Sermon for the Requiem Mass of Dr. Stuart Phipps

            The language of the burial liturgy is filled with images of immortality and eternal life. Those concepts are as old as human self-consciousness, reflecting our very natural reluctance to let go of our own existence and the presence among us of those we love. The ancient Israelites believed in a time of resurrection when all persons who had died would rise again together. That belief was reinterpreted in Christian teaching. We celebrate Jesus’ triumph over death at Easter and on the occasions when we honor one of the community of his followers who has departed this life.

          It is difficult for us to imagine what this life everlasting might really be.  Allusions to it in the Bible range from the unelaborated mention of those words to the florid descriptions of the Book of Revelation. Some Christians have been taught to believe that it is a reward for right thoughts, beliefs and actions. Others envision it as an ultimate home in the divine where distinctions and differences end, suffering is relieved and all is finally known and understood, the perfection of the bonds of our common humanity.

          Especially at times when a person we love, like Stuart, has departed this life suddenly and unexpectedly we cling to that hope of ultimate reunion. Initially our grief may blind us to the lessons this parting has to teach, but eventually God will make them clear. This experience of poignant loss is a time when we can renew our commitment to do the things that strengthen relationships and build community. Our ordinary way of life glorifies being busy. It pressures us to take on too many commitments and robs us of time to be friends, share experiences and build relationships.

          I did not meet Stuart until he was well into middle age, but he seemed to be a man who discerned his calling early and accurately. Sometimes an early vocation burns bright for a few years but turns to something different later in life. For Stuart, the call to teach seems to have gained depth and complexity and a greater sense of fulfillment for him as time passed. His work as an educator and mentor and the work of all who follow the vocation of teaching may be one of the best metaphors we have for eternal life, more real than walking streets paved with gold or looking out on processions of white-robed witnesses.  In his work, Stuart touched thousands of lives. He modeled what it means to have an inquiring and discerning heart and mind and helped people to cultivate that characteristic within themselves. He taught many of you and through you thousands of others why it’s important to live life with a passion for learning. People who adopt that manner of life pass it on to others. In so doing you assure that the gift given to you lives on. By being your teacher and mentor, Stuart lives on in your work and in the lives of those whom you will teach and advise. It is not the kind of complete or perfect immortality that the scriptures speak of, but it comes closer to it than many of the occupations one might undertake while living in time and space.

          Stuart entered a lifelong relationship with Carlos 36 years ago. As a gay couple, they lived together through decades during which their love was suspect and its legitimacy questioned at very least. At worst it was labeled immoral and contrary to God’s word. Their love for each other was strong enough to withstand cruelty and misunderstanding. It sustained them for nearly four decades and fulfilled them so well as to allow them the generosity to reach out to others and build a rich and extensive network of friends. Their life together was a sign of Christ's love to this sinful and broken world, that helped unity to overcome estrangement, forgiveness to heal guilt, and joy to conquer despair. The reality and truth of their love for each other is another glimpse of the eternity for which we hope and into which Stuart has now entered.

          I’ve seen a wonderful photograph of Stuart in his academic dress at an event at the University of St. Mary taken one week ago, the day before he died. He’s laughing, it’s an ordinary, good day at work. I have heard that he had the gift of a satisfying visit with his family only a short time before his death. The loss we feel at his passing is fresh and sharp. We see a life’s work ended just as it was coming to its greatest fruition, well before we would have said it was completed. We think of questions we had intended to ask, stories we wanted to share. We see a relationship with a life partner cut short and friendships deprived of the joy of his presence. The final lesson Stuart has to teach all of us is that no matter how many years they encompass, our lives are finite. We never know their measure, and our time together is precious. Our God-given gifts of memory, reason and skill are meant for sharing joy, wisdom and love. We are meant to use those gifts fully and generously and the times when we do are glimpses of life complete and perfect in the presence of God. Let us never fail to be thankful for them and for the gift of Stuart’s presence among us.

Let us pray:

Father of all, we pray to you for those we love, but see no
longer: Grant them your peace; let light perpetual shine upon
them; and, in your loving wisdom and almighty power, work
in them the good purpose of your perfect will; through Jesus
Christ our Lord. Amen.