As you can tell from the homily, it was a great privilege. His mother told me “Eric was born with a good heart.” This seems to be no less than the truth.
A visitor to London knew that the magnificent St. Paul’s Cathedral was the work of Sir Christopher Wren, and that its renowned architect was buried there. So he decided to visit the great man’s tomb.
He went from one grand marble monument to another without success. Nor could he find a side chapel with any mention of Wren.
Just as he was about to give up, the man spotted a Latin inscription on the floor.
He saw Christopher Wren’s name followed by these words: Lector, si monumentum requiris circumspice.
“Reader, if you seek his monument, look around.”
Friends, if you seek a monument to the life of Eric Lee, look around you. Look around this church and see a beloved wife, a loving mother, four dear sisters, and numerous family members—all of them grieving, but none of them bereft of hope.
Look around the church and see business associates who remember a man of integrity and charm; and fellow parishioners with stories of his generosity and commitment to the Church.
Look around you and see people who aren’t that interested in what I might have to say this morning—because Eric’s remarkable attitude to illness has already given them the hope they need to deal with the sadness of his premature death.
Eric almost needs no eulogy beyond his own words “Another bonus day!”
But perhaps it can be fruitful to meditate on Eric’s rallying cry. What were the sources of such a positive attitude?
Clearly, it began with his loving family—the family is the first foundation of character and courage, and Eric grew up in the sort of family that promoted both.
Yet it took more than even a brave character to confront his dire prognosis with such confidence—it took faith. And again, his family was the starting point. I have known his wonderful mother for nearly thirty years, so I can attest to her persevering faith.
But the childhood seeds of faith must be watered by adult commitment. Eric believed that the Word of God is the truest guide for the good life, and he lived accordingly. He was led in right paths by the Good Shepherd, whom he followed with confidence.
When he found himself in the darkest valley, he did not fear evil, because he knew that the Lord walked at his side and would not abandon him; certainly he bore a heavy burden in his final months, but it was lightened by the promise of rest that Jesus makes to all who willingly accept the yoke of suffering.
In other words, when Eric Lee’s faith was put to the test, it provided real answers to the most profound and painful questions of any human heart. Can there be good in suffering? Can there be life after death?
At this funeral Mass, we are now challenged by his example. A friend who knew Eric said “With a hundred Erics, you could change the world!” Which of us, in this congregation of hundreds, will rise to that challenge?
He went from one grand marble monument to another without success. Nor could he find a side chapel with any mention of Wren.
Just as he was about to give up, the man spotted a Latin inscription on the floor.
He saw Christopher Wren’s name followed by these words: Lector, si monumentum requiris circumspice.
“Reader, if you seek his monument, look around.”
Friends, if you seek a monument to the life of Eric Lee, look around you. Look around this church and see a beloved wife, a loving mother, four dear sisters, and numerous family members—all of them grieving, but none of them bereft of hope.
Look around the church and see business associates who remember a man of integrity and charm; and fellow parishioners with stories of his generosity and commitment to the Church.
Look around you and see people who aren’t that interested in what I might have to say this morning—because Eric’s remarkable attitude to illness has already given them the hope they need to deal with the sadness of his premature death.
Eric almost needs no eulogy beyond his own words “Another bonus day!”
But perhaps it can be fruitful to meditate on Eric’s rallying cry. What were the sources of such a positive attitude?
Clearly, it began with his loving family—the family is the first foundation of character and courage, and Eric grew up in the sort of family that promoted both.
Yet it took more than even a brave character to confront his dire prognosis with such confidence—it took faith. And again, his family was the starting point. I have known his wonderful mother for nearly thirty years, so I can attest to her persevering faith.
But the childhood seeds of faith must be watered by adult commitment. Eric believed that the Word of God is the truest guide for the good life, and he lived accordingly. He was led in right paths by the Good Shepherd, whom he followed with confidence.
When he found himself in the darkest valley, he did not fear evil, because he knew that the Lord walked at his side and would not abandon him; certainly he bore a heavy burden in his final months, but it was lightened by the promise of rest that Jesus makes to all who willingly accept the yoke of suffering.
In other words, when Eric Lee’s faith was put to the test, it provided real answers to the most profound and painful questions of any human heart. Can there be good in suffering? Can there be life after death?
At this funeral Mass, we are now challenged by his example. A friend who knew Eric said “With a hundred Erics, you could change the world!” Which of us, in this congregation of hundreds, will rise to that challenge?
We are challenged, too, by his faith. If we are people of faith, we must ask ourselves whether we have lived our faith with enough conviction to see us through the dark valley.
If we have no faith, this may be an occasion to ask whether Eric’s life and death inspires us to become seekers again, so that we too might find comfort in the face of life’s greatest mystery, namely “is there a life to come?”
But whether we are people of great faith or none, this morning is a time to give thanks for a life well-lived and, dare we say, well-ended.
This is a moment to rejoice that Eric found rest for his soul, that he was able to persevere to the end. However strong or weak our own belief, we can join Eric in crying out in the words of today’s first reading “We looked to [God], and he saved us!”
If we have no faith, this may be an occasion to ask whether Eric’s life and death inspires us to become seekers again, so that we too might find comfort in the face of life’s greatest mystery, namely “is there a life to come?”
But whether we are people of great faith or none, this morning is a time to give thanks for a life well-lived and, dare we say, well-ended.
This is a moment to rejoice that Eric found rest for his soul, that he was able to persevere to the end. However strong or weak our own belief, we can join Eric in crying out in the words of today’s first reading “We looked to [God], and he saved us!”
And finally, this time of prayer together is an occasion to pray for those who must now accept the pain of Eric’s death. The readings today are certainly intended to bring us the hope of eternal life for Eric, but they also contain God’s promises to those who mourn him.
In his own time, God will wipe away the tears of Melanie and all Eric’s loved ones, and they too will find rest for their souls.
For each of us, every day is a “bonus day.” We are all invited to live the present moment, whether of joy or pain, in the hope of the eternal day when the trumpet will sound and the dead will rise.
And so, “with such thoughts as these” as St. Paul said, let us comfort one another.
In his own time, God will wipe away the tears of Melanie and all Eric’s loved ones, and they too will find rest for their souls.
For each of us, every day is a “bonus day.” We are all invited to live the present moment, whether of joy or pain, in the hope of the eternal day when the trumpet will sound and the dead will rise.
And so, “with such thoughts as these” as St. Paul said, let us comfort one another.
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