Fr. Hurley’s Homily at the Funeral Mass for Laurence L. Shields

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by Rev. Michael Hurley, O.P. (’99)
Pastor, St. Dominic’s Church, San Francisco
Homily at the Funeral Mass for Laurence L. Shields
November 26, 2022

 

Shock, dismay, sadness: The state of mind and heart in the disciples that we hear in today’s Gospel in many ways reflects our own state of mind and heart as we gather here to mourn our beloved departed. The family particularly chose this Gospel reading, which does not at first present itself as a funeral reading, as a way of encountering the Risen Christ.

Notice that the Risen Christ in the Gospel is always encountered by those who are grieving, those who are mourning, those who are seeking, and those who are searching. Not despite these very valid but perhaps challenging and negative human emotions, not despite but precisely because we find ourselves there, the risen Christ wants to walk amongst us, wants to journey with us; wants to bring us from a place of sadness and sorrow, to encounter, be, and live within our minds and our hearts, as He did those two disciples on the road to Emmaus. This morning I would like to reflect, using this Gospel that the family has given us, on four brief moments of that journey which might not only give us comfort and consolation, but allow the Risen Lord, the Resurrected Christ, to live within us anew.

First Moment

That first moment, of course, is what we might characterize as “the great conversation.” It's one of those moments in the Gospel, maybe top 10 if you could travel back in time and be a fly on the wall, so to speak; you would have wanted to be part of that conversation between Christ and those disciples. And whoever the beloved departed was for you — whether he was a family member, a sibling, a husband, a dad, a grandpa, a great-grandpa; whether he was “Larry,” a colleague, a friend, or someone in the supermarket that he fell into conversation with; or whether, for those of us who were his students and whom he mentored, “Mr. Shields,” perhaps a little more formal, yet still familiar and personal in a way — whoever he was for you, Larry, Dad, Mr. Shields, loved a good conversation!

In terms of conversations, and gathering notes from the family, if someone has the intellectual gifts that he did, sometimes a conversation can be a bit one-sided! Asking a question, waiting for the person to give their answer, and then saying, “Well, here’s how it really is.” That was not Larry; that was not Mr. Shields. In listening and inviting into that conversation a sense of seeking the truth, of searching, of the conversation itself being the road by which some new truth, some new idea, the very person of Christ, might be discovered anew and afresh. As one family member said, even though he was often the smartest person in the room, he never made you feel dumb. He never made you feel less than, in that way. Very gentle, humble — but if you will, ruthlessly searching, indomitably seeking for the truth.

He never let the expectation of a person's knowledge get in the way. I remember the first time I sat there in the Commons at lunch; I remember him asking me about Freshman Seminar. I found The Iliad challenging initially, beyond the caliber of reading I had done previously to that — and he was interested in what I had to say about it. He asked me, I believe, “What do you think Achilles’ shield symbolizes?” And I hadn’t a clue! I thought this was his way of just politely letting me answer and then he was going to tell me the answer. But no, not just being polite; trying to draw forth from me, almost pedagogically, that kind of dialectic, and bring me to a new place. And he did it in such a gentle way, in a way that put me at ease, that at a certain point I just said, “Well, I don’t know about all the symbolism. All I know is that that shield had better be better than the armor he gave Patroclus. It’s got to withstand Hector’s sword this time around.” And he loved that answer, practical in that way.

Never considering, in any conversation, the messenger. Perhaps for some of us, we felt like going by the principle that a broken clock is right twice a day, that there was some truth that we could give to him. That sense that the truth was more important, in a sense, than the person he was dialoguing with. And here he followed, imitated, his great intellectual hero, Thomas Aquinas himself. In fact, I heard a story that when the fires were sweeping through here and evacuation was needed, it was kind of the question of, “If you had to save one thing from your office or library, what would it be?” Mr. Shields said, “The Summa!” And in honor of his 50 years of being a tutor here, he was asked if there was some text that might be close to his heart that he could receive in acknowledgement of those 50 years. I woukd love to ask him precisely why — maybe some of you may know — but he chose an old library copy of the Summa. He certainly already had the Summa, but he treasured that text in a way.

