Our heartfelt loving support goes to Fr Ray's sister-in-law
Ellie and Fr Ray’s nieces Karen and Mary Ellen and his nephew Paul, grand
nieces and nephews, and great grand nieces and nephews. Our heartfelt loving support goes to the
faith community of St. Louis, his spiritual home for the last 17 years. This altar and this sanctuary has been such a
part of my prayer life as well. Additionally,
my friendship goes to his and my fellow priests and to our beloved Bishop
Matano who expressed such beautiful pastoral care to Fr Ray especially in his
time of illness. Welcome to
everyone. Fr. Ray’s death does not
extinguish the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has
come. He now shares in the fullness of
light.
Bishop Matano, I will ask you at the outset to grant me a
little relief from the liturgical police if this homily strays a bit into words
of remembrance. I will try my very best
but I loved this man, Fr Ray Booth, so very, very much. Mind you, we are both Germans, we were not
huggers, we were not given to saying” I love you” to each other. Did I mention we are hard-headed
Germans? But he has been such a gift to
my priesthood and to my life. I will
never be able to thank him for all that he has meant to me.
The Scriptures Ray chose for his funeral were well chosen,
of course. I’m only sorry he did not
include one of his numerous funny stories at the beginning of his homily. Some of them were actually funny.
The Scriptures today describe beautifully why Ray Booth was
such an inspiring priest – one who was a profound mentor for me in my 48 years
as a priest.
The first Scripture reading was from the first letter of
John. We read: “Anyone
who does not love does not know God, because God is love.” The first key to Father Ray’s priesthood was
that he was simply a person who loved people.
In the way he loved, he revealed to us God who is love. His friendship with me and to all of us was
so giving and unselfish. In June of
1980, when Father Ray was the pastor of St Christopher’s, he invited to me live
at St Christopher’s rectory as I was a young special worker, the diocesan
Ministry to Priest Director. His love
and friendship and sense of humor were so infectious. We so enjoyed giving each other the business. This was back in the day when St Christoper
was removed from the ranks of the formally canonized saints. I used to give Ray a hard time saying that he
was the pastor of the only Church of the diocese that was not named after a
saint. I referred to the parish as Mr.
Christopher.
In June of 1999, I returned the favor to Father Ray and invited
him to live at St Louis rectory as a senior priest. I think the parishioners of St Louis will
agree that this one of the smartest decisions I made in my 12 wonderful years
as pastor. He enjoyed the penthouse
suite at the rectory. Although I was a more
experienced priest at this time, he was still the face of Jesus to me in
helping to understand the meaning of priesthood.
Lest you think I am trying to canonize Father Ray at this
moment. I would say, as you know, many priests are famous for bringing
parishioners to the beautiful shrines around the world: Fatima, Lourdes, Our Lady of Guadalupe, the
Holy Land, St Peter’s Basilica in Rome.
Fr Ray’s preferred shrine is in Saratoga Springs – the famous
racetrack. He prided himself as being a
pretty good handicapper of the ponies.
In the second Scripture reading, Paul writes:
“Neither death, nor life, nor
angels, nor principalities, not things present, nor things to come can separate
from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
I mentioned the first key to Father Ray’s priesthood was
that he was a beautiful human being – such a good friend to one and all. The second key was his deep
spirituality. He was a prayerful and
faith-filled disciple of the Lord Jesus Christ.
Nothing separated him from the love of God. In our younger days, Ray and I and our
support group of priests enjoyed winter ski vacations for many moons out West
and in Europe. We called them pre-lenten
pilgrimages. As we got older, we traded
in our skis for golf clubs and enjoyed golfing vacations in Puerto Rico.
We would begin each day with the Liturgy of the Hours. One of our favorite lines in the 95th
psalm – the invitatory psalm. Looking
out on the ocean we prayed: “He made the
sea. It belongs to Him.” Looking out at the ocean was a genuine
retreat setting for us. To pray the
psalms together, to celebrate the Eucharist together gave me such a beautiful view
into his contemplative faith-filled spirit.
To this day, every time I pray that 95th
psalm: “He made the sea; it belongs to
me.” I think of Ray and am reminded of
the God moments we shared together.
Even in his last days when he experienced such restlessness,
when he was so sleep deprived, when it
would break your heart to see him so restless, nothing would separate him from
the love of God in Christ Jesus. Father
Ray enjoyed life. We shared so many,
many laughs together, but know in the depth of his soul, he was a deeply
spiritual priest, he was a soul friend to so many; he was a gifted preacher of God; He
celebrated Mass with such faith-filled conviction; he was a Christ-like minister to people; he was loved by everyone who knew him. He was a priest’s priest. Fr Ray was a prayerful priest who loved being
a priest and who loved to serve people and he loved to wash the feet of God’s
poor as Jesus commanded us.
At the motherhouse of
the Sisters of St Joseph where he spent his last days, along with Therese Lynch
his dear, dear friend for 50 years, we celebrated the Sacrament of the
Anointing of the Sick with Ray. It was
such a God moment for Therese and I to pray the Our Father with Ray (we added
the Hail Mary for good measure). Then I somehow knew all will be well. Therese, although you seek no recognition and
probably are mad at me for mentioning your name, your goodness to Fr Ray will be a source of your salvation. This I know from the depth of my being.
The Gospel proclaims the presence of the Risen Lord to the
foundational disciples Mary Magdalene and Joanna and Peter and John and then
the two disciples on the way to Emmaus. In
this Resurrection liturgy, we rejoice in the presence of the Risen Lord with Fr
Ray Booth and the presence of the Risen Lord to all of us who mourn his going
home to God.
The Risen Lord appeared to the two disciples on the way to
Emmaus as a stranger in their midst listening and asking them questions. As those of us who knew Fr Ray, he too was
such a good listener, loved to asked questions, loved to provoke a little
dialogue, and tease a bit as well but he revealed the presence of the Risen
Lord to the many, many people he ministered
to in his 59 years as a priest.
In his words and the way he lived, Ray proclaimed the joy of
the Risen Lord. In the words of Pope Francis, the joy of the
gospel was part of his DNA. As the
disciples said to one another: “Did not
our heart burn within us, while he talked with us by the way, and while he opened to us the Scriptures?”
In the Gospel account, Jesus appeared as a stranger to the
disciples and they failed to recognized him initially. In our friendship with Fr Ray, we recognize
him easily, his ready smile, his great sense of humor, his care and love of
each of us. He was not a stranger to us
but rather a good, good friend. My
connection with the Emmaus account, there were and are times when I had trouble
recognizing the stranger in my midst – the Risen Lord. It was Ray’s friendship that help give
me the spiritual sightedness to
recognize the presence of the Risen Lord in our lives. Thank you, Fr Ray, for your priestly ministry
in leading all of us to the Lord.
As we transition into the liturgy of the Eucharist, I am so grateful that Fr Ray and I and so many of you are Catholic, the best way for us to grieve the loss of this good friend and faith-filled priest is to do what he did all his life from the day of his First Communion 80 years ago. May we give thanks to the Lord our God in this mystery of the Eucharist, and may we be fed and nourished at the Table of the Lord with the Bread of Life and Cup of Salvation.
Thanks for posting this, Father Jim.
ReplyDeleteLinda Martin