It has been a month since Opa died and though I’ve wanted to post something about him, I have not had the words. Sure, I’ve been busy travelling and dealing with sick kiddos and jet lag but in truth, I have just felt far too overwhelmed to write about him. How can I capture in a blog post- in mere words- the impact this man has had on my life and so many others? My words feel far too inadequate to tell the story of this most remarkable man. My feelings bubble over, but words, right now, just don’t.
But the words spoken at his memorial service by his six sons- oh my,
those words were not only adequate, but beautiful, powerful, truthful and inspiring and really a
most amazing tribute to a most amazing man. I guess it wasn’t just the words,
but the men behind them….. watching my Dad and his brothers stand up front
together to share his eulogy was incredible. Here are some highlights of their
words:
As
Dad so vividly narrated in his book, his position on the issue of non-violence
began to take shape while he was still in his German army uniform.
It
was in the act of writing Living With Conviction that Dad was able to
process thoroughly his participation in the war, fighting for his fatherland,
but certainly not for the political party in power.
And in the ashes of defeat,
Dad was able to find some answers.
They would come, gradually, as he rediscovered
Anabaptist teachings of non-violence, which the German Mennonite church had
largely abandoned.
So many of us here today have been significantly
impacted and influenced by his journey and convictions.
He has given a younger generation fresh hope for
a different way of dealing with conflict – and on a number of occasions
provided a path to healing for those who were caught up in the same war – on which
ever side it happened to be.
His campaign for peace was situated largely in
his activities with Mennonite Central Committee, his most significant and
visible contribution to public life and to the church.
While
having strong convictions, Dad also had high regard for the positions of
others–at times even changing his position in light of strong counter
arguments.
But no one will describe Dad as having been a
shrinking violet.
Not known for being timid, his voice was a voice
not easily ignored.
At least in decibel level, we have inherited
that.
But all of us are still on the path to develop a
similar voice of conviction,
voices for justice in this world around us,
for love and respect in our homes and families,
for a yearning, a hope, and a faith to be with
our Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer,
finally to hear the words:
Well done, my good and faithful servant.
May you rest in the LORD,
May you rest in peace.
And my Dad’s words during the sermon:
When I think of the trauma of
having lived through the very first day to the very last day of the war- what
he would have carried in terms of guilt, he was able to take to Jesus. And he
found complete forgiveness. It’s that
forgiveness that allowed God’s love to flow through him. I think if he hadn’t
found that forgiveness, the flowing would have only been a trickle. He made a
commitment that he would be a person of grace, joy and peace so that God’s
healing and hope would flow through him to the world.
And also Uncle Martin’s part of the sermon:
I remember when he came back from
one of his India trips. He talked about a small child who was under a piece of
cardboard on the streets and he said, “Martin, that is one of my sons.” That is
the Papi/Opa that we know.
He lived a life of striving for
peace, for pursuing it, for reaching it and being hungry for it. And his
demonstration of that was his incredible, enduring, unending commitment to the
other, whoever the other was.
I didn’t know him as a proud or
haughty father, but he pursued right living and challenged me not to do as he
did, or even to live as he lived, but to pursue a life of following Jesus’
teaching. He once told me, “Martin, its simple and its hard, all at the same
time. I have been called to love God and I have been called to love my
neighbour and I can’t do that if I don’t live a life of peace. And that is your calling.”
And then my Dad ended his sermon with a quote from an
interview of Opa where Opa said,
“In the end, Jesus will ask me,
‘did you feed me?’ I will be able to reply, ‘yes, I did.’”
It was so very hard to say goodbye to my dear Opa. I’m not
sure I expected the goodbye to be so difficult, considering he was 101 and
ready to die. But watching him descend into the earth as his loving sons stood
there, tears bubbling over after they shoveled dirt on his rose-covered casket
was almost more than I could handle. I
am extremely grateful I could fly home for his memorial service and cry with my
Dad, my family, my cousins, uncles and aunts and say goodbye together. It was a week that I deeply needed, for many
reasons, and I am thankful.
I hope these words shared can continue to inspire us all to
love others, stand up for injustice, forgive our enemies and trust in the
reconciling Hope of Jesus, just like Opa’s life demonstrated. I will leave this
post with another set of beautiful words written by one of my cousins and shared during the tribute. It
speaks truth for so many of us who loved him and were impacted by him….
Opa, thank you for teaching me to forgive, to choose peace, and
to see the good in all people. Thank you for teaching me about the importance
of family. Thank you for passing these lessons to the generations that followed
you. I'm not sure whether you always planned on it, but you have certainly left
a legacy; it's one that our family is proud of and for which we are grateful.
I see you back with Oma, standing with your arm around
her shoulder, just like the two of you would stand on the side of your mountain
and wave goodbye as we'd leave your house in Agassiz, smiling, content, and
full of love. Those happy images will be with me forever.
*if you would like to watch the whole service, or pieces of it, search on youtube "Siegfried Bartel memorial"
