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For us this is a time to mourn, a time to speak, and
a time to love. It is a time to eulogize - to praise. A study of Western Civilization shows us that we have been shaped greatly by the ancient Hebrew and Greek civilizations; the Hebrews emphasized community under God, trust and life – in action; the Greeks stressed curiosity and reflection. In a life integrating the two heritages, Roy was certainly in tune with these ideals. As a beneficiary of the Hebrews, he participated in a covenant community, the people of God; there is no doubt that he had profound reverence for the Creator; the gathered people at worship was his community; as was the larger human community. His most cherished community within the covenant was, of course, his family. His parents nurtured him well as a child of God. Roy trusted the universe and those with whom a bond of love, friendship or collegiality had been established; his initial encounter with persons was one of trust. His incredible breadth in relationships, his capacity to relate to so many varied persons has elicited often the recent comment, “No one knew him like I knew him.” His life among us was certainly active – in the best biblical sense. As memorialized elsewhere, “He coached soccer, sang in the college chorus, advised student groups, participated in functions of the Pearl Street Neighborhood House, belonged to many professional organizations, and was president of the Mattatuck Faculty Association. He could become very excited as he reported the results of his gardening or cheered for the basketball or football team.” His life mirrors so much of those ancient Hebrew convictions. As an heir of the Greeks, his life was marked by a healthy independence. This philosopher-dressed-in-overalls, or farmer-given-to-philosophizing was very much his own person. He would disagree or agree, create or edit, ignore the ignorable and transmit the worthwhile as his exacting judgments, standards and perspectives would permit. He had the capacity to say “yes” or “no,” to insist on his point, to modify his position, and to admit mistakenness. As one who was self-accepting, he had the courage to be. As well, he was curious (in a child-like way, characteristic of the true scholar). His wonder and awe of the mysterious; his enthusiasm for human experiences captured especially in literature, his respect for other seekers of knowledge and wisdom permeated his life. Roy’s capacity to reflect, to ponder, to consider, and to empathize with interpretations contrary to his own, combined with his independence and curiosity, enabled him to grow more and more in wisdom and understanding. At a time when less humane ideals bombard us, lives such as Roy’s, lives which incorporate the best of Hebrew and Greek convictions, can serve as sources of inspiration, of hope, and of challenge. Sarah was very much the daughter of Roy and Paula, and a loving grandchild. In her 22 months with us she was growing in the same capacities for relationships, trust, activity, independence, curiosity, and thoughtfulness. The love of her parents and their shared parenthood enabled this child of God to have an authenticity all her own. And to them, other family members and friends she returned joyful affection. In various ways each of us has experienced a loss; we feel grief and even fears. One of Roy’s favorite expressions was, “Life has no guarantees.” He understood well the unpredictability of free persons and the positive and negative consequences of such freedom. Amidst the risks and uncertainties of living, we are confronted by fundamental choices: our lives can become marked by negativity and isolation, by defeat and despair, by passivity and wrongful impulsiveness. But we are gathered in this building together to symbolize the positive as well as affection for one another, to celebrate within the biblical community that ultimately victory and joy can overwhelm tragedy. Not only are there the fond memories of persons now absent from us, but the trust that their Easter has dawned. Perhaps we can be strengthened here to set aside our routine sophistication and choose to confess “My help comes from the Lord”; “The Lord is my Shepherd.” We can be comforted by Jesus’ words, “Do not let your hearts be troubled; ye believe in God”; “1 will receive you unto myself.” Perhaps we can take to heart in our memories of Sarah and Roy the words of the biblical author, “I know there is nothing better for them than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live.” Perhaps we can grow through our sorrows to see the brightness and beauty in creation. Let us celebrate the lives among us of Two Servants of God, who now continue elsewhere to grow in His love and service. -------------------------------------------------------- Paula D’Arcy is the author of Song for Sarah, When People Grieve, Gift of the Red Bird, Red Fire, A New Set of Eyes, Seeking with All My Heart, and Sacred Threshold. Her time is spent writing, leading church retreats and speaking at conferences and seminars in the US, Canada and abroad. She is also President of the Red Bird Foundation, which supports the growth and