Fr Jack SJ MD: Funeral Homily for Sr. Eleanor Klaber, VHM

11 October 2018
Isaiah 25: 6-9
1 Corinthians 2: 6-10
John: 15: 9-17

It would take a long time to narrate the details from the life of a woman who lived ninety-two years. It would be impossible without taking a lunch break in the case of Sister Eleanor, a woman who allowed few details or events to escape her notice or go unrecorded. Of her ninety-two years Sister lived 60 of them as a professed Visitandine, having said yes to her vocation in 1956 when she entered and professing vows in 1958.

At Mont de Chantal in West Virginia and later here in Georgetown, Sister was something of an historian who kept a journal of everything that happened. She delighted in sharing some of those stories with me when I lived on the other side of the wall and had the opportunity to visit regularly. She was a very enthusiastic conversationalist. Sister was very much a people person. Her photo could be above the definition of "people person" in any edition of Webster's. She was very faithful to prayer, particularly prayer for priests, seminarians, and vocations to the priesthood. Father Tim, who proclaimed the gospel a few moments ago, was one of her "boys," as she called them. As a beneficiary of many of those prayers over the past eight years or so I thank her from the bottom of my heart. It is comforting to know that her prayers have gained an even greater power now.

Sister Eleanor's decline was gradual. Her death was not unexpected as it came about as a combination of chronic diseases and the expected ravages of old age. The progression from walking unaided, to using a walker, to the wheelchair, was gradual but steady. Things moved more rapidly during the summer when she entered hospice care after being discharged from hospital. As the summer came to an end her stated goal was to live until her 92nd birthday in September. She expressed regret to Mother Berchmans that she would not be able to greet her guests at her funeral. I was not surprised to hear that when Mother shared that comment. No matter if a death is unexpected or not, whether it occurs in old age or middle age, the death of another is always sobering. For those privileged to be present at the death of another, the moment of movement from life to eternal life is awe-inspiring.

Isaiah assured us in the first reading that the Lord of hosts will provide for all peoples, that the Lord of hosts will wipe away the tears from all faces, that the Lord of hosts will destroy death forever. These words of prophecy are on the mark. They surpass the mark. The prophecy that death would be destroyed forever was brought to fulfillment in the new covenant, sealed in the Body and Blood of Our Lord. Because that covenant overthrew death, our sorrow today, our sorrow at every death, is tempered with consolation, our grief is eased with joy. However, sorrow and grief are only tempered and eased. At best the sharp edges are smoothed off a bit. Sorrow is not abolished. Grief does not magically disappear.

A death in a religious community ripples out like a pebble tossed into a pond. A sister's absence in choir, at Mass, at table, and at recreation will be impossible to ignore. In the case of Sister Eleanor, the absence of her enthusiasm about everything, and her characteristic giggle will be especially palpable. Grieving and adjusting to Sister's death will take time. There is no way to speed up the process.

Death has a different meaning for those who believe in Christ. It is no longer to be feared. It is no longer a descent into nothingness. It is not, as some pathetic cynical types like to snort, just a return to the food chain.

As Sister's coffin was covered with the pall it was sprinkled with holy water to the words, "In the water of baptism Eleanor died with Christ and rose with him to new life." Those who die in Christ die to death itself. Those who die in Christ enter into new life after only the briefest of moments. There is a mere breath, a tiny interval, in between life to eternal life. There was just a sigh, before sister entered into something none of us can know until we too have come to the end of our lives on earth.

The late Jesuit priest-psychiatrist, Fr. Ned Cassem, wrote several short meditations on death, including this one: "Death is not depressing. It's inspiring. It makes one sad but being sad is different from being depressed. If there is a lot of sadness it is a measure of how much the person was loved." Were we to turn on a sadness meter right now the indicator would make several complete revolutions around the dial before settling into place (assuming the main-spring first didn't break first). Sr. Eleanor was loved and she was lovable. Love is her legacy, the most appropriate legacy for a Visitandine.

A woman who took great delight in small things, she managed to carry enough supplies in the basket of her walker for an assault on Mt. Everest. I am grateful for the copy of The Imitation of Christ that Sister gave me a few years ago. It was, of course, buried somewhere in that walker basket when I visited one day.

Death is a gift to those who are graced to be with another who is dying. Another quote from Fr. Cassem, "If you confront death with somebody you love who is dying, out of that will come learning that transforms your life. It leaves you stronger, braver, and calmer."

At her solemn profession Mass on May 15, 1961, Sister Eleanor was examined with five questions. Though edited for the sake of brevity the questions were:

Are  you resolved to unite yourself more closely to God?

Are you resolved to live this life and to persevere in it forever.

Are you resolved to strive for perfection in the love of God and neighbor after the example of St. Francis de Sales and St. Jane Frances de Chantal?

Are you resolved to live a life hidden in God for the salvation of the world?

Are you resolved to live for God alone in prayer, common life, willing penance, humble work and holiness of life?

After Sister responded "I am so resolved" to each of the questions the priest concluded with a blessing: "May God who has begun this good work in you bring it to fulfillment before the day of Christ Jesus." Sister Eleanor was granted the blessing of bringing that good work to fulfillment. We rejoice in that gift even as we acknowledge our sorrow at her death.
Funerals are sorrowful occasions. Because we are human they cannot be otherwise. They are times of taking leave of the one who died and confronting the loss of memories each of us shared with her. You will hear in the preface, " . . . for your faithful Lord, life is changed not ended. . . " Funerals signal that life is changed for all of us. However, the sorrow of grieving is tempered by joy in knowing that though we are sinners, we are loved by God. The weight of sadness is balanced by optimism in the mystery and gift of the cross. The burden of grief is eased by faith in the future—faith in the promise of eternal life. Those who believe cannot help but take comfort in their faith in Christ; Son of God and Son of Mary, Jesus, who redeemed us from our sins, Jesus, whose death saved us from death.

We heard Jesus' words to His apostles in the reading from John's Gospel: "No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. . . . Love one another." These words are among the most difficult, poignant, and comforting in all of John's Gospel. Just as we are never separated from Jesus' love, we are never separated from the love of those we call friends. It doesn't matter if thousands of miles lay between, if dementia wrecks mind and memory, or if death has supervened, as it did on Sunday, for Sr. Eleanor May Klaber, of the Visitation of Holy Mary, the love between and among friends never ends. It never dies, succumbs to dementia, or moves away. A long life on this earth has ended for Sister Eleanor. Her new Eternal Life has begun.

Requiem aeternam dona ea, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ea!

Eternal rest, grant unto her, O Lord and let perpetual light shine upon her.
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Sister Eleanor was a Visitation Sister for 60 years. I got to know her when I was at G'town. She was a delightful woman for whom I was spiritual director for about a year or two and then visited whenever possible when I got to D.C. From the reports of the other sisters I know she prayed for my daily for several years. She also asked me to celebrate her funeral Mass, a request she transmitted to the superior when she was dying.

The photos below are from Walden pond. I took a Chinese diocesan priest there. The morning weather was not pretty but suddenly autumn arrived: The temp dropped, the humidity disappeared, and the sky cleared to what you see in the photos. Great day. Fr. Peter noted that when he was studying English the teacher gave them an essay on Walden Pond to read. He enjoyed the trip. There were very few people there, I think because of the miserable weather until just an hour before we arrived. More were arriving as we left.

A mock-up of Thoreau's cabin at the parking lot across the street from the pond. It is not large.