The sudden passing of Bishop Kevin Birmingham shocked us all. Please find here my closing remarks at the Mass of Christian Burial, which took place on his 52nd birthday, Oct. 7. May he rest in peace. Like all of you, I come here with a heart heavy with unspeakable grief. This is a loss that I feel personally and intensely. That burden, of course, is borne most by you, Jeanette and your family. You have known your son Kevin the longest of anyone here, having given birth to him 52 years ago today, and we want you to know of our deepest sympathies. I also want to offer condolences to Bishop Kevin’s many friends, to his colleagues in our archdiocesan offices and to our deacons, priests and bishops, for you, too, feel the pain of the passing of one who tenaciously chose to weave his life into your own. We knew him as one who easily brought people together, with his good humor, a healing word, sound advice and even when needed a challenge to listen to our better angels. He made unity in the church and the human family a priority, unafraid to step into the fray, and call for calm. And so it is, even in death, he brings us together this day — his parting gift to us, to remind us how fragile we all are, how much we need each other and how much we need to pay attention to what really counts, lest we overcomplicate our lives. Cardinal Bernardin of happy memory wrote in his spiritual memoir covering the last years of his life, “The Gift of Peace,” that he came to learn through his sufferings the importance of focusing on the essentials rather than those things that unnecessarily occupy so much of our time and efforts. “Essentials ask us to give true witness and love others more. Nonessentials close us in on ourselves,” he wrote. Kevin lived that kind of uncomplicated life, focusing on the essentials: keeping close family and good friends, giving priority to others’ needs, serving those at the margins, recognizing the gifts of others, showing gratitude, seeking reconciliation, loving Christ. With that same focus, Kevin lived his uncomplicated faith, never showy but always real and deeply woven into the ordinary routines of daily life. And yes, there were those other simple delights in life, which he celebrated when they came his way, a good scotch, the thaw of spring, and in the meantime, his “retreats” to the desert, and his incomparable delight in a good joke, which I learned one day, when he placed a broom outside my door, thrilled that the White Sox had swept the Cubs – and even more thrilled that they did it at Wrigley! Waves of tears will continue to wash over us in the days and yes, years ahead, for well they should, as our grieving of his untimely death cannot be hurried. But they will not always be tears of sadness, as we trust that he is with the Lord he loved so fiercely. So, today, let us accept his parting gift to us, the gift of bringing us together, as a reminder of how he lived and loved his life, and of his challenge for us to live and love our own in the same way. May he rest in peace. And may we find peace in the gift of having known him, and all the ways this good shepherd brought us closer to God.