spiritual development of those in need, and furthers a ministry both to those in prison and those living in third world or disadvantaged cultures. A former therapist who ministered to those facing issues of grief and loss, Paula worked with the Peale Foundation, founded by Dr. Norman Vincent Peale, from 1980 until his death in 1993. In recent years she has frequently teamed with Richard Rohr in presenting seminars on the Male/Female Journey and Spirituality in the Two Halves of Life. Her individual work includes leading women in Initiation and Rites of Passage. Paula’s ministry grew from personal tragedy. In 1975 she survived a drunk driving accident which took the lives of her husband and 22 month old daughter. Pregnant at the time, Paula survived the accident to give birth to a second daughter, Beth Starr, who now works as her personal assistant and is a member of the Board of Red Bird Foundation. For more information, including a speaking itinerary, visit www.redbirdfoundation.com. -------------------------------------------------------- From Paula D’Arcy’s SONG FOR SARAH (Harold
Shaw, 1979), pp. 102-3 March, 1976 Dear Sarah: I have lived forever with questions. But slowly some answers are beginning to unfold in my heart. It's no miracle or sudden revelation. But I am beginning to see some things. How I pray to see. I think part of the why our accident happened has to do with all men being free. All men are free to think and act and make their own choices. And all the choices have consequences - results which fall into the lives of the many others with whom we live. Think of it! And so it was possible that a man drank and raced his car on the highway. His choice. And we were driving home. That choice was ours. And we entered one another's lives in a terrible manner. Do you see it too? Just one man, motivated by greed or pride or desperation may choose unwisely and jeopardize the good toward which others may have been striving. Man is not perfect. And a free choice may be good or bad. That leaves man with a tremendous potential. A frightening one. That leaves man as a channel of light, or a party to darkness. There's no way not to choose. God did not finger you to die. Rather, nature had its way. Nature and man, neither perfect. But all of us subject to the processes they set in motion. How guilty am I? What have my many thoughtless acts set in motion? How many times have I done nothing and so abetted the darkness? How responsible man is to this life. And God. Where is he? He changes neither the acts of nature nor of man. We remain free. He created us free, and with that terrible freedom we live. But the moment we prefer the Light, he transforms . . . he transforms not the circumstances, which we create - he transforms us. He transforms how we see what has been there all along. It never changes. We do. -------------------------------------------------------- HOLY TRINITY CHURCH Proper 18B September 10, 2000 About twenty-five years ago, while watching a news program, I was shocked and saddened to learn of a car accident on a Connecticut Interstate. The tragedy resulted in the death of a colleague and his two-year-old child; his pregnant wife Paula survived and six months later gave birth to a healthy baby. Along with a new mother’s joy and love, Paula grieved profoundly. I can only imagine her painful time of loss, emptiness, disillusionment, rage, loneliness, hopelessness, bitterness, helplessness and confusion as she journeyed on her unchosen, dark road. I’m sure that many of us gathered here this morning have at one time or another experienced acute grief caused by circumstances beyond our control. Possibly someone dear to you has died and left a gnawing void in your life; perhaps you have been betrayed by someone trusted and loved; maybe an irresponsible daughter, son or parent has rejected your affection; possibly you have been unjustly fired from a job or forced into an unwanted retirement; perhaps you have received alarming medical information; maybe you have been subjected to continuous oppression or ridicule. Frightening intrusions and losses visit and wound many of us! We respond frequently, as did Paula, with mixed and awful emotions that paralyze our lives. During an early 1990s conversation with Paula (video recorded for a biomedical ethics course I was teaching), I asked whether she recalled an event when her life again seemed to have possibilities other than an overwhelming sense of embittered gloom. Listen to her own words from that interview:
