RIP, Father Len!

I spent the better part of yesterday at the funeral of my uncle.  I have mentioned before that I have a very large family, with many aunts and uncles, and, unfortunately, they are all hitting that age where funerals are happening a little more frequently.

But yesterday's funeral was a little different than most.  That's because my uncle was a priest.  And not just any priest (are there any of the sort??).  He was many things to many people.  He did not spend his years just being a parish priest -- he was a rector at the seminary, a librarian, and also a parish priest.  Although originally from St. Henry, his ministry was out of the Kansas City Province, so most of his assignments were west of here.  That did not allow for many of us to spend a whole lot of time with him, as he would be home for a couple of weeks during the summer and that would be most of what we would see him for the year.

It was interesting to hear the stories told by Fr. Nassal, the Provincial of Kansas City, during his homily, of the Fr. Len that he and his fellow priests knew.  Not that they knew a different man, but they definitely knew a different side of him.  Anyone who ever received a letter from Fr. Len, or talked with him, knew he was very interested in the ancestry of our family, and he always had a new name of someone for  me to figure out how I was related to them.  I wish so much I had kept his letters over the years....I didn't always appreciate the knowledge he was trying to shower me with.

He mentioned during his homily that once Father Len was in a parish and noticed the tabernacle was locked.  He said, "Unlock that and let Jesus out!"  The priest mentioned, and the thought occurred to me as well, that maybe we do that within ourselves sometimes, too.  We receive Jesus in the Eucharist, but then forget to let him out and share him with the world!

Fr.  Nassal mentioned a poet that Fr. Len liked, but mentioned that he himself enjoyed the poetry of Mary Oliver more and quoted this poem.  I remembered her name and googled this poem when I got home because I appreciated the words so much.  It definitely describes Fr. Len.

When Death Comes by Mary Oliver

When death comes

like the hungry bear in autumn;

when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;

when death comes

like the measle-pox

when death comes

like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:

what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything

as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,

and I look upon time as no more than an idea,

and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common

as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,

tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something

precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say all my life

I was a bride married to amazement.

I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder

if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,

or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

I have bolded the ending of this poem because it describes Fr. Len so well.  He left no stone unturned, in his ministry or in his life.  He blessed us all abundantly by allowing us to get to know him, to allow him into our lives.  And while it was very interesting to hear the stories of his life in the priesthood, and nice to know how much they appreciated and loved "Father Gutty" as they called him, I will be happy with the knowledge that he was my uncle.....my dad's brother.  The man who was able to bring our family together for Eucharist each family reunion we had, and dine with us afterwards.  The man who made my dad smile.

I have never watched the movie "Great Expectations", but think I just might locate it at the library and watch it one of these weekends with Fr. Len in mind.  For he had great expectations of all of us, himself included, and was never afraid to let others see what expectations he had.  I hope people can say that about me at the end of my life.

Rest in peace, Fr. Len.  Job well done!

Job well done!

It's taken me a little more than 24 hours to put this blog post together because I needed to get my thoughts together a little.  Yesterday was a bit rougher day for me than I expected.

On Friday, I was driving around the countryside meeting with clients when my phone rang.  I looked to see who it was, and it was my brother, Joe.  Joe often calls me to tell me little stories, so I didn't think too much when he called me in the middle of the day.  He asked me how my day was going, and I could tell from the tone in his voice that all was not well.

"Uncle Clete died this morning," I heard on the other end. 

It was one of those moments where it was not unexpected (Clete was 86, after all), but Uncle Clete, who seemed like he was going to live forever, was not with us any more.

Clete's family lives in and around Columbus, so they were always the far away folks.  However, I have to say that for living as far away as anyone, they have always been the family that you can always count on to be there - for funerals, weddings, reunions....they were there.  I love that they always still realized the value of family, even when it might mean travelling on snowy roads to get to the Christmas party!

The viewing had been set for Sunday, with the funeral on Monday.  I had already committed to helping my brother Duane out at the Applefest Parade in Sidney on Sunday afternoon, so I opted to go to the funeral on Monday.  I picked up my brother, Jim, around 7:30 am and off we went. 

We stopped at the funeral home first, to pay our last respects to Uncle Clete, and to give hugs to his wife, Dolores, and all of the kids.  After a short prayer service led by his son, Fr. Craig, we joined the procession through the streets of Columbus to the church where Clete's life would be celebrated.

To be very honest with you, it didn't strike me until I was in church that Fr. Craig was actually going to say his father's funeral mass.  At a time when most of us get very emotional and look to each other (and our priest) for support, Craig was going to do what most would find the impossible -- celebrate this funeral liturgy.

After we entered the church, I looked around.  There were two deacons flanking him on either side, and then he had three concelebrants on the altar with him.  In the side pews were other fellow priests of his -- my guess would be about 20 more, all to support Craig and to celebrate this liturgy.

I have to say that Craig did a fantastic job.  I'm sure there were moments that it was difficult to hold it together, but he did it.  And his homily?  He knocked it out of the park!  He told stories of Clete growing up, and had stories of Clete with some of his siblings that were present.  My favorite story of all was the time Clete's sister, Aunt Edna, was mad at him one morning when she was making his lunch.  So what did he get?  A pancake between two slices of bread!!!  Nothing else -- no butter, no jelly, no anything to make it go down easy.  Yuck!!!  He did a wonderful job of memorializing his dad.

When mass was over, the priests all gathered two by two to exit the church.  I was sitting about the third row back, so I was one of the first ones out of the church.  I didn't realize what a beautiful surprise I was about to encounter!  The priest lined up on either side of the sidewalk and were singing "Hail Holy Queen" in Latin, as Uncle Clete's body was carried past.  What an absolutely beautiful tribute.  With tears rolling down my cheeks, I listened in awe. 

And then it hit me -- we often think priests must lead a lonely life.  Their houses are empty at night, they don't have anyone to chat with anytime they want -- but that's really just what we think.  These guys were all THERE for Craig in his time of need -- I'm sure they were praying for strength for him to do this, and will continue to be there for him long after we have left town.  What a beautiful vocation the priesthood is!

I later had the chance to talk with Craig about that singing, on our way back to the church after we went to the cemetary.  I asked him if that was a tradition, or just happenstance.  He said that it is unique to their diocese, but that they generally do it for other priest's funerals, or if there are enough of them when a family member of a priest dies.  I told him how beautiful and touching it was.  He, too, appreciated the greatness.

We ended our day together with a luncheon in the church basement.  I love this tradition so much.  It has nothing to do with food or drink, but gives everyone a little time to decompress and come down a little slower from the past few whirlwind days.

I've really been reflecting on yesterday throughout the day yesterday and into today.  Imagine my surprise when this beautiful quote fell into my lap today:

"The world looks to the priest, because it looks to Jesus! No one can see Christ; but everyone sees the priest, and through him they wish to catch a glimpse of the Lord! Immense is the grandeur of the Lord! Immense is the grandeur and dignity of the priest!" - Pope John Paul II

We truly were in Christ's presence yesterday.  Thank you to Craig and to Clete's family for sharing your gifts with us.  We will certainly miss Clete's beautiful smile and, of course, his e-mails.  He could always brighten my day! 

Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord;

and let perpetual light shine upon him.

May his soul and the souls of all the faithfully departed

Rest in peace.

Amen.