And Thomas himself, as you probably well know, inquires with the deepest questions, the most profound questions, about God Himself, and does it by considering all the alternatives: Does God exist? (I certainly hope so, or this is going to be a short book, right?) Yet he takes seriously the possibility that God does not exist — some of the greatest arguments for the nonexistence of God, given by a faithful believer. And even the fact that the great project of combining Aristotle, bringing that Greek philosophy into a synthesis of theology, was at the time unheard of, Aristotle being given to us, communicated to us, by non-Christians through the Islamic world. Yet Aquinas says that we need to find truth wherever it may be. For Larry, for Mr. Shields, that was a paradigm, discovering the truth, listening for the truth, no matter where it came from, no matter who it was. Why? Because it is the truth. It was compelling in every way.

The Second Moment

This leads to the second moment. As the apostles come to what might seem to be the end of the road, what do they say to Our Lord? “Stay with us, remain with us.” And here I think of Larry and his ability to not only remain with, but be a center of gravity for, family and friends.

To give a kind of image, in my office in San Francisco, I have a picture. I don’t have too many pictures, but one I do have is of the day of my ordination. It’s a picture that is taken in the backyard of St. Albert’s Priory, the motherhouse of the Dominicans. After being ordained at St. Dominic’s in San Francisco, we went for the reception back to Oakland and we took a picture of the 35-40 Thomas Aquinas College graduates and others who had traveled to be there for the celebration. It’s a beautiful picture, it’s close to my heart, expressing the fullness of joy and the power of that moment. And if you're not careful as you scan the faces, you might miss him. But, if you just sit with the picture for a moment, your eye goes naturally to the focal point of the picture. And who’s right there in the center? Mr. Shields, Larry. Right at the center of all that celebration and delight, right there in between myself, Fr. Augustine, and my own sister. He has the most quiet presence, but the biggest smile. And even though it’s taken at a distance, those twinkling eyes — perhaps mischievous, even in the sagacity of the wisdom that he had. He was at the center of our lives: quiet, gentle, and yet strong in every way.

To hear stories from family and siblings of a young Larry scampering up a ladder at three years old and stuck on a roof, and other mischievous endeavors; taking the financial windfall of Captain Jiffy, the horse that came in, to buy a copy of Newton’s Principia. To hear from sons and daughters and family that sense of how he was “Dad,” the strength of being “Dad,” someone who was — let’s face it, those who have particular intellectual gifts don’t always have the most practical side of life figured out. He was someone who had a sense of industry, entrepreneurship, a sense of the practicalities. One image that comes to mind is a recollection of him mowing the yard in wingtips! Or of going and gathering things to fix up the house, or things at the thrift store; or never turning down or seeking a deal for a used car for one of the siblings. I have been present to the gentle and yet very firm negotiating tactics he would employ. At the center of everything.

To hear how, literally, he remained with Linda, his wife, recently in her own convalescence, and was at her side even at a time when Covid protocols said, “no visitors.” Larry found a distinction: He was not a “visitor,” he was “essential support personnel!” And so garbed with everything that was necessary medically, by Linda’s side. Literally, physically, emotionally, spiritually, in every way, for 56 years. The heart of it all. “Remain with us, Lord.” And this invitation to remain, to reflect on the goodness, the gift of who he was in our lives, leads us to nothing less than the recognition of Christ.

The Third Moment

Those two disciples — unaware of Whom they were talking to, unaware of Whom they invited to dine with them — in that moment of breaking bread, what do they do? They see Christ for who He is! They see the Risen Lord! For all of us then, in gathering together and making our prayers for Larry, we too have the opportunity to see, to experience, the Risen Lord in our midst.

It was said by family that one of the great gifts Larry had was to see Christ in others. How does one have that gift? It means that you are searching for Christ. Faithful to the sacraments, a parishioner of St. Thomas in Ojai for well over 40 years, he had that sense of the robust sacramental life. Someone who searched the Scriptures. He loved nothing more than to read the Bible, read the Scriptures. I remember when I was thinking about my own Senior Thesis topic, I wanted to investigate the theological virtues and perhaps look at some of the Old Testament figures. I went to him and I said, “I’m thinking of looking at Thomas Aquinas or St. Augustine about the virtues.” And his first response was, “Why wouldn’t you start with the Scriptures?” I’m like, “Oh yeah — good point!” Seeking God in the Scriptures. Knowledge of Jesus comes through the Scriptures and sacraments.

The Fourth Moment

This leads us then to that fourth moment, in which not only do they recognize Christ, the Christ they asked to remain with them, but now, He’s not with them. Where is He? He is in them! He's not just with them, but now in the receiving, in the breaking of the bread, He is living from within them.

