Funeral Homily - Joseph Foote - Hope

Funeral Homily - 10th September 2007

Funeral of Joseph Foote - 1.45pm St Alphege Church
Background: Joseph Foote was an inspiring 9 year old who died on 1st September after seven years with a brain cancer. More about Joeseph can be found on his website at http://www.josephfoote.co.uk/ including the funeral order of service and Joeseph's father's tribute.

Reading: Matthew 18:1-5,10


Today we have heard a wonderful tribute to Joe from Andy his father. We have heard a piano piece and a very moving poem from Nancy, Joe’s sister. We have also heard a poignant tribute from Ash, who is Joe’s Godfather and who was present at Joe’s baptism.
In his words, Andy described Joe’s story as one of Love, Laughter, Courage and Hope. Today Andy has spoken particularly of the Love the Laughter and the Courage, but when I went to visit Andy and Judy in their home, it was particularly the Hope that we spoke of. And that might, at first sight, seem strange. Someone might ask, “Where is the hope in the story of a child who dies?”
Right from the time of Joe’s first diagnosis back in 2000 Andy and Judy always believed that Joe would get better. They worked hard, and Judy in particular worked hard, to make sure that Joe too believed he would get better; that things would be alright. And this hope gave the family great energy. They did everything possible. They made sure that Joe got the very best medical treatment. They established the Joe Foote Trust to fund research in the treatment of brain cancer. Andy told me how empowering he found this hope. “If you have got hope you can do anything. You can walk through walls if you have got hope,” he said.
And this hope was also very helpful to Joe. According to Andy it was this belief that he would get better that gave Joe his courage and his strength of character. This was the reason that he never moaned and never complained.
Then there was a critical moment, about two years ago. Joe’s condition developed to such a point that the hospitals refused to perform any further operations. And with news came the terrible realisation that the hospitals were not going to make Joe better. And this point all hope seemed to disappear. Andy told me about a terrible two hours, during which he and Judy languished in complete despair. The loss of hope was completely debilitating. They could do nothing. They could barely even stand up. It was a terrible, terrible moment.
But then, as emptiness and despair sank deeper and deeper into their hearts, something strange happened. They realised that at a deeper level there was something solid within them, something that had not drained away in the despair. Something that was still there, that could be counted upon. Despite the terrible news from the hospitals hope was still present in their hearts. They could carry on. They could still do things for Joe. They did not know quite what, but they could find things. They could move forward.
And so hope returned; a deeper and more profound hope. And with this, energy returned. They were able to take Joe to the States for further treatments. They redoubled all their efforts in looking after Joe. The belief that Joe would be alright sustained them and kept them going these last two years.
When I heard this I was quite concerned. I asked Andy, “And what happens to this hope two years later, when the child finally dies.” He told me, “Hope is still there. It is still there. We still have each other. We still have Nancy. We still have the grandparents and wider family. There are still things we can do, people we can work for. And we can still have hope for Joe.”
[Pause]
This extraordinary and inexplicable resilience of hope goes right to the heart of the Christian story.
When Jesus of Nazareth was teaching in Judah and Galilee many people started to place their hope in him. Jesus was a great prophet, who worked great miracles. People thought he would do great things; restore the fortunes of Israel, kick out the Roman occupation and rule as a great and just king.
And then it all went terribly wrong. Jesus was put on trial by his own people. He was scourged, mocked and crucified. He died a most terrible death, hanging on a cross. The friends of Jesus ran away and hid. For two days they suffered the most terrible despair. Was all that teaching for nothing? Could the one who healed others simply be killed himself? Then, on the third day, the strange news of the resurrection started to filter through. Jesus appeared to Mary Magdalene and to some of the apostles, not as a ghost, but as a complete and real human being, still bearing his scares from the crucifixion. There were more and more appearances, and slowly the realisation set in that Jesus had conquered death. Jesus truly was the resurrection and the life. Hope was born again. Not the futile hope that we can somehow escape death, but rather the deep and profound realisation that death is not the end. We can come to share in the new life of Christ. We can share in his resurrection.
Ash and the other godparents present hear today remind us of Joe’s baptism. When we are baptised we are baptised into the death and resurrection of Christ. Through the darkness and despair of the cross, Christ came to the hope and new life of the resurrection. By baptism we too can pass through the loss and emptiness of our own death, as we come to share in the new life of Christ. And this is our hope for Joe. And this is the hope for each one of us. In particular this is the hope for Joe’s family. I have no doubt that there will be some difficult days and months ahead as the loss of Joe’s earthly presence really sinks in, but through our baptism we have a hope that is deeper and more profound. And with hope we can do anything!