Came home to go Home

Funeral homily for Carey Paul Conway

In preparation for my arrival in this parish, I was presented with a copy of the parish pictorial directory: the one that was prepared about 10 years ago now. Father Peter encouraged me to scan the pictures and to read through some of the history of the parish so that I would be familiarized with the life of this parish, with some of its history and with just a bit of the important people and events that have contributed to making it such a wonderful community today.

As I flipped through the pages of that book, I read about the priests who have had the privilege to serve here, like Father Edward Lyons. I never had the privilege to meet Father Lyons: he was long gone from this earth by the time I happened on the scene, but Carey and his family knew him. Don and Aura Conway and their children were part of the St. Peter’s family when Father Lyons was the pastor. Carey used to serve for Masses, and I’m told that he even left his mark on the place (in a manner of speaking).

Friends and acquaintances remember him as a student at Sacred Heart school, just steps from these doors. For many years, the Conway family have been associated with St. Peter the Apostle parish. Even though life has now taken them away from North Bay, this is in many ways still their home, and so it is fitting that we gather here to pray with and for Carey today.

It’s a privilege (you know) to pray our loved ones home when the time comes for their earthly journeys to come to an end. Our faith teaches that when this moment comes, each of us will be welcomed into eternal life. This promise was made to Carey on December 19, 1948, the day he was baptized at the Pro-Cathedral of the Assumption. With his parents and godparents to guide him, he was nourished in faith each time he received the gift of the Eucharist in this church and elsewhere.

At some point during his journey, Carey also spent a year of discernment at the Dundas novitiate but priesthood was not to be. Instead his concern for the environment and his thirst for learning took him to many other locations where he had the privilege to play a part in forming the minds and hearts of others.

Questions and concerns about the certainties of faith are often reserved to the quiet of personal prayer. From this place of silence and certitude, Carey perhaps knew the truth spoken by Job in today’s first reading: I know that my Redeemer lives. This is a truth that we know because we have heard it from the lips of the prophets and the apostles – those who were privileged to have known Jesus here on earth. It is a truth that we have professed and lived even to this day. We gather here in this church because like the disciples, we too are coming to believe that anyone who fears God and who does what is right is acceptable to him. The witness of Jesus’ life, his example and his words encourage us as they have for all the disciples who have gone before us. In this world, we are witnesses to the life that Jesus came to bestow. Together we stand dressed for action, with lamps lit … waiting for the day when the Master will return. None of us knows the day, or the hour when the Son of Man will come to take us home, but we know that when that time comes, we will be reunited with Carey, with Don, with Brent and with all those who have preceded us to the House of the Father in heaven.

On discipleship

Who is Jesus for you?

On Wednesday evening of this coming week, there will be a meeting held in this parish for parents of those who will be preparing to celebrate First Reconciliation and First Eucharist in this community of faith during the coming months.  More details about that meeting will be shared at the conclusion of this liturgy.  The role of catechesis – teaching children (and adults alike) about our faith – is a privilege that is accorded to us all by virtue of our baptism.

The pedagogical methods used for catechesis differ depending on the age group of the people involved.  As a result, the approach that is used is different if we are dealing with children who are in Grade 3 as opposed to adults who are partaking in the RCIA process.  Similarly, I can imagine that Jesus must have used different approaches to speak to his followers depending on their level of understanding.

The gospel passage we have heard today places us with Jesus and his disciples, presumably on the road toward the region of Caesarea Philippi.  A conversation ensues and Jesus asks a question.  It begins innocently enough, almost as though he is asking for a news report: Who do people say that I am?  The disciples are quick to answer, thinking that he is trying to get a feel for the pulse of current events.  In a sense, you might say that children and adults who come to the church and participate in catechesis are also asking: Who do other people say this man Jesus is?  It is the responsibility of the catechists, along with the deacons, priests and even the bishops to answer this question.  We do so by sharing the rich heritage of our faith with those who ask, but at another level, a far deeper level, discussions about who Jesus is, about what faith means to us, about how we are to live as people of faith, cannot be answered except through prayer.  In other words, the question asked of the disciples must also be asked of each of us: But who do you say I am?  The answer to this question is a testament to our own personal journey in faith.  Each of us will answer it differently, but ultimately it seeks to clarify what we believe about who Jesus is for each of us, and about who we believe ourselves to be in Jesus eyes.

