One of our sisters has been taken suddenly from our midst. This morning, we gave thanks for the gift of her faith, and prayed for the grace to allow our faith to help us to overcome our sorrow.
Funeral homily for
Rita Vaillancourt
Peu après mon arrivée comme curé de cette paroisse, j’ai rencontré notre chère Rita. Elle s’était présentée dès ces premiers temps et, pour raviver ma mémoire, elle m’avait expliqué qu’elle avait une soeur qui est Religieuse et qui avait travaillé avec moi à la Nonciature à Ottawa pendant que je faisais partie du personnel de cette Représentation pontificale.
Shortly after my arrival as pastor of this community of faith, I met our dear sister Rita. She introduced herself during my first days here, and in order to twig my memory, she explained that she had a sister who was a nun, and her sister had worked with me at the Nunciature in Ottawa while I was part of the staff at that Pontifical representation.
De semaine en semaine, losque nous nous rencontrions à l’entrée de l’église, Rita me parlait toujours de sa soeur. Rolande était le point de départ de presque tous nos échanges.
From week to week, whenever we met at the doors of the church, Rita talked about her sister. Sister Rolande was the starting point for almost all our conversations.
These brief encounters allowed us to share a moment, to connect. I’m sure that all of you who have come here this morning have had similar encounters with people. These passing exchanges create a kind of bond, even though there is always much more to the person we meet than the words we hear, or the greetings we offer. If we were to take the time to allow each person here to share even the briefest of memories that we cherish about our relationship with Rita, we would be here for much more time than we might imagine.
Someone would remind us that she was part of a French Canadian family, large by today’s standards but quite the norm for its day. Someone else might tell us that she was always the one to take care of others, or that she was such a wonderful cook. Someone else would tell us about the adventures they had shared when she almost forced her children to go berry hunting, and surely, someone would recall her talents with a needle and thread.
Femme d’affaires, elle accueillait chaque personne qui se présentait à sa porte; elle voyait l'aspect humain avant le profit. Pour elle, il y avait toujours assez de temps pour toute chose sous les cieux (cf Ecc 3:1). Pour nous aussi, il est fondamental que nous prenions le temps qu’il faut pour rendre grâce au Seigneur pour le don de chaque personne que nous croisons sur nos chemins, que nous nous réjouissions au moment de la naissance d’un enfant, et que nous accordions le temps requis pour le deuil lorsqu'un être cher nous quitte (cf Ecc 3:2).
A very good business woman, she welcomed every person who appeared at her door; she always saw the human side and never concentrated on the way she could profit from the person who stood in front of her. For her, there was always enough time for every matter under heaven (cf Ecc 3:1). For us too, it is imperative that we take the time that is necessary to give thanks to God for the gift of each person we encounter along the paths of our lives, that we rejoice at the birth of a child, and that we take the time we need to mourn when someone who we love has died (cf Ecc 3:2).
We never know how long we have to live on this earth, or how many opportunities we will have to do good for others. Rita was always meticulous: everything had a place and everything belonged in its place. If something needed to be done, it had to be done right away. Even just the other day as she was tending to some necessary details, she knew that she needed help, and she did not hesitate to flag someone down. Things have progressed rather quickly since that time, and now we find ourselves gathered here, saying goodbye but at the same time praying her home. The events of these past days seem to have unfolded in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye (1 Cor 15:52), but this is the moment for which Rita has waited throughout her earthly life.
Our gathering here this morning is a testimony to our belief that though our earthly bodies are perishable, Jesus Christ has risen from the dead, and because of that, death has been swallowed up in victory (1 Cor 15:54). Jesus conquered death through his own death on a cross. From that cross, at the moment of his death, he cried out to his Father and asked for help: Father, into your hands I commend my spirit (Lk 23:46). It is an act of faith that we are accomplishing today: commending the soul of our sister Rita into the hands of the Father.
Quant à nous, cette même foi nous a été confiée par Rita et par tous ceux et celles qui nous l’ont transmise. L’amour qui coule du coeur ouvert de notre Seigneur nous pousse à agir par amour pour les autres. Motivé par l’amour qu’il avait découvert, Joseph d’Arimathée demanda le corps de Jésus (Lc 23:52). Comme Rita elle-même aurait fait, il dispensait tous les soins nécessaires afin que le corps de Jésus soit déposé dans un sépulcre avant que le soleil se couche.
As for us, this same faith has been entrusted to us by Rita and by all those who have passed it on to us. The love that flows from the open heart of the Lord entices us to act out of love for others. Motivated by the love that he had discovered, Joseph of Arimathea asked for the body of Jesus (Lk 23:52). Like Rita herself would have done, he did everything he had to in order to ensure that the body of Jesus would be buried in a tomb before the sun set that night.
We too must now strive to live our lives in this same way: attentive to the needs of others, for there are many among us who are vulnerable, like Mary, the mother of Jesus who was a widow and who would never have had the means to bury her son. Our acts of faith are possible because we live each day in the light of that new Easter morning when the women … came to the tomb (Lk 24:1) and found it empty.
