At the bend in the road

Here is the reflection I prepared for the celebration that was held today as we commended the soul of our long-time and beloved friend into the arms of God where he will now enjoy the reward of everlasting life.

Funeral homily for Marcel Hamel

The first reading we heard today is taken from the story of Job – a humble man who had worked very hard to earn his living, a man who had provided for his family, a man who had known more than his fair share of trials, yet despite the fact that others may have encouraged him to doubt his faith, Job never stopped believing in God.  To the very end, he was convinced: I know that my redeemer lives (Job 19:25).

It was almost three years ago that we gathered in this very church for the funeral of Marcel’s wife Pat, and now we are here once again: this time to pray for our brother and to ask God to send the gift of his loving consolation upon Linda, Paul, Irene and their extended family as well as all of us who were privileged enough to count ourselves among the friends of another humble man.

I learned the other day that Marcel was born in Hagar – a little town located along Highway 17 just east of Sudbury.  To the casual passerby, Hagar is little more than a bend in the road where the speed limit gets reduced for a moment or two, but to someone who lives and works on the land that surrounds Hagar, that bend in the road speaks of the warmth of friendships forged around kitchen tables, the trust that exists among neighbours who know and care for one another and the concern that is the source of willingness to watch out for one another, to help one another, to truly rejoice together when things are going well and to support one another when times are tough.

Marcel spent much of his life here in Temagami.  He and Pat shared a life that was woven into the fabric of this community.  At another time in history, when the Sherman Mine was in full swing, Marcel took great pride – as did so many others – in making every effort to make sure that the riches extracted from the earth found their way to market.  As he may very well have experienced in his youth, Marcel made sure that there was always room at his table for others to sit, there was always food and drink to cheer a weary traveller, and there was always a keen interest to be shown as stories were told and adventures recounted.

Just two weeks ago, I sat at his table along with Paul and Ray.  Together we spoke, and with a sense of practicality, Marcel joked about the fact that his love for certain liquids had been reduced to cans of Ensure.  He spoke about heaven as though it were just around the corner with the calmness and conviction of one who has listened in prayer for years to the voice of the divine Shepherd.  His words flowed that afternoon as easily as I imagine Jesus’ words must have flowed on the night when he sat at table with his disciples.  The gospel tells us that he prayed for them that night: I desire that those whom you have given me may be with me where I am (Jn 17:24).  These are the words of a man who is convinced that death is not the end of the road.  There is another life that awaits us, in a place where we will know no more pain, suffering, doubt or fear.

Marcel spoke of heaven with a certainty that I have rarely experienced in the hearts of those I have encountered.  Such certainty is seldom witnessed in our world today, but it eloquently recalls the words that Saint Paul offered in the second reading that we heard today: We do not want you to be uninformed ... about those who have died (1 Thes 4:13) ... We believe that Jesus died and rose again ... and God will bring with him, those who have died (1 Thes 4:14) ... and we will be with the Lord forever (1 Thes 4:17).

This is the truth that is the basis of our faith: we believe that Jesus – our Redeemer - died and rose again, and that when our time comes, when this earthly life of ours is ended, we will be with the Lord forever.  We will live with him in heaven.  We have glimpses of this truth every time we slow down along the highway of life long enough to look beyond the bends in the road.  In places such as those, we encounter the gentle and loving soul who will always welcome a stranger, the trust that will always find room for a newcomer to sit at the table and the generosity that will always find time to listen, to comfort and to encourage.