The mysterious truth of our union in the Body of Christ and Communion of Saints is that everyone Rosemary loved, everyone whose heart and life she touched, is present here in some way. Everyone.

Gathered in this chapel are Rosemary’s mother, her sister Alice and brother John, four nieces, a grand-niece, spouses-in-law, relatives and family friends. Rosie’s sister Janie is here in spirit, in communion with the La Belle and Miami RSCJs—as is her sister Agnes, in communion with the RSCJs in Managua. Other nieces and nephews so close to Rosemary’s heart are present in spirit, in the Northwest, Nicaragua, Miami, Missouri . . . .

Re-united with Rosemary and present here in ways beyond our grasp, are her father John, her brothers Peter and Philip, her sister Ginny, and her Frawley and Thompson grandparents, aunts, and uncles who have gone before.

Friends, colleagues, students, associates and RSCJ from Rosemary’s life, past and present, from her first ministry at Forest Ridge to her most recent at Sofia Immigration, are here in the chapel, while so many others across the United States, in the Philippines where Rosemary helped the Society take new root, throughout Latin America, and, indeed, around the world are with us in spirit. We think especially of those women with whom Rosemary, working in Formation, helped to discern whether God were calling them to membership in the Society or, instead, to life, love, and service expressed in other ways. The simple, but amazing fact is so many in the Sacred Heart family around the world are united with us this morning, in the Body of Christ—our Eucharist.

In the mystery we cannot comprehend, faith assures that standing in communion with us are Beth, Rita, Urs, Mickey, who have gone before, having first meant so much to Rosemary during her life. Not to mention each RSCJ whom Rosemary accompanied in passing through death, the years she served at Oakwood. Just imagine: Rosemary is now with Sophie and Rose Phillipine. My hunch is they have embraced Rosemary in joy, a beloved daughter, a beloved sister, in whom they are well pleased.

But, my dear Mrs. Thompson your beloved daughter first. Dear Alice, John, Agnes, and Janie, your beloved sister, first, last, and always. Your Rosemary, Rosie, Ro. Tomatita.

Mary Brigid Frawley Thompson, you gave your first fruits to the Lord.
And we are so grateful.

Yet, what we celebrate today is that Rosemary gave herself to the Lord—and to so many persons beloved by the Heart of Jesus. Gave herself entirely. Nothing held back.

That utter self-gift explains why her sibs think of her as such a wonderful oldest sister. . . . Why some RSCJs (I include myself) think Rosemary personified what it means to be a Religious of the Sacred Heart. Why friends, colleagues, associates and students love and respect her so much.

Not that she was “perfect”—and thank God. For a certain type of perfection connotes a basically insufferable type of human being. That’s not Rosemary and never was. In describing Rosemary as “the best possible oldest sister,” quintessence of RSCJ, beloved friend, utterly competent and reliable colleague, we fumble to capture her unstinting generosity, magnanimous and compassionate spirit, loving heart, sensitivity to others, and unassuming gift for knitting a group together. Of course, we cherish her laughter—that amazing yelp and explosion of glee. And we chose the readings of today’s liturgy in another blundering attempt to capture those qualities.

For Rosemary was, is, indeed a valiant woman, a pearl—rose—of great price, though Lord knows she would not want me to say that. But, search far and wide, we will not find another like her. The loss is huge, and we are devastated. This valiant woman did indeed purchase and till her field, made a home for us, provisioned us, worked without ceasing on our behalf, grew in her wisdom, and loved us, just loved us.

For Rosemary, the field was the Lord’s vineyard, the field she claimed to make known the love of the Heart of Jesus and build the Kingdom. What diverse works she was asked to take on. Administration. Formation. Pastoral and Missionary Presence, at home and abroad. (Sometimes she got the really rotten jobs: helping to close El Cajon and having to close the Boarding School at Menlo. Moving the Noviceship from Boston to Chicago. Please! As Barb Dawson notes, one reason Rosemary had so many and such tough jobs is because we all knew we could ask her!)

She moved so often. . . . Wherever she went, she made a home for herself among many different persons in many different places. Rosemary held worlds within herself. Culturally Latina, but of Irish and English ethnicities (now there’s a combination), she was a British citizen, born on the Fourth of July, who never set foot in Britain til she was 30, living most of her life in the USA. (Think of this: Though she followed closely American and international politics, she never was able to vote in any election anywhere.)

