Death Through the Lens of Faith - Funeral Homily for Don Weigel, Sr.

 Funeral Homily for my Dad, Don Weigel, Sr.

Readings:

Wisdom 3:1-3, 9

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18

John 11:17-27

    92 years. Can you believe it? 92 years. Just to put that in perspective, Dad was born a year before the stock market crash of 1929 and grew up during the depression. And throughout those 92 years, he had a range of accomplishments and life experiences that are pretty amazing – even if they might seem “ordinary” to so many folks.

    He was a corporal in the military police of the army during the Korean War, and was lucky enough to be stationed in Germany. He married my Mom 67 and a half years ago, and raised us three kids who ended up blessing him with 9 grandkids and 8 great-grandkids. And along the way he had a bunch of interests and loved family parties, and hunting when he was younger, and fishing – even had his own boat for awhile – and his orchard of trees at his PA house, and made a ton of friends and acquaintances – the folks gathered for a wing fest at Camp Strauss, or the guys sitting around the bar at Top Hill and the men playing pinochle at Queen of Martyrs Holy Name.

     But it seems to me that the thing that really helped define him the most was his love and talent for photography. It was photography that allowed him to find a career even though he didn’t go much further than the 6^th grade. It was photography that got him out of the factory and into the darkroom – turning a hobby and an avocation into a profession. It was photography that enabled him to build a life for his family, to put food on the table and a roof over our heads, and eventually to build a second home in PA that was always his favorite place to be.

     I was lucky enough to work with him in his own photography business for a short time while I was in college, and even though we had a few father/son squabbles, I learned a lot. One of the things I learned that has stayed with me is the importance of how things look through the lens of the camera. When he was setting up a shot of some new pizza product, or even an American Optical non-contact tonometer (I love saying that) he taught me that the only thing that was important was how it looked through the lens. We would set up all these lights and paper and backgrounds and reflectors and stuff hanging from the ceiling, and if you were in the studio, you could look at this whole set-up and see all the “tricks” we were using to make the picture look good – but all that mattered was how it looked through the lens.

     I think that each of us will remember Dad in his life through our own lenses – whether we shared 67+ years with him like my Mom; or whether we share his name like I and my son Donnie do; or whether we share his birthday like my brother Keith does or Dad’s grandson Brian does; or whether we shared photography like Lynn did when she worked with him, or like his granddaughter Ashley does now in her own profession. When we think of his life, nothing will matter except how we see him through our own lenses.

     But what lens do we use now to see him in his death? The only lens that makes sense for us, the reason we are gathered here in this church and around the table of the Lord, is to see his passing through the lens of our faith. The reading from Wisdom was clear – he now rests in the hand of God. The foolish only see his death, but those who are wise, those of us who have faith, know that he is at peace.

     It is not always a simple or easy perspective. There may be times when we wonder where God is – we might call out to Jesus like Martha did – “Where were you? if you had been here, things would have been different!” But then our faith brings us around again to answer Jesus’ question, “Do you believe?” And we say– “yes, Lord, I believe you are the Messiah, the Son of God” – and that makes all the difference. Our faith gives us the lens to see that Dad’s death is not the end, but the transition to another life, to a more complete and total life in the Lord, a transition to a final rest, at home with Christ Jesus.

     St Paul echoes much the same thought – “We do not want you to be unaware about those who have fallen asleep, so that you may not grieve like the rest, who have no hope.” That is the lens of our faith, that is the only lens that matters. And it is our faith that gives us hope in eternal life, hope in the Resurrection, and hope in the share of immortality that Jesus has won for us.

     So, as we grieve our loss, and as we deal with the reality of losing him from our lives here on earth, and as we remember all that he was for us, and all of our times together – in both joy and difficulties – we recognize how much we will miss him. But our faith gives us the lens of hope that helps us to see that our separation is only temporary until we are joined again for all time around the eternal table of the Lord.