Marrero, Juan Reynaldo (1955-2008)

Mennonite Weekly Review obituary: 2008 Nov 3 p. 6

Birth date: 1955

text of obituary:

Remembering John John Church loses a colorful witness who found an anchor in stormy life

By J. Fred Kauffman

On a gray day in a sprawling old Philadelphia cemetery, the casket slowly descended into the open grave, and 20 leather-clad baby boomers revved up their road bikes in a final roaring farewell to John John.

Bikers of every color and shape had escorted the long funeral procession from Second Mennonite Church at Franklin Street and Indiana Avenue in North Philadelphia on Oct. 3.

Ten bikes accompanied the hearse, and 10 brought up the rear. One bike was at home without its rider, Juan "John John" Reynaldo Marrero, a 53-year-old member of Seocnd Mennonite.

John John's funeral packed out the small sanctuary with family, church members, bikers, co-workers from the Marriot Hotel and people he had helped when they were going through tough times. Evelyn, his wife of 35 years and girlfriend since junior high, got teary hugs from everyone.

His son, Juan Marrero Jr., associate pastor of Second Mennonite, preached an inspired "homegoing" message from his heart and from 2 Corinthians 4-5.

"These tents are for temporary use only," he said. "No matter how healthy and strong we are, these bodies will someday start to groan. But when we leave these tents, we can have a place prepared for us by Jesus that is permanent."

From the depths of his soul, Juan Jr. seized the moment to honor his father and bear witness to his Lord, the One who offers hope in the midst of trouble.

His owrds carried weight. John John lived a tough life and had his brushes with the law, and Juan Jr. spoke of times he himself lived the street life.

"But when we want to come home, the Father's door is always open," Juan said.

The message weaves hope in heaven with hope for facing the challenges at Franklin and Indiana. With no break in the flow, Juan invites people to commit their lives to Christ,"just like my dad did and wanted others to do." three people come forward to cheers and applause. This is a time of celebration!.

AFter one last viewing of John John we spill out onto the street. On the corner, the owner of Ralf's Beer Distributor watches the scene from his door. Lined up are the 20 bikes. Cigar smoke wafts. Old people lean on their canes. Some of John John's grandsons cry with abandon. Young professionals talk on cell phones. This is a cross section of Philly — young and old, rich and poor, Latino, black and white. All John John's friends. For real.