Like those women, we too might be afraid of the future that lies ahead, the life that now must be lived without having Rita by our side, but the words spoken to the women are also addressed to us: Take courage, he is not here, he is Risen! (Lk 24:6)
Shortly after my arrival as pastor of this community of faith, I met our dear sister Rita. She introduced herself during my first days here, and in order to twig my memory, she explained that she had a sister who was a nun, and her sister had worked with me at the Nunciature in Ottawa while I was part of the staff at that Pontifical representation.
De semaine en semaine, losque nous nous rencontrions à l’entrée de l’église, Rita me parlait toujours de sa soeur. Rolande était le point de départ de presque tous nos échanges.
From week to week, whenever we met at the doors of the church, Rita talked about her sister. Sister Rolande was the starting point for almost all our conversations.
These brief encounters allowed us to share a moment, to connect. I’m sure that all of you who have come here this morning have had similar encounters with people. These passing exchanges create a kind of bond, even though there is always much more to the person we meet than the words we hear, or the greetings we offer. If we were to take the time to allow each person here to share even the briefest of memories that we cherish about our relationship with Rita, we would be here for much more time than we might imagine.
Someone would remind us that she was part of a French Canadian family, large by today’s standards but quite the norm for its day. Someone else might tell us that she was always the one to take care of others, or that she was such a wonderful cook. Someone else would tell us about the adventures they had shared when she almost forced her children to go berry hunting, and surely, someone would recall her talents with a needle and thread.
Femme d’affaires, elle accueillait chaque personne qui se présentait à sa porte; elle voyait l'aspect humain avant le profit. Pour elle, il y avait toujours assez de temps pour toute chose sous les cieux (cf Ecc 3:1). Pour nous aussi, il est fondamental que nous prenions le temps qu’il faut pour rendre grâce au Seigneur pour le don de chaque personne que nous croisons sur nos chemins, que nous nous réjouissions au moment de la naissance d’un enfant, et que nous accordions le temps requis pour le deuil lorsqu'un être cher nous quitte (cf Ecc 3:2).
A very good business woman, she welcomed every person who appeared at her door; she always saw the human side and never concentrated on the way she could profit from the person who stood in front of her. For her, there was always enough time for every matter under heaven (cf Ecc 3:1). For us too, it is imperative that we take the time that is necessary to give thanks to God for the gift of each person we encounter along the paths of our lives, that we rejoice at the birth of a child, and that we take the time we need to mourn when someone who we love has died (cf Ecc 3:2).
We never know how long we have to live on this earth, or how many opportunities we will have to do good for others. Rita was always meticulous: everything had a place and everything belonged in its place. If something needed to be done, it had to be done right away. Even just the other day as she was tending to some necessary details, she knew that she needed help, and she did not hesitate to flag someone down. Things have progressed rather quickly since that time, and now we find ourselves gathered here, saying goodbye but at the same time praying her home. The events of these past days seem to have unfolded in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye (1 Cor 15:52), but this is the moment for which Rita has waited throughout her earthly life.
Our gathering here this morning is a testimony to our belief that though our earthly bodies are perishable, Jesus Christ has risen from the dead, and because of that, death has been swallowed up in victory (1 Cor 15:54). Jesus conquered death through his own death on a cross. From that cross, at the moment of his death, he cried out to his Father and asked for help: Father, into your hands I commend my spirit (Lk 23:46). It is an act of faith that we are accomplishing today: commending the soul of our sister Rita into the hands of the Father.
Quant à nous, cette même foi nous a été confiée par Rita et par tous ceux et celles qui nous l’ont transmise. L’amour qui coule du coeur ouvert de notre Seigneur nous pousse à agir par amour pour les autres. Motivé par l’amour qu’il avait découvert, Joseph d’Arimathée demanda le corps de Jésus (Lc 23:52). Comme Rita elle-même aurait fait, il dispensait tous les soins nécessaires afin que le corps de Jésus soit déposé dans un sépulcre avant que le soleil se couche.
As for us, this same faith has been entrusted to us by Rita and by all those who have passed it on to us. The love that flows from the open heart of the Lord entices us to act out of love for others. Motivated by the love that he had discovered, Joseph of Arimathea asked for the body of Jesus (Lk 23:52). Like Rita herself would have done, he did everything he had to in order to ensure that the body of Jesus would be buried in a tomb before the sun set that night.
We too must now strive to live our lives in this same way: attentive to the needs of others, for there are many among us who are vulnerable, like Mary, the mother of Jesus who was a widow and who would never have had the means to bury her son. Our acts of faith are possible because we live each day in the light of that new Easter morning when the women … came to the tomb (Lk 24:1) and found it empty.
Like those women, we too might be afraid of the future that lies ahead, the life that now must be lived without having Rita by our side, but the words spoken to the women are also addressed to us: Take courage, he is not here, he is Risen! (Lk 24:6)
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