Services for Deacon Tom Bates
- Friday, August 3 – Evening Prayer led by the Deacons (all invited), Liturgical Wake Service at 7:00 PM (All at Holy Spirit)
- Saturday, August 4 – Mass of Christian Burial at 11:00 AM at Holy Spirit
This weekend is a sad day for our parish. We have lost a faithful disciple of Christ and a humble servant to each and every one of us at Holy Spirit. His tireless efforts to bring the word and sacrament to the homebound, the hospitalized, the elderly will not go unappreciated. The vast number of Holy Spirit children that looked up to him as a spiritual father – both at our school and in our religious education program – are closer to Christ and more knowledgeable of their faith because of his lessons, his wit, his charm, his ability to come down and meet them on their level. It is hard to believe that a month ago Deacon Bates was assisting at the altar and giving us his fatherly advice from the pulpit. We had the blessed opportunity to celebrate Viaticum Mass in his room at Dougherty House with Lois and the family present, as well as the parish staff some 10 days ago. You could see in Deacon’s eyes that he was resting on every action and every word. He was at peace. In his final moments of consciousness, the Lord of Lords and the King of Kings was present to him in the Eucharist, and that’s all he needed. A holy man has died in our midst. Yet, we wave the flag and hoist the torch of victory. Deacon voluntarily gave up his life; death did not steal it from him. I am reminded of the Emily Dickinson poem that Deacon, the former English teacher, could certainly appreciate:
He kindly stopped for me—
The Carriage held but just Ourselves—
And Immortality.
We slowly drove—He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility—
We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess—in the Ring—
We passed the fields of Gazing Grain—
We passed the Setting Sun—
Or rather—He passed Us—
The Dews drew quivering and chill—
For only Gossamer, my Gown—
My Tippet—only Tulle—
We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground—
The Roof was scarcely visible—
The Cornice—in the Ground—
Since then—’tis Centuries—and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses’ Heads
Were toward Eternity—
And so we pause to remember our dear friend and deacon.
Fr. Morgan
PLEASE NOTE: A fund has been set up at the parish office for Lois and the family to be used for their own needs or for memorials.