How to understand this from our Catholic point of view, the connection we have with our beloved departed? I will quote the Catechism. It’s a catechism not often mentioned, but I’ll quote it here, and I know if I quote it here, Mr. Shields would say, “Cite your reference!” Part one, section two, chapter three, article nine, paragraph five, Roman numeral two, “On the Communion with those in Heaven and on Earth.” (That’s for you, Mr. Shields!) The Catechism in 958 says this: “Our prayer is capable of not only helping our beloved departed, but of making their intercession for us effective.” Let me say that again — it’s powerful; anyone who wants to do a Senior Thesis, here’s a topic for you that is rich: The dynamic of the community we have with those in the Resurrected Christ. Our prayers right now for Larry, for Dad, for Mr. Shields, make his intercession for us effective. Wow!

It means that, as we share stories later on at the eulogy, as we remember and give thanks — remember, giving thanks is what is at the heart of that Eucharistic moment! As we give thanks to God for the life that he lived, the way he impacted all of our lives, in that moment of giving thanks and praying for his soul, we too receive from the Lord whatever particular inspiration, encouragement, or sense of who he was for you, even in this life.

There is no doubt that this relationship has changed, but it hasn’t ended. And in Christ, as that first reading said, “The souls of the just are the hands in the Lord.” And so, too, for us who are united to the Lord, we are united in Christ to our beloved departed. What does that mean on a practical level? Whoever he was for you, if he was someone to give encouragement maybe, he can still give you encouragement through the prayers you make for him. I understand he was the go-to grandpa for homework. He can continue to be an inspiration, the go-to person for difficult intellectual tasks and studies! If he was someone who brought peace of mind and heart, a sense of a rock, he can continue to be that rock! He can continue to bring that sense of peace and joy through the presence of Christ.

Are not our hearts burning within us, as we remember his life, as we are inspired by 50 years of love and learning and life on this campus? The way we remember him is not an exercise of nostalgia or remembrance, but an exercise of spiritual connection, in which he is alive in Christ and to us, particularly as we receive the most Holy Eucharist.

Conclusion

Allow me to conclude by sharing a very special encounter, a burning-of-my-heart moment that I had with Mr. Shields not too long ago. I was here preaching, as many of you know, for the Matriculation, for the beginning of the school year a couple of months ago. After Mass, I saw Mr. Shields in the courtyard, and I know he said “hello,” but it was so quick because he said, “I really was intrigued by your homily. You mentioned the search for wisdom. I want to talk to you more about that! Particularly, because you mentioned wisdom was a cardinal virtue, and I want to know, were you thinking of prudentia?” (A little hint you might not quite be right here, Fr. Michael!) “Or were you thinking of it as a gift of the Holy Spirit? Come to my office, let’s discuss!”

I’m all in! Fasten your seatbelt, right? Now truth be told, I went to his office. There may be those who might have characterized it as a bit untidy; I say it was just the fruit of a creative mind in full flight. The fact of the matter is, we had to find less crowded environs to have our conversation. Though we began talking about the homily I gave about wisdom, we had one of those wide-ranging, powerful conversations — two hours! Two hours we talked about faith and reason, about Thomas Aquinas. He remembered my Senior Thesis better than I did! I thought, “After 50 years, he’s probably done one or two of these things … wow!” We talked about Aristotle, the Metaphysics; about the Gifts of the Spirit.

We concluded with the subject of the creation of the world; we talked about Genesis. And he was delighted, and he said, “What do you think about in the beginning, God started the world by making distinctions, distinguishing between light and dark, the sea and the sky, land and earth? And then what does He do? He fills them with His life, and in a kind of ascending order, or an unfolding order, which speaks of the freedom of Who God is.” He said to me, “If you think about that seventh day when God rested, that’s the interpretive key to it all. Why? Why does God rest? Not because He’s tired, not because He’s run out of ideas, but to show that He is truly free to create. He’s not compelled in any way, He creates from His love, by His love, for communion in love with His creation. That sixth day when He creates man and woman in His own image and likeness, He allows us to share in that sense of love and knowledge of Him.”

For Mr. Shields, for Larry, that pursuit of truth, of knowing God, animated him. The love that he had, to remain and be that central figure, that central person of gravity towards love of family and friendship. And ultimately seeking what? The rest of God, to rest in God.

The very last idea he left me with, he said, “In that rest, we are most free. We are most who God made us to be.” This was the last thing, the last idea we ever shared together. Mr. Shields, Larry, Dad, may you come in full freedom to that eternal rest. May you be blessed with knowledge beyond distinction, with love which gives life.

And may his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

 

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