thinking theology

Today we give thanks for Bill Taylor. He will be missed, but never forgotten. The legacy he has left for his family and community is woven into the fabric of his relationships. The last time I saw Bill, I was rushing through Guelph General. I heard someone call my name, and when I looked around, there was Bill at a volunteer table. 

As Christians, we understand that great love will always carry some grief with it. That grief is the healing balm for loss; it is the impetus to remember and to flesh out our memories.  It takes the time it takes, for grief and love to find a balance in our hearts. 

The Spirit of transformation is ever with us, changing us and adjusting our memories and our understanding of our relationship. I think that it is in our loneliness and in our awareness of suffering, that we are most like the holy one because that pain causes us to reach out to each other, to let ourselves be changed, to seek the meaning beyond the moment. In the beginning, God desires creatures who can learn and change, creatures built for an unfolding cosmos. As part of this creation, this body of holiness, we are invited to remember that we are not in fact alone, but have been created to be in relationship with everything else living.

And St. Paul says, how are the dead raised. We have some scientific observation to help us with this. We know that life is always changing. Rain falls and becomes rivers, lakes, oceans. Some of that water becomes us as we drink. If we wake up early enough by a body of water, we will see the mist rising into the morning. And the the mist will disappear, but not the constituent elements, those hydrogen and oxygen elements which will morph into another form. 

I think it helps us to remember that we are made in love and cannot be severed from God, even when we wriggle and fight. We are a part of all that is. Bill has not been lost, as some say, but rather rediscovered within God’s loving hands. He is as close as your memory and yet invisible to the touch. We want to hang on, but he is being immersed in God’s plan for him and for each of us.

Birth and death are two difficult doorways, but when we push through

Today we give thanks for Bill Taylor. He will be missed, but never forgotten. The legacy he has left for his family and community is woven into the fabric of his relationships. The last time I saw Bill, I was rushing through Guelph General. I heard someone call my name, and when I looked around, there was Bill at a volunteer table. 

As Christians, we understand that great love will always carry some grief with it. That grief is the healing balm for loss; it is the impetus to remember and to flesh out our memories.  It takes the time it takes, for grief and love to find a balance in our hearts. 

The Spirit of transformation is ever with us, changing us and adjusting our memories and our understanding of our relationship. I think that it is in our loneliness and in our awareness of suffering, that we are most like the holy one because that pain causes us to reach out to each other, to let ourselves be changed, to seek the meaning beyond the moment. In the beginning, God desires creatures who can learn and change, creatures built for an unfolding cosmos. As part of this creation, this body of holiness, we are invited to remember that we are not in fact alone, but have been created to be in relationship with everything else living.

And St. Paul says, how are the dead raised. We have some scientific observation to help us with this. We know that life is always changing. Rain falls and becomes rivers, lakes, oceans. Some of that water becomes us as we drink. If we wake up early enough by a body of water, we will see the mist rising into the morning. And the the mist will disappear, but not the constituent elements, those hydrogen and oxygen elements which will morph into another form. 

I think it helps us to remember that we are made in love and cannot be severed from God, even when we wriggle and fight. We are a part of all that is. Bill has not been lost, as some say, but rather rediscovered within God’s loving hands. He is as close as your memory and yet invisible to the touch. We want to hang on, but he is being immersed in God’s plan for him and for each of us.

Birth and death are two difficult doorways, but when we push through, how much bigger, more colourful, more challenging and amazing life looks. From a microscopic cell to a creature who can imagine universes, stars, butter tarts! Life is. Love is. Everything else is either a challenge or a gift on the journey.

So hold Bill close in your hearts, remember him with both tears and laughter and trust God that Bill is in good hands. And for you, remember, life is necessarily shared. Nothing is lost forever. Everything lives within the mind of God whose only promise to us is life.

 

Comments on: "Funeral Homily for Bill Taylor" (1)

  1. Amy Cousineau said:

    Thank you Trudy for sharing your wisdom. I was unable to attend Bill’s funeral, so I am grateful to be able to read your words.

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