Memorial Homily for Jason Nock
Loree Penner
Saint James, Monkton
March 25, 2009
In a long-lasting sickness near the end of his life,
poet and theologian John Donne heard the church bells tolling outside his window announcing the death of someone in the village.
Thinking that it would not be long before the bells tolled for him, Donne wrote of his connection with all of humanity, in both life and death:
"All mankind is of one author, and is one volume," said Donne;
"when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language;
and every chapter must be so translated;
God employs several translators;
some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness,
some by war, some by justice;
but God's hand is in every translation,
and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again for that library where every book shall be open to one another.
No man is an island entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main…
…any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee."
Donne understood the great connections between heaven to earth, and between one person and another. Our connection goes beyond the bounds of this life and into the life to come.
We are each pages in God's book, and will one day be joined as one volume in God's Kingdom.
Each one of us are translated into the Language of God's kingdom in different ways - through illness, or justice, or age…
Jason, translated last week, did not have the privilege of coming into God's kingdom at a venerable old age.
Still a young man, he was instead translated by the language of disease - a disease that haunted his life for many years.
Jason's page is one that has been truncated,
And because of that, we struggle, not only with loss but also with many unanswered questions, as we try to make sense of what seems so insensible.
But as we continue to struggle,
we can be assured that Jason is now at peace in that place within God's kingdom.
He is in the arms of Christ, out of pain, and away from the debilitation of such a disease.
Jason came into the Body of Christ at Baptism, and went out of this life as a member of that Body, and has now joined those who hear the voice of the Son of God.
A day will come when we will see him again, as we see Christ face to face.
Until that day, we live in hope, knowing that death has ultimately been defeated.
And that at the last day, those who hear God's word, and believe in him will be raised with Christ in resurrection.
Jason's struggles and concerns are at rest.
But we are diminished by his passing.
While we cannot say what the future holds, we can say without doubt that life will be different without him.
And it is here, in our grief,
that not only Christ of the Resurrection speaks,
but also Christ the crucified.
For the wounds of Christ remind us that he
who suffered on the cross for our sake
understands the pain that grief brings.
Christ brings us the consolation of one who has been here before,
one who has suffered, and overcome;
one who has loved,
and continues to love to the end of time.
Jason is loved more than we can ever imagine, and we must now entrust him into Jesus' capable, nail-scarred hands.
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