Rosemary shared with her Probation the war within her between “the two Rosemarys,” pulling her apart in antithetical directions: the expressive Latina, Nicaraguan, versus the reserved on-task Irish/Brit/ professional American. . . .Over the years, she worked persistently, spiritually and psychologically, to make of the two Rosemarys, the integrated, “single,” person she eventually became. In due season, she patiently forged the simplicity, singleness, of the one who while attentive to the pulls and undercurrents, learned how to find in the complexity and the challenges, the most straightforward and obvious line of conduct, the naturalness, that was the Rosemary we know.

But it cost her. Every now and then, we could catch a glimpse. When Rosemary was flying to England for the first time, a flight attendant explained she would not need the alien landing card she had just laboriously filled out, because she held a United Kingdom passport. Hearing that, Rosemary deliberately ripped up the card into tiny pieces and threw the confetti in the air. (What’s more, she did not clean it up!) Upon landing, she practically danced through the shortest queue at the entry gate labeled—not “Commonwealth Nations,” and not “All Other Places,” but “Residents of the United Kingdom.” For the first and practically the only time in her life, Rosemary was technically not an “alien.” Over time, this valiant woman, this permanent resident alien, grew in the self-possession, strength and dignity that enabled her to be at home just about anywhere—and how to make of just about anywhere a “here-at-home, ” a “chez nous” for others. She developed the capacity to enter new cultures, communities, simply, without drama and with an ability confidently to face the challenges ahead. But this did not come easily to Rosemary. That she made it look easy, even comfortable, suggests to us the price she paid.

And didn’t this woman lavishly provision us? What gracious Eucharistic hospitality characterized her relations. She loved Magdalen, pouring out all the ointment. Bread was centrally significant. She loved Gandhi’s words: So many hungry people in the world, were God to come among us, surely it would be as Bread. As Bunny Flick expresses it so well, Rosemary was most herself in a group, where, unobstrusively, she would knead separate individuals into the bread of community and communion. When Rosemary knew one of us needed or wanted something, she would literally go all-out to procure it or to make it happen. She made the needs of others her purpose. And Rosie took her joy in that. Maybe that’s one reason Concha named her probation the Body of Christ.

This valiant woman opened her hands to the poor, in Houston, in the Philippines, and in San Diego. She worked without ceasing on behalf of the Society in a way that embodied the Spirit of the Society. If some of us think of Rosemary as the quintessential RSCJ, it is not really because she was fifth generation Enfant du Sacré Coeur, not just because she made her first vows on November 21, and her final vows at the feet of St. Madeleine Sophie in Jette, but it is because she really did respond with generosity, alacrity, and joy. All the time. No big deal or calling attention to herself. Her right hand did not know what her left hand was doing (not to mention that she did not know her right hand from her left, but that’s another story. . . .) No surprise, then, that Rosemary must be saying to Jesus in genuine wonderment: But when did I see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and give you drink, homeless and I welcomed you, in need and I responded. No wonder that Jesus replies: Come, my Beloved and Blessed One, enter the fullness of life I have prepared for you.

Rosemary’s generosity was matchless. But, again, she paid the price. In her twenties, Rosemary realized she had given herself away before she knew she had a self. Over the decades, she gradually, and painfully, came to claim her self. And here’s the beauty and mystery of it all. As she was in process of doing so, she still gave herself away just as generously and fully, but with a new and hard-earned freedom and peace. This wisdom she gained enabled her to say “No” sometimes, as well as “Yes”, in a way that took nothing away from her self-gift but rather showed her own responsibility in claiming what God was and was not asking of her. Celebrating her 60th birthday last week, Rosemary remarked that, for her, turning 60 meant accepting she had become a wisdom figure. Indeed.

And how she loved us! Rosemary radiated compassionate, magnanimous, and tender love. Susan Campbell gave her novices a color in the Mother of Sorrows Mosaic, a photograph of which all American RSCJs have in our communities. Not surprisingly, Rosemary’s color was “Lavender for Love.” Yes, Rosemary loved lavender. Yes, we who know Rosemary know her great heart, her great love. But Susan was saying more than that. Purple is the color of suffering. Rosemary learned compassionate love from the things she suffered.

Suffering that hallowed her heart and deepened her love was the foundation of her compassion and breadth of acceptance. Rosemary embraced so many different persons, in some many different human situations without being judgmental. She understood persons go through all different kinds of struggles, phases, withdrawals, acting out, transitions and what have you. And that was fine with her. As Janie says: “You could tell her anything, anything. . . . And she would just accept it, just accept you.” Absolutely.

A large measure of that suffering had to do with sudden death, instantaneous and without warning. Her father, Peter, Philip and Ginny. And now her own death in exactly same way. . . Honestly, who can fathom it? As the Corinthians reading says: In an instant, everything is changed. For us, her sudden death is so hard. . . .

