I'm "swiping" this from Susan Fish's family blog, www.fishinmotion.blogspot.com. Susan is a Waterloo writer, mother of 3, and head of her church's Sunday School. She and her husband travelled to Italy last spring. Thanks, Susan.
My favourite part of the play Our Town is the scene when Emily comes back to earth for one day after she has died. No one can see her but she sees all the normal things of life going on around her and she cries out, “ I can’t look at everything hard enough. It goes so fast. We don’t have time to look at one another ” As she leaves, she says: “Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you ” Then she asks, “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?—every, every minute?”
It is easy to find holidays exotic and charming. It’s not hard to see regular life as mundane and ordinary. I wonder about the man in the restaurant. If he longed too much for Niagara Falls, if he decided to change his restaurant to serve Thai food, if he decided that regular life was too dull - what would be lost?
At the end of the wonderful movie Stranger than Fiction, the narrator says,
“As Harold took a bite of Bavarian sugar cookie, he finally felt as if everything was going to be ok. Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies. And, fortunately, when there aren't any cookies, we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin, or a kind and loving gesture, or subtle encouragement, or a loving embrace, or an offer of comfort, not to mention hospital gurneys and nose plugs, an uneaten Danish, soft-spoken secrets, and Fender Stratocasters, and maybe the occasional piece of fiction. And we must remember that all these things, the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties, which we assume only accessorize our days, are effective for a much larger and nobler cause. They are here to save our lives. I know the idea seems strange, but I also know that it just so happens to be true.”
You don’t need to know the movie to understand what she is saying. Like her, I believe God uses the simple, ordinary things of life to teach and rescue us. I believe God comes to be with us in our everyday life, as well as in significant moments of pain and joy. I believe the best thing I can do is to “Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. “ (Romans 12:1, The Message)
I need to learn to have eyes like Emily does in the play – before I’m dead, if possible. Sure, traveling to new places and discovering new restaurants and new vistas is lovely, but my task is the same as the man in the restaurant: to set the table that is before me, to serve those who come into my corner of the world, to travel occasionally but to live, rooted, in the place where I’m from.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
update on Jean Erion
I was able to get to Niagara Falls on Friday for lunch with mom at the Queenston Place Residence. Connie joined us for the meal but had to leave for work right after; I stayed til about 3pm before driving back to Waterloo.
Jean appears to be settling in nicely to her new home. Connie has put up lots of family pictures on the walls and she seems comfortably ensconced. The residents were getting the H1N1 flu shots after lunch so I got to meet some of her friends while we waited for the nurse. One fellow, Rocky Weaver, knew Ed in high school, along with Gord Johnson, George Pierce (whose sister Ruth is a resident) and others. I'd love to have longer to ask him about dad. I also met Hazel, a woman who lived next door to Ed & Jean (and myself, at a very young age) in the early 1950s.
Although mom talks of how much she misses Ed, and how she understands those at her age who are ready to die, I'm confident that she will enjoy several years yet. Having Connie nearby, going to Lundys Lane Church (our family's congregation before we moved to Batawa in 1962), and connecting with old friends have all helped in this transition.
If you haven't already updated Jean's contact information, here it is:
905-371-2983 ext.232 - let it ring 12-15 times - there is no answering machine.
Jean Erion
Queenston Place Retirement Residence
6440 Valley Way #232
Niagara Falls ON L2E 7E3
Please take a few minutes to give her a call or mail her a note. If planning a visit, let Connie know in advance: 905-358-7892. Short notice is better than long; mom gets confused about dates.
You may also want to read an article about Ed & Jean's grand-daughter, Bronwyn, who also happens to be my daughter. She and her family are profiled in the current issue of Grand Magazine (published by the Waterloo Region Record).
Jean appears to be settling in nicely to her new home. Connie has put up lots of family pictures on the walls and she seems comfortably ensconced. The residents were getting the H1N1 flu shots after lunch so I got to meet some of her friends while we waited for the nurse. One fellow, Rocky Weaver, knew Ed in high school, along with Gord Johnson, George Pierce (whose sister Ruth is a resident) and others. I'd love to have longer to ask him about dad. I also met Hazel, a woman who lived next door to Ed & Jean (and myself, at a very young age) in the early 1950s.
Although mom talks of how much she misses Ed, and how she understands those at her age who are ready to die, I'm confident that she will enjoy several years yet. Having Connie nearby, going to Lundys Lane Church (our family's congregation before we moved to Batawa in 1962), and connecting with old friends have all helped in this transition.
