Now he can rest

The community I have the privilege to serve is truly a blessing.  It is filled with generous and loving people, each of whom brings his or her gifts and offers them for the good of the community.  Today, we bid farewell to another of our long-time parishioners, a man who taught many to live a life of faith.  May he now be rewarded for his faith.

Funeral homily for Gerald Villeneuve

This morning, we have come together to look back on the nine decades that God granted to our brother Gerry, and as we do, the words written in the book of Ecclesiastes help to remind us of many of the moments that we have shared with him.  There is indeed a time in all our lives for every matter under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die (Ecc 3:1-2).  Not many of us were around to witness Gerry’s birth into this world, but today we are celebrating his birth into the fullness of life in heaven.  Gerry prepared for this day with every day that he spent living here on earth: each customer he served furnished him with another opportunity to give of himself; and every moment he spent with his precious daughters, or with his beloved siblings, with his grandchildren and with his many friends gave us an opportunity to know the joy of sharing his life, and to witness the many ways he gave of himself out of love for others.

In all our lives, we find a time for planting and a time for plucking up what was planted (Ecc 3:2); a time to weep with those who are mourning and a time to rejoice and celebrate (cf Ecc 3:4); a time to keep silence and a time when we must speak (Ecc 3:7).  As we hear these words repeated today, they resound in our hearts like the ticking of a clock, and we remember occasions that we shared with Gerry, when he planted the seed of faith in our hearts by sharing with us his own story of faith, or perhaps moments when he wept in sympathy with us, even as we remember times when he laughed and celebrated good times.  Perhaps we can still hear the sound of his voice as we think back upon moments when he spoke with us and we kept silence, listening to his wisdom.

Members of his family are not the only ones who benefitted from his generosity, his devotion to this community, to feeding the hungry, to helping the less fortunate and to keeping the memory of wartime heroes alive lest we forget all that they have done for us.

Throughout his life, faith was always an important part of Gerry’s life.  On many occasions he knelt in prayer.  How many times did he read the words that the apostle Paul wrote to the early Christian community on the Greek island of Corinth: Listen, I tell you a mystery!  We will not all die, but we will all be changed (1 Cor 15:51).  Paul’s words are filled with promise.  They speak of a change that takes place every day in the heart of every person who is a disciple of Jesus, as he gently invites us to walk with him, to learn from him and to allow his light to shine through our words and actions.  Paul’s words also speak of a time to come, when we will all be changed – our bodies will wear out but our spirits will live on in eternity.  This is the very truth that we are celebrating here today, for now that Gerry has completed his earthly pilgrimage, his perishable body now puts on imperishability, and his mortal body gives way to immortality (cf 1 Cor 15:53).

As for us, our hearts are saddened because although we have always known that this day would come, when it arrives, it is always unsettling, yet we take comfort in the words that Jesus addressed to his disciples: Do not let your hearts be troubled.  Believe in God, believe also in me (Jn 14:1).  In his youth, Gerry learned about Jesus, and about his eternal Father, our eternal Father.  In turn, he taught each one of you to believe that our heavenly Father never leaves us alone.  He is always near to us, providing for our needs, teaching us to appreciate the beauty of nature, the experience of joy … and even his comforting presence in our times of trial and distress.

Now that Jesus has prepared a place in the Father’s house for Gerry, he has returned to take him to himself (cf Jn 14:3), and we who stand by to witness this moment of heavenly homecoming are also filled with questions.  Like Thomas, there is a part of us that wants to cry out: Lord, we do not know where you are going, so how can we know the way (cf Jn 14:5) that we must follow?  Jesus’ words, first spoken so tenderly to his beloved Thomas are now spoken to us as well, to comfort us and to reassure us: You know the way to the place where I am going (Jn 14:4); I am the way, the truth and the life (Jn 14:6).  So dear friends, let us come to Jesus in our moments of grief, let us seek the way with him, let us trust always that he will show the way to truth and to the fullness of life.