral we celebrated today in memory of one of the parishioners who was quietly present and always at work.

Funeral homily for Tom O’Reilly

Every Sunday, when people gather here in this church to pray, the priest stands here and looks out upon a sea of faces.  Over time, we come to know at least some of the people to whom those faces belong, and if we’re truly lucky, we get to know a few of the stories that are unfolding behind the faces too.   Tom’s was one of the faces that looked back at me here in this church, but Tom’s was not one of the voices I heard very often.

Over the past few days, through the voices of others, I have learned a bit about the life this wonderful man lived:

• his extraordinary ability to look at almost any mechanical challenge and to find a solution for it – this is truly a dying art, one that endeared him to all those who had the privilege to know him and to work with him;
• his constant willingness to help in any way he possibly could – evidence of a willing heart that has been cultivated from a very young age to be on the lookout for the wellbeing of others;
• his boundless patience, especially with children and with curious minds – he never grew tired of spending time with them, for perhaps they always reminded him of his own curiosity;
• his undying love for his wife Maureen who he married here in this very church, for Jordan and for Amanda, and for all the other special people who were privileged to be part of his family.

 On the outside, Tom was always a very patient, soft-spoken individual, but on the inside, there was always something going on.  Most often his concern was not for himself but for others.  Having never been sick a day in his life, until very recently, I can imagine that he would not have been too concerned at the first signs of trouble, yet these past two weeks or so must have roused many questions in the minds of others.  Even now, we are still wondering what has happened.

It’s at times like these that we come to realize that we are not the ones who are ultimately in charge of our lives.  Even Jesus knew that he had had come from heaven, not to do his own will, but the will of the one who had sent him (cf  Jn 6:38), and the will of the Father who sent Jesus is that whoever sees the Son and believes in him shall have eternal life (Jn 6:40).

We are here in this Church today to witness something that is much bigger than any of us.  Tom’s earthly life is now ended, and all of us who have had the privilege to know him and to love him are bewildered, but when his earthly life ended, his heavenly life began.  We believe that Jesus died … that’s the truth that we remember especially during Holy Week … but we also believe that Jesus rose again, and that it will be the same for those of us who have died (cf 1 Thes 4:14).  Jesus has taken Tom by the hand and led him home to heaven where he will now live with the Lord forever (cf 1 Thes 4:17).

I can imagine that even from heaven, Tom is continuing to work quietly but with determination.  No challenge was ever too great for him here on earth.  Why should we believe that things should be any different in heaven?  We may not be able to hear him speak, but he is still at work, with different tools now, patiently teaching us, carving into the depths of our hearts the message he wants us all to hear: I know that my Redeemer lives (Job 19:25).