A Funeral Homily For Bob Steen

 

 

Bob (Robert) Steen

10 July 1939 – 14 June, 2023

 

Chris, James, friends of Bob and Chris, it’s an honour to be here with you and with my clergy colleagues for this wonderful service for Bob.

 

A funeral service is a chance to tell the story of a life, hopefully a life well lived, and Bob’s was indeed a life well lived.  Some of you will know much of the story of Bob’s life, some will know parts of it:  a devoted husband, stepfather to James, a long career in dentistry and myriad roles in the charities and societies that make Collingwood a better place.    Bob lived his life well, and we are the better for it.  

 

As someone relatively new to the area, I only had the privilege of knowing Bob towards the very end of his long and good life.   I shall always remember the pride with which he told me of his personal history, his Irish roots, and how much he wanted me to see the pocket watch which his grandfather had carried onboard the Titanic, though fortunately that was before she left on her fatal voyage!  As Bob did, I love making scale models, and I was so impressed when Bob showed me a model of th Titanic that he had painstakingly assembled.   

 

I also remember how moved I was when Bob told me how his hearing had been damaged from the high speed drills he had used for decades as a dental surgeon.   As I child I remember my own trips to the dentist and how scary it was to hear the sound of the drill through the door as I waited for my turn to go in.   Most of us don’t relish going to the dentist, but we are always grateful to leave knowing we won’t suffer any more from a painful tooth or from a gap in our mouths.   I think of how how many people Bob must have helped and relieved through his career, and of the slow and gradual price he paid to help them.  Bob’s story makes me think that there are many ways in which we take up our crosses to serve others, and that was a cross that Bob bore for his patients.

 

When I met Bob, I could see that he was physically diminished by his age and by his infirmities, and it was tempting for me to wish that I had met Bob when he was in his prime.    I’m an unlikely resident of Collingwood in that I have a terror of hurtling down an icy slope, but I am sure that Bob in his prime could have easily taught me to ski.

 

While it’s tempting to wish that we had met a person in their prime, that’s an illusion born of our human desire to value some parts of a life more than others.   I don’t believe God looks at our lives and judges some parts as being better than others.  That’s not what the gospels say.  Jesus looked on all with compassion, the strong and the old, he loved the healthy and the sick in equal measure.   To Jesus, and to his Father, every stage of our lives is equally valuable.    The wonder of childhood, the strength of our youth, and ] the frailty of old age are all one to God, all held in God’s sight and all enfolded in God’s love and grace.   

 

As a sign of how we our lives our wrapped in God’s infinite love,  I’m joined by my Anglican colleague Canon Judy, who was a longtime friend and former pastor to Chris, as well as by my friend Father Charles, for Bob was a son of the Roman Catholic church and it is fitting that he is remembered as such.    While our traditions and churches are different, I think that all three of us could agree on the most important thing, that Jesus, in his great love and compassion, was there at the end for Bob, just as he walked with Bob through all the stages of his life.  Our presence today is born of that grace, and I’m so grateful to the for being here with me.

 

As the prophet Isaiah said,  “Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows”.   Bob’s infirmities and sorrows are now taken from him, he is free of their burdens.   Bob has been carried home to the eternal present of God’s love, the true prime of life,  in which nothing diminishes or fades away.    We give thanks for his good life here on earth, and we pray that we may one day join him in that city of light where there are no tears or sorrow, but only joy.