This is a brief eulogy I offered for my dear friend and Dharma Brother, Tim St. Onge, during a memorial service on September 15, 2024. Tim was the second dharma heir of our teacher, Kevin Jiun Hunt, Roshi. He died of cancer on August 28, 2024.

Good evening. I’m Jeff Seul, another of Fr. Hunt’s Dharma heirs. Tim was my Dharma big brother. We truly felt we were brothers. We referred to one another as brother. That meant a whole lot to me.

When I think of Tim, I see a strong, gentle lion, and I hear the lion’s roar. I’m sure this image of Tim would come to mind even if I didn’t know Shakyamuni Buddha likened himself to a lion and his teachings to a lion’s roar on those rare occasions when he spoke of himself in relation to other teachers of his era and to their teachings. It seems the Buddha saw Asiatic lions and heard their thundering roar during his years as a wandering ascetic in northern India, before he found what he was seeking and began to teach. The noble lion’s presence pacifies all the other beings across vast space. Years ago, our family was fortunate to see and hear lions in the wilds of Africa, so I can appreciate why the Buddha used this metaphor.

What did the Buddha realize and what were the fruits of that realization? Why might he compare his teachings to the lion’s roar? Here’s what the contemporary Buddhist teacher Tara Brach says:

“We typically think of our happiness as dependent on certain good things happening. In the Buddhist tradition, the word sukha is used to describe the deepest type of happiness that is independent of what is happening. It has to do with a kind of faith, a kind of trust that our heart can be with whatever comes our way. It gives us a confidence that is sometimes described as the lion’s roar. It’s the confidence that allows us to say, `No matter what life presents me, I can work with it.’ When that confidence is there, we take incredible joy in the moments of our lives. We are free to live life fully rather than resist and back off from a threat we perceive to be around the corner.”

It is so clear to me, as I imagine it is to each of us, that Tim had this confidence in his bones. He embodied, demonstrated, and channeled it. He wanted us to have this confidence, too. 

This was clear before Tim learned of his cancer, but the real proof was how he lived after he learned. Continuing his practice and teaching. Traveling to visit friends and family everywhere. To lead zazenkai and join sesshins in Madison. Even flying to India, alone, while in rapid decline and with a ravaged immune system, for a final, grand adventure on retreat there.

I’ll be remembering Tim as a lion, and he’ll continue to inspire me. Another lion image of Tim I’ll hold is the lion from the Wizard of Oz, but after he met the wizard. The perfect marriage of courage and a tender heart.

They say Zen teachers don’t die, they just go into hiding. Everywhere.

Every bird’s song, every thunderclap: Tim, roaring. Tim’s presence. Tim reminding us to be present. To know the presence that we are.