Homily given by Fr. William Sullivan, OSA at the Chicago Funeral Mass of Fr. Thomas Martin, OSA - Friday, February 27, 2009 

First Reading: Saint Augustine, The Confessions, Book 9
Second Reading: Romans 8: 31b-35, 37-39
Gospel Reading: John 14:1-6, 18-20, 27

Last Monday, I arrived in Philadelphia. I had come earlier than I had planned because Tom had called me, and he said that I probably shouldn’t wait until I had originally planned to come. At the Philadelphia airport, I met Mike and Sheila Sise, who were friends of both Tom and I for many years. Mike rented a car, and we drove to St. Thomas Rectory where Tom was in residence. When we arrived, Tom wasn’t there. After a short time, he and Bill Donnelly, one of the Augustinians in residence at St. Thomas, returned. Sheila, Mike and I were taken aback at the way Tom looked. His physical appearance had deteriorated a great deal. Fr. Jim Friedel and I had been on vacation with him five weeks earlier, and in that time span, physically, he had failed almost unbelievably. As we met, there was a great deal of hugging and of laughter. Although he was failing physically, the spirit, the lovable personality of the Tom all of us knew was still very much in evidence. 

That night, all of us had dinner together at St. Thomas Rectory…Sheila and Mike, Tom, Bill Donnelly, Rich O’Leary (the pastor of St. Thomas), and myself. We had a wonderful evening. During a lull in the conversation, I asked Tom what readings he had chosen for his funeral Mass. He told us he had not chosen them yet, but he would do so soon. Unfortunately, he was never able to finish this work, so it fell to me to choose the readings. I’d like to tell you how I did so. 

The first reading I chose was not from Sacred Scripture…it was from St. Augustine’s Confessions. Initially, I thought of using Augustine’s narrative of the time he lost a dear friend in death. However this young man died before Augustine’s conversion, and, as he himself recounts, his response really wasn’t something of which he was proud. It was a secular and worldly reaction…yet at his mother Monica’s death, Augustine tells us he mourned for her as the man steeped in Christ that he was. Augustine’s reaction to Monica’s death mirrors what, I think, all of us are feeling tonight – a heart that grieves, yet is filled with hope. 

The second reading from Paul’s letter to the Romans speaks for itself. St. Paul speaks with enormous confidence that his relationship with the Father, in Christ, is a source of deep and abiding trust. 

Last Tuesday morning, Tom celebrated his last Mass. Sheila, Mike and I were present. It was very informal. Tom was the principal celebrant. The altar was a coffee table; the missal was a very small book; Tom’s vestment was a simple stole; a small cross stood atop the table. After he had read the Gospel, Tom gave a few brief words, and he asked us if we would like to say anything. Sheila asked, “Tom…are you afraid?” Tom answered very confidently that he really wasn’t. Sheila then commented…“Tom, you’re going to see your mom and dad, Karen (his sister, who died in 1971 of ovarian cancer), Mike’s mom and dad, Bill’s mom and dad, and my mom and dad.” Tom replied, “And I’m going to see Augustine; and there’s a few questions I want to ask him.” We all laughed – at least I think we did. I was having trouble seeing through the tears. 

As I pondered what we had experienced, I looked for something from Augustine that might capture this brief time that Mike, Sheila and I spent with Tom, and the time so many others have spent with him. I came across St. Augustine’s Letter 263: 

            “There is indeed reason for tears because you no longer see our

       brother coming and going, busy serving the Church. You no longer

      hear from him the words he spoke with holy and dutiful affection.

      When you think on this, your heart is wounded and tears flow. But

      lift up your heart, and your eyes will become dry. For even though

      those things which you miss have passed away, in the course of time

      the love, with which he loved you and still loves you, has not perished.

      It is kept as a treasure, hidden with Christ in God.” 

The Gospel is taken from John’s Gospel, chapter 14. In John’s Gospel, chapters 13-17 are referred to as the Farewell Discourse. Whereas the Synoptics take only one chapter to recount the Last Supper of Jesus, St. John uses five chapters. Much of it is the legacy Jesus leaves to His disciples. One part is particularly poignant. Jesus tells them He must leave, that He is going to the Father. They do what I’m sure all of us would have done, namely they beg him not to go. Yet, He must go, but He promises them that He is going to prepare a place for them (and for us), and He will come back to take them with Him so that “where I am, you will also be.” To reassure them, He says, “If it were not so, I would not have told you.” He continues, “I remain in each of your hearts, and you in mine…and so, in faith, I remain in you and you in Me.” It seemed He was taking leave of them, however He remained as close to them (and to us) as when He lived and walked among them. Finally, He bids them not to be afraid, but to be at peace. 

