Her presence, our blessing: A funeral homily

A homily preached at the funeral of Doreen Fletcher, a much loved member of the congregation of Croydon Minster

+ In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

It’s a truism to say that every human life is unique. But each one of us is made in the image and likeness of God to reflect his glory and to adore God as the source of our life. And our Maker and Redeemer quite evidently does not have a mould producing identikit people. Even if He did, Doreen would prove the exception to that.

I never had the privilege of knowing Doreen, of being blessed by her presence, except through what others have testified of her. And, from what I have heard of her, it was an absolute privilege to have known her, to have shared something of her life story and to know her as a source of blessing. And clearly from the rich memories and stories passed on to me over the last couple of weeks she was a one off, and is cherished most especially because of that.

We have already heard tributes that have captured much of what you all know of Doreen. The point of a homily at a funeral is to set this life into the wider picture of the life of God, the Blessed Trinity.

For this afternoon we give thanks for Doreen - who she was to us and who she still is - we remember her and comfort one another in the sadness of her death, but we also commend her; we commend her to the God who, as the psalm puts it, searches us out and knows us, who discerns our thoughts from afar, who created our inmost parts and knits us together in our mother’s womb (cf Psalm 139).

So who is this Doreen we commend to God, our Maker and Redeemer, this afternoon?

We can compare the story of someone’s life to a picture. Sometimes when someone dies all we have are sketches, outlines of that person, a bit of shading and some pale colours. But in Doreen’s case there are, like a true masterpiece, bold and exuberant colours, subtler shades, shadows, contrasts, darkness.

We can paint in the bold colours of her ‘larger-than-lifeness’, her fantastical stories, which teetered on the brink of plausibility; the antics of arriving at services at the Minster after the advertised start time and positioning herself at the front of the church; participating in the crib service as an angel processing around the church in her shiny red mobility scooter festooned with tinsel, headlights on full beam.

And there are the subtler shades of her spirit of determination and tenacity, or of her devotional life that found expression in quieter moments, for instance on Maundy Thursday during the Watch of the Passion before the Blessed Sacrament; and, as Fr Chris Moore has written, ‘she had the ability to draw some of us around her, so that her presence became our blessing’. What a subtle yet powerful gift.

And, as is well known, there were darker shades and shadows in Doreen’s life; the darkness of cruelty at the hands of those who should, as in the parable of the Good Samaritan, have been the ones to give care, be they her parents or nuns to whom she was entrusted; the stalking shadows of illness and huge physical challenges. She experienced profound loneliness whilst loving the company of others. Doreen surely knew the meaning of the word resilience before it became fashionable: she lived it out.

This is something of the picture of Doreen that we commend to God this afternoon. There is so much more that could be said, so much more we could paint in.

Doreen’s life was not heroic, but it was saintly. That’s not to over-idealise her or romanticise her, but what also shines out of the picture of her life is her identification with Jesus Christ who, through his incarnation, passion and death, identified with her. To quote Fr Chris again, ‘The death of Jesus on the cross gives human suffering a new value and a new dimension…Doreen’s suffering, while lamentable, gave birth in her some truly Christ-like qualities’.

You were part of the picture of her life, and she of yours. Doreen asks questions of each of us: how do you look at other people? What is the picture you see of them? Do you judge by mental capacity or physical ability, or do you behold a child of God, as you are yourself?

The vision of the Gospel is one of human lives, our world and all creation – currently groaning in travail – transformed, renewed, completed (cf Romans 8.22; Revelation 21). Doreen goes on that journey before us, and with the whole company of heaven now encourages us on our journey as her brother and sisters in Christ. God, her Maker and Redeemer, and ours too, sees the whole picture and loves her for it.

+ May she rest in peace. Amen.

© Andrew Bishop, 2019