In a 90-minute funeral mass, speakers took turns talking about how Ebert spent his career communicating his ideas about movies, social issues, the newspaper business and finally the health problems that left him unable to speak.
"He realized that connecting to people was the main reason we're all here and that's what his life was all about," said Sonia Evans, his stepdaughter, her voice choking with emotion.
That realization, she and other speakers said, helped explain Ebert's fascination with outlets such as Twitter and his blog that he took to just two days before he died to tell readers he was taking a "leave of presence."
"Roger was 24-7 before anybody thought of that term," said John Barron, Ebert's former boss at the Sun-Times, who said Ebert was among the first to recognize the changing media landscape as well as the first in the office to use a computer or send emails.
Ebert was also a champion for the little guy, as over the years he weighed more and more on social issues and other topics that had nothing to do with film.
Gov. Pat Quinn spoke as much, if not more, about Ebert's "passion for social justice" and the fact that he was a "union man," as he did about Ebert as a film critic.
Ebert's widow, Chaz, who received a standing ovation as she made her way to the lectern to speak, expanded on that devotion.
"It didn't matter to him your race, creed, color," she said. "He had a big enough heart to accept and love all."
That was the message of Jonathan Jackson, who, after relating comments from his father, the Rev. Jesse Jackson, told the crowded church why Ebert's early support for the films of Spike Lee and other black filmmakers was so important.