The first reading was Wisdom 3: 1-9 read by my nephew Brian, followed by Psalm 42-43 sung by one of the parishioners. Then Bob’s sister-in-law Linda read 2Corinthians 4: 14, 5:1.
For the Gospel, the Mass "program" said Father Shea would read Matthew 11: 2-11. But instead, he chose Matthew 24: 42-46. It was the perfect reading to lead him into his homily in which he described Bob as an “Advent man”. I am in no way near as eloquent as Father in describing what he meant by this, but I’ll give the points that hit home with me. Father Shea said that, while he has only known Bob for about 2 years (since he became the pastor), it was plenty of time to get to know Bob’s character and his love for the Eucharist. He described how much care and respect Bob showed for our Lord when training new Eucharistic Ministers and when performing the duties himself at the hospital—even recently, when he didn’t really feel “up to it”. Anyone who really knew Bob knew this about him.
This is the way Bob kept his “eyes on the prize” that is at the end of this journey we call “life”. He truly recognized Jesus—Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity—in the Eucharist, and loved Him for His gift to us. It is through his example (and my mother’s) that I came to fully believe the same, even at an early age.
Another point that Father Shea made is that Bob had some pretty difficult suffering for the last few years, and he felt it is Providential that Christ would call him home during this season of Advent as a reward for being “watchful”, and uniting his suffering to Christ's Passion as the Gospel (and Advent) exhorts us to.
All in all, it was a very moving Mass. Not many dry eyes in the house, as they say. I even saw Father wipe a tear from his eyes at one point. Usually, the priests are very stoic, but Bob was an exceptionally faithful man, who touched the very souls of most of the people whom he met. I will miss our all-too-seldom theological discussions.
His first-born son, Tim, gave his eulogy at the end of the Mass. I don’t know how he got through it, but he did. He said he had not really prepared anything, but I don’t believe him. It was too good not to have been rehearsed or prepared. He took his bible up to the podium with him and quoted some scripture readings that he had read the night before his father died. He quoted from Sirach—the passage where Sirach exhorts fathers to teach their children well, so that they may be known through the sons’ actions when they themselves have passed on to their rewards. He also had a reflection on his father’s devotion to the Eucharist. He said ever since he can remember, at the words of Consecration (This is My Body, This is My Blood) his dad would beat his chest 3 times in remembrance of the centurion who exclaims to Jesus, “I am not worthy that you should come under my roof….” (Matt 8:8) Tim said this is what made the biggest impression on him growing up and clinched his own belief in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist. [As an aside, I also do this. I'm not sure why, other than that I think Mom showed us to beat our chest 3 times and say, "My Lord and my God!" as each Species is held up after Consecration. It had (has) the same effect for me as the prayer, "Lord, I believe, help my unbelief!"]
After the burial rite at the cemetery, all of the mourners met for lunch nearby to remember the life of our Advent man. Lots of great stories, (some of them actually true), and a chance to share our love for Bob. It wasn’t until I got home though that I noticed that the “program” for the Mass had the picture at the top of this blog entry on it. The picture was sketched by Tim the night his father went on to his final reward. I couldn’t begin to describe it as eloquently as Tim has drawn it. I’ll just let the picture tell Bob’s story for anyone who didn’t know him. At first glance, it seems like a pretty simple drawing. But to me, it sums up who Bob was and what he believed and how he was rewarded in the end. Isn’t this the same story--keeping the spirit of Advent alive within us all year 'round--that we all want for ourselves and our families? That's a pretty good legacy. Thanks, Bob. Rest in His peace.
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