But death does not prevail. Rosemary’s struggle with hassles of the perishable body is over. Moreover, though her death was sudden, the tender mercy of God arranged that Rosemary was, in so many amazing and unforeseen ways, prepared. Rosemary would have hated not having a chance to reach out to those she loved. And she would have hated leaving any mess behind for others to sort through and clean up. And God saw to it she did not. This past year, she had unusual time and space to be so many family members, friends, and RSCJs at length, and at depth. Immediately before her death, she attended the Vow Ceremony. And so many family and friends contacted her for her birthday. Not only that, Jesus whom Rosemary loved arranged for her to pack up, leave La Belle, and return to California, home to her mother, to Rosemary’s school in Menlo, [aka Atherton], and to her “first province.” Plus all Rosemary’s things are in order, sorted, and neatly packed in boxes. And I want you to know Rosemary spent the afternoon before her birthday dancing to favorite music, alive with movement and joy., First Vespers of a birthday that continued in successive celebrations right through to the evening before her death.

Viva Tomatita! Viva in eternal love. You are home to where you are never a resident alien. I love you. We love you. We all miss you terribly. But you are with us in the Body of Christ, Cor Unum et Anima Una in Corde Jesu. Viva y gracias!

Marilyn I. McMorrow, rscj

Call To Worship Given at the Funeral Mass for Rosemary Thompson, RSCJ

by Barbara Dawson, RSCJ
Oakwood Chapel, July 13, 2002.

We are here to celebrate the life of Rosemary Thompson -- your wonderful and dear and dependable daughter, Mrs. Thompson and our sister, friend, mentor, co-worker, and fellow traveler. While this is the moment of resurrection and new life for Rosemary, it is not so easy to move so quickly from the profound sense of sadness and loss to a deep joy for Rosemary. We all know that Rosemary is fine now. But it is sometimes hard for what we feel in our hearts to catch up with what we know in our hearts. I could almost hear Rosemary say, "That's okay, give it time."

John's gospel for today cuts to the core of who Rosemary is a woman who simply knew how to love. No one ever really knows what makes another person the way she is, but I suspect that Rosemary's ability to love so generously without judgment was rooted deeply in her own journey into the depth of God which was lined with suffering as well as joy and adventure. For all of her laughter and spontaneity and high level of being ready to do whatever was set before her, Rosemary also spent lots of time pondering things in her heart, agonizing with people in their suffering, rejoicing with them when they climbed to new heights or came to new insights. When I think of Rosemary as Head of the Boarding School here at Menlo, working at Our Lady of Guadalupe in Houston, as the Director here at Oakwood, on the Team or as Director of Formation, and I imagine also this last year in La Belle, I always remember how much she carried people in her heart. Even in her three short weeks at Sofia Immigration she already entered into the lives and struggles of the clients and staff in an extraordinary way. She was truly a woman of the heart a teacher of all of us on how to love.

I always think there is a little temptation to rewrite history when someone you love dies to make them more than they really were because you love them so much. With Rosemary it would be an injustice to do that. One of the great things about Rosemary was that she was very human and increasingly okay with being just who she was. During these last years, you could almost see her growing into who God wanted her to be and how God wanted her to be with God and with each person she met along the way.

Kathleen Hughes shared with us yesterday five wishes she left for all of us in her living will. These are her words to us:

• I wish to have my family and loved ones know that I love them
• I wish to be forgiven for all the times I have hurt my family, friends and others
• I wish to have my family and friends know that I forgive them for what they may have done to me in my life
• I want memories of my life to be a source of joy and not sorrow
• I wish my family and loved ones to know that because of the faith I have, I do not fear death itself. I think it is not the end but a new beginning for me.

I know that Rosemary joins us here today in this holy place on this holy ground, where she grew up and into being a Religious of the Sacred Heart. I know Rosemary is with us celebrating this liturgy of resurrection. At the same time, she is celebrating new life with her friends and family who are part of our "family branch of the communion of saints" - her father John who wrote poetry for his first baby girl, her brothers Philip and Peter, her sister Ginny, her grandmother, Bunny's family, Aloise and Joe and Lois Flick, her dear friends and our sisters, Beth and Rita and Mickey and Urs and all the Religious of the Sacred Heart who are such old friends of yours, Mrs. Thompson. It is good for us to be together to comfort each other, to pray together with and for Rosemary and to remember the gift of her life that she laid down so many times in so many ways for so many of us. So let us thank God for Rosemary and pray together.

Barbara Dawson, rscj