In memoriam...

Bérenx (France), 17 June 1923 - Bétharram, 19 March 2015

Homily at the funeral of Fr. Jean Laclau,scj
Bétharram, 21 March 2015

(Ws 2: 23; 3: 1 - 6.9 | Jn 15: 1-8) This Gospel flowed from the heart, it seems to me, for someone who was parish priest of Saint-Estèphe for about thirty years. He had raised the art of wine, if not to a divine art, at least to an art of life: a celebration to open the senses and to share friendship.

Too bad for those who made fun of his domestic rituals (a stemmed glass vase, a grilled steak, a good choice of vintages and words). Although he spoke about them differently, he didn’t want to separate tenderness and succulent food, the gentleness of faith, the sweetness of hope and charity, and the small pleasures of life, daily treats as modest as they were precious.

During a last visit, while I was trying in vain to remember the motto which he was fond of and which celebrates his home town, he whispered to me wide eyed: “You’re wrong. I will tell you: Oh beautiful Orthez, sweetness and gaiety, fine gastronomy!” This may seem laughable, but it was his way of taking his leave, without seeming to be touched by it, without inflicting his suffering on others...

Fr. Laclau was not a naive man, he was truly modest, an aesthete in his way. He did not waste his time justifying his enjoyment of life and of people; he was too busy gleaning a little happiness, too curious about music and flavours. As soon as you approached him, his face is lit up, sparkled. He greeted you with “Adi gouyat!” in which all the cordiality of a priest of the Sacred Heart was focused. In any situation, he had the grace to do his best without taking himself too seriously. In his company, we gained a better understanding of why humour starts as humility and finishes up as love (“amour”).

This philosophy of existence, this refinement of intelligence perfectly suited the professor of philosophy, this wise man, so human in his work and in his enthusiasm. After Bétharram and Ozanam, after Foucauld where he had been so happy, even when retired from teaching, he remained an educator and a pastor. Even when alone, withdrawn to the community, he remained brotherly, he was religious in its first sense of being “the bond that connects us.” Yes, Fr. Laclau was naturally gifted, supernaturally even, to connect earth and heaven, reason and prayer, the body and the soul, also creating connections between hearts.

In this day and age, Fr. Laclau is one of those referred to in the book of Wisdom: because they put their trust in the Lord, they see the truth; because they were faithful, they will remain with him in his love, because God, “gives his chosen ones grace and mercy.” Grace, mercy, love, here we are at the heart of the Gospel!

In his preaching Christ willingly employed images of growth, parables evoking nature, the grain which is sown grows both day and night. Here, with the vine, we reach a high point. Everything depends on this stunning revelation received by the disciple whom he loved: what unites Jesus to his disciples is the same substance that unites him to the Father. It is the same vital current, the same sap, the same love. And it is the same spirit!

The branch can only live united to the vine. Without this link, it is dead. Similarly, the disciple only lives when deeply attached to Christ. Apart from him we can do nothing. By being attached to the sap, the entire body of the Church feeds and grows. In this way the life of God develops slowly in us. Day after day, mysteriously but in a real way, it overcomes obstacles, spreading into a stream of eternity.

Grafted in Christ, our existence is called to grow and become fruitful. Little by little, we find that we are capable of bearing fruit, a fruit of justice and peace. On condition that we remain in him, through prayer and the sacraments. Provided that we maintain this unique relationship where we are known and loved, where we feel motivated to love in turn. On condition that we accept this unconditional love delivered at each mass. On condition that we live from it and nurture others from it.

It is impossible to describe all these others who ressemble us. They make up our surrounding lives: parents, brothers, faithful parishioners of the Gironde, friends of Casablanca, of Pau and elsewhere, not to mention the beneficiaries of a generous indulgence in return for a service rendered, a kind word, a pleasure given. I will no longer resist the pleasure of a final anecdote.

Fr Laclau, I remember it as if it were yesterday: hunched in his indestructible suit jacket, hands behind his back, walked leisurely along the cloister of Saint-Michel or the corridors of Maison Neuve. They - his superiors! - had torn him away from his dear parish of Médoc, he didn’t really blame them, even if he wasn’t fooled: the role of priest after 80 years was like his jacket, a little too broad, a little too heavy for him.

“I err...”, he repeated to those who were willing to hear him. It meant: “I want to spend some time with you. I say, will you come back? “And near the end, in this bed where he was confined at the very end, he gathered his last strength to murmur: “I am a worry to myself.” By this you understood: “I languish in this existence. Who will quench my thirst for fullness? Who will revive my taste for life? How much longer must I wait to see the vineyards of the Lord?... “

You are there now, dear father, and we can only rejoice from the fruits you have given us. Having come to full maturity, the fruits are now passed into the wine press of pain, poured into the cup of the covenant, revealed in full light, and now flow in you, for you, to the glory of the Father.

Jean-Luc MORIN,scj