April 6, 2018 at 1:53 p.m.
REFLECTION
'All he ever wanted:' a funeral homily
'All he ever wanted:' a funeral homily
But I feel that still gives me a fair degree of range.
First, I would like to do something interactive. I would like those to stand at your place if you or someone in your family was baptized by Father Lefebvre during his 59 years of priestly ministry. And, if you would, please remain standing.
Now, I would like all those to stand up who were married by Father Lefebvre or had a family member whose wedding he did. Next, I would invite those to stand who had a family member or close friend whose funeral service you attended where Father Lefebvre officiated.
And finally - if you feel comfortable doing so -- please stand if, over the years, you ever consulted with Father Lefebvre for his guidance and advice on a matter personal or professional.
And now, everyone take a look around. Perhaps there could be no more graphic display of the lasting impact of this remarkable man.
When I think of him, I think of a quote from William James, the American philosopher of the late 19th century. James said, "It is the greatest use of a life to give it for a cause that outlasts it." Who can measure the scope - or the duration - of Father Lefebvre's influence?
When I received the call last Tuesday morning that Father Lefebvre had died, the news came with some force. Not only did it mean that a good friend had left the scene, but it seemed to me that Father Lefebvre's passing marked the end of an era.
As I thought about it later in the day, some words came to mind from long ago, words from the pen of the poet Edwin Markham. Reflecting on the death of President Abraham Lincoln, Markham had written this: "And when he fell, it was in a whirlwind -- as when a lordly cedar, green with boughs, goes down with a great shout upon the hillside and leaves a lonely place against the sky."
Father Lefebvre's passing does, indeed, leave a lonely place against the sky.
But now, some words to help with perspective. The Gospel passage this morning can serve to guide our thinking. In that narrative, from the Gospel of John, Jesus is at the Last Supper with His friends, and He has just told them the shocking news that, in a very short while, He will be leaving them.
The Apostles, of course, are upset at this announcement, and Christ tries to ease their hurt by saying, "Don't let your hearts be troubled. Have faith in God, and faith in me."
Frankly, those words of comfort at first don't work. The Apostles will be devastated the following day at what happens to Jesus, and they will deeply mourn His passing.
We, though, are in a different place than the Apostles, and we have a better vantage point. We know of the resurrection of Christ which would happen three days later, and that makes a very big difference.
The resurrection was God's stamp of approval on Jesus, and it validated all of the promises Christ had made - including the pledge that He would go on ahead of us and prepare a place for us, and then that He would come back and take us to the place He had prepared.
Father Lefebvre lived with the conviction that his ultimate goal was to be in the company of the Lord, enjoying for all eternity the peace of heaven -- and the quality of his life inclines us to believe strongly that he is well on his way to reaching that goal.
All he ever wanted to do was to help people, to encourage them, to let them know that they were loved by God. Even when he tapped us on the cheek -- as he often did -- it was to say that everything was okay and that we would be, too.
A couple of weeks ago, I ran into Jimmy Tuffey at the early morning Mass at St. Pius X parish in Loudonville. Jimmy told me that, the night before, Father Lefebvre had been brought into St. Peter's Rehab in Albany; so, I went over there to see him. He was, of course, filled with energy and charged up with plans about how he was going to get out of there.
But what struck me most of all was this: There he was, lying in a hospital bed -- but he was dressed in a clerical shirt and a collar! I'm not sure why -- maybe it was just that they hadn't yet brought him his pajamas and robe. The neck was open, the white tab collar was leaning off to the side, but these were clearly the clothes of a priest.
I thought to myself: If a picture can tell a story, there it was. In his waning weeks of life, this man felt far from finished. Always the priest, he was suited up and ready for work -- ready to spend his day serving other people's needs.
And so, our memories are warm ones, and our consolation comes, in part, from gratitude for him - gratitude to God for sharing Father Jim Lefebvre with us for these many years.
But our real consolation comes from what the poet Willian Wordsworth called "the faith that looks through death." We gather this morning in the conviction that, as Father Lefebvre shared here on Earth in Christ's way of life, so he will share now in the new life in heaven.
There, in the warmth of God's presence, with every pain gone, every limitation lifted, back now at the top of his game, he awaits our presence and will help us on the journey to meet him.
And because that is the core of our faith, today -- even in our sadness -- we can celebrate his life and take comfort in our hope.
(Father Doyle, retired chancellor of the Albany Diocese and sacramental minister for St. Thomas the Apostle parish in Cherry Valley, delivered this homily March 13 at Father Lefebvre's funeral Mass at St. Mary's Church in Albany.)[[In-content Ad]]
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