A sermon for Saint Michael’s Episcopal Church, preached by the rector, the Reverend Thomas James Brown, at the requiem of Stuart Clark Halladay, on Friday, 9 March 2007. Stuart was born 22 June 1912; he entered his eternal home on 4 March 2007.
Several years ago one in our parish organized a secret pal society. It worked like this: senior members of the parish were given the name of a young person in the parish, and a few tidbits of information about the child. Then, over the course of a few months, the elder was responsible for secretly sending the child notes and trinkets.
Stuart Halladay, already in his 90s, volunteered to be among the elder participants in this society. His child, now a 5th grader, was a shy young girl whose expertise in drawing was already established, and whose capacity for reading had set records at the Dummerston School. Joanna received notes and drawings, but she didn’t know it was Stuart. She guessed a few other suspects. What young girl would think a 90-something old man with a blue blazer who used a cane could create such beauty? She knew her admirer was an artist, but there was no reason for her to know that the hunched over warm grandfather—the one who sat near her mother and grandparents and great-grandma was a highly-accomplished graphic artist.
At the end of the season the organizers gathered the elders and the children to reveal the secret admirers, and that was the day a very special friendship blossomed. Stuart’s and Joanna’s friendship is one which Joanna shall never forget, I’m sure.
But it was a friendship that Stuart never forgot either. This was so characteristic of him—to cultivate and nurture friendships with young people, with people who were different from him, with people who might have something more to teach him, with new people, and even with people who held opinions which differed from his. Stuart’s stance toward life was among the most selfless of any I’ve known.
It was his faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, the one who opened the eyes of Stuart’s heart, and who gave him the inheritance of everlasting life, that led Stuart to selflessness and kindness. And so it’s right for us to celebrate Stuart’s twinkle, his independence, his good will and cheer, but the gift of this liturgy is principally about his opened faith-filled heart and the glorious inheritance which became his on Sunday morning.
December 17th of last year was really the last time Stuart was out of his house. He was here in church for something quite extraordinary, even unnecessary. He was not at all comfortable with our dedicating those rose-colored vestments in his honor. In Claire’s memory, okay, but he didn’t want much to do with them…and his reticence was founded not only on his low-church, protesting underpinnings, for sure, but also on his selfless nature. He wasn’t comfortable when things were about him. His birthday party last June was yet another example. There’s no way he would have permitted a splash of any kind, especially one like that party, because he would have had to put himself first, even for just a few hours. It took Sue’s persistence and even a few fibs to get him to the restaurant. Yet both events—the vestment dedication and the birthday party—were absolutely about him, and they were about Stuart because of the lavish grace he freely showed.
But the selfless nature, the friendship and joy, were not at first ours. They were first showered upon Claire, and then upon Peter and Chris, then upon his grandchildren, then upon his extended family, colleagues, and neighbors. And in these latter months his joy transformed the lives of his caregivers. In short, all of us are beneficiaries of his light, some of us for a lifetime, others of us for a season.
In the letter to the Ephesians, Paul talks about God’s good pleasure, and how God lavishly bestows on us the glorious richness of grace. Riches of grace lavished upon us! God lavished grace upon us, and for 94 years, Stuart lavished his precious light upon this world. We were touched by that light—every single one of us—and that’s what makes today sad. Will others bear Stuart’s light for the next generations? Of course! Stuart’s light is inextinguishable because of the power of Christ, who in the fullness of time gathers all things, in heaven and on earth. This is a promise, and it’s a promise marked on our foreheads just as clearly as it was marked on Stuart’s forehead. It comes in the form of a cross, and it’s a seal of our inheritance as well as Stuart’s: it’s the Holy Spirit.
For those of you who are visiting us this morning, you don’t know that two weeks ago today we gathered in this place, at this very hour, to celebrate the requiem of yet another loved one, one who possessed some of the very gifts Stuart did. So this early part of Lent has taken on an unusually somber note; it’s a blessed paradox that a season which points to spring has been a winter like no other. Yet the coldness of these latter days, gives way to the promise that we’re not here to preside over deaths. We’re here, even during Lent, nay, especially during Lent, to celebrate resurrection. Stuart’s wonderful, expansive heart finally gave out to an even bigger expanse—his inheritance of the immeasurable greatness of Love.
