Homily for the Funeral Mass of Fr. Kenneth J. Johnston

As a seminarian, I once heard a rather stark statement that I never forgot.  It was attributed to the late John Cardinal Krol, former Archbishop of Philadelphia.  “There’s no one deader than a dead priest.”  Wow!

I understand the general sentiment.  Celibate male clergy have no biological heirs.  We come in and out of people’s lives only for a limited time.  We have no committed relationship to an individual person, no companionship or attachment like a husband and wife do.  Following Jesus, our spouse is the Church.

And when we die, who will remember us?  Who will be there to mourn?  We will all be replaced.  Even popes, cardinals and bishops.  Our current assignment filled by someone else.  I thought some of these thoughts when I stood by and viewed the late Cardinal’s body lying in repose in the Philadelphia Cathedral back in 1996.

Last night I “googled” Fr. Kenneth Johnston’s name to see what I would find.  In fact, I found very little:  a brief obituary, mention of his Golden Jubilee as a priest, his sister Patricia’s obituary, a couple of online condolences.  This hardly tells the story of a man who served Jesus Christ, the Catholic Church, the Diocese of Camden, for 50 years as a priest.

I realize that most of Fr. Johnston’s life and ministry were pre-Internet.  When he taught in the classroom he had none of the modern tools that today’s educators use regularly.  Father gave us mimeographed handouts, we read text books, he wrote on the blackboard with chalk.  That’s how I first met Fr. Ken Johnston, as a teacher and vice-principal of Wildwood Catholic High School.  It was back in 1974 and I was a 14-year-old freshman.

Fr. Johnston was a born educator:  well-organized, interesting and informative.  For as long as I knew him, he aged slowly and gracefully.  He looked the same, just a bit older.  He was comfortable being alone, reading, praying.

If I could reformulate an old movie title to capture Fr. Johnston’s life, it would be “An Educator and a Gentleman.”   He was truly both.  His priesthood assignments had him in five of the diocesan high schools.  He served on the Continuing Education and Spiritual Formation of Priests Committee (C.E.S.F.) for many years.  He was proud of his education at the American Seminary in Louvain, Belgium.

Many who interacted with him mention something about his “gentleman” qualities and demeanor.  I realize that he was not perfect and that he struggled with his personal demons at various points of his life.  Yet, he would continue to get up when he fell, to move forward and persevere, generally without complaint or the need to be noticed.  Whenever we shared a meal and the conversation would seem to drift in a negative direction or criticism of someone, he would simply change the subject.

Fr. Johnston was pastor of three parishes, before health issues and a couple strokes led to his eventual retirement.  The fact that he died so quickly, caught me and many others off guard.  You know neither the day nor the hour . . . (See Mt. 25:13).

As I remind my parishioners so often in my parish funeral homilies, the funeral is more about what Christ does for us than what we do for Christ.  We cannot save ourselves, we cannot forgive our own sins.  Only Christ can do this.  Funeral Masses should not be solely celebrations of life or mini-canonizations.  Death and Christian funerals are about Christ’s salvific action and the accountability of our lives before Him.  Recall the 2^nd reading from this past Sunday:

For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each may receive recompense according to what he did in the body, whether good or evil. (2 Cor. 5:10)

We will all be judged by Christ and I dare say we humans are not perfect.  I, for one, want people to pray for me when I die.  Please have Masses offered for my soul.  I beg you now for those prayers and Masses for me, for Fr. Ken, for all priests.

It is our faith in Jesus Christ and His Resurrection from the dead that carries us through difficult times like these.  The souls of the just are in the hands of God . . . (Wisdom 3:1).  We are connected to Jesus in baptism, adopted by God as sons and daughters—children of God—through Christ.

 

Additionally, Fr. Johnston was transformed by priesthood ordination into another Christ—an alter Christus—called to serve the People of God.

As an alter Christus, the priest is profoundly united to the Word of the Father who, in becoming incarnate took the form of a servant, he became a servant (Phil 2: 5-11). The priest is a servant of Christ, in the sense that his existence, configured to Christ ontologically, acquires an essentially relational character: he is in Christ, for Christ and with Christ, at the service of humankind. - Pope Benedict XVI, 24 June 2009 (Year of the Priest)

The priest acts in persona Christi—in the person of Christ—in every sacrament.   We are especially privileged, as priests, to feed the People of God every day of our lives with the Bread of Life at Mass.  We speak the words of Our Lord:  This is my Body, this is my Blood.  And it happens!  Christ becomes truly present!  Fr. Johnston did this as priest for 50 years!  Think of those powerful words of today’s gospel from St. John—Jesus’ Bread of Life discourse:  . . . Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day . . . (John 6:54).

Priests also proclaim and explain the Scriptures so that Christ is alive and present in the Word as well!  Priests anoint the sick, forgive sinners, witness marriages, baptize, and occasionally confirm.  Fr. Johnston did all of this for 50 years!

Exactly how many lives did he touch in the process?  Only God really knows.  However, I read about one of those times online yesterday: 

“God bless and reward Father Ken Johnston. He lost his parents as a young boy and overcame this to encourage others facing life's difficulties. He was good to me and my family.”

So today we pray for Fr. Johnston.  We ask God to forgive his sins.  While we mourn, we still have hope—Christian hope—that he is not dead, but very much alive.

Death is swallowed up in victory.

Where, O death is your victory?

Where, O death is your sting?

. . . Thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. (1 Cor. 15: 55, 57)

Rest in Peace, Fr. Ken.