MICHAEL MENDONCA

Introduction: ----- days into our bereavement.  At the time of our bereavement human words prove inadequate, So, rather than look for words to express the inexpressible, let us hand ourselves over to the Church’s liturgy that invokes God’s mercy upon our dear friend and brother, and proclaim our faith in his resurrection in Christ.  The moment he closed his eyes to this world and opened them to the light of eternity, all was suffused in the love of God and the saints, and he was in a flash rejuvenated forever. Such is the advent of the comforting love of God. May it be so for us all as we prepare to celebrate the holy mysteries of Jesus.

                                 MICHAEL MENDONCA

Lord, grant that the greater harvest

Which we came on earth to save

May be golden and ripe for the reaping

‘Ere we go to the lonely grave;

That our souls in the last dread autumn

May be clean as the hill and the lea,

When we bring life’s grain to the haggard

And offer it all to thee.

A Harvest Prayer, from the Irish

It is harvest time, and a much loved and respected one among us has joined the immense throng in obedient ascent to the Lord’s beckoning. The grain was mellow and golden by heaven’s reckoning, and we handed our beloved father, friend and brother over to the transcendent Lord of the vineyard and wheat field.

It’s harvest time. God’s angel has placed a golden sickle to a crown of ripened wheat, golden mellow, that in his youth had swayed and danced to the lilting music and song of his ancestors on the sunny beaches of Goa. As devoted a Catholic as one can get and the head of a household that he made sure was pervaded by the values of the Christian Gospel, family prayer and human and academic education. He was the type of “pater familias” that the world

needs today. A doughty don of the Mendonca clan!

 A robust citizen of Calcutta, handsome and stately, this noble-hearted man presented a picture of true manhood.

We may well be left asking if all the accumulated excellence and achievements of the departed should be exposed to futility.

The self-sacrificing love of husband and father, a most devoted parishioner. The devoted services to his Church that he loved so much. The uplifting assistance to the poor and distressed, and the understanding demeanour towards the staff of Lawrence and Mayo. The wit and humour of his considerate hospitality. Should this all be exposed to futility? The answer is “no”, since the Resurrection of Christ and the Assumption of his Blessed Mother point our bodies with their comprehensive histories towards a transcendent consummation which we call “community in God”.

In a world torn by competitive contention, Michael Mendonca  lived on an island of serene confidence, drawing inspiration from Jesus his President and Master. His showrooms are like cities set on a hill and paved with perfection.

 Ageing graciously is more than a process that happens naturally. It takes years to know the Jesus you first loved and who called you, and to attain the grace of accepting that everything comes from the hands of God. Contending with God rather the devil is the quality of maturing years, and the fruit of it is not more contention but a deeper sense of peace. This last period of life has

a depth and spirituality all its own. Here tranquility is neither forced nor artificial. Life is a game or a piece of music, if that’s how you want it, and the way you choose to play it is the key to being a winner or loser. Coming in first does not make you a winner, any more than coming in last makes you a loser. In the words of Granland Rice, “When the one great Scorekeeper comes, he counts not whether you won or lost but how you played the game.”  Michael Mendonca played his score with serene integrity.

What he believed in faith he now experiences, in the words of the Prophet Jeremiah, Chapter 31: “I have loved you. I guard you as a shepherd guards his flock. They will come and sing for joy on Mt. Sion. I will guide them to the streams of water. Men, young and old, will rejoice. I will turn their mourning into joy. Stop your crying and wipe away your tears.” And from the book of Revelation, chapter 1: “I turned round to see who was speaking to me, and when I turned, I saw....one like a Son of Man, dressed in a long white robe tied at the waist with a belt of gold. His head and his hair were white with the whiteness of wool, like snow, his eyes like a burning flame, his feet like burnished bronze when it has been refined in a furnace....His face was like the sun shining in full strength. When I saw him I fell at his feet as though dead, but he laid his hand on me and said, “Do not be afraid...I was dead and look...I am alive for ever and ever.”  “Look at my hand and feet...it’s me...touch me.” (Lk. 28, 39).

Now in the sadness and smile of our memories he reposes.

We witnessed him hasten home in God’s embrace.

He is now in peace, in fulfilment, in loving.

Michael, our dear friend and brother,

Into the darkness and warmth of the earth

We lay you down.

Into the sadness and smiles of our memories

We lay you down.

Into the cycle of living and rising again

We lay you down.

May you rest in peace, in fulfilment, in loving

May you run straight home in God’s embrace.

Into the freedom of wind and sunshine

We let you go.

Into the dance of the stars and the planets

We let you go.

Into the wind’s breath and the hands

of the star Maker

We let you go.        

We love you, we miss you,

We want you to be happy.

Go lightsome, go laughing,

Go prancing home.”

So, we shall carry our friend to the edge of the river and gently place him in the boat about to depart. Let the sails fill with the sweet Zephyr of the Spirit he loved so much and convey him to the further shore. As he wafts away into the soft sunset, into the embrace of eternity, he turns to wave to us a fond farewell.

 We wave back and say: Adieu, Michael, true son of the soil, and your devoted parents,

 ISADORE & LUDUMILLA.

Adieu.

PRAYER: 

O great and merciful God,

Bring our dear friend Michael, true son of the Catholic Church,

at his last awakening,

into your house and gate of heaven,

to enter that door

and dwell in that house

where shall be no darkness nor dazzling,

but one equal light,

no noise nor silence, but one equal music,

no fears nor hopes, but one equal possession,

no ends nor beginnings, but one equal eternity

in the habitations of your glory and dominion,

for ever and ever.

Amen.

A PRAYER FOR THOSE GATHERED HERE

Lord of eternity,

whose power is infinite,

whose days are without number

and whose mercy is beyond our fathoming;

keeping our faces always turned towards you,

so that, each day, we remember

that life is your gift,

and the hour of death unknown.

And when finally we meet you face to face,

transform us in the fire of your love,

and receive us into your eternal abode.

Amen.