Yesterday our pastor, Fr. Kenny, joined by three priest concelebrants -- Fr. Tom Connery, Fr. John McCracken, and Fr. Glen Baptiste -- conducted the funeral of Deacon Dan Pallo. Our priests were joined by the parish deacons as we all asked our Lord to take Deacon Dan into His loving and eternal embrace.
Here's perhaps my favorite photo of Dan and his wife, Eleanor, taken at our home back in 2008.
I was blessed that Dan asked me to preach at his funeral, and I trust my words were both fitting and proper, and also provided some solace to Dan's extended family. My homily follows:
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Readings: Lamentations 3:26,28-29b,31,41,58; Psalm 23; Romans 14:7-9,10c-12; Matthew 11:25-30
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Oh, how we will
miss this good man, this brother deacon, this servant of God.
But no one will miss Dan as much as this wonderfully extended family that he cherished so very much. To you, Dee and Karry and Amy, and to Dan’s stepchildren, whom he loved as his own – Rita, Tom, John, Randy, Kim, and Kurt – and to the grandchildren and great-grandchildren…so many names, my aging brain can't hold them all. Yes, to all of you, my brother deacons and I join with Fathers Kenny, Tom, John, and Glen and extend our heartfelt condolences, as you mourn the loss of this remarkable man who was such an important part of your lives.
I first met Dan at a meeting the day he arrived here at St. Vincent de Paul. Our pastor at the time, Father Peter Sagorski, had invited Dan to attend the meeting and in walked this large man. Asked to tell us about himself, he quietly and humbly revealed his life in about three sentences. Oh, yes, he also mentioned his wife, Eleanor.
My first thought?
“I’ve got to get to know this guy.”
Yes, we became friends. We even worked together at the Wildwood Soup Kitchen for many years. But we weren’t – how can I put this? – we weren't buddy friends. We didn’t get together for a beer or golf. No, our personal friendship was different, because the two of us were so very different. I guess you could call us spiritual friends. When we talked or got together, we inevitably found ourselves talking of our ministry as deacons.
Too often I would get all wrapped up in the “stuff” of ministry – what we do and how we do it. But Dan tended to focus on the “who” of our ministry. And, yes, we helped each other, but in truth, Dan was the greater helper. He’d likely disagree, but he’d be wrong. You see, Dan helped me relearn that being a deacon was to be a servant, to be like Jesus, to serve everyone God placed in my life.
I chose the readings we just heard because they often came up in our conversations and also helped me recall Dan as a deacon and friend. Indeed, those words we heard from Matthew 11 described him so well:
“Take
my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you
will find rest for yourself.”
In so many
ways, these words of Our Lord defined Dan’s ministry and his life.
Joined with the Lord, throughout much of his life Dan carried half of that yoke on his broad shoulders – raising those three girls on his own, often overwhelmed, but always being the father they needed. He did so without complaint, for he, too, had learned meekness – and know that meekness is not weakness, far from it. God’s call to be meek is really a call to strength – to turn from oneself, to look to the other in need, and then to act.
Note, too, that Jesus joins meekness and humility. I’ve always believed humility is our foundational virtue. For without humility, the other virtues become what today is called “virtue signaling” – simply a means to let others see how very good we are. Dan didn’t signal his virtues. In his humility he just lived them, quietly and consistently. For humility is merely acceptance of the reality of who we are. And Dan understood that.
That was how he lived his life and how he approached his death: “and you will find rest for yourself.” Dan’s death was one of pure acceptance, happily accepting the gift God now offered him. How many of us, when it comes to our own lives, can believe so completely the words we utter daily?
“…Thy will be done, one earth as it is in heaven.”
Yes, when it
comes to our own lives, so often we like to place our will above God’s.
Dan’s daughter, Karry, collected over 5 pages of family thoughts on her father – from kids and step-kids and grandkids – words that revealed so much about who Dan was. And yet, everything I read, all the wonderful family stories, merely reinforced what I already knew.
