Father Rich Perry's Homily

Okay, let’s get this out right away. Michael died way too young! We are all probably thinking that. And it is perhaps the hardest part of his death. 41 years old. But maybe the question is, “What is old to God?” The last time I checked God was the one in charge. But isn’t it difficult to make sense of? Here is this guy, Michael, a really good man in every respect: funny, a prankster, huge smile, warm, sensitive, compassionate, putting other people first, always serving people, devout, faithful, a man of integrity, hard worker, wonderful husband and friend, hugger. \Why didn’t God leave him around longer so we could learn from him, so some of his goodness could rub off on us and our children? God obviously had other plans, for Michael, and for Tinalynne, their family, their friends. Maybe God decided it was time for us to learn how to tap into our own goodness through his dying and death rather than through his life. In life we could admire him from afar. In his dying we had to find the depths of our own goodness and compassion up close and personal. Not a bad thing, is it?

But, you know, we Christians are going to constantly have to deal with the question of death from secular society. As the author of Wisdom reminds us: “in the eyes of the foolish – read, those without faith - they seemed to be dead; their passing away was thought an affliction and their going forth from us utter destruction. BUT they are in peace!” Our culture shies away from death with a vengeance. Maybe that is why cosmetic surgeons are making a killing – pardon the pun! – from pushing eternal youth. Maybe that is why Madison Avenue shows only beautiful, handsome aging women and men and pitches longer and longer lives for all of us – provided we buy the correct products: theirs. But those who believe in God and in Jesus Christ look at death differently. Yes, we know it is difficult. We know it knocks us for a loop. We know it can be devastating. We know it leaves huge holes and wounds in our hearts. We acknowledge that it is our destiny and no one escapes it. But we also know this: Death is not the end! Wisdom puts it this way: “Those who are faithful shall abide with him in love.” Michael has been tried. Oh, how he has been tried. And he has been found worthy of God. His soul has been purged in the fire of suffering, cleansed of all impurities, so that he may take flight directly to God upon his death. This is what we believe. This is our deepest hope, our deepest desire for Michael and for ourselves.

Paul wrestles with a similar question among one of the communities he helped found. He warns his sisters and brothers not to grieve like those who do not have any hope of an afterlife. In other words, he is offering them the same hope as the author of Wisdom a couple of centuries earlier. But Paul has further reason for his people to have hope for those who have fallen asleep: the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. He makes no bones about it. If we believe that Jesus did truly die and did rise from the dead, then we can be sure that God will also, through Jesus, bring to himself all those who have died.

Jesus himself says something similar to his disciples just before he is arrested. He reminds them that, if they labor and are burdened, they only have to come to him to find rest. What labor? What burden? Hardships. Failure. Sin. Sickness. Whatever it is that burdens us, Jesus makes light. Michael has discovered that. At some point during his long dying process, he experienced that the burden of his sickness was being transformed into rest and ease and lightness. For in his dying Michael took on the yoke of Jesus Christ, the yoke of suffering, and he learned from the suffering Christ. For Jesus is meek and humble of heart, and Michael has found rest for his soul. And, finally, back to Paul, who tells us that we shall always be with the Lord. And so, he says, console one another with these words.

Yes, we have reason to hope. Certainly to hope for Michael. But also to hope for ourselves. We have assurances from Jesus Christ that we will rise with him and that death can have no hold on us. In his cross and resurrection, Jesus has won victory over death, over sin, over evil, over all sickness and poverty. They no longer hold sway over us. They have no power over us, except what we give them. And we are going to give them no leeway. Michael’s hope is certain in Jesus Christ; through him we find that same certainty.

Bully for Michael, right! But here we are with our tears and grieving, our loss, our missing him already. With our lack of understanding, with our fear. But mostly we experience Michael’s passing as one that makes us bereft. For he truly was and is a wonderful man. But he is not far away. I truly believe that. None of our beloved dead are that far away. They are as close as the next story we share about them, the next image that pops into our memories unbidden, the next sense of his presence that comforts us. Haven’t you ever had the experience, right in the midst of chaos and busyness, of a moment, perhaps many years ago, of something that a dear friend said or did or an experience you shared. It is so real and so immediate. That is how Michael will communicate with us. Through story and imagination and presence.

But we can also be more proactive about that. We can make Michael present again in the world. We just have to value and put into concrete action some of the same things he valued and lived in his own life. When you memorize practically all of the dialogue in a favorite movie, say, “The Godfather;” or when you watch a movie for the 27th time, even if it is not “The Hunt for Red October,” Michael is present in what you are doing because that is what he did. When you rearrange the place settings and silverware at your mother-in-law’s dinner while she is in the kitchen, Michael has become the little red devil sitting on your shoulder and lives on through you. When you husbands out there insist on putting your wives first, again Michael becomes present in your loving actions. When you are full of wonder and take great delight in everything that is beautiful, and find that everything IS beautiful, Michael lives on in you. You get the idea? When you bring joy into people’s lives, when you are kind and compassionate, when you act like a brat, when you cry with those who are sad, when you serve others, when you bring joy to others with your sense of humor and your pranks, when you meet someone half way, when you do things you don’t particularly like – like dancing – but do it anyway to please someone you love deeply – when you do any of these things in your own lives, Michael makes his presence known in the world through you and your own actions.

So we can let Michael go, knowing that he has no more suffering ahead of him, that he is in God’s gentle embrace, that he resides with the Son of God, Jesus Christ, in whom he had the deepest faith, that he is at rest and at peace. I’m sure he knows we are sad. I’m sure he knows that we are grateful for his life, as short as it was. But, you know, he lived life to the fullest and now he continues to live the fullest of lives. Rest in peace, Michael. And for us, still here on this earth, may the Spirit of consolation fill our hearts and may God wipe away our tears. And may we, in Michael’s memory, live life to the fullest from this moment on. Amen.