Les had been homeless, on welfare, and a longtime alcoholic, suffering from mental health issues, who nonetheless loved God. The lines and scars of years of rough lifestyle were worn on his face like a man twice his age. When my husband and I found him he was filthy, emaciated, and using a six-pack as a pillow. We convinced him to let us take him to the hospital for what we thought was detox, only to find out after a few days that glioblastoma, a fast growing malignant brain tumor would claim his life in about six weeks. During his stay at hospice, he was visited by a number of people, grateful for his persistent witness of the gospel, a witness that had radically changed their lives. In spite of his brokenness, others had been able to see the treasure he held in his frail jar of clay,(2 Corinthians 4:7 ) and claim it for their own as well. He had seen their potential holiness and glory and invited them to accept the gift. Among them, a Grove City College dean of students, a professor at Penn State Behrend, a Psychologist in Erie, and a formerly homeless women, now self-sufficient. Even though he struggled, the impact he had on others for the Kingdom of Heaven put many of us in the pews to shame.
Les wanted a simple life, to be loved and accepted just as he was. His family was often so focused on his addiction and fear of being enablers that they missed the treasure he held and his potential. They could not merely love, be respectful and have mercy, without conditions. C.S. Lewis writes that "It may be possible for each to think too much of his own potential glory hereafter; it is hardly possible for him to think too often or too deeply about that of his neighbor. The load, or weight, or burden of my neighbor's glory should be laid on my back, a load so heavy that only humility can carry it, and the backs of the proud will be broken. It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics.
There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal…
Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your sense. If he is your Christian neighbor, he is holy in almost the same way, for in him also Christ - the glorifier and the glorified, Glory Himself, is truly hidden.”
Are there others not received into our lives as humans to be loved and accepted (just as Christ has accepted us) because we do not regard them as worthy or worthwhile? We know that we are loved and embraced as God’s children, Can that acceptance and honor be extended to others in the Christian community, as expressions of the image of God, regardless of how we feel about them personally? If someone has come under the cross, they are truly holy and are to be treated as such His sake. Les was my only and baby brother, a brother in Christ, whose treasure in an earthen vessel others found.
C.S. Lewis,The Weight of Glory (New York, NY: Harper One, 2001),
Leslie Charles Zagarella
Leslie Charles Zagarella, 45, of Ontario Street, died Tuesday, July 13, 2004, at Edinboro Manor.
He was born Dec. 11, 1958, in Brooklyn, N.Y., son of Peter and Rayma Evans Zagarella of Fort Myers, Fla.
He was a guitarist and singer who traveled across the country with country-music bands. He enjoyed fishing, reading and collecting reptiles.
Survivors include a daughter, Mariah Zagarella of Woodbridge, Va.; a sister, Pamela Ostrander and her husband, Alfred, of Edinboro; a niece, Zara Ostrander; and a nephew, Peter Ostrander.
No calling hours will be observed. A memorial service will be held Thursday at 2 p.m. at St. Augustine of Canterbury Episcopal Church, 427 W. Plum St., Edinboro. The Rev. David Fulford will officiate.
Burial will be at Edinboro Cemetery.
In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to the American Cancer Society, 2115 W. 38th St., Erie, PA 16508.
The Glunt Funeral Home, 210 Erie St., Edinboro, is handling arrangements.
3 comments:
This was sent through a friend on Facebook: "I would still love sometime to write my recollections of Les. We had so many "adventures." From 1967, when we had just gotten back from Germany, and he was the little kid across the street who used to tag along with and try to keep up with us "older" kids. Tag football in Michael Godfrey's backyard. Watching him compete in the karate tournaments and having him "demo" his moves in the front yard. Walking home with him from elementary schools on days I had off (in my Catholic school) but he didn't. Playing "club" inside that huge shrub on the corner of his yard. Learning songs like "Hey There Georgie Girl" on the guitar at Godfrey's house. Having him throwing stones at my window at 5 AM to wake me up to ride our bikes to go fishing at Pine Lake. Hunting snakes -- constantly. Then there those dark times from 1971 to 1975 -- short but loom so large. But in 1975 Les brought me to Edinboro and my journey with God started, thanks to him. He brought me back in 1977 after I had given up and gone home in summer 1976 (when Les and I briefly "ran away" together to live in Brookville!). He supported that and we had some great times when he was visiting Edinboro or I was visiting him (after he had fully moved back to DC and wasn't living in Edinboro himself anymore). Than I lost touch with him in the mid-1980's until I "found" him, through Pam, living in Edinboro in winter 2003 and we got in contact with him, spent some time together. Spent an afternoon just sitting with him at the nursing home the day before he passed away. Went up the next day to see him again and he was gone, the room empty. I'll never forget Les."
Les's friend added this comment:
David made a comment about your link:
"Short addendum. Les' death in 2004 led me to start playing my guitar seriously again,after it had collected dust and my fingertips had gotten way too soft. I even started a collection. Through this, I developed a very close friendship with a guitar-playing English professor at work, like Les a younger guy, who had also lived for much of his youth in the Maryland suburbs -- Mike Price. Then my friend Mike also passed away too young, from a car accident, in 2006, leaving a wife and young son. When I was giving a eulogy, playing and singing for Mike and his family at his memorial service, I was thinking about Les too."
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