Reports on healings of the spirit and cures of the body are found in both the Bible and elsewhere. Paula’s healing is about a mending of the spirit; in today’s reading from Mark’s Gospel we hear a transformation of the body. You and I readily accept Paula’s present-day account as factual. But what of the story from Mark? Nearly two thousand years old, this story – like most that old – is less sure. We can say, rightly I think, that the historical literary form of most biblical healings and cures indicate that they are intended to be read as factual. Different literary forms suggest parables, allegories, poems, etc. Nonetheless, for many contemporaries the notion of unexplained restorations of health is problematic, though we hear of them today from the medical world itself. Harvard’s great preacher Peter Gomes advises us with these words: “The question, ‘Is it true?, while natural, is quite the wrong question to put, for miracles are not arguments or propositions to which there are yes or no answers. The question to be put about a miracle? is not ‘Is it true?’ or even ‘How can this be?’ but rather, ‘What does this say?’ At its essence a miracle is a message – an illustration or a demonstration of a message that God chooses to communicate to us.” [Gomes, Sermons (1998), pp. 139 f.] Our focus with both Paula and Mark is precisely this, what do such accounts mean for us? What does the Creator say to us through such testimonials? At this point, a word of caution is in order. As we consider healings and cures, we must be sure that individual circumstances are truly in need of help. For example, do you know the origin of the word sinister? It is from Latin meaning on the left side. Not only in folklore, but in Christian history left-handedness was regarded as an ill omen. There are many stories of teachers who tried to force left-handed youngsters to use their right hands – even by tying the left hand behind students’ backs! One adult reports, “When entering the first grade in a Catholic school we began to write. I picked up the pencil and began to copy from the black board. I can to this day hear the nun and her words in my head. In front of the whole class she called me ‘spawn of the devil.’” Although I don’t know the specifics, for quite some time left-handed men could not be ordained. It was believed that they were spiritually and morally defective, tainted with evil, and could not possibly serve as wholesome examples. One wonders how often left-handed people were prayed for and received the laying-on-of hands, perhaps even exorcism attempts, to rectify their supposed illness! I’m sure that there are other examples of misguided diagnoses, but enough said for now. Let’s return to Mark! In this morning’s Gospel reading we hear about the restoration of the deaf man’s hearing. As to its meaning for us: how many of the ills of our world are brought about by the willing deafness of those who will not hear new information, cries of injustice - indeed, the Word of God itself. The spiritually deaf cling to half truths and ignorant notions; they deafen themselves to unfairness suffered by others; they tune out others; they fashion a religion that may have the forms of Christianity, but little of its substance. In today’s Gospel the man was also cured of an impediment in his speech. Spiritual speech impediments allow the afflicted to be silent, to not allow God’s Word to flow through them clearly. Selfishly preoccupied, they choose to be God’s mutes - silenced by cowardice, caution, and prejudice. Cured, the man’s heart was softened, his mind was opened, and his tongue released to speak plainly. Is this not what God wants of you and of me – for us to hear, speak, and be doers of the Word? Back to Paula: her chosen road to healing began in the small moment of a physician’s suggestion. She could have decided to focus on her pain and remain entombed indefinitely. Instead, she chose to respond to a “small moment” provided by a graceful healer and then walk from darkness toward the light of Resurrection. You and I will have our sorrows, afflictions, anguishes, heartaches, and tragedies. At such times we might seem to travel roads of sadness, apparently going nowhere; life will appear dark and imprisoning, and our vision will be clouded. However, we are assured that there will be perceptible, small moments providing us with graceful opportunities to choose, not merely to endure, but to move toward healing. Advice from a doctor, a meal with a beloved friend, something read, a chance conversation, something heard anew such as “Come unto me all ye that travail and are heavy laden and I will refresh you” - all familiar occasions perceived in new ways. Moreover, we might find ourselves, similar to Paula’s doctor, unknowingly ministering with healing insight, or like Christ, offering the possibility of restored abilities to those spiritually deaf and mute. At this very hour in this church all is not well with everyone present. Some of us carry varying degrees of grief in response to unwelcome circumstances beyond our control. Some of us may find it difficult to be open in heart and mind. Some of us may be reluctant to be doers, to speak up when we encounter true sinfulness. However, this Eucharistic Breaking of the Bread can be one of those perceptible, small moments wherein we discover strength and vision to choose not merely to survive the day, but to heal however slowly, however scarred we might remain. Additionally, our very individual presence, perhaps in a word or a smile, with a hand or a hug, even our sharing of bread and wine in the name of Christ, might be an occasion of ministry, such that some may choose to begin, or continue the journey toward, their own resurrected spirit, more hopeful, with a clearer vision of what might yet be, and just a bit stronger at their broken places. |