Tom Martin’s legacy is multi-faceted…and it is rich and full. Often in our society, scholarship does not get the respect it deserves. Tom was a scholar of the first order. He showed the face and the personality of scholarship. Like his mentor, St. Augustine, his mind was brilliant, yet he lived in his heart. In all the forty-seven years I’ve been privileged to call him a friend, I have never seen him ignore someone in need, nor be cruel or uncharitable. St. Augustine tells us Augustinians in the Rule, “By this will you know you are advancing in charity, when you put the needs of the community ahead of your own.” Tom was a person of unquestioned availability. At Villanova, there were at least seventy priests from all over the Philadelphia area who concelebrated his funeral Mass, out of respect for him. The University church was filled, both with people from campus and those from other parts of the area whose lives Tom had touched. At the Villanova funeral were a group of parishioners from St. Mary Church in Phoenixville, PA. During my time at Villanova, I was privileged to help at St. Mary’s, as Tom had for the last several years. They are hard-working and uncomplicated people. Although he was an intellectual of the first order, he had a simplicity that came across in homilies…a simplicity, yet with words that were both powerful and penetrating, especially to the people of St. Mary. 

When requested, Tom felt an obligation to put his knowledge, his learning at the service of others. He did it with care, with concern, with a smile. To accomplish this, he has literally gone all over the world. Someone told me once that he had visited every continent except Antarctica. Undoubtedly, had the Lord given him a little more time, he would have gotten there, too. Tom was a deeply spiritual person who placed a great value on the interior life. When he, Jim Friedel and I vacationed at Oconomowoc, Wisconsin, which all of us had done for almost the last twenty years, he was always up “before the crack of dawn” to spend some quiet time with the Lord. The crux of his scholarship and of his study of St. Augustine was inexorably intertwined with his faith…one simply could not exist without the other. 

Tom exemplified Augustine’s ideal of friendship – he lived it. Rich O’Leary and Bill Donnelly were good friends to Tom as his illness became more debilitating. So many of us here tonight were blessed to be his friends. His initial diagnosis was so shocking and his death brought us deep sadness. But all of us are consoled tonight, together with his family, because of his deep and abiding faith. Again, I found a passage from St. Augustine’s Confessions that summarizes and characterizes the relationship so many of us felt with him. I know it defines, with profound clarity, my own friendship with Tom… 

“The comfort of friends refreshes me and puts me in good spirits;

I let them take my mind prisoner as we talk and make merry together,

as we give in to each other with good-humored courtesy, and read pleasant books. I am delighted with our conversations, whether

they happen to be serious or light-hearted. From time to time we disagree, but without rancor, and that rare discord gives spice to

our customary harmony. We teach and learn from each other; we

sadly miss our absent friends, but joyfully welcome them when

they come back to us. By our facial expressions, by a word, a glance,

and many a gesture, we give evidence of loving hearts, which know themselves to be loved; we fan the flames of our souls from these

myriad sparks, and thus we mold all of us together in one.”          Confessions, Book IV, VIII 

As Tom began his proximate process of dying, of returning to the Lord, my thoughts turned to a man who died in much the same way as Tom. He, too, was a person of extraordinary character. His passing was mourned by so many Catholics and non-Catholics alike, all across the United States. His name was Joseph Cardinal Bernardin. In the last few weeks of his life, Cardinal Bernardin wrote a book called The Gift of Peace. I’d like to quote a section from that book:   

      “Many people have asked me to tell them about heaven and the

afterlife. I sometimes smile at the request because I do not know

any more than they do. Yet, when one young man asked if I looked

forward to being united with God and all those who have gone before

me, I made a connection to something I said earlier in this book. The

first time I traveled with my mother and sister to my parents’ homeland of Tonadico di Primero in northern Italy, I felt as if I had been there before. After years of looking through my mother’s photo albums,

I knew the mountains, the land, the houses, the people. As soon as we entered the valley, I said, ‘My God, I know this place. I am home.’ Somehow, I think crossing from this life into life eternal will be

similar. I will be home.” 

So often we pray for the dead. May they rest in peace. Tonight, let all of us be at peace. Tom Martin…our brother, our friend…is home. He is home.