When people remember someone who had meaning in their lives, the usual means of portraying that person and their character is to tell stories. Certainly that is part of what we hear in funeral eulogies. But let me start this homily by pointing out that today's telling of stories about Jerry actually began when the very first reader stood and she announced: "A reading from Lamentations."

The reason we read Scripture at funerals is to recall the larger context of a life. By connecting with the stories of our faith we see the bigger canvas. This in turn allows us to see the person whom we miss, and the stories about the life that they led, in the light of the greatest story ever told.

And Jesus himself told stories in order to illuminate and teach. One of the most powerful forms of his stories are the ones we call parables- short pithy tales that used illustrations from everyday life. The stories often contained a question for the hearers to consider.

So, following that venerable tradition,
let me tell you a story which begins with a rhetorical question…

Let those that have ears, listen to the story.

There was a nun named Margaret who lived into her nineties. She had made her profession at a young age so by the end of her life she had spent decades in the convent. The world, and the church, changed much over that time. New practices arose and old ones faded away. Some nuns were grouchy in the face of this and they grumbled. They grumbled to each other and they sometimes they even grumbled at their visitors as though the guests were somehow responsible for falling leaves, too much rain in the spring and the very passage of time. But Margaret was full of love for everyone. Every day she would stand by the door and greet them. In time she knew almost everyone's name.

The number of visitor grew over the years. But Margaret, as we all do, shrank with time. She became stooped. Then as her hips and knees gave up the ghost, she sat in wheelchair. But she still parked herself right next to the front door. Seasons changed, but Margaret's smile seemed eternal.

Then Margaret's memory began to slip. In short order the sisters noticed that it was as though a hole had been punched in bottom of a mental bucket in which Margaret's memories were carried. Helplessly they watched the memories drain away, day by day. Things Margaret had done with ease became more challenging- for her and for the other members of her community. They grieved this loss. But, in time, they also realized two very important things.

Like trees that lost their leaves as winter approached but still held life hidden in their roots, Margaret still beamed life and love at those who drew near even when all the names had fallen away. Hospitality and love were just part of Margaret's essence. This tender light radiated from her until the shadows lengthened, the fever of life was over, and night came for Margaret.

But that brings us to the second thing that the other nuns learned. The light and love we see in a person's life are reflected by the stories of their words and deeds. That light warms those on whom it falls and inspires them to "go and do likewise". Yes, there is evening and nightfall. But dawn comes every morning - a new day. As long as the other nuns continued to share "Margaret stories" even new novices who would never meet Margaret, in this life, could be illuminated by the grace evident in Margaret's words and deeds.

That's the story… and I'm willing to bet that you can now tell me how a nun is like a used car salesmen. Jerry's essence remained even as memory, reason and skill began to fade. Jerry was a very accomplished and successful man by many measures. But Jerry, and you and I, are not - at our essence - merely the sum total of our accomplishments.

Nor are we valuable simply because of what we can remember. The act of standing by a door might turn out to be the most important thing any of us could do in our life.

I am sure that Jerry could have told you the same thing I am about to say. There is one thing that no one can buy, and no salesman can sell. That secret was disclosed in today's readings from the Book of Lamentations and the First Letter of John, and can also be found in the core of who Jerry was. This priceless gift, that can be given or received but not purchased or sold, is love. It is love that makes us God's children and encourages us to be decent human beings… and love never dies.

As the Gospel indicates, ultimately it is love that leads us to a different form of life - one in which there is no more weeping, only joy- a life, with God, that never ends. The love that leads to everlasting life is not simply the love that we express in this life but the love that God extends to all. That's why Jesus came - to offer concrete evidence of the love of God for us and to encourage our love for other people and for God. That's what Jesus is saying, to Thomas and to us, we know the way to everlasting life. Let those who have ears, hear. A place for us is being prepared. Let's get to know the guide who is the Way, the Truth and the Life.

Every one of us has been formed by the words and deeds of prophets, apostles and martyrs, whether we know it or not. Our language and our culture are full of references that echo words written long ago. But when we become willing to not only listen to Scripture but to read, mark, learn and digest it we will discover how writings from far away centuries and distant cultures become bread for our life's journey, and beyond.

Jesus promised his followers that there would be a place for them in His Father's house. I don't know what Jesus' father's house looks like - yet. But if there's a front door, I think we'll be greeted by a crowd- some sitting, some standing, all joyful.

And even if we arrive not knowing their names I believe we will recognize love when we see it. AMEN