Readings: Eccl 3:1-11; Ps 23; Rom 14:7-9; Jn 10: 14-15,27-30
___________________________
Claude,
Diane and I, indeed, all of us here – we know how much you love your dear Patricia,
and so, to you and to Sally, to Patricia’s nephews, Rich and Steve, and to all
of your longtime friends, our deepest condolences. And I’m joined in this by
Fr. Peter, Fr. John, Fr. Gerry, all your brother deacons and their wives – in
truth, by the entire St. Vincent de Paul parish family.
Believe
us, Claude, Patricia’s absence has left a hole in our hearts as well. I can only
imagine how much you miss her, but if you let Him, God will fill this emptiness;
He’ll fill it with His grace, bringing with
it His peace and His enduring love.
Know,
too, that we grieve with you. And yet, because of our faith, and because of your
faith, we can look beyond our grief today. Despite our sorrow, we can be joyful
that Patricia is now in God’s care, and to be cared for by our loving, merciful
God…well, that’s a wondrous, powerful thing. I suppose St. Paul said it best,
as he usually does:
“Both in life
and death we are the Lord’s” [Rom 14:8].
Yes,
we are His. And our Gospel passage from John sums it up beautifully, doesn’t
it?
“I am the good shepherd…the
sheep that belong to me listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me” [Jn 10:14,27].
We
belong to Him, and so He keeps calling us throughout our brief lives, but then
embraces us as we enter eternity.
“I give them eternal life.
They will never be lost” [Jn 10:28].
…and
what a promise this is, a promise sealed and delivered with God’s love.
I
suppose too many of us fall into that straying sheep category – you know, the
ones He has to retrieve and bring back to the fold. But not Patricia. She
followed the Shepherd, staying close, listening to His voice, and rejoicing in
God’s love, a love she was determined to share with others.
Indeed,
her kindness was eminently evident. Gracious and graceful, loving, creative, simply
a good woman, and so much more. More importantly, Patricia Curtin loved God and
neighbor, and in that loving she opened her heart to the movement, the
workings, of the Holy Spirit. You see, she was a joy-giver. That’s right, she
brought joy to those she encountered, just by being who she was. Diane and I
were always happy in her presence.
And
Patricia, as your wife, the wife of a permanent deacon, she shared in so many
of those ministries. She joined you in hospital ministry visiting the sick. She
played an active role in parish outreach at Our Mother’s Attic. And perhaps
most importantly, she kept you on the straight and narrow, pretty much a
fulltime job.
Thinking
back over all these years of friendship, it’s all packed together: those
dinners at Takis and so many other places – and there were many -- the holiday
feasts at your home or ours. The good times shared with the Wilsons. The day
trips to galleries, and museums, and your kindness when subjected to the
intrusive lens of my cameras. Oh, yes, and the bottles of – how can I put this?
– cheap wines, sampled here in Florida, and of slightly better vintages at
those Finger Lakes wineries.
Yes,
we visited Claude and Patricia at their lovely home on Seneca Lake. We didn’t
want to leave, but eventually we took the hint. And it was on that trip I
discovered they met in Paris in 1965. Coincidentally, thanks to the US Navy, I
happened to visit Pairs that same summer, but inexplicably we didn’t run into
each other.
Of
course, your meeting in that city of light began it all and calls to mind
everything that followed. And Claude, to recall that lifelong journey you
wisely chose to do so through God’s Word in the Book of Ecclesiastes. Such a
good choice. But such an atypical book of Scripture, more philosophical than
theological, a book in which the balance of our lives is repeatedly stressed.
Ecclesiastes
is really a book of thanksgiving, read in the autumn during the Feast of
Tabernacles, or Sukkot. In it we thank God for His gifts, especially the gift
of time, of all those times, in which we live our lives.
Times
for laughter, and times for tears, times of healthy days and days of suffering.
Times
for planting and starting, and times for reaping and ending.
Silent
times for prayer and contemplation, and times for talking and sharing and
embracing.
Happy
times and sad times.
And
yes, a time to be born and a time to die.
Sadly,
for those who have not accepted the gift of faith, in this they see only an end. T. S. Eliot, among my favorite poets, once wrote, “In my end is my
beginning.” And he was right: death isn’t an end; rather it’s a beginning, the
beginning of our real life, an eternal life bathed in God’s love. Patricia
knew this. She believed it with all her being. And because of her faith she’s
now in the embrace of our loving, merciful God.
Realize, too, this funeral Mass is primarily an act
of worship, but worship in the form of thanksgiving. We turn to our God
and thank Him for the gift of Patricia Curtin’s unrepeatable life, a life we
were blessed not only to witness, but also to share. But even more important, here
today we gather in prayer, and Word, and Eucharist, thanking our God for the gift
of His Son, Who gave His life for us, and renews that sacrifice right here on
this altar.
Without this gift,
we would have no hope: no hope of forgiveness, no hope of mercy, no hope of
salvation, no hope of eternal life. It’s because of this gift that we can
gather here today and not be consumed by grief. Because of this gift we don’t
despair. Because of this gift we can go on. We can continue with our own lives
knowing that Patricia, and you, and I – that we’ve all been redeemed by our
Lord, Jesus Christ.
So
many gifts from our God, a lifetime of gifts, relived by us through God’s gift
of memory. And so, today, filled with
hope, we hold close the memories of the past. It’s right to do so, to keep Patricia’s
memory alive. We’ll continue to tell the stories, the stories that bring
laughter and those that bring tears.
But today let us just claim and
proclaim all that was good and noble and loving and faithful in Patricia’s life.
And with that we’ll come to realize, the greatest thing she left behind is you,
Claude, and really all of us whom she loved and who loved her! In a sense,
we’re her legacy, her gift to the world, her gift to God. I can think of
nothing better.
Today, then, we
ask our Lord Jesus to take Patricia Curtin, his “good and faithful servant,”
into His loving embrace, to take away the pain, to wipe away the tears, and
give her the first taste of that eternal joy we all hope to share.
God love you
all.
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