A sermon for the Funeral of Alexandre “Joe” Bruce Mouton
November 30, 2024
Readings: Ecclesiastes 3:1-8; Revelation 21:2-7; Matthew 5:1-10
A joyful man. A gracious host. Someone with a twinkle in his eye that betrayed his mischievousness. A funny, funny person who probably wouldn’t mind if I started today with a Boudreaux and Thibodeaux joke (but don’t worry, I decided not to–if you want to know which one I would use, come see me after). A loving husband, father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. Today we gather to give thanks for the life of such a man. We give thanks for the gift he was in our lives–the gift he will continue to be. Today we commend him to God, the giver of all good gifts, confident that God will pull Joe to himself in grace, mercy, and love. Because Joe was baptized into Christ’s death and resurrection, he is marked as God’s child forever.
Alec has said more about Joe than I ever could. Carla, the kids, the grandkids all have stories of Joe’s generous and funny spirit, like many of you. In the short time I knew him, I saw it, too. Joe was just Joe, and it didn’t matter who you were, you got the real deal. Show up in a clerical collar, Joe didn’t change. Maybe he would even ratchet it up a notch–I don’t know, but I admire that. Nothing drives me crazier than folks putting on airs because the priest has shown up. I don’t think Joe had any airs to put on. Joe was Joe.
For all the joy he lived, there has been sorrow, too, especially the last few years. God has never promised that we would be spared from suffering–just look at the Beatitudes today. Blessed are the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, those who hunger and thirst, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, the persecuted. Blessed are those who suffer, those who long for the complete, those who hope for wholeness, those who walk through the valley. For in their journey–a journey fraught by human brokenness and pain–there are glimpses into the heart of God, the Advent promise of the complete at the end.
Joe knew suffering, and he walked straight through his suffering, his family with him. As Joe forgot more and more, his family was by his side, and they never forgot. Part of the cruelty of the long goodbye is knowing that you’ve lost something, but not quite sure what it is. With intense frustration, you long for the complete, for wholeness again. And your family with you.
The promise of God is that the complete does come. Wholeness is restored. All things are made new, and us with them. My friends, hear the gospel: this cruelty is not the end of the story. Goodbye is not the last word. Dementia can claim no one forever. Death shall not exercise dominion over the children of God. For the One who sits on the throne has proclaimed, “See, I am making all things new. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.”
Alexandre Bruce was nicknamed Joe because he was born on St. Joseph’s day. I like that a lot. St. Joseph is the patron saint of workers, and Joe did his fair share of work (we’ve heard some of those stories today). St. Joseph is called the guardian of our Lord, and like his patron saint, this Joe walked with his family through thick and thin, ups and downs. I also learned from Carla that St. Joseph is the patron saint of a holy death. That, too, is very fitting for our brother. On November 16, Joe died surrounded by his loving family. They kept vigil; they said prayers; they laughed and cried and told stories and remembered; they held and comforted their patriarch. They walked him home. His was a holy death, indeed.
I don’t know what Joe saw on the further shore, in the greater light. Maybe it was ole St. Joseph himself. But I do know that he heard the Master’s voice. I do believe that he was restored and healed; wholeness and completeness came, and a new season began. Having walked through a time of suffering in this life (suffering that can be rightly described as a war within one’s self), now is his time for peace, peace at the last and forever.
Storied Grace 