Funeral for Jim Shafer

 

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

Grace Church, Hartford

Funeral Mass for James Shafer, November 11, 2023

Ecclesiastes 3:1-18, Psalm 23, Revelation 7:9-17, John 14:1-6

In the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

It’s 8 am on a Wednesday morning in 2014 or maybe 2015. We are seated at the table at Effie’s. Jim and Father Jerry in their usual spots at the end. Then Charlie Morse and Father Wayne. Then Father John, Tom, and me. Although there are four priests at the table, I am the only one in a collar. A woman comes up to me and says, “What is this?” She was trying to make sense of what a woman priest in her early thirties was doing having breakfast with a group of men who are decades her senior. I explained simply that we were sharing breakfast after Church. 

Because it would have taken me the rest of the morning to explain to her that as surprising a group as we may have seemed, I treasured those breakfast conversations. Even though I had to stop participating in them when I took on my current role at the Church Center in NYC, I still treasure all those years of Wednesday mornings conversations. And most days, with Pamela and Rowena and Sandra there was a far more equal gender balance. Throughout the years there was always laughter and joy. Topics ranged from the mundane to the sublime. We talked about church, politics, history, and daily life. I am a better priest for all those conversations. I am a better human for all those conversations.

Jim’s quiet, kind, gentle presence at that breakfast table and throughout so much of the life of Grace was a true gift. Always attentive to the needs of others. He had a small bowl of oatmeal every Wednesday because he had another meal with a friend later in the morning. He had quite a busy calendar, and often it was not just social. He seemed to be always taking care of or helping someone out. 

It seems so fitting that today as we remember Jim and celebrate the new life he has in the nearer presence of our Lord, we hear the Gospel story of Jesus going to prepare a place for us. You know how we come to know Jesus more fully through the gifts and presence of those who are our companions on the way? Having known Jim and been the recipient of his myriad gifts of preparation and care for our sacred spaces, particularly our altars and all that goes into the celebration of the Eucharist, I have a new understanding of what it means to have a place prepared for us. 

The preparation would be meticulous. It would be quiet and gracious. Everything one might need or want never more than an arms length away. No matter the age of a vessel or a linen, it would be spotless and in perfect working order. All the stress would melt away. Everything is right there so that we can focus solely on the act of worship. Everything is prepared so that we can be fully present to our Lord. 

For one who spent so much of his life giving to others, it makes me smile to think of Jim at peace, fully cared for in the presence of our Lord. All the burdens are gone. As Revelation reminds us there is no more hunger or thirst, and the temperature is perfect. There is no physical discomfort. Only springs of life. And no more tears. The pain has ended. 

That is our hope. As followers of Jesus, as people of faith, we know that life has changed, not ended. We may no longer be able to sit across the breakfast table from Jim, and yet he is not gone from our hearts or from this community he loved and which loved him. He is with us. His example is with us. We will carry his spirit forward in our own acts of kindness and generosity. As we take care in our own preparations or gratefully receive the preparations of others, we will be reminded what a gift it is to care and serve. God is in the details, and God is glorified by our ministries and our relationships with each other. 

Our hearts are full. Of sadness and grief, of course. And also of joy and gratitude. For this community. For the saints, like Jim, whose life inspires us to be a more faithful follower of Jesus. Who reminds us that quiet grace and seemingly small acts of generosity can have an impact far greater than we might imagine. 

May each of us go forth from this day, from this celebration, to walk a little more faithfully, and may we remember that each of us is beloved of God. Indeed we are loved more than we know. AMEN. 

Hope in the midst of uncertainty

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

St. James’s Episcopal Church, West Hartford, CT

November 12, 2023

Psalm 78:1-7; 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18; Matthew 25:1-13

We are coming to the end of Ordinary Time, and it’s almost Advent. This means that we get texts about judgment and the second coming of Christ. Our Gospel says, “Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.” Our Collect for today reminds us that Christ will come again with power and great glory. And then our Epistle reminds us that so many in the early church thought Christ was going to return in their lifetime. 

So here we are 2000 years later, and he hasn’t come back yet. What are we supposed to do with these texts? What exactly is the 21st century meaning of the parable of the ten bridesmaids with their lamps? Are we just supposed to remember to keep our cell phones charged and flashlights on hand in case the power goes out? Well, that is wise practical advice, I think there is more to it than that. 

There is a profound lesson at the heart of today’s texts. Life is uncertain. There are no guarantees. Indeed none of us knows how long we have nor how long those we love have. Our news headlines regularly remind us of the fragility of human life. Whether it is war or violence or natural disasters. And I would bet that most of us don’t need news headlines to know this fact. We have plenty of reminders in our own lives and our own communities that life is precious, sacred, and uncertain. 

I know that for many of us whenever this reminder comes along it can bring us up short or feel like we got punched in the stomach. It is a hard truth to face. One we would prefer we did not have to face. 

That is why I think it is so important that we read this Gospel alongside our Epistle. We need to hear again and again that we are a people of hope. We do not need to grieve as others do, as those who have no hope. 

We have hope. We have hope in God, in our faith, and in each other. The fragility of life can be a source of inspiration. It can inspire us to live life to the fullest. To be grateful each day for the myriad blessings in our lives. It can help us slow down a little and pay attention. We can be present to the moment. 

We believe that Jesus was raised from the dead. We believe that neither death nor evil have the last word. Love is stronger than death. Love wins. Hope wins. There is more to life than what we can see or know at this moment. 

And there are days when it is hard to hold on to that truth. Hard to believe that Love is the most powerful force there is. We can feel overwhelmed by the stresses and strains of our daily lives. By the magnitude of suffering that is all around us. 

And so we have to return again to the words of our Epistle today. We have to remember that we will grieve. It is important to note that nowhere does Jesus promise a carefree life or a life free from suffering. What Jesus does promise us is that we have hope in the midst of that grief. 

Grief will never consume us or define us. We are never alone in our grief. There is no grief in this life that Jesus does not know. We can trust in that truth. We can trust that grief will never have the last word. The love of God made manifest to us in Christ is stronger than any grief. 

If today is a day where you are struggling to hold on to that truth, it is okay. You are not alone. We have all had those days. And that’s why we have each other. That’s why we have Church. That’s why we have community. We hold the faith for each other. So, if you are struggling, know that we got you. We will hold the truths of our faith for you today. And next week or next month, when its someone else’s turn, you can hold the faith for them. 

So, even if it feels tenuous today, know that the beautiful truths of our faith are real. The words we say, the hymns we sing, the food we share - all of it - grounds us and connects us more deeply to God and each other. So no matter what the future brings, know that you are standing, we are standing together, on a foundation that cannot be shaken. AMEN.