If we dare to answer Jesus’ question as Peter did, then we must also be prepared to follow Him, and this means preparing ourselves for the very real possibility that what we believe will not always be accepted by our peers.  In fact, we may very well end up being ridiculed or persecuted as a result of our choices to believe that Jesus is indeed the Son of the living God.  The prophet Isaiah foretold this truth in the first reading we heard today too.  In fact, it was this very passage that was remembered by the disciples when they witnessed the suffering of Jesus at the time of his passion.  I wonder whether they realized that they, and every other person throughout time who would profess to follow in his footsteps, would face the same challenge.  Faith is not a popularity contest; often it is a choice to stand in opposition to the tide of popular belief.

For this reason, James cautions us to always be ready to support our claim to faith by the works of our hands.  Faith in Jesus and in the promises of God compels us therefore to love beyond the limits of fair exchange.  Our actions must mirror the words we speak if we are to hope for any modicum of acceptance by the world around us.  The true measure of discipleship is therefore not so much about what we speak, but about how we enact that which we believe.

In the time of Jesus, many were oppressed.  Many were in need.  Many were neglected by those who were in positions of power, and the true strength of the gospel he preached was that everyone was valued not because of the wealth they possessed, but because of the dignity that had been given them by the One who created them in the first place.  This is the lesson we must teach to our children, and to adults who aspire to follow in the footsteps of our Master: that the true mark of discipleship is the dignity we accord to those who are our brothers and sisters.  Jesus, the Son of the living God, came to teach this lesson to us.  Ought we not to teach it to others?

To send her on her way

Today is day ten and already we've celebrated three funerals.  The act of praying someone home is a privilege not to be taken lightly, as is the great gift of listening (truly listening) when a soul needs to speak.  Today's funeral celebrated the life and gifts of a truly remarkable woman: a part of the fabric of the community, one who knew well how to listen with the ear of the heart.


Funeral homily for Bernice McKenny
Everyone who has called Saint Peter the Apostle their spiritual home in recent years has known Bernice. She’s been a part of the fabric of the place since she arrived here, along with her husband Frank and their children almost 40 years ago. Just days after I arrived here last week, I too had the pleasure to meet her, to chat with her, to hear a bit of her story from her own lips, to celebrate the Sacrament of the Sick with her, and to feed her with the Eucharist which she received countless times right here in this church.

I met her in her final days, but you have had the pleasure of knowing her at another time, not so long ago when she enjoyed good physical health. Stories have been shared, and will still be shared of friends who would drop by her house, of those who would almost immediately feel at home in her presence, of adventures and perhaps the odd mis-adventure which has been lived with her and with Frank. Yes, we cannot separate the two one from another, for they were together, supporting one another, living life together, sharing their talents and their love with so many here on earth, and now they are united once again in that place where Jesus prepares a place for each of us.

In preparation for this morning's celebration, I spoke with John, Susan, Linda, Barb and Peter.  Today, I've also met Mary-Lynn.  During our conversation yesterday, Bernice's children spoke of her as a kind and happy person. As the conversation continued I began to understand that this woman truly was comfortable in her own skin. She had learned many valuable lessons about life throughout her eight decades on this earth: lessons about humility, lessons about the value of respecting the dignity of every person God puts on our path, lessons about listening compassionately to the challenges that plague and lessons about never making judgments lest we alienate someone who is in need.

These lessons she not only learned, but endeavoured to teach to her children, to her grandchildren, to her great-grandchildren and to countless others who have met her as they discerned a call to follow Jesus in the tradition of the Roman Catholic Church, or as they prepared for the reception of the Sacraments, or as they witnessed her tireless devotion to God and to Canada.

At certain moments in our lives, we all struggle with questions. In fact the struggle can at times seem as though we are groaning in one great act of giving birth to the understanding of who God is and who we are in God’s eyes, but there’s a peace that comes upon us when we finally get to the level of comfort within ourselves that allows us to realize that every one of us on the road toward the ultimate destination of union with God. When we know this deeply, we can welcome everyone who knocks at the door; we can make room for them at our tables, and in our hearts; we can accept them where they are, and encourage them to keep moving, all the while providing the example of faith which will ultimately guide even the most wayward heart toward the discovery of peace.

