Retirement is one of those events that challenges all of
these virtues. It is no longer necessary to keep busy or be productive. Some of
us are former or "ex-" whatever we did for a living. I've been designated
emeritus by one parish and one college; in the fall I'll be named an emeritus
of a cathedral chapter. Less graciously I've been reminded that I'm eligible
for "has-been" status!
How can you and I cope with major transitions in our lives?
How are we sustained, whether through a chosen retirement, a forced departure
from a position, the exodus of our growing children, the conclusion of a
relationship, the death of someone we love, the onset of a disability, or a
growing disenchantment with our circumstances?
To adjust should we rush to another job? Are we destined to
feel worthless and purposeless without employment? Ought we focus primarily on
our children or grandchildren wherever they are? Should we seek the immediate
replacement of lost relationships? Do we sulk about new limitations? Should we
quickly alter our circumstances, certain that the next situation will be much
better?
I began planning for my early retirement several years ago. I
resigned from my state college teaching post with generous benefits. In June,
my Connecticut ministry closed amidst trumpets, timpani, and my own tears
during the concluding procession. At the end of the month, after 27 years in
the same home, the movers came. There were difficult moments, such as the
removal of the mezuzah (a gift from Jewish friends) from the front entrance; my
home became a house. Except for three Manhattan years, Connecticut had been my
home for almost 40 years. Now move to the South? From a Boston suburb with an
enduring Boston attitude I had already moved to the South once, to Connecticut.
And, now, beyond the South, to the Tropics.
Be patient with me! I understand that none of this transition
is tragic. Many of you have gone through and are coping with more monumental
and difficult changes. I did not lose my job; there have been no untimely
losses of persons. Yet this passage has its difficult moments, even with the
excitement of a new house to be built in this county. Grieving over the loss of
familiar persons and places, even in good upheavals, is appropriate and
necessary; how much more so in difficult or tragic times. How can we be truly
sustained in both wonderful and dreadful transitions?
With Bread. Yes, that's what I said, "Bread." In the Bible
bread is a common word. Bread was so basic to their lives that the word "bread"
could be used interchangeably with "food." However, Jesus cautioned his
listeners that ordinary bread is insufficient for complete nourishment. They
knew that the bread provided their ancestors in the wilderness had become a
symbol of the life-giving power of God. Jesus now declared that God's
life-giving power is fulfilled in himself. The Word of God incarnate in his
life is the true Bread from heaven, the staple providing genuine life and truly
satisfying the deepest of human hungers. As Risen Lord and Messiah, He is the
Creator's authentic source of wholesome nourishment, thereby saving us from the
toxic foods of false gods.
You and I gather this morning to be fed with extraordinary
Bread. As the staple of genuine living, we consume holy bread, and we partake
of consecrated wine. In this liturgical act we affirm who we are, each of us a
unique, named child of God united in this fellowship. We are renewed as to who
we really are or can be, if we choose to affirm our baptismal identity and live
it out, blundering as we go. We celebrate our God-given identity that anchors
and supports us during life's transitions, whether turbulent or
peaceful.
Last October Bishop Schofield was in Hartford for a meeting
of the national Church's Executive Council. (Having known each other during
seminary, we've kept in touch in recent years.) At the reception following
Evensong, I found myself standing between him and the Bishop of Connecticut
while the three of us chatted. I was suddenly moved by the realization that I
was with the chief breadmakers of two diocesan communities most significant to
me: Connecticut and Southeast Florida (soon to become my home). I was reminded
powerfully that amidst this transition my identity as a child of God would
remain firm. Moreover, as I had been nurtured as such in Connecticut, I would
be also fed in Southeast Florida. This awesome dawning did not cancel all grief
and apprehensions, nor should it. Nonetheless, I was graced with an inner peace
and a perspective for this adventure.
On the third of July I arrived at the Fort Lauderdale
apartment enjoyed as a vacation spot for several years. Within a year I should
be in a new home. Thanks to Fr. Warren's invitation, and Bishop Schofield's
approval, I am breaking bread with you for the summer. Time will tell where my
ongoing house of prayer is to be and whether in the congregation or in ordained
capacities.
There is a quip that in every Episcopal parish its members
wash a lot (at the font) and eat a lot (at the altar). Nevertheless, there are
other considerations before one makes a commitment to a particular community of
faith. Many individuals need to be in a congregation committed to responsible
and informed diversity, faithful to the worldwide Anglican Communion's
experience of Christ - illuminated by Scripture, Tradition, and Reason. Such
people would not be at home in a setting wherein either powerful conservatives
or liberals - lay or ordained - control thought and action. They would not
choose to make a commitment where inevitable mischief-makers are so dominant
that focus is diverted from the Breaking of the Bread. Many women and men want
a place at the table with people who find their fundamental unity in corporate
acts of worship, not in rigid, local agreement on all matters of doctrine,
ethics, and taste. They look for a church that allows for healing when crises
and disappointments occur, "where charity and love prevail." They hope to be in
a parish that responds well as the Holy Spirit nudges it onward, a church where
they are both comforted and challenged, where "common life embraces all whose
Father is the same." Other factors may play a role, some as simple as wanting
to be a parishioner in a location not requiring too much travel on I95!
I am here this morning as an "emeritus" journeying further
into retirement. The rough spots and uncertainties are real. I am aware that
"keeping busy" or other quick-fixes are at best ordinary sustenance. However,
I'm no worthless, purposeless "has-been," nor are any of you. I know that
regardless of what we are or are not doing, we are children of God who will be
nurtured as such, wherever and whenever Christians break Bread together, In the
Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.