Homily Celebrating the Life of Philip Anthony LaPenna

We are celebrating, and that is the right word to use for this journey on which Phil has embarked, Phil’s passage from life to death. That is a difficult thing for us to do as humans. We avoid death. Consider the words rather than say that someone has died. We have so many euphemisms for death. We say that someone has ‘passed’, is resting in peace, has joined the choir invisible, is in a better place, or my personal favourite is the one my father always used, has shuffled off this mortal coil. Death is the unknown. It frightens us. A friend of mine said that “death is like looking at the sun; we look and then we look away”. And when someone like Phil dies, someone full of life, full of energy, a gifted and talented person, we need to face the reality of his death. We need to celebrate. We need to celebrate everything in which he was great. We, his family, his friends, his church family, his hiking friends, are here to celebrate his life. I am certain that we would all agree that Phil was a character. He had a strong sense of himself. He loved life. He loved his terrible jokes. He loved to laugh. He was multi-talented, an amazing and versatile musician. At one time in his life it was not unusual for him to be playing pop music on the organ at the “Organ Grinder” or at Maple Leaf Gardens on Saturday night and then the following morning playing a Bach Cantata at his church ‘gig’. He leaves behind a wonderful legacy in each of us. We also need to mourn. We mourn out of love. It would be tragic to think that someone could die and have no one to mourn that loss. And so today we come together, to celebrate and to mourn. We come together to find comfort, to find comfort in the words of Scripture, to find comfort in the prayers of the church, to find comfort in each other’s company as we share stories of Phil and what he has meant to us in our lives. We need the reassurance that Phil is in the arms of God. We need the reassurance that death does not win in the end – that there is more to life than this. We need to be prepared, not only for this death as it touches us – but for our own sense of mortality. The disciples of Jesus were no different from any of us when it came to the fear of death. Even though they had been with Jesus throughout his ministry, even though they had witnessed the power of God working in peoples' lives, the fear of death was still with them, especially when Jesus spoke of his own death. Every time that he told them that he was going to die, they became uneasy. They even tried to persuade him to take the safe way and not rock the boat. Jesus was eating the Passover with his disciples. He told them of his imminent death. Imagine being the disciples and hearing from Jesus that he was about to die. That is the context of the passage from the Gospel of John. The words that Jesus spoke were intended to comfort his troubled followers. They are words of comfort not only for his disciples; they are words of comfort for us as we celebrate Phil’s passage from life to death, they are words of comfort for everyone who trusts in Jesus for eternal life. Many people seek comfort by focusing on the mansions or dwelling places that Jesus says are in his Father's house. They see Jesus as the supervisor of a great construction project in heaven. They see Jesus going back to heaven to complete the project in time for their arrival. That surely misses the real point – the true comfort. The disciples see death as the enemy. Jesus is telling them that it is an enemy no more; he has conquered death. He tells them that his death is the means by which they will dwell with him forever. He tells them that in his absence he will be even more present with them. He will send his Holy Spirit to be with them, to indwell them, to strengthen them and carry them through. Then Jesus affirms that he is the way and the truth and the life. You see, our path to God is the return trip on the path God took to reach us in Jesus Christ. That is a message not about how we can get to God, but about how God has already come to us, about how God is with us. It is a message that brings us face to face with God. That is something that we can all celebrate. A story that I will recount to you puts it beautifully. A long time ago there lived a little boy whose parents had died. His aunt took him in and raised him as her own child. Years later, after he had grown up and left home, he received a letter from her. She had a terminal illness and from the tone of the letter he knew that she was afraid of dying. In a letter to her he reminded her of how he as a young boy of six, left alone in the world, had come to live with her. She sent a servant to accompany him on the trip. It was a long journey. He did not arrive until after dark. He worried that she might already have gone to bed. But the servant assured him that she would be waiting for him, and sure enough as they approached the house, the little boy could see the light shining in the window. She was waiting at the door. She put her arms around him. There was a fire burning on the hearth and a warm supper waiting for him. After supper she took him to his new room. She heard him say his prayers, then sat with him until he fell asleep. "You probably realize why I am trying to recall this to your memory now," he said in the letter. Very soon, God is going to send for you and take you to a new home. I'm trying to tell you that you needn't be afraid of the summons or of the strange journey. God can be trusted. God can be trusted to do as much for you as you did for me so many years ago. At the end of the road you'll find love and a welcome waiting. And you'll be safe in God's care. I'm going to watch you and pray for you until you're out of sight. And I shall wait for the day when I make the same journey myself and find you waiting at the end of the road to greet me." Phil has made that journey. God has met him with love and a warm welcome. He is safe in God's care. God has received him into his loving arms. That is cause for celebration. Our celebration is sad, because we will miss him. We will miss his old jokes. We will miss his smile. We will miss his enthusiasm for life. We will miss his gift of music. We will miss his friendship. We will miss everything in which he was great. But we are richer for having known him. And it is time to give him back to God and to know that God will never let him go.

Philip Anthony LaPenna

The Obituary La PENNA, Philip Anthony - Entered into rest at the Ross Memorial Hospital, Lindsay on Friday, September 6, 2013 at the age of 78. He began his long and diverse musical career as an accordionist, teaching in his studio on Browns Line in Toronto and playing with people like King Ganam. He was a studio musician with the CBC for a time. Then he switched to organ and played the gamut from nightclubs to Maple Leaf Gardens to churches. All will miss his gift of music. Phil was a brother of Mary and her husband Italo Desiri. Predeceased by his parents Rocco LaPenna and Grace Falcone and his bother Nick. Philip will be remembered by his nieces and nephews Paul, Nino, Angela and Grace. A private burial service will take place at St. Mary's Cemetery, Lindsay. Family and friends are invited to call at the Mackey Funeral Home, 33 Peel Street, Lindsay, on Thursday, September 12th from 12:30 p.m. until time of a memorial service in celebration of his life at 1:30 p.m. If desired, memorial donations to the Canadian Cancer Society or Heart & Stroke Foundation can be made online at www.mackeys.ca or at the funeral home. - See more at: http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/thestar/obituary.aspx?n=philip-anthony-la-penna&pid=166889923#fbID=1162740332

A New Venture

I have been writing my whole life. The last twenty or so years I have confined my writing to sermons. It is time to branch out just a little and explore the other things I have to say. My first posting is very much connected to my sermon blog. My good friend Phil LaPenna died last week. I am conducting the Memorial Service tomorrow. I am posting my homily along with the Obituary that appeared in the papers.