So we put away Lent this morning. Instead we bring out the Paschal Easter candle, the sign of Easter. We celebrate Stuart’s life, we recite triple alleluias, and we proclaim the unending season of resurrection.
All of this does not mean that we shouldn’t grieve, or mourn, or even weep. Our love for Stuart brings sorrow—because his twinkly-self isn’t here. But the light still burns, as it does on this great candle, and you’ll see Stuart’s light every time you see a beautiful piece of art, or a candle standing tall inside a church, or in the bread given and the wine poured out at a Eucharistic feast, or in the old person who embraces a young child, or in the child who wants little more than to be just like the elderly man in the navy blue blazer whose kind warmth fills all in all.
Stuart Clark Halladay, a shining example of God’s exquisite creative power, was lavished with still more grace as the angels brought him into the eternal habitation. He now wears a robe, maybe it’s even rose-colored, and a crown, and they go perfectly with his happy, open and now-quivering heart, harmonizing beautifully with the melody of his peace and of our sadness.
So we gather at the river, gather with Stuart and all the saints, where the lavish light and the crystal tide never stop, and where the throne of God is on earth as in heaven.
05 February 2007
The General Ordination Examination
The trip to Baltimore took longer than planned. The plane left Hartford late and my connection in Newark was longer than planned, both delays were the result of excessive winds.
The first question on the GOE asks for an analysis of two Eucharistic prayers, one from Rite I in the Prayer Book and the other from Enriching Our Worship, a supplemental liturgical resource, and one we use often at St. Michael's.
While each prayer contains the requisite components of a Great Thanksgiving (thanksgiving, remembering, offering, invocation of the Spirit, prayer) they give us vastly different images of God. Taken from the 1700s, Eucharistic Prayer 1 in the Prayer Book, gives us the image of a God who is utterly transcendent. Beyond us. Holy, holy, holy. Whereas the prayer from Enriching Our Worship gives us the image of a God whose creative work blessed humanity and made it good.
We don't use Rite I at St. Michael's. It's not because Rite I is bad, or even that I dislike it. We don't use it because it's not known to many of us (in the 30+ years since the "old" prayer book went away, St. Michael's has never had a long tradition of using Rite I). And while the language, from a poetic and symbolic perspective, is beautiful (very beautiful) it's written in a style quite removed from our daily use of English.
We do use Enriching Our Worship at St. Michael's. We use it a lot! The postcommunion prayer (God of abundance...) comes from this resource; often the form of the confession we use does too. During the season after Pentecost (basically from June until December) the Eucharistic Prayer we used was from Enriching Our Worship. The image of a God whose gender is neither male nor female, and the image of a God who "loves us a mother" and "never ceases to care for us" reminds us, in language we use day-to-day, that God is an intimate and constant friend and companion.
It's a blessed gift that we worship in a church where there are choices. Both of these prayers are good, and there are times in my life when I need the language of repentance and forgiveness--gifts of God in abundance in the prayer from Rite 1, and of course there are times in my life when I need the language of blessing, goodness, relationship, and embrace--gifts of God in abundance in Enriching Our Worship.
Neither is better than the other. In fact each of them is best.
The first question on the GOE asks for an analysis of two Eucharistic prayers, one from Rite I in the Prayer Book and the other from Enriching Our Worship, a supplemental liturgical resource, and one we use often at St. Michael's.
While each prayer contains the requisite components of a Great Thanksgiving (thanksgiving, remembering, offering, invocation of the Spirit, prayer) they give us vastly different images of God. Taken from the 1700s, Eucharistic Prayer 1 in the Prayer Book, gives us the image of a God who is utterly transcendent. Beyond us. Holy, holy, holy. Whereas the prayer from Enriching Our Worship gives us the image of a God whose creative work blessed humanity and made it good.
