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Brother
Herman Lambers, S.M. (1912-2006) Readings: Sirach 38:24-34; Romans 6:3-4, 8-9; John 11: 21-27 Brothers and Sisters, members of Bro. Herm’s family, and friends. Death is a great mystery. In some ways it is an even greater mystery than birth. Though none of us remembers our birth, we understand in retrospect something of what happened. But even then, to move from a warm watery safe enclosure, only to be pushed into the cold open air amidst strangers and literally have one’s life line with one’s mother severed—that must be nearly traumatic. Yet we have all survived this traumatic and wondrous transition. Not only that, as Christians we have been called to go through it all again, be born again, a birth that is more like a journey that at times can be no less traumatic, and certainly last longer than our first birth, sometimes as long as 93 years. But what about this mystery of death? We know what our faith teaches us about it, but still we simply do not know. None of us has died, even though some of us may have come close to death at one point or another in our lives. That faith is expressed succinctly in our second reading. There Paul tells us that we have been baptized into Christ’s death so that just as Christ was raised, we too might live in newness of life. And then Paul adds, if we have died with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with him. So we are to believe not only that we are called at the end of our lives to be with Christ, and all those others gone before us marked with the sign of faith, but that we are also called even now to live in a newness of life. Life in Christ is not just forever but also for now. I spoke with Herm at some length a week before he died. He told me he was ready to die and was at peace with dying. He knew he was dying. He didn’t suddenly collapse of a heart attack in an airport or in front of a classroom of high school students as some of our brothers have. He knew well that his death was imminent. I admired his calm and his faith in the face of his impending death. I was reminded at that moment of the same calm he manifested when I told him, as we walked one evening in Toronto in the summer of 1976, that the surgeon who performed the prostate surgery on him just three weeks before had found and removed some cancerous cells. I had been delegated by the doctor to tell him this. He simply looked at me briefly, said nothing, and then immediately pointed out an interesting house we were approaching as we walked and commented on its architecture. I am not sure how best to describe Herman. He did so many things well. He served as a working brother all his Marianist life. At first, however, his superiors thought he should be a teaching brother. At his 60th jubilee, he explained the discernment process that led to a permanent switch of categories in this way:
The first reading from the Book of Sirach tells us that wisdom requires leisure, and then asks how someone who works all the time can ever be wise. It then proceeds to describe how the artisan is diligent, the smith sets his heart on finishing his handiwork, and the potter is always deeply concerned about what he shapes. The author then observes:
I doubt that Herman ever presumed that he maintained the fabric of the world, but I do know that he was quite conscientious in the exercise of his trades—and they were many: mechanical, culinary, artistic, agricultural, financial and relational. Yes, relational. Now it is quite true that Herman did not suffer fools and few people were indifferent to him. But he did have a special relationship with children, and corresponded with a number of children from St. Rita’s grade school right up till a year or so ago. The children enjoyed his letters so much that the principal of the school invited Herman to come and visit the school. Herman told her that he was hard of hearing. She replied that the children wouldn’t mind. He said, however, that he would mind. Herman was wise in many ways. He seemed to be a very good judge of people—at least most of the time. I was struck how he sized up seminarians the years he served in Toronto; subsequent years have repeatedly borne out those assessments. He didn’t hesitate to speak up either—sometimes in jarring ways. When I gave my first sermon as a deacon in a large Toronto parish, Herm sat in the very back. I barely got into the sermon when he shouted from the back, “Speak up, I can’t hear you!” Everyone, especially me, was startled. After mass, I asked, “Why the hell did you do that?” He replied calmly, with a slight smile, “You should be honored; I wanted to hear what you had to say.” Or, consider the time when at a community meeting in 1972 we were discussing the most recent General Chapter document that wrote about, among other topics, the “identity crisis” that the Order was going through. After some discussion, he asked, “I have one question about this ‘identity crisis’ business.” “What’s that,” I asked him. He then asked, again with a slight smile, “Is it mandatory?” There are, of course, many other stories, but these should suffice to give those of you who may not have had the privilege of knowing him well a rough idea of the wonderful Marianist he was. In our Gospel, Martha tells the Lord that if he had been present, her brother would not have died. We do not expect the Lord to preserve our brothers from death. For that matter, why should any of us seek to avoid death, as Augustine points out in one of his sermons, when death is the very way the transforming grace of redemption in Christ Jesus came to us? In fact, it could be said that death is the gateway of all knowledge. We live and work to know and learn. We go to school to learn all that the world has to teach us, but often learn much more from the school of life. In our old age, when death comes, we still are able to learn, and even then, learn some of our most important lessons. Admittedly, the amassing of our little bit of knowledge is a slow and long process—and for Herman that process spanned over 90 years. Then death came to him and suddenly, we believe, he knew, or should I rather say, knows all. For now, let us who continue on our journeys in faith take great hope and consolation in the words of Jesus, who assures us that He is the resurrection and the life, and that all who believe in Him, as did Herman and as we continue to do ourselves, will have life eternal. Dear Herman, brother and friend, go forth from this world in the name of God the almighty Father who created you, in the name of Jesus Christ, Son of the living God who laid down his life for you. May you live in peace this day; may your home be with God in the heavenly Jerusalem, with Mary, our Mother and special patroness, with Joseph and all the angels and saints. Amen.
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