If you haven't already updated Jean's contact information, here it is:
905-371-2983 ext.232 - let it ring 12-15 times - there is no answering machine.
Jean Erion
Queenston Place Retirement Residence
6440 Valley Way #232
Niagara Falls ON L2E 7E3
Please take a few minutes to give her a call or mail her a note. If planning a visit, let Connie know in advance: 905-358-7892. Short notice is better than long; mom gets confused about dates.
You may also want to read an article about Ed & Jean's grand-daughter, Bronwyn, who also happens to be my daughter. She and her family are profiled in the current issue of Grand Magazine (published by the Waterloo Region Record).
Friday, November 13, 2009
A Cloud of Witnesses
This sermon, by Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, helped me "place" Ed's life as a witness of a loving God.
Archbishop's sermon at All Saints' Margaret Street, London
Sunday 01 November 2009
For the 150th year of the consecration of the church, All Saints' Day.
Lectionary: Isaiah 65.17—end; Hebrews 11.32—12.2
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.
'Seeing we are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight and the sin that so easily besets us.' (Hebrews 12.1)
When Etty Hillesum the young Jewish writer who died in Auschwitz, was on her way via the transit camp in Westerbork to the train that would take her to the death camps, she scribbled a few last notes to friends. And in one of those notes she tried to explain what she believed was going on: 'Someone [she said] has to take responsibility for God in this situation. That is, someone has to behave as if God were real. Someone has to make God credible by the way that they meet life and death.' And she -- at first sight a very unlikely candidate for this dignity – attempted to do just that to make God believable by her life and her death.
Witnesses establish the truth by giving evidence. It really is as simple as that. When we celebrate the Saints, we celebrate those who have given evidence, who have made God believable by how they have lived and how they have died. The saints are the people who recognise that arguments will finally not win the day. God does not make himself credible by argument. God does not respond to our doubts, our intellectual querying, our uncertainty, by delivering from Heaven a neatly annotated list of logical propositions with which we cannot disagree. (I'm afraid that Professor Dawkins can bang on the doors of Heaven as long as he likes if that is what he expects to happen.) God deals with us by our life and a death, by Jesus. And God continues to deal with us by lives and deaths that make him credible, that make Jesus tangible here and now. All those people who flocked into Westminster Cathedral a couple of weeks' ago to pay their respects to St Therese of Lisieux were recognizing that in her Christ became tangible for her generation and for ours and that is what the Saints do.
Do we think it is impossible to live a Christlike life in this or that setting, with these stresses or those, in the presence of dark evil and deep suffering? If we doubt it, it is not argument that will settle the matter: it is the bare reality of life lived in a Christlike way in such circumstances. In the very early Church, local congregations would write eagerly to one another to describe the sufferings they'd been through and the martyrs who had glorified God in their midst. They were telling one another, 'It is believable. We have seen and touched with our hands, the word of life. We have seen lives lived in desperate and reckless generosity to the point of death, and God has become credible afresh to us in those lives. That was the exchange, the common currency of the early Church and I suspect that the faith of the Church catholic – let alone the Anglican Communion – would be a bit different these days if our main currency of exchange was to let one another know how God had become credible to us.
But there's another dimension of this which comes out very clearly in that rich passage from Hebrews. These great figures that the writer to the Hebrews has listed, 'without us [says the writer] they will not be made perfect'. This is a truly extraordinary claim. We've heard about the heroes of the Old Testament, the Judges and the Prophets, those who have suffered atrociously for their faith, those who have performed stunning miracles, 'And yet [the writer to the Hebrews says baldly] without us they will not be made perfect'. Think of that in our own terms. Without us, Francis of Assisi will not be made perfect, without us St John of the Cross will not be made perfect, without us Mother Theresa will not be made perfect. Surely some mistake? As the editors say. But no, these great witnesses become perfect, they become fully into their life that God purposes for them when we respond, when we enter into a relationship with them. So that the way in which they have made God credible comes alive in us. They're not perfect as individuals who have scored exceptionally highly in the examination of Christian faith. They are parts of the body of Christ to which we too belong.
