Too Late for Official Introductions

I heard during the week that another long time parishioner at St. Victor's Catholic Church, my parish, had died. I kept being asked "Did you know Mr. Hayes?"  I probably did, although not by name.

I suppose that one of the failures of our time, within and without our churches is that we see people week in and week out, sometimes day in and day out by their faces, but we never have introduced ourselves to one another. 

I knew Mr. Hayes to see him. I suppose in terms of seeing him, I knew him well. He came to the 12:15 Sunday Mass, at which I regularly serve, for years and years. He sat in one of the same two pews, depending on who might have gotten there ahead of him, on the right side (from my view in the sanctuary) of the Church, right in the front, and right at the end.

There were only two things I knew about him certainly all those years. He had a kind face. He had a deep and penetrating voice when he sang the hymns.

Then he died, on January 27, 2014 after, said the terse obituary, a short illness. There was a burial at Holy Cross Cemetery in Culver City on Wednesday this past week, and today, a memorial Mass attended only by his immediate family.

The only reason I can connect the face to the man is that I was asked again to serve at the funeral, along with a couple of others. Just before the service I was asked by our celebrant, Fr. Lopez, to see if the family had written up a little biography for him to refer to--as he had only met the late Mr. Hayes to give him last rites the day before he died and he makes sure to include the personal along with the spiritual in his homilies. They had a few items, one in hand, one a list of movies and television Mr. Hayes had done, and what had likely been a part of a playbill for some part he had done on stage. I took the opportunity to ask if they had a photograph. I did it to see if in fact I HAD known him, but it turned out to be fortuitous as it was a framed shot. I asked if they wanted it to be put on a small table in the sanctuary. That made the affair more personal. We all connected the man to the prayers.

This is probably the fourth funeral and/or memorial at which I have assisted the priest. Each one, despite the same liturgy, is different in its feel. This was a particularly intimate, quiet one that makes me proud to be Catholic aside from the other virtues which I believe it to have despite its humanly based imperfections. The family was either not Catholic or non-practicing. That is not uncommon at these services.  But what was lovely today was that the priest went to each person in the pew and blessed him or her individually.

And then it was over.  I returned the framed photograph to the family. I replaced the table in its customary place. The candles were snuffed. The lights were shut down.

And once again, we say, rest in peace. This time to a gentle actor named James Michael Hayes.