November 13, 2009

Burial Office
William Joseph Keane
September 29, 1934 – November 7, 2009

First of all, I would say simply a word of welcome to all, in this gathering of family and friends, and especially with a word of love and affection to you Sue, and for Paul and Maria and Evan and your families, and to Bill’s brothers and sisters and all the wider family, as we offer our prayers for Bill this morning and commend him to God’s love and care, and for granddaughters Carina and Anna—and thank you again Carina for that beautiful offering of song, for nieces and nephews, and all, wider circles of friends: Grace to you and peace, from God our Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ.

It is my prayer that this time, this morning and then as visiting I know will continue this afternoon, will be a meaningful and loving time for you as you come together. Certainly your presence today is a testimony in so many ways to Bill’s influence and presence in your lives, and these days will be a time for many stories of the past, and for a deepening of the care that you continue to share with one another.

Thank you, Maria, for the stories and remembrance, which is just so very important for all of us as we put together what are a jumble of thoughts and feelings as they have come up in just these past couple of weeks as everything happened so suddenly and dramatically to lead to such an unexpected end. It is just very difficult to take the time to begin to sort in all out. All that will need to take some time, and as we have just begun with it, this morning we would hear a word from scripture about hope, about the sustaining hand of God, as we are all in his hand, and as Bill now is embraced and carried home with the promise of new life in Christ, and life eternal.

He had just turned 75, which was for me a little bit of a surprise, as I guess I hadn’t really thought about it, but somehow I think to me he seemed younger. His energy, his fitness, his clarity of mind and quickness of thought and expression. Three quarters of a century. He was born actually less than a decade after my father, in September of 1934, in the generation coming of age in the Great Depression and during the War, then for him a maturity of life through the ‘60’s. Married in ’63, then with a long and successful career, the raising of a family—and fun to hear a few of those stories, glimpses of a rich life in so many ways: sports and the outdoors and jazz and cooking and all the rest. And of course a very distinctive personality. I always say I like a man who doesn’t keep me guessing about what he thinks, and that certainly was Bill. Direct. Somebody who could cut to the chase. Yet as Maria has said in picturing him with Evan, also a man of deep and genuine tenderness.


And now, from strength to strength, from life here to greater life, as we have been promised, the holy hope that we would affirm today. The passage from the Old Testament Book of Ecclesiastes seems exceptionally appropriate to me. A book which overall has an aversion to false pieties or superficial sentimentality. About dealing with reality the way it is, and not dressing it up to make it more socially pleasant. Things begin, and things end.

We have our beginning in this life, and our ending. To everything there is a season. And to be able to understand in our maturity the good news that God has for us, in order to make real in our lives the hope of Greater Life, we must begin not with dreams but with realities. To everything there is a season. Spring and fall, joy and sorrow, life and death. The journey of our human family, to be lived to the fullest and to be received all of it as a gift, the hard parts as well as the fun parts. To know it as a gift. And to trust that the Giver will continue to be faithful to us.

And then this wonderful passage from John 14: “In my Father’s house are many mansions.” Modern translations sometimes change this. “In my Father’s house are many rooms.” And in a way that makes sense. Houses have “rooms,” after all. But I’m going to stick with “mansions,” because I think that word directs us to a deeper truth. A mansion is a home of expansive and generous elegance, where every need is provided for, a place of grace and grandeur. Which is what the destiny is that God has in mind for us. Which is the eternal life that Bill is to enjoy. No ordinary life. An eternal life of abundance, and joy, and peace, and fulfillment. To be with Christ, who said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.” And to say simply that Bill is home now—and I know Sue, after some hard days of ups and downs for you here in the hospital during these last days. Home now, in the place, the mansion indeed, our Lord has prepared for him, and sharing the hope we can all share and enjoy this morning and always.

May the souls of the faithful departed rest in peace, and may Light Perpetual shine upon them. As we pray for Bill today. May he rest in peace, and rise in glory. Amen.

Bruce Robison