Job 42:1-6, 10-17
Psalm 34:1-8, (19-22)
Homily by Fr. R Christopher Heying
Shortly after landing in Dallas in the summer of 2004 I called my
first cousins’ grandmother, Mary Essie Morrow, better known to her family as
MaMa, and said, “MaMa, this is Chris.”
She immediately responded, “I know who you are: I recognized your
voice.” I immediately thought to myself,
“That is remarkable.”
You see MaMa, born in August of 1899 was 104. My heart was warmed and the thought formed in my mind: “That’s like God, is it not? I know who you are: I recognized your voice.”
For those who may have just now begun to worry that in calling me as your priest, you weren’t thinking about such longevity, there’s no need to worry: I am adopted and don’t share those genes! My time on this earth may not be as it was for MaMa or for Job, “old and full of days” (Job 42.17).
But then neither has it been for some of MaMa’s direct descendants. In 2001, I returned from New York to bury my cousin Kristin who died of melanoma at the age of 43. And in January of 2005, with MaMa very much alive and alert at 105, I returned from Virginia to preach my first cousin’s son’s funeral. George William, at just sixteen and with an undiagnosed heart problem, fell down the stairs and died.
The hardest sermon I have preached to date. An “innocent” farm boy who loved his goats and his chickens and had significant learning disabilities and speech issues, having been born with an umbilical cord around his neck, and none could hold back tears as we watched George William, as his body was put into the hearse for his final ride, receive his Eagle Scout Award, earned days before his death.
MaMa, his great grandmother, went on to live two months shy of her 108th birthday (with sisters who lived to be 103 and 109). Yet George William dies at 16, not so old, not so full of days.
Your life no doubt has been touched by tragedy, by hope cut short for no reason, at least no reason that you can understand.
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