Jason and his family. 
This is a homily preached by Fr John Carroll at the funeral of Mr Donohue who died from cancer last month
I don’t intend to ‘talk up’ Jason’s life, or indeed his many achievements – his is a life that speaks for itself: a gentle life, a noble life, a life marked with gratitude for all he received and who it is he ultimately became.
I’ve really only five simple things to say:
Admiration – Jason lived by a quote which he shared with his wife Siobhan – it’s a simple quote, but it’s one that tells us a lot about how he endured his illness, what his philosophy was, what his outlook was, what discipline he pursued throughout recent years and months.
“Do not look back and grieve over
the past, for it is gone;
and do not be troubled about the future,
for it has not yet come.
Live in the present and make it so beautiful
that it will be worth remembering.” (Ida Scott Taylor)
Jason was telling Siobhán why he always lived in the moment. He told her “I have to live in the moment. To think about the future is too upsetting. Every one of us have just the moment we are in and if I stay in the moment I have exactly the same length of time as everyone else”.
Understanding
In these words, Jason gives us a beautiful understanding of mindfulness; of the gift of this moment, of the beauty of this day. In struggles, he gave us an example to follow.
It was his daily (small) creed.
St. Paul – in writing to the Corinthians (I Cor. 13: 4-8) – left us a beautiful reflection on faith hope and love. It’s a wonderful reflection which can become a barometer on where we find ourselves in life with regard to God, ourselves and others. My own name does not fit as well as Jason’s does here. Let me read it to you and you will see.
“Jason was always patient and kind; he was never jealous; never boastful or conceited; he was never rude or selfish; he rarely if ever took offence and was never resentful. He was always ready to excuse, to trust, to hope, and to endure whatever came his way. Jason’s love does not come to an end. In short, there are three things that last: faith, hope and love; and the greatest of these is love and Jason had that in abundance.”
There is something appropriate in putting Jason’s name into this passage – none of it jars – it fits there very easily and very accurately. It’s the man we all knew.
Coming to mind – evarlier this morning, I sat down to pen these thoughts and I reflected on the life of a good friend – a man with a warm smile. Some of the thoughts that crossed my mind were: His book of reflections, his attachment to daily Mass, his journaling, his reflective spirit. His hands rubbing together before an open fridge and his delightful capacity to create beauty out of little or nothing at all.
His phrases so often repeated – “Siobhan and the girls… a pint with dad… thanks mam…”
A smile as he’d say “how about a movie? – would you like action or something softer?” – and he liked action, the livelier the better…so different to his quiet nature. A square of chocolate, not the whole bar.
Gratitude in immensity – to his mother and father, gratitude for the gift of Siobhan and the girls, Saibh and Shóna, gratitude for friendship – for the many hands that helped him along the path of life. And his signature phrase – “sounds like a plan…sounds like a plan…”
“Sounds like a plan Jonners!”
Trip
Last year, Jason, myself and a few of the Ferns priests (Frs Paddy Browne, Jim Fegan and Brian Broaders) made a very memorable trip to Jerusalem and to various parts of the Holy Land. Jason was in flying form and the trip couldn’t have gone better. We didn’t discuss Jason’s sickness at all, it just didn’t figure!
At the site of the Holy Sepulchre, there was a very large crowd. The queue was immense. After Mass, I said to Jason, that I might approach the rather fierce looking and lively Greek Orthodox monk who was porter at the entrance and see if I could “get him in”. It must have been Jason’s charm but the monk was no problem at all. Inexplicably, the monk stopped the queue, let the small shrine empty and then waved Jason straight through to the site of the resurrection.
And as if by providence, he got his minute alone there (something that is quite difficult to get at any time – almost impossible). When he came out from the empty tomb, we knew we had about two hours before the others on the trip would get through, so I asked him what he’d like to do. “Whatever you think yourself… I don’t mind”, was the (characteristic) reply.
I offered him the possibility of coffee and cake – and a trip to the Armenian quarter to visit an artist whose shop I know well. “We might even have ice cream on the way back” I added – “Sounds like a plan Jonners, sounds like a plan.” Off up town Jerusalem, we headed.
(Note – I was christened Jonners many years ago by Jason).
When we got to the shop, we browsed and chatted. Vic was painting ceramics and seeing to us and to others. After a while I asked Jason, “anything catch your eye?” and it did – a ceramic dove in two complimentary pieces – hanging left of the artist on the far wall. The dove is blue edged and mainly white – no olive branch.
We discussed it with the artist – as in the prayer shawl of the rabbi, when the blue becomes indistinguishable in the darkness of the evening, it’s time for night prayers. When the dove becomes white, it’s morning, time to arise and give yourself to God for the day! We were on to a winner from the start.
Painting
We took the painting with us and we chatted about it over ice cream (lemon sorbet) at a shop not far from the Jaffa Gate. For me the painting was special because it symbolised the Holy Spirit and the gifts of the Holy Spirit. Earlier that week, Jason had done exactly as the Master had done himself – in the Church Synagogue in Nazareth – Jason was invited to read the Gospel passage of Jesus reading from the Book of Isaiah, as recounted in chapter Five of St Luke’s Gospel.
Jason stepped forward and did as Christ Himself had done 2,000 years earlier: “and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him. Unrolling it, he found the place where it is written:
‘The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind,
to set the oppressed free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour’” (Luke 5:17-19).
Passage
To me, as Jason read that passage on that day, the Spirit was very obviously on him as he spoke – for Jason was always a man to stretch out his arm and to include, to offer hope and comfort, to ensure nobody gets left out.
“Then Jesus rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fastened on him. He began by saying to them, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” (Luke 5: 20-21).
That last phrase is key – for in Jason’s lifetime, such love was fulfilled in our hearing. It was the anthem by which he lived his life.
“And what do you like about the painting Jason?” I asked. “I like that it is two who have become one and that One (God) brings forth two…It’s like myself and Siobhan together, it’s the gift from God to us of Saibh and Shóna…it’s that our two children would always be told how mammy and daddy love one another dearly and that we love them through and through…I like that about the painting and I’d like that to be told to the children always…
Today, I will give you that painting – and by it – let us remember a warm natured son and brother, a loving husband and father, a good friend and a noble spirit.
Today I say thank you to John and Breidin for the gift of Jason to us… with Jason a word of gratitude for the gift of Siobhan, Saibh and Shóna… and a word of gratitude to you all for the generosity with which you shared him with us his friends.
Let us now do as he did and as he now asks.
I cry and I smile – in conclusion I would like to leave you with a phrase used first by a German poet Ludwig Jacobowski titled Leuchtende Tage published in the August 1899 – it’s a simple one – it’s helpful to where we find ourselves today – “I don’t cry because it has come to an end, I smile because it happened.”
It’s not where we are at today for quite truthfully, we need to do both – we cry because it has come to an end, but we do also smile because it happened!
Fr John Carroll is a priest of the Diocese of Ferns.
