Here is the text of the reflection I shared with those who gathered today to celebrate the funeral for this man, who loved and who was loved.
Some people wonder why. For the past week, ever since that awful night when the news woke us up with such a jolt, we have all been asking the same question: why? It doesn't seem right that we should be gathered in this place again, to celebrate these rituals that have marked so many other sudden changes in our lives, so many unexpected changes.
There are no human answers that will ever adequately answer the question that continues to ring in our ears and to resound in our hearts. It might even seem that it is too difficult to find room in our hearts to look for answers, yet Jesus continues to whisper in the depths of our hearts: All that the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me, I shall not turn him away (Jn 6:37). Dear friends, we have come to Jesus looking for comfort in our time of distress and like any loving parent, he will never turn us away. He welcomes us here. He wants to spend time with us. He wants simply to hold us and to help us. Perhaps there are no words that can adequately fill the gaping hole that has been left in our hearts. Jesus knows that, and so he simply wants to be present with us today, to reassure us that we are never alone.
Our beloved brother Ronald has been taken so suddenly from us. At one moment, he was here, talking with us, loving us, opening his heart to us, providing the example of strength that we turned to on so many occasions ... and then he was gone. In the midst of our confusion, Jesus speaks: The will of him who sent me is that I should lose nothing of all that he has given me, and that I should raise it up on the last day (Jn 6:39). In the depths of our hearts, Jesus is calling out to us, trying to reassure us even now that Ron has not been lost. He is no longer physically here among us, but his soul is very much alive. Now he is alive with God, in heaven.
How can we dare to believe that this is true? What evidence have we to hold on to when there is such emptiness in our hearts? At a certain point in his life, Saint Paul also doubted. Paul was a Roman, a centurion, one of the members of the Roman army who hunted down the first Christians. He didn't believe any of what they were saying until he himself encountered Jesus. Jesus called him by name: Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me? (Acts 9:4) With these words, Saul's life changed. He woke up and realized that something greater was taking place. He didn't have all the answers, but he was being invited to believe. Today, we don't have all the answers, but we are being invited to believe.
We are all children of God, and coheirs with Christ (Rom 8:17). We share in his sufferings so that one day we can all share in his glory. Let us never forget this. The things that we suffer in this life, even this moment of excruciating pain, can never be compared with the glory ... which is waiting for us (Rom 8:18). We don't understand, and yet we can believe because Jesus is right here with us, assuring us. We are not alone.
Like so many of those who once toiled in the mines in this place, Ron too spent years hewing the ore out of the rock. As we commend our dear brother into the loving arms of Jesus, let us ask the Lord to engrave upon our hearts the words that inspired the faith of Job. May these words bring us peace in our moments of need: I know that my Redeemer lives, and he, the Last, will take his stand on earth. After my awakening, he will set me close to him and in my flesh, I shall look on God (Job 19:25-26).
Funeral homily for Ronald Oscar Dumas
Some people wonder why. For the past week, ever since that awful night when the news woke us up with such a jolt, we have all been asking the same question: why? It doesn't seem right that we should be gathered in this place again, to celebrate these rituals that have marked so many other sudden changes in our lives, so many unexpected changes.
There are no human answers that will ever adequately answer the question that continues to ring in our ears and to resound in our hearts. It might even seem that it is too difficult to find room in our hearts to look for answers, yet Jesus continues to whisper in the depths of our hearts: All that the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me, I shall not turn him away (Jn 6:37). Dear friends, we have come to Jesus looking for comfort in our time of distress and like any loving parent, he will never turn us away. He welcomes us here. He wants to spend time with us. He wants simply to hold us and to help us. Perhaps there are no words that can adequately fill the gaping hole that has been left in our hearts. Jesus knows that, and so he simply wants to be present with us today, to reassure us that we are never alone.
Our beloved brother Ronald has been taken so suddenly from us. At one moment, he was here, talking with us, loving us, opening his heart to us, providing the example of strength that we turned to on so many occasions ... and then he was gone. In the midst of our confusion, Jesus speaks: The will of him who sent me is that I should lose nothing of all that he has given me, and that I should raise it up on the last day (Jn 6:39). In the depths of our hearts, Jesus is calling out to us, trying to reassure us even now that Ron has not been lost. He is no longer physically here among us, but his soul is very much alive. Now he is alive with God, in heaven.
How can we dare to believe that this is true? What evidence have we to hold on to when there is such emptiness in our hearts? At a certain point in his life, Saint Paul also doubted. Paul was a Roman, a centurion, one of the members of the Roman army who hunted down the first Christians. He didn't believe any of what they were saying until he himself encountered Jesus. Jesus called him by name: Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me? (Acts 9:4) With these words, Saul's life changed. He woke up and realized that something greater was taking place. He didn't have all the answers, but he was being invited to believe. Today, we don't have all the answers, but we are being invited to believe.
We are all children of God, and coheirs with Christ (Rom 8:17). We share in his sufferings so that one day we can all share in his glory. Let us never forget this. The things that we suffer in this life, even this moment of excruciating pain, can never be compared with the glory ... which is waiting for us (Rom 8:18). We don't understand, and yet we can believe because Jesus is right here with us, assuring us. We are not alone.
Like so many of those who once toiled in the mines in this place, Ron too spent years hewing the ore out of the rock. As we commend our dear brother into the loving arms of Jesus, let us ask the Lord to engrave upon our hearts the words that inspired the faith of Job. May these words bring us peace in our moments of need: I know that my Redeemer lives, and he, the Last, will take his stand on earth. After my awakening, he will set me close to him and in my flesh, I shall look on God (Job 19:25-26).
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