By: Father Joseph Daries, C.M.F.

 

Do not let your hearts be troubled: I have told you that I am

going to prepare a place for you, and that I am coming back to take you with me. (Jn 14:1-3)

 

As Father Richard said in his opening greeting to you, we have come here to celebrate. And we surely do celebrate and give thanks to God for the gift of Father James Griffin.

But we can’t help realizing that someone has been torn out of the fabric of our lives—a person we have loved, and still love. Jesus Himself wept, not only over Jerusalem , but also over his dead friend, Lazarus, whom he brought back temporarily to life in this world. The bystanders were so moved at Jesus’ tears that they said, “See how much he loved him” (Jn 11:35-36).

So it is fitting that we feel pain at the absence of Father James from our everyday life.

We all remember Father Griffin, each in our own way. You may remember something that I do not, because there are some things that are strictly personal. I am going to be remembering just a few things about my Father Griffin.

On a lighter note, there is one thing about Father Griffin that used to drive me completely mad. Whenever I went to his room it was always so incredibly neat. Even his desk was neat. I was and still am a total slob in this sense. Whatever I have, no matter what it was originally meant to be, must also serve as a throw rug. Father Griffin’s clothes were always impeccably neat. On the emotional level, he sometimes showed that he had a real temper; but that too, like his basic character, was neatly controlled. He kept things in mind, and he kept things in order too. And people loved him for it.

I remember meeting Griff about 49 years ago. In 1948 He was our assistant prefect at Dominguez, and his mother had just died. I was assigned with him several times over the years. I would like to recall some of his achievements during those many years.

Among them there was the great simplicity and love he showed, especially in the field of priestly and religious formation. He learned so much and did so much for our seminaries, starting out as assistant prefect, then moving on to be prefect, and then master of novices.

And then there was all the pastoral work he did in parishes. Many times he was assistant pastor, or as we would call it today, parochial vicar. But more often he was the pastor and several times superior. And he did all those things well.

There are many things you can say of Father Griffin that you can’t say of many Religious, including myself. One of the first of these things was the fact that he never caused trouble, never made a fuss about himself. That is something far rarer than one might imagine. Sometimes, even in religious houses, people are just people, and sometimes they are downright selfish and put themselves ahead of others. Griff never did that. He never put himself ahead of others. And that was wonderful!

We often pass over certain words of Jesus and fail to really hear them, because we have heard them all so many times. For example, we hear Jesus say to us: “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, that I am meek and humble of heart.” (Mt 11:29) It seems to be such a simple lesson, that we expect something more dramatic. But that is what Jesus wants us to learn from Himself. He makes this clear when He adds: “And you will find rest for your souls, for my yoke is easy and my burden light.” Such a deeply hidden secret, a secret so hidden that we forget that it’s an important part of the gospel message. Griff got the message. He understood the secret

There are so many other things that Father Griffin was. He was a good superior , and was always a fair one. He was a good pastor , who really cared for his people, and did his job well. He was a good brother . He dearly loved his family. He was a good friend . Although he was fair and frank with all, but if you were his friend, he really loved you, and it was easy to tell how much he loved you.

His later years were full of long-suffering: strokes, surgeries and heart problems (he had a pacemaker). Walking became difficult. Speech became difficult too. Visitors were few, but always welcome. Yet through it all he remained a person who never made undue demands on anybody; indeed, he didn’t make any demands on others.

I am ashamed that I didn’t take better care of him than I did, but I did what I could. I found out that on weekends he was really too weak to go downstairs, so on Saturdays and Sundays I brought him a sandwich or soup or dessert. I always made sure he had something he liked in the tiny refrigerator in his room. And whenever I visited him in his room we used to talk about other good things that people did not even suspect about him.

He was devout. He was a son of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, a son of St. Anthony Mary Claret, a good Claretian, which is to say a very good Catholic. He had one later devotion in his life, too. It was the devotion spread by St. Maria Faustina. It focused on Divine Mercy, which we are certainly all in need of. I would certainly be scared to ask God for justice, but I could certainly feel bold enough to ask him for mercy. And I knew that Father Griff kept up that devotion until the end of his life.

One day when I was unable to get anyone to take me to the hospital, I put my walker in the car and drove there myself. I sat by his bed and said the chaplet of divine mercy. I knew that he would want me to do that. I knew he was unconscious, but I had once been in a coma, yet I could hear everything that was being said or done around me. So I told him that, and I proceeded to say the chaplet out loud.

For me it was a great grace and an honor that on the day he died our senior aide gave me a ride to the hospital. I went to his room and his eyes were wide open. He had tubes in his mouth, and though he struggled to speak, his mouth and throat were too dry. I greeted him, blessed him, absolved him conditionally, and kissed him on the forehead before leaving. I was happy to have had that grace. When I got home that day, I learned that he had gone to his reward with God.

Keep him in your prayers; he would want your prayers. We are here not just for sentimental reasons, but also and mainly to pray. St. Paul says that of the three great godly gifts—faith, hope and love—the greatest is love. Faith and hope will pass away. Faith will become vision, hope will become possession, but love will remain eternally. Yet even though faith and hope will pass away in eternity, they are very necessary for us in the here and now.

James believed. He was a great believer. We are here today because we believe.

James not only hoped, but gave others hope. To give hope to others is one of the

greatest things we can do in this life. But love will come to its perfection and will never

pass away, because the God whom we will see is eternal Love. We have no clear idea or image of what heaven will be like. Be in faith we can be very sure of one thing: It will be the very pinnacle of all love.

I want to express the gratitude of all at our house at Dominguez to two persons. First, to Father Alberto Domingo, who accompanied Father Griffin to breakfast and lunch every day. Then in a very special thanks to Mr. Juan Flores, who is sitting out among us today. As our senior aide he takes unfailing good care of us at Dominguez. He drives everyone to the hospital, to doctor’s appointments and on little shopping trips. He is very thoughtful to us and we are extremely grateful to him. We must show our gratitude in this life, while we have the time.

You have all known Jim. Be with him now in prayer, and hope that we may all be with him in eternity. He has shown us an example of faith, hope and love in his long suffering and his constancy in friendship. Instead of being fair-weather friends, let us be friends in need, as he was. Instead of always complaining of our aches and pains, let us imitate Jim, who always appreciated anything done for him, and let us express or thank others now, while we still have time, for all the things they do for us.

I have said little or nothing that reflects the depth of St. Paul or the art of John Donne, but it all comes from my heart, and that’s all that I am going to say.

(An aside, because of a bad arthritis condition): Getting down from this pulpit is another matter.