One thing stood out: how Dan quietly taught his family – and taught me as well – not so much by his words but by his actions. Let me give you an example. In our 2nd reading Paul admonished the Romans:
“Why then do you judge your brother? Or you, why do you
look down on your brother? For we shall all stand before the judgment seat of
God”
One day, some years ago, Dan reminded me of the meaning of those words. I often assisted him with the Catholics Returning Home program he had introduced to the parish.
Dan got to know the participants well, while I would just come in occasionally and conduct a session. One day, as I was speaking on the Eucharist, one of the participants continued asking very negative questions. I answered each question with a smile, but found myself thinking, “Why does this guy want to return to the Church? He doesn’t seem to like it very much.”
After everyone
had left, while Dan and I were talking about the group, I said something to the effect, “Yes, a nice
bunch of folks…except maybe for the grumpy old man with all the negative questions.”
Dan just smiled and said, “How did St. Paul put it? ‘Why do you judge and look down on your brother?’”
As you might expect, I had no answer. So, Dan waited a moment,
let it sink in, then told me:
“Yeah, during the
first session with this group, I felt the same about him, grumpy and negative. So,
I asked him to stay a moment to tell me his story.
“He was treated
badly by a pastor years ago, and it drove him from the Church. His wife, a
devout Catholic, prayed for him constantly.
“She died
recently, and the last thing she asked of him was to come back to the faith.
That’s where he is now, coming back, asking questions no one had ever answered
before. Thank you for answering them so well.”
Did you notice
how Dan handled me? It took me a while to recognize what he'd done. First he chewed me out, but then he thanked me. And that, brothers
and sisters, was one of Dan’s strengths.
I like to think I helped him as well. Once, while discussing aspects of our ministry, he said to me, “I know I’m not a very good preacher…”
I interrupted
him: “Dan, we’re called to be servants, to preach, to teach, and to heal; and
believe me, you teach a lot of folks how to serve, how to live the Christian
life, leading them to God’s healing grace. Those are God’s gifts. Be thankful
for them,”
Yes, we taught
each other.
Then there’s our first reading, from the Book of Lamentations. I think I can take credit for introducing Dan to that little book. Lamentations is not very popular because it’s filled with anguish over the destruction of Jerusalem in 587 BC. Long attributed to Jeremiah, modern scholars argue about that. But modern scholars seem to argue about everything.
Anyway, each of its 5 chapters is a poem or hymn, and the suffering man described in our reading from chapter 3 is often seen as a kind of foreshadowing of the passion and death of Our Lord. The message? If in our worldly sufferings, we recognize and confess our sins we can then rejoice and share in the glory of Jesus’s Resurrection.
As I thought of
Dan’s life, and especially his final days, the words of chapter 3 came to mind,
God’s Word filed with hope for Dan and us. Listen again:
“It is good to hope in silence for the LORD’s deliverance, for Him to save…when its weight lies
heavy…yet there is hope.”
I was reminded of the loving care Dan provided for Eleanor during her long illness. Yes, “the weight of life often lies heavy, yet there is hope." Dan's loving care for Eleanor taught me a lot about caregiving, something I'm involved in today. And yes, we accept the gift of hope, reminding us that the virtue of hope is merely our certainty that God always fulfills His promises.
Those
words were followed by a word to each of us:
“…though grief comes to us, He
takes pity, according to the abundance of His mercy.”
Yes,
we grieve, but God’s mercy, His love, knows no bounds. And because of God's mercy our grief can be touched with joy.
Then,
finally, despite the hatreds and divisions we encounter in our world today,
we’re told how to share God’s love in the midst of it all:
“Let us lift up our hearts as well as our
hands toward God in heaven! You pleaded my case, Lord, you redeemed my life.”
Yes,
indeed, we can lift up our hearts and hands today, thanking God for the life of
this good man, this servant who loved God and His people. And so, we praise God for Deacon Daniel Pallo, and for each of you, and for me…for we have been redeemed.
Thanks be to God.
