Here is the text of the homily I prepared for the funeral we celebrated today, remembering and giving thanks for a beloved Son of God who has now reached his eternal Home.
Funeral homily for
Léon Levasseur
Friends and family members of our brother Léon have come
here this morning to give thanks to God for the many years that were afforded
to us as we have walked the road of life with him.
La vie térestre de notre frère bien-aimé s’étend sur plus
de neuf décennies. Pour nous, humains,
il a vécu une longe vie, mais aux yeux du Seigneur, cela n’a été qu’une courte
période – un clin d’oeuil. Nous sommes
rassemblés ici afin d’exprimer notre gratitude envers le Seigneur pour sa vie
et en même temps nous rappeler la sagesse que Léon a pu découvrir et partager
avec d’autres personnes pendant son séjour parmi nous.
Our beloved brother's earthly life has lasted more than nine decades. For us, humans, he has lived a long life, but in the eyes of God, this is only a very short period - the blink of an eye. We are here today to express our gratitude to God for Léon`s life, and at the same time, we recall the wisdom that he was able to discover and to share with others during the time he spent with us.
Leon’s story began in the Gaspésie, in the town of
Matane. Life’s changing circumstances took him from that place to the Canadian
prairies. There he continued to grow in
wisdom until he eventually found his way to the nation’s capital. Léon heard God’s call: his invitation to draw
close to his beloved people. Like King
David, Léon sought out all those who were in need and found ways to show them kindness (2 Sam 9:1). For at least sixteen years, he went in search
of the outcast, those who too often are forgotten on the margins of society and
invited them to sit with him at the table of our King (cf 2 Sam 9: 12) – at Jesus’
table, where he gathers all his beloved children, where he listens tenderly to every
one of our prayers, where he generously feeds us with his own body and blood.
Autour de la table du festin eucharistique, il y a de la
place pour tous. Toute personne peut
experimenter le grand amour que le Père nous
a donné (1 Jn 3:1), à nous qui sommes reconnus comme les enfants de
Dieu. Quelle grande joie! Mais cela n’est
qu’avant-goût de ce qui nous attend : car nous sommes vraiement enfants de Dieu
mais ce que nous seront n’a pas encore
été mainfesté (1 Jn 3:2). Léon a
passé beaucoup de temps à contempler ces paroles, ces images, à espérer ces possibilités;
finalement, est arrivé le moment où il découvre la vérité en plénitude.
Around the table of the Eucharistic banquet, there is a place for everyone. Every person can discover the great love that the Father has given us (1 Jn 3:1), we who are children of God. What great joy! But this is only a fore-taste of what awaits: for we are truly children of God but what we will be has not yet been revealed (1 Jn 3:2). Léon spent many hours contemplating these words of scripture, the images they conjure. He lived in hope of the possibilities they portray, and finally, he has discovered life in all its fullness.
The truth that Léon has now discovered is still hidden
from our eyes, yet we have the witness of Mary Magdelene and the apostles to
help us. She who once was an outcast,
dared to come close to Jesus. She dared
to hope that he would look upon her with love when everyone else looked upon
her with scorn, that he would find it in his heart to forgive her when no one
else would.
She who had seen the look in his eyes, the tender love
that could only be found in his gaze, had experienced the joy of knowing that
despite everything that others might have said, she was indeed a beloved
daughter of God. Even today, those of us
who have dared to look into his eyes, to listen for his voice that is spoken
tenderly to our hearts, know the joy of that encounter. It is a joy that wakes us even before the
dawn, and drives us out in search of him even in the very early hours of the day (Jn 20:1) … when all else around us might be darkened by doubt and fear.
It is a hope that compels us to draw near to the open
tomb and, even despite our tears, to peek into the darkness. Once our eyes
adjust, and we begin to see with the eyes of faith, we too will discover that
there are others who share our journey of faith with us, others who begin by
asking questions: Why are you weeping? This is a question that invites a dialogue, a
question that opens a door, a question that paves the way for healing. The human part of us chooses to believe that
hope can be stolen away from us, but for those of us who believe, even the most
unsuspecting of persons who finds him- or herself sharing our journey might
ask: Who are you looking for? Before we answer this question, we must
stop, we must look long and hard into the eyes of the one who asks, for there
we might very well discover the voice of the One who calls us, each of us by
name: Mary! Eileen! Treasa! Geoffrey! Kelly! Emma!
Once we’ve discovered the joy of knowing that physical death is but a gateway to eternal life, our hearts too will jump for joy, and we too will go in search of others, telling them that we have seen the Lord.
Once we’ve discovered the joy of knowing that physical death is but a gateway to eternal life, our hearts too will jump for joy, and we too will go in search of others, telling them that we have seen the Lord.
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