This morning, we celebrated a funeral for one of the young members of our community, a man who was dedicated to the life of his community and always sought to make the world a better place.
We have all come to stand at the foot of the cross this morning along with Marie, Cori, Lucille, Lydia and their family. We have come because each one of us has known and loved them all, and now that Roger no longer sits in the pew where he sat for so many years, we have come to entrust his eternal soul into the loving embrace of our God.
I met Roger at a Knights of Columbus meeting. I don’t believe that he was the Grand Knight at the time, but the plan had already been put in place then for him to take on the role of leader among his brother Knights. Together with some of the other Knights from this Council, we travelled to Sudbury and witnessed the moment when Roger was made a Third Degree Knight of Columbus, and it wasn’t long after that before he was installed in the office of Grand Knight – a position that he continued to hold until God called him home last week.
Belief in God was unquestioned in Roger’s heart. He – and his sisters – had already witnessed the depth of faith that was found at the centre of your parents’ lives. You had already seen how that faith had been lived out in a deep sense of commitment to others and an understanding of our call to share the joy of discipleship with those we meet, and you each found a way to express your faith in action. In Roger’s case, he had seen up close the commitment that his father and mother always held for the poor, and their willingness to serve through the Saint Vincent de Paul Society. His commitment to the store was only part of Roger’s bigger dream to make Elliot Lake a beautiful place to live: a place where everyone is welcome, where everyone has value, a place where everyone is loved.
One of the last times I spoke with Roger was in the hospital. He told me then that he knew his time was near. As we spoke together that day, I couldn’t help wondering whether the words that Roger once heard might have been running through his mind: Tempus fugit, memento mori (Time flies, remember death). There was a calm, a gentleness about him as we spoke, the time for joking had passed and he was serious, but not downcast, about making the next step. I remember thinking to myself: what a privilege it is to share such a moment with him. It was a moment not unlike what I picture that evening might have been like when Jesus was saying to his disciples: Do not let your hearts be troubled (Jn 14:1). I cannot say that he was not entirely without some level of fear about the future – who of us would be – but he was at peace. We spoke about his readiness for passing through the doorway into heaven, and I reminded him that the favours of the Lord are never all past; his kindnesses are never exhausted (Lam 3:22). We parted, and agreed that we would see each other again.
In the days that have gone by since he left this world, many in this community have attempted to use human words to express our condolences to Roger’s family, and this is very fitting. Today, we are gathered to pray for him and to rejoice because this passage is not the end of the story for Roger, and it will not be the end of the story for us either. We know that he who raised the Lord Jesus to life will raise us with Jesus in our turn (2 Cor 4:14).
The death of such a young man is perceived by some as a cause for great sadness, but I can assure you that when I had that moment of grace in his presence, I knew that his faith was strong. He told me: I suppose my time here will soon be done. Now that the doors of heaven have been opened, I am sure that he will continue to do wonderful work in heaven. Looking upon us, he will continue to guide our steps and to intercede for us until the day when we too will stand at the doorway, ready to enter into the Father’s house.
Funeral homily for Roger Hachey, Jr.
We have all come to stand at the foot of the cross this morning along with Marie, Cori, Lucille, Lydia and their family. We have come because each one of us has known and loved them all, and now that Roger no longer sits in the pew where he sat for so many years, we have come to entrust his eternal soul into the loving embrace of our God.
I met Roger at a Knights of Columbus meeting. I don’t believe that he was the Grand Knight at the time, but the plan had already been put in place then for him to take on the role of leader among his brother Knights. Together with some of the other Knights from this Council, we travelled to Sudbury and witnessed the moment when Roger was made a Third Degree Knight of Columbus, and it wasn’t long after that before he was installed in the office of Grand Knight – a position that he continued to hold until God called him home last week.
Belief in God was unquestioned in Roger’s heart. He – and his sisters – had already witnessed the depth of faith that was found at the centre of your parents’ lives. You had already seen how that faith had been lived out in a deep sense of commitment to others and an understanding of our call to share the joy of discipleship with those we meet, and you each found a way to express your faith in action. In Roger’s case, he had seen up close the commitment that his father and mother always held for the poor, and their willingness to serve through the Saint Vincent de Paul Society. His commitment to the store was only part of Roger’s bigger dream to make Elliot Lake a beautiful place to live: a place where everyone is welcome, where everyone has value, a place where everyone is loved.
One of the last times I spoke with Roger was in the hospital. He told me then that he knew his time was near. As we spoke together that day, I couldn’t help wondering whether the words that Roger once heard might have been running through his mind: Tempus fugit, memento mori (Time flies, remember death). There was a calm, a gentleness about him as we spoke, the time for joking had passed and he was serious, but not downcast, about making the next step. I remember thinking to myself: what a privilege it is to share such a moment with him. It was a moment not unlike what I picture that evening might have been like when Jesus was saying to his disciples: Do not let your hearts be troubled (Jn 14:1). I cannot say that he was not entirely without some level of fear about the future – who of us would be – but he was at peace. We spoke about his readiness for passing through the doorway into heaven, and I reminded him that the favours of the Lord are never all past; his kindnesses are never exhausted (Lam 3:22). We parted, and agreed that we would see each other again.
In the days that have gone by since he left this world, many in this community have attempted to use human words to express our condolences to Roger’s family, and this is very fitting. Today, we are gathered to pray for him and to rejoice because this passage is not the end of the story for Roger, and it will not be the end of the story for us either. We know that he who raised the Lord Jesus to life will raise us with Jesus in our turn (2 Cor 4:14).
The death of such a young man is perceived by some as a cause for great sadness, but I can assure you that when I had that moment of grace in his presence, I knew that his faith was strong. He told me: I suppose my time here will soon be done. Now that the doors of heaven have been opened, I am sure that he will continue to do wonderful work in heaven. Looking upon us, he will continue to guide our steps and to intercede for us until the day when we too will stand at the doorway, ready to enter into the Father’s house.
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