The words of the prophet Isaiah speak today of a banquet of rich food which the Lord prepares for us: a banquet which we will all partake in when we are at last together in heaven. This celestial banquet is foreshadowed every time we welcome someone to sit at our tables, whether for a quick refreshment, or for a most sumptuous meal. The physical eating is only one part of such encounters.  Equally important is the conversation that accompanies it, and better yet if there is always a compassionate ear to listen, a voice to speak a word or two of wisdom, and a face that lights up when a stranger enters the room. Of course a morsel or two to warm the stomach and to cheer the heart can’t hurt either.

From her place in heaven, Bernice now watches over us. Come then dear friends; let us feast at the table of the Saviour. Let us share stories of love and kindness, of faith and friendship, and let us take from this place the eternal gifts which we offer, and which are transformed for us into gifts meant to sustain us on the journey until we meet in the halls of the heavenly banquet.

Two funerals in one week

Today, we celebrated the second funeral since my arrival.  In this case, the person in question was a woman I first met when I was assigned here in this city (within the first year or two after my ordination).  Here, for posterity's sake, is the homily I prepared:

Funeral homily for Nancy McCubbin

My first memories of Nancy were in the pews at the Pro-Cathedral.  It was there that I first met her, sitting on the left-hand side of the church (facing the altar), along with Alma and Dean.  More often than not, when I passed by the pew, Nancy had a smile for me, and a kind word about whatever it was that was going on at the time.

There are some people in life who seem to radiate a special love which has no bounds.  From what I’m told about the special role she played in the lives of all her nieces and nephews, and about the love she shared with all the members of her family, I can believe that Nancy had this gift of sharing love.  She shared this love with those she knew, with those who were closest to her, but she never tired of sharing this love with even those she only saw once in a while.  Her radiating smile, her kind words, her uncanny ability to know just the right gesture to help when assistance was most needed all bear witness to the type of love and acceptance which characterised her.  Visible gestures such as these are often born from the heart of one who knows the trials of suffering.  Love expressed in  such depth of compassion is only possible if we ourselves understand the desolation that Jesus must have known when he sat with his disciples at table and shared with them the special meal that we have come to know as the Last Supper.

John’s account tells us that he knew that his time on earth was limited, and yet even while faced with mounting doubts and fears, he was more concerned for his disciples: Do not let your hearts be troubled.  Believe in God, believe also in me.  Although the disciples couldn’t quite understand what he was talking about, Jesus was encouraging them to believe that he had already taught them everything that they needed, if only they would just believe in themselves.  How many times in life do we find ourselves paralyzed by fear of the unknown, rather than embracing the adventure of life with the certain knowledge that we already know the way, the truth and the life?  We were first introduced to him on the day of our baptism, and every day spent here on earth is another opportunity for us to know him, to trust him, and to share the joy of his love with those we meet.

On the surface, Nancy was always welcoming, but at another level, her struggles here on earth were numerous.  Those of us who knew her in this life are aware of at least some of the physical challenges, but few of us can fully comprehend the fear she must have known when she first discovered that she’d lose a part of her sight, or how frustrated she must have been at times when she couldn’t share treats that every child around her seemed to take for granted.  Even fewer of us were perhaps aware of the depth of faith that she was cultivating because of the struggles she had to face.  How else could she have faced life when it was such a challenge?  Yet she always lived with grace.  She always had a smile on her face when she greeted friends and strangers alike.

Just last week, when she knew that she needed some more surgery, she entrusted herself to the skill and care of the doctors, knowing that even if the situation was grave, she was not afraid.  She knew, as we all know that our souls are in the hands of God and that one day we are all destined to go Home to be with Him.  This transition is not something to be feared; rather it is the reunion for which we prepare ourselves every day of our lives.  We do this by learning how to trust in the God who we cannot see with our physical eyes, but who we know is present, right beside us every day.  His love for us is shared with us in ways small and not so small.  If we pay attention, we can learn to see it in the generous invitation to sit at the Sunday table, to join in the conversation that is just as likely to be peppered with laugher as with just the right amount of challenge to keep the intellectual side of us thinking.

