FUNERAL SERMON FOR GEORGE BRANTLEY (1931-1972)

June 7, 2008

 

He was known for his gentleness that belied the strength that was below.

 

Always a gentleman, polite and caring; showing anger only when it was the response needed in the face of injustice, or danger to those he loved.

 

We all know that he was a carpenter.  But he could fix more than woodwork; he could also make you feel better and important.  His commitment to the poor was more than exemplary; it was gracious and it was heartfelt.

 

He fed the hungry and he did ot not from afar, where it was comfortable, but face to face.  And though he was often denied justice and discriminated against in his own life, he never failed to believe in it or advocate for those who were denied justice.

 

He was wise and gentle and optimistic.  He came from a poorer background but valued education.  He was a leader among his friends.  They looked to him for strength and especially in times of trouble.

 

And he died much sooner than his friends or family wanted him to.  It seemed as if one minute everything was fine and suddenly it wasn’t.  Nobody wanted it to end this way.  He was however faithful to the end.

 

I am speaking of course of Jesus of Nazareth.

 

I could have just as easily been speaking about George.  And it is not blasphemous or even absurd to compare these two carpenters.  In fact the parallels go even farther.

 

Jesus always pointed to God.  For those of us who have been privileged to know George Brantley, I think we can say that our lives are enriched and that we are even a little closer to God for it.

 

Only last week he was busy inviting people to our Jazz service at the Teaneck street fair.  Two Sundays ago a call went out for volunteers to help in church.  George left a note in the box of our Council President volunteering for whatever was necessary.  The council member passed me the note having scribbled the words “Faithful to the end” across the top.  And that he certainly was.

 

I will always be thankful that he was faithful to the end.  He had that rare gift among Christians of never complaining about church.

 

He would always say to me after service “Pastor, I sure enjoyed church today.”  Like he had been invited over to my home for dinner and a movie.  He was faithful to this church.

 

And he was faithful to his family.  Collette said he held her hand as he took her to the college dorm.  And you know EVERYTHING embarrasses teenagers.

 

He was faithful to his friends.  When he was a young man during the Second World War, he led his friends in a shoe-shining enterprise for the soldiers and sailors that passed through Manhattan.  They were called the Canteen Boys.  Sure it was for a little extra change, but knowing his character probably a way no matter how small to help out in the effort of his country.

 

In all of these things and for his faithfulness we can give God thanks, but our thanks would be hollow and in vain if we were to rely only on George’s faithfulness.  For it is indeed now at this time that we must call upon God’s faithfulness.

 

Today, we have come here to remember George, to hear some words of comfort, to soothe the grief that can only be soothed by the mutual consolation of the saints.  We have come here seeking hope.  And we have come here to offer God thanks and praise for the gift that was this man.  To speak his stories and recall his faithfulness for friends, folks and family alike.

 

But today’s story is about God’s faithfulness.

 

The faithfulness of God to George and the faithfulness of God to us.

 

The scripture lesson that we heard from St. Paul’s letter to the Corinthians is often read at weddings and may seem odd at a funeral.  In fact, it may be more appropriate at a funeral than at a wedding.  For it is not about marriage at all!  It is about a God that is faithful to his people, supplying them with a love to sustain them in the hardest and harshest of times; times like this one.  I think George knew something of this love.  This love that is not arrogant, or proud, this love that God has freely given us.

 

St. Paul brings this description of love to a climax by saying that this love never ends.  Yes, even in death it continues.  The scripture says that it endures all things, bears all things and that while all is fleeting and fading and everything in this existence comes to an end, love is eternal and it is abiding.

 

And the love God had for his child George, just like the love he had for his son Jesus, does not end today.  St. Paul recalls and reminds us that God’s faithfulness is to the end.

 

The scene that day on Calvary was one of hopefulness.  But God was not to be outdone.  In a frenzy of love he proclaimed once and for all that death is swallowed up in victory.

 

And he declares the same for the man whose victory had once been in the boxing ring.  Now that victory is eternal and everlasting.

 

None of us really knows what that final victory looks like, but I just bet that when Jesus gathered George at that heavenly home, that those two old carpenters had a lot to talk about.  And between the two of them the place will never look better.

 

So faith, hope and love abide, but the greatest of these is love.  Everlasting, all-embracing and faithful to the end.

 

Amen.