Three weeks have now passed since we got the shocking news of Dan’s
death and we are still in shock, still devastated, still in disbelief.
It’s so hard to think of Dan as anything but fully alive, here in our
midst, blessing us with his smile, warming us with his love, and leading
us in prayer with that remarkable voice of his.
Tom, Theresa, Beth, my heart goes
out to you in your great loss. Also to each of Dan’s beloved nieces and
nephews. Death is difficult under any circumstances, but when it
come as suddenly and tragically as it did for Dan, the pain is deep and
the sense of loss beyond words. I thank God for the Christian faith that
is so deep in you, the faith that allows you, in the midst of your
grief, to draw comfort and reassurance in knowing that Dan, who was life
itself when he was here with us, is even more alive now as he shares in
Christ’s victory over death. Alive Dan surely is, alive with God!
I took time to read through the avalanche
of Facebook postings that followed the word of Dan’s death. All I could
think of was how universally loved Dan was - loved and admired. People
ran out of superlatives in describing their love for him and all the
ways he touched their lives. One after another, they talked about his
kindness, his warmth, his boundless energy, his joy, his enthusiasm.
Many told how Dan was the very first person they met at St. James and
how it was his warm welcome and winning smile that broke the ice for
them at once and made them feel right at home. And, of course, they also
spoked about Dan’s unique and amazing voice that echoed in every reach
and recess of this Cathedral, and they commented, too, on what a deeply
prayerful presence he brought to Cathedral liturgies. “Dan always helped
me to pray,” is the way one person put it.
I remember well my first meeting with
Dan. My hair was dark then (although not nearly as dark as Dan’s!) and
Dan, who never lost his youthfulness, was even more youthful then. As he
did for so many, he warmly welcomed me to the Cathedral and offered to
be of help in any way he could. It was an offer that he delivered on
many a time. I also remember a particular Mass on a Sunday in July of
1988, my first one here. I was a just short of terrified, to be honest.
Dan was the cantor, and he made the pre-Mass announcement. He ended up
by saying, “the presider for this Mass is our pastor, Father Michael
Ryan.” Well, those words, “our pastor” – were music to my ears. I had
long wanted to be a pastor and Dan’s words made it all very real for me.
Afterwards, he shared with me that he had been told not to announce the
presider by name any more. Why, I wasn’t sure, but, being the new kid on
the block and not wanting to step on any toes, I let it go. But I did
miss hearing Dan say those words.
At this point, I can hear Dan saying to
me, “goodness, enough with the eulogy. Time to get on with the homily.”
(I’m sure you recognize “goodness” as a vintage Dan Jinguji expression -
the strongest ‘expletive’ I ever heard him use, And, you know, it’s also
an expression that describes Dan quite nicely!). But Dan would be right:
this is supposed to be a homily, not a eulogy. It’s supposed to open up
the scriptures. But what happens when the scriptures closely resonate
with and reflect the life of the deceased person? That’s when the line
between eulogy and homily gets blurred. And it’s definitely the case
with Dan. Those readings came to life in his life.
I don’t too often choose that reading
from the Book of Daniel for a funeral. Its apocalyptic imagery is kind
of alarming, but it only seemed right, for Dan’s funeral, to read from
the Book of Daniel, and the words that spoke of God’s elect whose names
are “found written in the book of life” were right on the mark. And so
were these words: “The wise shall shine brightly like the splendor of
the firmament, and those who instruct the many to justice shall be like
the stars forever.” In one way or another, Dan spent most of his
life “instructing the many.” He was a born teacher: he loved to teach
and he was good at it. Really good at it. Whether he was teaching
computer science at the university level, or linguistics, or some arcane
aspect of music theory, or just walking the path toward faith with
candidates in RCIA, Dan was the perfect teacher - gently and patiently
opening new vistas to his understudies, captivating them with new
perspectives, leading them to new insights and discoveries.
“The wise shall shine brightly like the
splendor of the firmament, and those who instruct the many to justice
shall be like the stars forever.” By any measure you apply, Dan Jinguji
was a star. He achieved stardom early in his too short life. But I
think I can say with confidence that the only stardom Dan really cared
about was the stardom that is now his as he takes his place among the
blessed where he will shine forever from his place with God. Go out and
study the stars some night. I’m betting that the heavens will be a
little brighter now, thanks to a new star that has taken his place in
the firmament.
In the reading from St. Paul’s Letter to
the Colossians, we heard a long list of virtues that befit a follower of
Jesus Christ. Paul likens them to articles of clothing which a Christian
is to put on and wear. And what are those garments? Things like
“heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, patience, and a
forgiving spirit.” And there is one more – one that is the most
important of all: “over all these garments, put on love which is the
bond of perfection.” Now, I ask you, which of those garments didn’t Dan
Jinguji put on? Put on, and wear consistently and convincingly? In
reflecting back on all the Facebook postings, it struck me that those
words from Colossians are the very words that came up time and again. It
was as if the people who posted their thoughts had just read that
passage. They hadn’t of course; all they had done was think about Dan –
which was another way of reading those verses from Colossians.
And the reading continued: “Let the word
of Christ dwell in you richly as in all wisdom you teach and admonish
one another, singing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs with gratitude
in your hers to God.” Now, again I ask you again, does Dan come alive in
those words or not? I do believe that at the heart of Dan’s simple
goodness was the “word of Christ” that took root in him.’ And Dan
certainly did “teach and admonish us” – and stir and inspire us, too -
by the “psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs” he sang so beautifully and
which even now echo up in the vaults of this Cathedral he loved so much.
If you listen carefully you will hear them even now.
I chose the reading from Luke’s gospel
because it spoke so strongly of Christian service. Dan knew well that
the central words from that passage are forever enshrined above the
altar of this Cathedral: “I am in your midst as one who serves.” They
are part of Luke’s telling of the story of the Last Supper when the
disciples of Jesus showed how very human they were by arguing among
themselves about who among them was the most important. Jesus was
gentle with them, but direct. It’s not about being important, he
told them, it’s not about power, and it’s not about lording it over
anyone. That’s for the rest of the world to worry about. For you, it’s
about service, he told them – humble service. “I am in your midst
as one who serves,” he said. Those words may be inscribed high
above the altar of this Cathedral but they were also inscribed in the
very soul of Dan Jinguji. It’s who he was and it’s what he did. He
served, served humbly, served faithfully, served in a whole lot of ways,
and in doing so, he changed a whole lot of lives, mine included.
Dear Dan, we love you, we miss you, and
we thank you for being such a gift to us – to your family, your friends,
your fellow parishioners here at St. James and at Sacred Heart in
Pullman, too. We thank you for singing your song so beautifully – the
song that was your life. We look forward to hearing it again and to
singing it again with you in the company of saints and angels in the
presence of the living God!
Father Michael G. Ryan
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