Note: Early Easter Sunday morning our parish community lost a holy man, Deacon Byron Otradovec, 92, a man I often called my BFF (Best Florida Friend). Byron had spent the past six years in a local extended care facility, part of that time with his wonderful wife, Mary Ann, who died in 2019.
30 years ago, Byron was the first deacon assigned to St. Vincent de Paul, at the time a mission of St. Lawrence Parsh in Bushnell, Florida. I joined him eight years later as the second deacon, and found a dear friend, an older, wiser brother, and a teacher. A man devoted to serving all, especially those struggling through difficult circumstances, Byron recognized the presence of God in everyone he met.
I was blessed to be asked to preach at Byron's funeral yesterday. My homily follows...
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Readings: Wis 3:1-6,9; Ps 23;
2 Cor 5:1,6-10; Mt 5:1-12a
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Bishop Noonan, on behalf of Marcia, John, and the Otradovec family, I
thank you for being here today to celebrate this funeral mass for one of our
own, for our beloved Deacon Byron.
And to you, Marcia and John, I know Bishop Noonan, Fathers Kenny and John, and all my brother deacons join me in extending our loving condolences to you and to Byron’s entire family.
This has been a sorrowful time for you all, and I know, too, that words are never enough. Indeed, my words here today will soon be forgotten, but not God’s Word, for it never perishes. It remains to nourish us, to heal us, strengthen us, to give us hope. And so today, present here in our midst, Our Lord Jesus offers His peace and divine love.
I can only imagine how much you miss your dad and grandfather, but if you let Him, God will fill this emptiness in the very heart of your family. He'll fill it with His grace, bringing with it His peace and His enduring love. Today I, too, am in need of it, for I loved Byron. He was my friend, my slightly older big brother.
When I arrived here 21 years ago, Byron had already been ministering at St. Vincent de Paul for 8 or 9 years. Of course, back then we were a mission, part of St. Lawrence Parish in Bushnell.
Byron was really the first person I encountered here. Diane and I saw this deacon greeting people after Mass. Just seeing his kindliness, his smile, his warmth…well, we knew we were home. The next day, after meeting with Father Peter Sagorski, Byron and I met officially.
As you might expect, he began by giving me one of his entrapping hugs. I think he was just happy to welcome another deacon. Then he looked at me seriously and said:
“There’s a lot to do
here…a lot of good. Will you work with me and do it?”
How could anyone turn down a request like that?
And so, with the blessing of our bishop, I joined Deacon Byron and Father
Peter here at St. Vincent de Paul.
It didn’t take long before Byron and I learned a lot about each other. He’d served in the Army for 42 years – oh and coincidentally (or maybe not), he also served 42 years as a deacon. He enlisted during the Korean War, working his way up through the ranks, then to OCS, and ultimately retiring as a LTCOL. Yes, quite a span, serving during Korea, Vietnam, and Desert Storm.
I told him I’d spent 27 years in a Navy uniform and retired as a Captain. And then jokingly remarked, “Of course, that means I outrank you.” Without missing a beat, he said, “Not here you don’t.” And then added, “Here, we’re all rank-less; we’re all just servants.”
Yes, Byron was always teaching me.
I also learned he was a very active Third Order Carmelite, and involved too with Food for the Poor. He and Mary Ann often spend weeks in the Caribbean – Haiti, Jamaica… serving the poor and those too often forgotten by the rest of us.
One day I asked him about opportunities to minister in the local community, beyond the parish walls. He thought for a moment and suggested: “You might try the soup kitchen in Wildwood.”
I really didn’t think much of it until I got home that afternoon. Diane greeted me by saying: “Oh, I signed us up to volunteer at the Wildwood Soup Kitchen.” Assuming she and Byron had conspired, I asked her, “Where’d you hear about that?” Her response: “There was a notice in the parish bulletin asking for volunteers.”
Yes, indeed, the Holy Spirit works in remarkable ways, doesn’t He? And
thanks to my friend, Byron, and my wife, Diane, I began to love and learn from
those in need. We cooked and fed and ministered there for 16 years.
It didn’t take me long to discover that Byron had a way of teaching you what you thought you already knew. He’d bring it to life simply by doing it and showing you what it really meant. For he was a man always looking to others, one who recognized the seeds of holiness in them, encouraging and loving them.
