Goodbye Francis

Early in the evening of Aug. 26, I received a call from someone at Mepkin Abbey. The person, who did not identify herself, told me that Father Francis Kline, Abbot of Mepkin Abbey, had died at 5:30 that afternoon. I was not surprised. I knew that the end for Francis was near.

The person also told me that I was invited to the funeral mass that would be held on Tuesday, Aug. 28.

Francis had fought a good fight against his cancer but it finally had taken him away. He was only 57 years old. He had done everything he could to keep going, but the leukemia that had ravaged his body was stronger than he was. He had spent nearly two years at Sloan Kettering Hospital in New York. When they told him that there was nothing more they could do, he told them he was ready to go home. He was ready to go home to Mepkin and spend his final days with the Brothers of Mepkin. He had no idea how much longer he would live, but until the very end he spent much of his time tending to the work of the Abbey. Near the end he was able to have visit with his parents and two brothers. While his parents were there he led them in a renewal of their wedding vows in the church.

I was able to visit Francis several times after he returned from Sloan Kettering. He told me that he was very much at peace with what was happening. I reminded him that he had promised to conduct my funeral, and this meant he would have to get better soon or I would have to die sooner. He told me that if he went first he would see me on the other side. He did go first and I am counting on seeing him on the other side.
The final service each day at Mepkin is Compline. In that service the Brothers pray for a restful night and a peaceful death. As those in attendance leave, they are sprinkled with water from the baptismal font. Usually the person in charge of the sprinkling was the Abbot, Francis.

Because of some health issues of my own, I was not able to attend the funeral mass.
When a monk is buried at Mekin, he is dressed in white vestments.

The body is placed in a simple wooden casket that is in the church during the funeral mass. Following the service the casket is carried to the grave. The body is removed from the casket and buried.

“God grant us a restful night and a peaceful death.”

A friend of mine once said, “It is hard to lose someone you love, but even harder to lose some who loves you. I loved Francis, and I believe he loved me. I will miss him. But my sense of loss and sadness is tempered by a sense of gratitude for the privilege of having known this wonderful man.

One of the many things I learned from Francis was the value of living a life that for a variety of reasons had become more and more marginalized.

I remember telling him one day that I felt I was living more and more on the margin of things. His response: “That’s wonderful!” He told me that living on the margin of life enables someone to see the world from a different perspective. The calling to be a monk is a calling to live a marginal life.

Many people are marginalized in our culture. Old people are marginalized. Poor people are marginalized. In many cases black people are marginalized. We marginalize people when we relate to them only in terms of their function and not in term of their humanity. Rod McKuien wrote a song about a blind veteran in which he asked the question; “Doesn’t anybody know my name?”

If you feel marginalized, don’t run from it. Embrace it. Receive it not as a problem, but as a gift. Receive it as something that allows you to see the world as all the marginalized people in the world see it.

When I was a pastor, people often talked to me about their desire to grow spiritually. They often were not very sure of what was involved in growing spiritually, but they seemed to think it was something they should want to do. Over time I developed a definition of “spiritual growth” that others and I found helpful.

“Spiritual growth happens when we pay attention to where God is at work in our lives and respond to that presence.”

Francis was my spiritual director. While I may be able to find someone else to help me pay attention to where God is at work in my life, I know I will never find another Francis. My wish for you is that you can find such a person to walk beside you in your journey. In that relationship you will certainly find a blessing, and you will more and more become a blessing to those around you.


Dr. Eichelberger is a retired minister and lives on top of a mountain near Saluda and Tryon. For fifteen years he was in private practice as a marriage and family counselor. Before his retirement Dr. Eichelberger was a Fellow in the American Association of Pastoral Counselors and a Clinical Member of The American Association of Marriage and Family Counselors. If you have a concern you would like addressed, send your question to hughle2@aol.com.