Our life is bound up with theirs and amazingly and humblingly, their life is bound up with ours, they enter into their glory when we come with them. It's that extraordinary realization of which we see a glimmer in the Buddhist doctrine: that the great Bodhisattvas do not enter into rest until they have brought everyone they can with them. That's why they keep coming back, being reincarnated to speak to more and more people. This, I believe is a glimmer of the same insight that the holiest, the most whole of God's children, reach that wholeness only in communion with us. We might almost say, 'Heaven help the Saints if they depend on us to get them to their final wholeness'. And yet that is the bold and startling doctrine that the Bible puts before us as a reminder that no-one's holiness is their property and that the holiness of the Christian life is one given into the lives of others. That is where it becomes fully itself.
So at All Saints' tide we give thanks that God in Christ has made himself credible; credible in the life and death and resurrection of Jesus; credible in the lives of those in whom Jesus has come alive. And we thank God for that extraordinary promise: that the great Saints of the Communion of Christ's body depend on us as we depend on them in growing together. But two more thoughts may be in order very briefly here.
One is indeed something to do with our contemporary anxieties. We need to tell the stories of the Saints to remind ourselves what is possible and within any Christian family. We need to tell the stories of those who have made God credible to us. And within our Anglican family we need to go on telling a few stories about those who have shown us that it is possible to lead lives of Catholic holiness even in the Communion of the See of Canterbury! We need to be reminded of what we have to be grateful for in the lives of those who within our communion and fellowship have lived out God's presence and made him credible here in this fellowship with these people. God knows what the future holds for any of us for any of our ecclesiastical institutions, but we can at least begin with what we can be sure of; that God has graced us with the lives of Saints; that God has been credible in this fellowship with these people. This church with its very particular place in the history of the Church of England is one small but significant facet of that great mystery and that great gift. And at times when the future seems more than usually chaotic and uncertain, it doesn't hurt simply to give thanks.
The second thing is of course that if the great saints of God are not made perfect without us, then in the future there are an awful lot of people on whose faith and holiness we are going to depend. One day we will be the golden age, or the great generation that has now passed: deeply unlikely as that may seem. One day people are going to look back on us and it would be nice to think that they would look back with gratitude and that they would feel that we in our generation had helped to make God credible and helped to show what was possible to them, so that they could gratefully and joyfully help us through the gate of glory by their response, their faith and their thanksgiving. So because time is not of great significance in the kingdom of Heaven, All Saints' day is, it seems a celebration of the future as well as the past. On All Saints' Day we may very properly look forward to the Saints we have not yet met and the Saints who have not yet been born, with whose holiness and salvation and welfare ours is bound up. We can ask what witness we want to leave to them and turn back again to ask ourselves what is possible for us if God in Christ is truly credible in the lives of his holy people.
A great cloud of witnesses; lives and deaths which like the life and death of Etty Hillesum take responsibility for making God credible; lives and deaths belonging in that great chain of causality started off not only by the Cross of Calvary but by the eternal self-giving of God on which the whole world rests; lives and deaths telling us the truth by providing evidence, for that living truth in the whole Church Catholic and in our own Anglican Family we give thanks. And that truth we resolve to pass on with joy and hope to those without whom we shall not be made perfect.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.
Archbishop's sermon at All Saints' Margaret Street, London
Sunday 01 November 2009
For the 150th year of the consecration of the church, All Saints' Day.
Lectionary: Isaiah 65.17—end; Hebrews 11.32—12.2
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.
'Seeing we are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight and the sin that so easily besets us.' (Hebrews 12.1)
When Etty Hillesum the young Jewish writer who died in Auschwitz, was on her way via the transit camp in Westerbork to the train that would take her to the death camps, she scribbled a few last notes to friends. And in one of those notes she tried to explain what she believed was going on: 'Someone [she said] has to take responsibility for God in this situation. That is, someone has to behave as if God were real. Someone has to make God credible by the way that they meet life and death.' And she -- at first sight a very unlikely candidate for this dignity – attempted to do just that to make God believable by her life and her death.
Witnesses establish the truth by giving evidence. It really is as simple as that. When we celebrate the Saints, we celebrate those who have given evidence, who have made God believable by how they have lived and how they have died. The saints are the people who recognise that arguments will finally not win the day. God does not make himself credible by argument. God does not respond to our doubts, our intellectual querying, our uncertainty, by delivering from Heaven a neatly annotated list of logical propositions with which we cannot disagree. (I'm afraid that Professor Dawkins can bang on the doors of Heaven as long as he likes if that is what he expects to happen.) God deals with us by our life and a death, by Jesus. And God continues to deal with us by lives and deaths that make him credible, that make Jesus tangible here and now. All those people who flocked into Westminster Cathedral a couple of weeks' ago to pay their respects to St Therese of Lisieux were recognizing that in her Christ became tangible for her generation and for ours and that is what the Saints do.
