In memory of Phil Voisine
A sermon on Matthew 5:13a, 14-16
The Rev. Thea Keith-Lucas
March 7, 2007

“You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and
it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.”
Life does not follow the path that it should.

We see where we will be next – the vacation we will take this summer, the school our children will attend next fall, the celebrations that will come next winter. We look far down the road, to graduations and weddings and the birth of grandchildren.
And then the trail bends left, and Phil stays right, and, in a moment, everything changes.

The accidents of life fill us with questions that have no answers. We ask ourselves over and over, could I have stopped it? Could someone else have kept him safe on that ride? Why didn’t God change his course just enough to keep him here?
Our grief and our questions take the joy out of life. The light seems dim. The food has no flavor. We want to hide from life, to keep everyone we love so safe they cannot breathe. We don’t want to face the risk of losing anyone ever again.

When I spoke to Lisa, she said, I want you to know how much Phil loved his family. He gave us everything. And I want you to know that he died doing what he loved.
Jesus said: You are the salt of the earth. Phil’s presence, his love, was the simple, everyday thing that gave all of life its good taste in our mouth.

And again, Jesus said: You are the light of the world. Do not hide yourself under a basket, where no one can see how beautiful you are. Phil gave himself fully to the world, spreading his love for life and his sense of adventure to everyone.
This is the promise of God: Love cannot die. The bonds that connect us to Phil and to all those who have gone before us are held fast in the gentle, mighty hands of the Lord.
We do not see our son, our husband, our father, our friend anymore. But he is with us to the end of time, and as long as we remember him, we will keep learning from him. He will keep teaching us how to live fully, how to love with a generous, wide-open heart. We will not let the salt lose its flavor. We cannot let the light be hidden. Through us, through our lives, he will always shine.

I do not presume to know what Phil meant to you or how his death will change your lives.

But if you are searching for a way to honor him, I will offer you this:

You can be a light shining in the darkness. You can taste the goodness of every day. Following the path that Phil walked, you can fall in love with life.

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