Sally Stevenson, July 11, 2018
Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 23
Romans 8:14-19, 34-35, 37-39
John 14:1-6
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
If you mention the name Sally Stevenson around St. Timothy’s Church, people will tell you two things: Sally was amazing with kids, and Sally walked everywhere. They didn’t always know where Sally was going, but Sally knew. Both these things that everyone knows about Sally happened before my time at this church, but they are still what she is known for. Being great with kids, and walking everywhere. If that’s the kind of thing people remember about you and me, we will have done enough with our lives.
By the time I got here, two years ago, Sally was already spending her days at Amherst Meadows, where I would visit her. Sometimes she was at Mercy hospital for some sort of treatment, and I would visit her there. As I sat with her, she would tell me about what worried her, and her hopes for other people’s futures. But she always spoke with confidence about where she was heading, and that she would one day be reunited with her brothers, Tom and Bill. Sally knew where she was going.
In the gospel reading we just heard, Jesus tells the disciples that he is leaving them, and not to be afraid because they know the way. And Thomas speaks up and says, Lord we don’t even know where you’re going. How can we possibly know the way? And Jesus tells them, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” The disciples did know the way, just as Sally knew the way.
Sally was amazing with kids, and she walked a lot, and she knew where she was going, because she knew the way. And as Jesus says to the disciples, do not let your hearts be troubled. In God’s house there are many dwelling places, and Jesus has come to walk with Sally to the place he has prepared for her, because she knows the way. May God give us the confidence to know where we are going, and the comfort to remember that we know the Way.
Amen.
Wednesday, July 11, 2018
Saturday, July 7, 2018
Mitzi Ruwadi
Mitzi Ruwadi, July 5, 2018
Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 23
John 10:11-16
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
I do not know much about Mitzi’s life other than what I have heard from others, or read in her obituary. Her active years at St. Timothy Church happened before I got there, but I’ve been her priest for about two years. I’ve visited her and Ray a few times, more frequently in the final weeks of her life. But there are two things I know for certain about Mitzi.
First, she loved taking communion. I don’t think she had the words for why the sacrament mattered so much to her—and, if I’m honest, I feel the same way. She had a deeply spiritual experience every time she took communion, and it was an honor for me to be the one to bring it to her.
The second thing I know about Mitzi is that she loved the 23rd Psalm. And many of us share her love of that little piece of poetry. Maybe it’s the pastoral imagery. Or maybe it’s the assurance of God’s presence in our lives. Or may it’s just that final line, about dwelling in the house of the Lord forever.
But what I really love about Psalm 23 is the actual language of the part that gets translated as goodness and mercy following me. The Hebrew word that becomes “following” is actually more like chasing, or hunting down. Goodness and mercy don’t follow us, like a stray kitten. No, God’s goodness and mercy hunt us down like a tiger. We cannot escape them, even if we wanted to.
Mitzi lived her life hunted down by God’s mercy and goodness, and she did not mind getting caught. And receiving that goodness and mercy from God, she turned right around and passed it on to others, her family, and friends, and fur babies, and of course her wonderful home health aids. Mitzi responded to God’s love by passing it on to others, and I hope you will take inspiration from that and continue to do the same in your own lives.
Jesus said, “I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me.” Mitzi knows her shepherd, and her shepherd knows her. May God give us all the grace to hear the Shepherd’s voice, and to be led to lie down in green pastures beside still waters, where Mitzi now rests in peace.
Amen.
Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 23
John 10:11-16
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
I do not know much about Mitzi’s life other than what I have heard from others, or read in her obituary. Her active years at St. Timothy Church happened before I got there, but I’ve been her priest for about two years. I’ve visited her and Ray a few times, more frequently in the final weeks of her life. But there are two things I know for certain about Mitzi.
First, she loved taking communion. I don’t think she had the words for why the sacrament mattered so much to her—and, if I’m honest, I feel the same way. She had a deeply spiritual experience every time she took communion, and it was an honor for me to be the one to bring it to her.
The second thing I know about Mitzi is that she loved the 23rd Psalm. And many of us share her love of that little piece of poetry. Maybe it’s the pastoral imagery. Or maybe it’s the assurance of God’s presence in our lives. Or may it’s just that final line, about dwelling in the house of the Lord forever.
But what I really love about Psalm 23 is the actual language of the part that gets translated as goodness and mercy following me. The Hebrew word that becomes “following” is actually more like chasing, or hunting down. Goodness and mercy don’t follow us, like a stray kitten. No, God’s goodness and mercy hunt us down like a tiger. We cannot escape them, even if we wanted to.
Mitzi lived her life hunted down by God’s mercy and goodness, and she did not mind getting caught. And receiving that goodness and mercy from God, she turned right around and passed it on to others, her family, and friends, and fur babies, and of course her wonderful home health aids. Mitzi responded to God’s love by passing it on to others, and I hope you will take inspiration from that and continue to do the same in your own lives.
Jesus said, “I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me.” Mitzi knows her shepherd, and her shepherd knows her. May God give us all the grace to hear the Shepherd’s voice, and to be led to lie down in green pastures beside still waters, where Mitzi now rests in peace.
Amen.
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