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.