The woman who we commend this day to our loving God would perhaps be the first to remind us that we need to be more and more convinced every day that each of us is beloved by God, that out of this love he sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him.  If we truly believe this, then let this gathering of faith not be one of sorrow and tears, but rather a celebration of thanks for all that has been accomplished through the hands, ears and heart of this woman of deep faith.  Let us celebrate around the Father’s table with the same faith that gave her a reason to laugh, for if we love one another, God lives in us, and his love is perfected in us.

First for Peter and Elizabeth

Back to the very beginning, or not

Students in our schools returned to their habitual routines this past week.  On the streets, the famous yellow school buses are back; in the streets, drivers are paying a bit more attention (we hope) to children and teenagers who are making their way to and from classes.  Even the university and college campuses are brimming these days with returning students and first-timers alike.

• Listen to this homily (podcast coming soon)

Parishioners who have been away at their cottages, or traveling with their families for the past number of weeks might also find themselves walking into our churches after being absent for a short or a long while, and perhaps there are still some who are surprised to see priests who they have never met before.  Over these past couple of months, there were four sets of appointments issued by the Bishop for clergy in all parts of our diocese, and I believe that there is still at least one more sheet of appointments forthcoming.  In all, twenty-two (22) priests throughout our diocese have received new appointments over the summer, and we’re still waiting to see who will be assigned to the parishes in Manitouwadge, White River and the Pic Mobert First Nation.

Parishioners at St. Elizabeth’s parish in Temagami and at St. Peter the Apostle in North Bay bid farewell to Father Peter Moher last weekend.  This weekend, he stands in the sanctuary of Holy Redeemer parish in Sudbury.  While he was bidding farewell here last weekend, I was saying goodbye to the parishioners of Christ the King (including both the Beech Street and Burton Avenue locations).  This weekend, I am here, and I’m sure that while there are some familiar faces, there are many who are wondering who I am.

My name is Father Anthony Man-Son-Hing (or Father Tony for those like you who know me).  I was born in Georgetown, Guyana: located on the north-eastern tip of South America.  When I was eight years old, my family immigrated to Canada, and we soon found ourselves in Sault Ste. Marie, where we lived for the next ten years or so.  Having completed elementary and high school education in Sault Ste. Marie, I spent four years at Wilfrid Laurier University in Waterloo where I completed the Bachelor of Arts degree and then entered St. Augustine’s Seminary in Scarborough where I spent the next five years discerning a call to priesthood.  Ordained at the Pro-Cathedral of the Assumption in 1993, I have served as Associate Pastor at the Pro-Cathedral (1993-1995), Administrator of Our Lady of Lourdes, Manitouwadge (1995), Pastor of Immaculate Conception, Massey, St. Francis of Assisi, Walford, and St. Lawrence the Martyr, Webbwood (1995-1997), Ste-Croix and St-Ignace, SSM (1997-2000), and Christ the King, Sudbury (2006-2012).  I have also had the privilege to serve at the Apostolic Nunciature in Ottawa (2000-2002) and as Chancellor and Secretary to the Bishop of this diocese (2002-2006).

En 1997, j’ai vécu une période d’immersion intensive en la paroisse St-Félix à Cap-Rouge, en banlieue de la ville de Québec, et cela en guise de préparation pour servir la communauté francophone de la ville de Sault Ste-Marie.  Nell’anno 2000 fino al 2002, ho lavorato nella Nunziatura Apostolica in Canada dove ho imperato anche la lingua italiana.

It is perhaps fitting that as so many priests begin new chapters in our service to the people of God, the prophet Isaiah speaks of God’s presence among us.  This loving presence has the power to open even the eyes of the blind, to open the ears of the deaf, to cure the lame and to free the tongues of the speechless.  As I read these words, and the further references contained in today’s gospel passage, I couldn’t help thinking that the rite of Ephphetha (‘May the Lord soon touch your ears to hear his word, and your mouth to proclaim it’) is repeated even today, as part of the Ritual of Baptism for children.  It is true that pastors are sent into particular parishes in order that we might share the ministry of the Bishop, but please don’t think for a moment that I have the power to restore speech or hearing: only God can do such miracles.  Instead, I am here among you to live as one like you: to make your joys my joys; your sorrows and sufferings my sorrows and sufferings; to share the gift of my faith with you, and to learn from the blessing of your faith too.  Please pray that I may be able to do so faithfully, adhering as best I can to the faith of Jesus Christ who has called us to journey together.

