He Was My Best Friend
Folks, it took a while but I finally got this whole thing figured out. Like the Scripture says; “In my father’s house there are many mansions.” I know today’s Gospel says “dwelling places” but I like the old translation “mansions”. So I’d like to go a little upscale when it comes to my sojourn in the Heavenly Habitations, having lived in Lynn the last 15 years, if its all the same to you.
There’s lots to do there like there is here. Places to go and things see and people to love…and especially Bill. His beloved Bill. How happy they are to be together once again. Forever.
To mix things up there’s a host of friends to visit. I call him my best friend but there are many who will claim him their best friend too. So big was that man’s heart, so extravagant his love, that he likely considered you his best friend…at least that’s how he spoke of you to me.
There were the three of us in seminary and we were quite the triumvirate. There was Phil and Graham and me. We had nicknames for each other but I can’t tell you what they were, not here, not now. And I alone am left. Phil is tapping his toes, saying; “Will you hurry up Bresnahan…I need you here to lighten things up a bit. Graham can be a bit intense.”
“Hold your horses, Phil, I’m in no hurry. Cindy and I have plenty of living to do still. You will just have to wait.”
You may wonder, do I really believe all this stuff? I kinda have to. Its what you might call an occupational hazard. It comes with the territory. Do I have my doubts…you can be certain of that. But I just can’t help myself. I love people so much that the thought of leaving them or their leaving me is so exquisitely painful that to allow my love to diminish or change makes my spirit kinda short circuit. My love is very, very strong and requires me to believe.
It all depends on whether there is a God. Trouble is I love Science too. I am fascinated by astronomy and theoretical astrophysics, Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity and Stephen Hawking’s understanding of Black Holes and all that stuff. And lots of folks have long since jettisoned the idea of God as being unnecessary since Science has a “better explanation”. And they have a point.
But I love theology and the church, and the liturgy, and the Book of Common Prayer. I love Shakespeare, Classical and Folk Music and playing with trains. I love life in all of its dazzling abundance.
But focus now. Focus on Phil. He was alive once you may remember. How could you forget? You talk about love…there was no better practitioner of the art than my best friend Phil. He loved people. He loved music. What a voice, especially in his younger years. He loved to play the pipe organ and the people in his beloved choir and all the members of St. Peter’s, Beverly and a panoply of others along the North Shore. And of course his family.
Like Bill, Phil was a beautiful human being. And they both worked a little shop in Salem called Beautiful Things. How aptly named, since they too were among the most beautiful things I’ve ever met.
Whenever you came into the presence of Phil you would come within a force field of pure affection. His radiance would lighten your soul. He would envelop you his love and humor. If he delivered flowers to you he’d brighten your day as he did day in and day out for decades.
Remember it? The doorbell rings and you answer and there he is, that smile and a line that would tickle your heartstrings. “Come in Phil.” Oh God, do I miss that man. Oh for a cup of tea or a splash of something stronger. More than once in these past few weeks have I shed a tear or two.
Ah but I got that part figured out too. Because when John the Divine envisioned the experience of heaven he saw “a great multitude, which no one could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, standing before the throne”, and in the grace of that moment “God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes”.
And my dear family; Phil’s family. I know how he touched your hearts and how each one of you touched his. To say that you were precious to him is to vastly understate the extent and the intensity of his love for you. I want to thank you personally for the care you took of Phil in these latter days. Things were not going well on High St. and my buddy was in real danger there. You took the time and the energy and somehow by the Grace of God engineered the extrication of Phil from the home he loved and lived in for all those years with Bill and managed to get him to move to Colonial Gardens.
For a while that worked out but then Phil had more or less made up his mind that he had had enough. Winter came and this time, he did not make it out.
But this I have also figured out. He loved a good meal with family and friends. Every time he went to a holiday gathering with his beloved family, I heard all about it whether I wanted to or not. Being with you was like a foretaste of heaven to him, so much did he love you.
Whenever Phil and I had a chance we would go to our favorite haunts. He especially loved the Old Tyme on Boston Street in Lynn. And when Bill took sick and we spent a day at the Brigham we’d end up at Mr. Dooley’s in Boston.
When we walked into the doorway of an Irish pub it was like passing through the Gate of Heaven. All the world’s troubles evaporated into thin air and the music of the uilleann pipes, and the bodhrán eased our pain. We’d order a drink and a bite to eat and thought the moment might last forever.
All this have I all figured out. Because we’ve all been invited to the Great Messianic Banquet. I hope you were paying close attention to the first reading because it describes what Phil and Bill, and Graham and so many more loved most. To sit down together and feast together in the eternal presence of friendship. To tell stories, to laugh until our sides hurt, to confide in one another as the best of friends will and to do so as it was in the beginning, is now one will be forever. This is a foundation stone of faith.
I remember Phil had his doubts about this whole Resurrection thing.
So I told Phil the story of the Turtle and the Alligator to help bump up his faith just a little bit. While that had mixed results he loved the way I told the story. He made me promise I would tell you this story some day when the chips are down.
Phil the chips are down today and and “a promise made is a debt unpaid”. So here goes.
Friends bear with me for to tell the story I have to put on the persona of a Cajun/Creole from way down yonder in the bayous of Louisiana. With my apologies to the real thing here’s my take on the story the the “Toitle and de Allumgadah.”
Wan day, toitle he go swinnin’ in de swaump.
An’ de suuune shyne down
Toitle he mine his business cool hiseff off
But ownne de show dey be allumgadah.
Allumgadah, he luuke own dat toitle,
He say, “Mmmmmm, dat look gooude
So he own sliddle in de wawdah lak ‘dat wan
Real quiet like, smooooove….
Den toitle he say “mmmmm…Sunnen lookin’ at me!
He look own his shouldah, an dat wen he see
Allumgadah!
So he get to moving fassah, moon his foots quick
Den ‘gatah shooks his tail ‘en he slice de wawdah quick
Toitle he say “I beddah move fassah…”
He moon his back foots too
But gatah he too quick for dat toitle
An’ toitle he say; “What I goin’ dew? What I goin’ dew?
Well, you know what dat toitle done?
I’ll tell you what dat toitle done.
He pull hiseff up, he stood right on top of de wawdah
He looks up seen de branch hangin’ over dat swamp
He ben’ his knees, den he jumps up out de wawdah
He grab on dat branch, pull hisself up, ben hisself over
An’ gadah he snap his jaw but he cain’t get no toitle
Now I know what yow thinkin’.
I know zackly what yow thinking
“Hain no toitle ken jump up out de wawdah lak dat wan.”
What you mean toitle cain’t jump up out de wawdah?
He haaad to!
All of which is to say that you have all been invited to a magnificent banquet in one of many mansions where God will wipe away every tear from your eyes and never forget my friends,
“Dat toitle he ken wawk on wawdah!” Because…. “he haaad to!”
In the Name of God, the Most Holy Undivided, Everlasting Trinity. Amen.
