The Requiem Mass for Jonathan Gilbert

 

The Requiem Mass for

Jonathan Gilbert

March 29, 1978- April 12, 2022

June 25, 2022

+ Well, we gather today not really wanting to be here.

 

We really shouldn’t be here.

 Not for this reason.

 Not coming together to remember and bury the ashes of Jonathan.

 He was too young.

 It feels strange to come together to bury a 44 year old person.

 He still had many years ahead of him.

 He had more living to do this in world.

 And his passing from our midst was a surprise.

 It happened so suddenly.

 And in a twinkling of an eye, he was gone from us.

 But, as much as I don’t want to be here today, I am grateful.

 I am grateful for Jonathan and for all he was.

 I am grateful for his presence in my life.

 I am grateful for his presence among us here in this parish of St. Stephen’s.

 I am grateful for what he meant to you, those of who came today to remember Jonathan.

 And even though we are sad today, we also able to rejoice.

 We rejoice in Jonathan.

 We rejoice in all that was good and kind and gentle in Jonathan.

 Certainly, I rejoice that I was his priest.

 And I can say I was also his friend.

 And as we gather today, as we remember Jonathan, as think of who he was to each of us, please think about who he was and what makes you grateful for having known him.

 And as you do so, remember this.  

 Today is not the end of anything.

 Yes, we are saying goodbye.

 But we are not going to stop remembering him, or thinking of him.

 His presence will certainly stay with us as long after we have left here and go back to our own lives.

 Now, I have no doubt that Jonathan is with us here this afternoon, celebrating his life with us. 

 I am of the firm belief that what separates us who are alive and breathing here on earth from those who are now in the so-called “nearer presence of God” is actually a very thin division.

 So, yes, right now, I think we can feel that that separation between us here and those who have passed on is, in this moment, a very thin one.

 And because of that belief, I take a certain comfort in the fact Jonathan is close to us this afternoon. 

 He is here, in our midst, celebrating his life with us.

 And we should truly celebrate his life.

 I want to say that it was a good life.

 But I don’t think Jonathan would say it was all that good at times.

 It was a hard life.

 Jonathan suffered in this world.

 Truly suffered.

 Suffered in ways none of us will ever know.

 And the world itself did not treat him well at times.

 This world can be a mean, vicious place.

 And it can be particularly mean and vicious to someone like Jonathan.

 He often did not feel like he fit in this world.

 He often felt at odds, or on the fringe of this world.

 Which is why I am glad he came to this church.

 St. Stephen’s was one of the places in which he felt truly welcomed and truly included.

 Here, he was not judged.

 Here, he was not looked down on.

 We loved Jonathan and we genuinely cared for him.

 And here, he felt safe.

 If he hadn’t, I don’t think he would’ve asked to have his mother, Marilyn’s ashes buried here in our memorial garden.

 I am happy too that this is where Jonathan will rest, here in our memorial garden, right next to that mother he loved so dearly.

 All of us were touched by Jonathan in some way.

 And I can tell you that I will never forget that strong and gentle presence.

 And I can say that I am also grateful that Jonathan is freed from the pain he endured in this life.

 I am grateful that he has been freed from the boundaries of his very body.

 As I stood by his bedside as he passed from this world in April, I could there was an exhausted sense of relief when he finally shed that body.

 Where Jonathan is right now—in those loving, caring and able hands of his God—there is no pain or sorrow.

 There is no more being imprisoned by our physical bodies.

 There is no more mean, terrible world.

 There is no more exclusion or meanness.   

 Where Jonathan is now there is only life there. Eternal life.

 Where Jonathan is now, he is complete and whole.

 And he is happy.

 And he will never again shed another tear.

 Because we know that Jonathan and all our loved ones have been received into God’s arms of mercy, into the “blessed rest of everlasting peace.”

 This is what we cling to on a day like today.

 This is where we find our strength.

 This what gets us through this temporary—and I do stress that it is temporary—this temporary separation from Jonathan.

 We know that—despite the pain and the frustration, despite the sorrow we all feel—somehow, in the end, God is with us and Jonathan is with God and that makes all the difference.

 For Jonathan, sorrow and pain are no more.

Jonathan, in this holy moment, has gained life eternal.

 And that is what awaits us as well.

 We might not be able to say “Alleluia” with any real enthusiasm today.

 But we can find a glimmer of light in the darkness of this day.

 It is a glorious Light we find here.

 Even if it is just a glimmer, it is a bright and wonderful Light.

 And for that we can rejoice and be grateful.

And we can celebrate.   

May angels welcome you, Jonathan.

May all the saints come forward to greet you.

And may your rest today and always be one of unending joy.