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.
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.
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