We don't use Rite I at St. Michael's. It's not because Rite I is bad, or even that I dislike it. We don't use it because it's not known to many of us (in the 30+ years since the "old" prayer book went away, St. Michael's has never had a long tradition of using Rite I). And while the language, from a poetic and symbolic perspective, is beautiful (very beautiful) it's written in a style quite removed from our daily use of English.
We do use Enriching Our Worship at St. Michael's. We use it a lot! The postcommunion prayer (God of abundance...) comes from this resource; often the form of the confession we use does too. During the season after Pentecost (basically from June until December) the Eucharistic Prayer we used was from Enriching Our Worship. The image of a God whose gender is neither male nor female, and the image of a God who "loves us a mother" and "never ceases to care for us" reminds us, in language we use day-to-day, that God is an intimate and constant friend and companion.
It's a blessed gift that we worship in a church where there are choices. Both of these prayers are good, and there are times in my life when I need the language of repentance and forgiveness--gifts of God in abundance in the prayer from Rite 1, and of course there are times in my life when I need the language of blessing, goodness, relationship, and embrace--gifts of God in abundance in Enriching Our Worship.
Neither is better than the other. In fact each of them is best.
24 January 2007
A New Saint: Florence Li Tim-Oi
Today the church celebrates one if its newest saints, Tim-Oi, the first Asian woman to be ordained a priest. Tim-Oi took the name Florence (after Florence Nightingale) after her baptism, and was subsequently known as Florence Li Tim-Oi.
Born in Hong Kong on the 5th of May 1907, she first heard a call to ordained ministry in 1931, following the ordination of a deaconess at the Cathedral in Hong Kong. She was ordained a deacon in 1941, following a 4 year course of study in Canton.
The lack of a priest in the congregation where she served led the Bishop of Hong Kong to give her permission to do so, then on January 25, 1944, the Bishop ordained her a priest. The controversy which followed was so great, in 1946, that Tim-Oi surrendered her priest's licence, but not her Holy Orders, the knowledge of which carried her through Maoist persecution.
She resumed the practice of her priesthood in the Church in China, and in Toronto when she retired in 1981. She was awarded Doctorates of Divinity by General Theological Seminary, New York, and Trinity College, Toronto. She died on February 26, 1992, in Toronto, and is buried there. The 75th General Convention of the Episcopal Church, meeting in Minneapolis in 2003, voted to place her commemoration on this day, January 24th, for a three year period. In June of 2006 the 76th General Convention made the commemoration permanent.
Long before the 1970s, and in a land far away from the United States, the Church was blessed with the priestly gifts of a woman, one we now call St. Florence Li Tim-Oi.
Born in Hong Kong on the 5th of May 1907, she first heard a call to ordained ministry in 1931, following the ordination of a deaconess at the Cathedral in Hong Kong. She was ordained a deacon in 1941, following a 4 year course of study in Canton.
The lack of a priest in the congregation where she served led the Bishop of Hong Kong to give her permission to do so, then on January 25, 1944, the Bishop ordained her a priest. The controversy which followed was so great, in 1946, that Tim-Oi surrendered her priest's licence, but not her Holy Orders, the knowledge of which carried her through Maoist persecution.
She resumed the practice of her priesthood in the Church in China, and in Toronto when she retired in 1981. She was awarded Doctorates of Divinity by General Theological Seminary, New York, and Trinity College, Toronto. She died on February 26, 1992, in Toronto, and is buried there. The 75th General Convention of the Episcopal Church, meeting in Minneapolis in 2003, voted to place her commemoration on this day, January 24th, for a three year period. In June of 2006 the 76th General Convention made the commemoration permanent.
Long before the 1970s, and in a land far away from the United States, the Church was blessed with the priestly gifts of a woman, one we now call St. Florence Li Tim-Oi.
18 January 2007
The Confession of St. Peter: Ecumenism, Interfaith Relations--being authentic
Today is what we used to call a "Red Letter Day" the Confession of Saint Peter. It comes from the story in Matthew's gospel where Peter declares Jesus to be the Messiah, the Son of God (16:16).
