Here is my homily for Saturday's funeral of Barnie Robinson, long-time member of the Parish of Saint Faith's.
7 October 2017
In the Roman empire
of Jesus’ time a person’s social importance was measured in various ways. One measure was the person’s power.
A rich person was more powerful than a poor person. A military leader was more powerful than a
farmer. A person who knew the secrets of
other people was more powerful than a person who had many secrets to conceal. Power was respected and feared because power
could be used to coerce others.
Another measure was
a person’s authority. Authority came from the formal role that
someone played in society. An elected
official had more authority than an ordinary citizen. A father had more authority than a
child. A husband had more authority than
a wife. A religious leader had more
authority than a lay person. Authority
was respected more than feared because authority depended upon persuasion
rather than coercion.
But the most
important measure was a person’s dignity. Dignity was a bit more elusive than power or
authority. Dignity was found in a person’s
sense of pride in oneself, a sense of self-respect and self-worth. Persons who used their power for the common
good and who exercised authority properly were considered worthy of honour and
respect. Even a slave could have
dignity. Even a poor person could have
dignity. Even a simple citizen could
have dignity. Losing power, losing
authority were nothing compared to losing one’s dignity, one’s self-respect and
the respect of others.
We are here today
to mourn the death of Barnie Robinson.
We mourn the ending of her life with us on earth and the loss of her
physical presence. If she held power, it
has departed. If she exercised
authority, it has passed. But, if there
is one thing we are not here to mourn, it is the loss of her dignity, her own
self-respect which was evident to the end of her life and the respect in which
we all hold her even after her death.
Barnie’s dignity was
a Christian dignity such as Paul describes when he wrote: ‘Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold
fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another
in showing honour. . . . Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in
prayer. Contribute to needs of the
saints; extend hospitality to strangers.” (Romans
12.9-10, 11-12) Barnie’s Christian dignity
was clothed with compassion, kindness, patience and thankfulness (Colossians 3.12, 15b). Her Christian dignity was manifested in her
concern for ‘the interests of others’, whether the interests of her family, her
friends or her parish (Philippians 2.4b).
Barnie wore
Christian dignity as magnificently as she wore the pearls she loved. Death cannot take this from her nor can death
take the imprint of that dignity from our hearts and minds and souls. The stamp of Barnie’s dignity surrounds you even
now in this Parish that she and Bill have loved and served so well.
So mourn her
death. It is right to do so. Miss her presence at gatherings of family and
friends. It is right to do so. Long to see her handwriting on a note of
encouragement. It is right to do
so. But do not fail to give thanks to
God for her witness to a life of Christian dignity in a world where dignity is
often held cheap. That, my friends, will
endure as long as her name is remembered as a blessing. And that memory will be a long one.
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