Ever since the news of my appointment was published, back in mid-July, I’ve heard nothing but praise for the people of these two parishes.  I can’t wait to live the next days, weeks, months and years with you in faith.

The curtain falls

Last for the King

It`s sometimes hard to believe that six years have gone by since I arrived in this parish to take up the position of pastor.  On that first weekend, and for a few weekends following, I wore a monastic alb complete with a cowl (a kind of hood that is sewn on the back and meant to keep the head warm during winter months).  With the chasuble worn over this alb though, I was told that the cowl made me look like Dracula.  I didn`t want to scare anyone away, so I retired that alb and have used others since.

During the initial weeks of my presence here in this parish, I spoke of my dream to live among you, to be present in times of need, and to do what I could to help as many as possible to come closer to Jesus.  In the words of the first reading we have listened to today, I suppose you might say that my hope was then, and is now that others would look to this parish and say: surely these great people have a god who is near to them.  Over these past six years, I have come to believe this about those who gather here, but first we had to get to know one another: you had to get to know a bit about me, and I had to get to know a bit about you.

The process of coming to know people begins with outward appearances, hence the initial reactions to the priest who looked like Dracula, but Jesus calls us always to go deeper, to look beyond the surface and to dare to befriend the person.  This is why he always challenged the Pharisees and scribes to look beyond the outward appearances and observances, and to truly understand that faith is a matter of the heart.

Discovering faith in the hearts of the people who gather, and fostering the gifts of each one who is part of the parish; this is the job of the pastor who is asked to walk in faith with those who gather.  During my time among you, I have tried to do this by praying with you, by calling some to serve on various committees, and by encouraging as many as possible to lend their talents and gifts to continue the long tradition of building this parish which was begun by Father ?? when the doors of this church were first opened, and which has been continued by each of the pastors and Associate pastors who have had the privilege to serve in this parish since.

It is thanks to the dedication and commitment of countless individuals that I will remember the years I spent here at Christ the King as having been characterized by the love, devotion and faith of God’s people who call this place of worship home.  Your generous acts of giving have truly borne fruit in a long tradition of service to the people of this city.  Among these generous acts, we have together witnessed the establishment of the Beech Street Community Kitchen, which welcomes young mothers who are income insecure and gives them a place where they can begin to trust, and to believe in themselves. 

I will always remember and pray for the young street kids who have come to cook with us, bringing with them their own particular brand of vim and vigour.  A few weeks ago,  I was walking by the tracks on Elm Street and two of the youth who have worked in our program came running up to me: Hi Father, they said, how are you.  Not so long ago, these youth would probably have passed me by, they may have wondered to themselves about who I am; they may even have conjured thoughts and opinions about who or what I represent, but now these youth and some of their friends have learned to see the Church not as something to be feared, but rather as a place where they got back on their feet, and I’m humbled to think that together we have played even a small part in that miracle.

Every day of my life, but particularly at times in my life when I am asked to accept a new appointment, I am reminded that the work and ministry of priests is not our own.  It is part of a plan that is much larger than any of us.  When all is said and done, it is God who calls, and we who must answer.  It is God`s work that we participate in when we celebrate the baptisms of infants who are brought to the church, or of adults who have discerned the call to worship and pray in the gathered assembly with us.  It is God`s call that we answer when we help young people to prepare well for the celebration of Reconciliation, Eucharist and Confirmation.  It is in Christ`s name that we are present to couples who ask us to witness their weddings, and it is in Jesus’ name that we are privileged to stand at the bedside of those who are anointed with oil as we pray them into eternity.  Finally, it is an act of faith that we observe when we gather to celebrate the funeral of a loved one, to give thanks for the ways in which he or she has contributed to the life of our parish, but most of all to celebrate the fulfilment of a promise first made on the day of our baptism: that we will all one day know the fullness of life and love in the presence of our God.

When the last Mass is complete tomorrow (today), we will begin a new chapter.  My journey will take me to the parishes of Saint Peter and Saint Elizabeth.  Next weekend, Bishop Plouffe will be here to install Father Brian Dixon as the 16^th pastor of this parish, and to formally introduce Father Brendan Doherty who will also live and work among you.  Thank you dear friends for the great privilege of walking with you in faith over these past six years or so.  Continue to pray for us priests, and pray too for our young people, that they may listen for God’s call and generously answer it.