Last Monday night the Brattleboro community gathered at a local Congregational Church to celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr. I was asked by the organizers, other religious leaders in town and colleagues of mine, to say an opening prayer. I knew there were going to be people from the local synagogue there, and I assumed there would be people of "other faiths" too, Unitarian Universalists, Buddhists, etc. So I sat down to compose what we might call a "good, inclusive prayer." Except that when I tried to write, nothing good came out. It was all watered-down mush. I decided to write the prayer imagining that only Christians were going to be present at the event. With that framework I was able to compose an acceptable something in a few minutes, and the prayer included references to Martin's faith in Jesus, and references about Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God.
I stood at the pulpit of this country church, asked people to stand, and then told them that I was intentionally using Christian imagery, not to be exclusive or to denigrate the authentic faiths of others (non-Christians) in the room, but to stand on a foundation of integrity for myself.
After the service a woman came up to me and said, "I really appreciated your prayer. As a Jew I get tired of listening to people struggle to say things that will 'include me' so it was nice to hear somebody include me without trying to talk like or pray like a Jew. Thank you."
It was kind of her to say those things to me, and I thanked her for doing so, and admitted to her that I was a little nervous beforehand. Every person of faith has an experience of God that belongs only to himself or herself. I learn far more about God when I listen to another person speak out of her or his experience of the Holy. Far more than when I try to emulate or repeat what I think their experience might be.
Peter confessed his faith in Jesus clearly and unequivocably. Maybe this Major Feast is about an authentic expression, even if that expression is as clear as "I'm not sure who Jesus is, or what I believe, but I'm glad to be part of a community where I can ask this question."
The only hymn in The Hymnal 1982 appointed specifically for this day has the author Willaim Walsham How putting it this way, "Oh! Peter was most blest with blessedness unpriced, who, taught of God, confessed the Godhead in the Christ! For of your Church, Lord, you made known this saint a true foundation-stone." Nothing in there that says you should do the same.
A blessed Feast Day to you.
Last Monday night the Brattleboro community gathered at a local Congregational Church to celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr. I was asked by the organizers, other religious leaders in town and colleagues of mine, to say an opening prayer. I knew there were going to be people from the local synagogue there, and I assumed there would be people of "other faiths" too, Unitarian Universalists, Buddhists, etc. So I sat down to compose what we might call a "good, inclusive prayer." Except that when I tried to write, nothing good came out. It was all watered-down mush. I decided to write the prayer imagining that only Christians were going to be present at the event. With that framework I was able to compose an acceptable something in a few minutes, and the prayer included references to Martin's faith in Jesus, and references about Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God.
I stood at the pulpit of this country church, asked people to stand, and then told them that I was intentionally using Christian imagery, not to be exclusive or to denigrate the authentic faiths of others (non-Christians) in the room, but to stand on a foundation of integrity for myself.
After the service a woman came up to me and said, "I really appreciated your prayer. As a Jew I get tired of listening to people struggle to say things that will 'include me' so it was nice to hear somebody include me without trying to talk like or pray like a Jew. Thank you."
It was kind of her to say those things to me, and I thanked her for doing so, and admitted to her that I was a little nervous beforehand. Every person of faith has an experience of God that belongs only to himself or herself. I learn far more about God when I listen to another person speak out of her or his experience of the Holy. Far more than when I try to emulate or repeat what I think their experience might be.
Peter confessed his faith in Jesus clearly and unequivocably. Maybe this Major Feast is about an authentic expression, even if that expression is as clear as "I'm not sure who Jesus is, or what I believe, but I'm glad to be part of a community where I can ask this question."
The only hymn in The Hymnal 1982 appointed specifically for this day has the author Willaim Walsham How putting it this way, "Oh! Peter was most blest with blessedness unpriced, who, taught of God, confessed the Godhead in the Christ! For of your Church, Lord, you made known this saint a true foundation-stone." Nothing in there that says you should do the same.
A blessed Feast Day to you.
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