MaryAnn was the perfect companion. For 64 years, they prayed together, ministered together, and served the Church and the People of God…together. Of course, as Byron aged, and especially after the death of MaryAnn in 2019, his earthly dwelling, that tent, as Paul called it, began to weaken. He lost a leg, but with his prosthesis did his daily physical therapy…and never complained. But few were as ready as Byron to return to the Father. I got the sense that, like Paul, he “would rather leave the body and go home to the Lord.”
I think he spent six years at Cypress Care, a year together with MaryAnn and
five more after she died.
I tried to visit him frequently, because he always wanted to know what was happening in the parish. But if I were home, enjoying a good book and maybe a glass of cabernet, and thinking, I suppose I should visit Byron soon, inevitably the phone would ring.
His timing was truly amazing: “When are you coming by?” he’d ask, “Oh, and bring me the Eucharist. It’s
been a few days since I’ve received Our Lord.”
Yes, Deacon Byron was always teaching me.
Every few weeks I’d raid my library and take him another book, something I knew he’d enjoy. The next time I’d visit, he’d want to talk about it, share his thoughts, and listen to mine. Then he’d ask, “What are you doing now in your BibIe Study.” I’d tell him, and he’d just serve up some of the most remarkable insights about whatever book we were studying.
But in a lot of ways, Byron was a true blue-collar deacon. He was like the Apostles – a tax collector and a collection of fisherman, not a philosopher among them. Like Byron, they were men of the people, men who sat at Jesus’ feet and listened as He preached the Beatitudes to the crowd, a crowd made up of folks just like them.
Years ago, while we were sharing some of our military experiences, I said something like, “Byron, I guess we we're both peacemakers.” He laughed and said, “I suppose so. But that’s just one slice of what it means to be a Christian. We have to let it all change us."
I then saw the look, and knew I was in for a mini-homily. Later, I jotted down some of what he said.
“To be poor in spirit is to turn from ourselves and comfort those in need, those who mourn, who’ve been overcome by the sorrows and tragedies of their lives.
“We deacons must be meek, yet strong enough to resist the world, strong enough to
help others do the same.
“So many hunger and thirst today, so many seek mercy from those who care nothing about them. We must care, and do whatever needs to be done.
“Can we cleanse our
hearts so we can worthily serve
others, even when it hurts.
“Can we accept the persecutions, and help others through them, the persecutions that are here now and those that are coming?”
In those words, and perhaps a few more, Byron presented the Beatitudes as
something very personal and diaconal, making them acts of service.
Yes, Byron was always teaching me.
He and Pope Francis shared more than their return to the Father this
Easter. For both understood the call to service, service to the poor, the
hungry, the world’s forgotten.
Byron and I prayed together during my visits, always calling on the Holy Spirit to shower us with His gifts. We would usually conclude with Byron recalling Paul’s famous words from Romans 8:
“We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to His purpose.”
Indeed, life in all its joys and sorrows is a gift,
just as Byron’s life was a gift to all of us who knew him.
Don’t get me wrong, though. Like you and I, Deacon Byron wasn’t perfect. But those imperfections we carry around with us …most aren’t horrible things; they’re just human things. As we discover in the Gospel, Jesus, our judge, is remarkably tolerant of them. Yes, those imperfections we notice in others are really the things in our lives that call for forgiveness and acts of love.
And so, this funeral Mass is less a
celebration of Byron’s life as it is an act of worship, an act of Eucharistic
worship in the form of thanksgiving.
Today we turn to our loving and merciful God and thank Him for the gift of this dear man’s unique, unrepeatable life, a life we were blessed to both witness and share. But even more important, as Christians, whenever we gather in prayer, we thank our God for the gift of His Son, Who gave His life for us.
For
without that 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 Byron,
and you and I have been redeemed by our Lord, Jesus Christ.
Yes, sisters and brothers, Byron’s was a life well lived. He savored that life, that gift, and accepted its challenges and joys, and the pain and suffering that accompanied his final years. How did the Book of Wisdom put it?
God tried Byron and found him worthy...
Today we ask our Lord Jesus to take Deacon Byron, his “good and faithful servant,” into His loving embrace. We ask Him to take away the pain, to wipe away the tears, and give him the first taste of that eternal joy we all hope to share.
