Leo
was a restless searching soul. The popular Bruce Springsteen song goes, “Everybody’s got a hungry
heart.” Leo had the hungriest, most insatiable heart of anyone I have ever
known. What was he so hungry for?
Like
all of us he was hungry for love, affirmation, and ultimately God, a life with real meaning and significance.
Unlike many of us who learn to dial back our expectations, accept the way
things are, and become comfortably
numb, Leo could never do that. He relentlessly pursued truth beauty, and
experience.
As
a young man Leo was captivated by the wild, untamed spirit he found in the
music of Jim Morrison and the Doors. I
think he saw in Morrison a kindred spirit. He was always trying to break through to the other
side, to find the deeper reality at the heart of things. Leo was a radical
and an agitator that railed against the status quo. He felt everything so
deeply and intensely. He was bursting at the seams with passion.
Like
Morrison, Leo was a force of nature like a hurricane. Sometimes the hurricane
was in your living room. It wasn’t always easy to have Leo around. The
experience of talking to Leo was like having ten conversations all at once.
Anything from scripture to William Blake, song lyrics, and movie quotes could
all be weaved together into his stream of conscious rant.
Perhaps the most decisive moment in Leo’s life came through an encounter with some missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (Mormons). He heard from them a message about Jesus Christ and he accepted him as his Lord and savior. Leo had a powerful conversion experience that changed his life forever. His faith was at the center of who he was. He had a testimony of Christ and a fire in his bones to share what he understood to be truth.
At
one point Leo made the decision to leave everything behind and spend the next
couple years as a missionary with his church. It didn’t go very well. He never
quite fit the stereotype of the clean cut, smiling young missionary in a white
shirt. He was much more complicated and troubled than that. In many ways
however, Leo saw all his life as a mission. Leo was at his core a missionary
with a message of peace, love, and justice.
Leo’s
faith did not make all his struggles disappear. Far from it. Leo continued to
struggle with his own personal demons. We loved him and we tried to help him,
but it wasn’t always easy. The dark side of the passion he felt was an often
black depression. Despite this, Jesus Christ was always a source of hope
and strength for him.
Leo
was not perfect. He never hid his brokenness, concealing it under a facade of
respectability. He never mastered that skill. It would be easy to look at the
lack of discipline and emotional disarray in Leo’s life and dismiss his faith
as not genuine. Like many of his heroes, such as Johnny Cash, Leo was a mass of
contradictions. Kris
Kristofferson song The
Pilgrim, one that Leo loved, could easily have been written about him,
He's a poet, he's a pickerHe's a prophet, he's a pusherHe's a pilgrim and a preacher, and a problem when he's stonedHe's a walkin' contradiction, partly truth and partly fictionTakin' every wrong direction on his lonely way back home
Jesus
never said “Blessed are they who have it all together.”No he said, “Blessed
are thepoor in Spirit” or as Simon and Garfunkel
paraphrase, “Blessed are
the satupon, spat upon, and ratted on.” It is those who seem cursed and
hopeless that the Lord calls blessed. It isn’t the healthy that need a doctor
but the sick. Leo knew that he needed Jesus and he clung to him.
This
world is not kind to sensitive wounded hearts like Leo’s. I think of the
words Don Mclean wrote about another
kindred spirit of Leo’s, Vincent Van
Gogh, “This
world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.”
Leo never felt at home in this world. His heart was in the Highlands. He was always looking toward that eternalcity with foundations, who's builder and architect is God. Leo believed in the resurrection of the dead. I look forward to meeting him--with all of you--once again in the streets of that city.
Matt, this is lovely. It's honest, doesn't romanticize, but still beautifully captures both Leo and the way you felt about him. My deepest sympathies to your family.
ReplyDeleteIn his studies of inborn temperaments, psychologist Hans Eysenck had a name for those of us who are highly sensitive and emotional: he called us “melancholics.” Men who have these traits are certainly the most melancholic because, while the same traits are often highly esteemed in women, Western idealized masculinity has no place for sensitive and emotional men. I know this well, because I too am a melancholic. I am also not easy to be around, I am also constantly starving of the hunger for an emotional and spiritual connectedness that never seems to be available, I too cannot settle for the superficial but must go deep, I also rebel at conformity for conformity's sake, I also sometimes disturb people with a flood of passion and intensity, I also struggle with the “black dog” of depression, and I also cannot just numb out or hide behind a mask.
ReplyDeleteI wish I could have known Leo; perhaps we may have been able to save each other. Because his life sounds much like my life, and his eulogy reads much like mine would read, and may yet read. With only these few words, I can positively say to Leo’s spirit, “I feel ya, brother.”