Do we think it is impossible to live a Christlike life in this or that setting, with these stresses or those, in the presence of dark evil and deep suffering? If we doubt it, it is not argument that will settle the matter: it is the bare reality of life lived in a Christlike way in such circumstances. In the very early Church, local congregations would write eagerly to one another to describe the sufferings they'd been through and the martyrs who had glorified God in their midst. They were telling one another, 'It is believable. We have seen and touched with our hands, the word of life. We have seen lives lived in desperate and reckless generosity to the point of death, and God has become credible afresh to us in those lives. That was the exchange, the common currency of the early Church and I suspect that the faith of the Church catholic – let alone the Anglican Communion – would be a bit different these days if our main currency of exchange was to let one another know how God had become credible to us.
But there's another dimension of this which comes out very clearly in that rich passage from Hebrews. These great figures that the writer to the Hebrews has listed, 'without us [says the writer] they will not be made perfect'. This is a truly extraordinary claim. We've heard about the heroes of the Old Testament, the Judges and the Prophets, those who have suffered atrociously for their faith, those who have performed stunning miracles, 'And yet [the writer to the Hebrews says baldly] without us they will not be made perfect'. Think of that in our own terms. Without us, Francis of Assisi will not be made perfect, without us St John of the Cross will not be made perfect, without us Mother Theresa will not be made perfect. Surely some mistake? As the editors say. But no, these great witnesses become perfect, they become fully into their life that God purposes for them when we respond, when we enter into a relationship with them. So that the way in which they have made God credible comes alive in us. They're not perfect as individuals who have scored exceptionally highly in the examination of Christian faith. They are parts of the body of Christ to which we too belong.
Our life is bound up with theirs and amazingly and humblingly, their life is bound up with ours, they enter into their glory when we come with them. It's that extraordinary realization of which we see a glimmer in the Buddhist doctrine: that the great Bodhisattvas do not enter into rest until they have brought everyone they can with them. That's why they keep coming back, being reincarnated to speak to more and more people. This, I believe is a glimmer of the same insight that the holiest, the most whole of God's children, reach that wholeness only in communion with us. We might almost say, 'Heaven help the Saints if they depend on us to get them to their final wholeness'. And yet that is the bold and startling doctrine that the Bible puts before us as a reminder that no-one's holiness is their property and that the holiness of the Christian life is one given into the lives of others. That is where it becomes fully itself.
So at All Saints' tide we give thanks that God in Christ has made himself credible; credible in the life and death and resurrection of Jesus; credible in the lives of those in whom Jesus has come alive. And we thank God for that extraordinary promise: that the great Saints of the Communion of Christ's body depend on us as we depend on them in growing together. But two more thoughts may be in order very briefly here.
One is indeed something to do with our contemporary anxieties. We need to tell the stories of the Saints to remind ourselves what is possible and within any Christian family. We need to tell the stories of those who have made God credible to us. And within our Anglican family we need to go on telling a few stories about those who have shown us that it is possible to lead lives of Catholic holiness even in the Communion of the See of Canterbury! We need to be reminded of what we have to be grateful for in the lives of those who within our communion and fellowship have lived out God's presence and made him credible here in this fellowship with these people. God knows what the future holds for any of us for any of our ecclesiastical institutions, but we can at least begin with what we can be sure of; that God has graced us with the lives of Saints; that God has been credible in this fellowship with these people. This church with its very particular place in the history of the Church of England is one small but significant facet of that great mystery and that great gift. And at times when the future seems more than usually chaotic and uncertain, it doesn't hurt simply to give thanks.
The second thing is of course that if the great saints of God are not made perfect without us, then in the future there are an awful lot of people on whose faith and holiness we are going to depend. One day we will be the golden age, or the great generation that has now passed: deeply unlikely as that may seem. One day people are going to look back on us and it would be nice to think that they would look back with gratitude and that they would feel that we in our generation had helped to make God credible and helped to show what was possible to them, so that they could gratefully and joyfully help us through the gate of glory by their response, their faith and their thanksgiving. So because time is not of great significance in the kingdom of Heaven, All Saints' day is, it seems a celebration of the future as well as the past. On All Saints' Day we may very properly look forward to the Saints we have not yet met and the Saints who have not yet been born, with whose holiness and salvation and welfare ours is bound up. We can ask what witness we want to leave to them and turn back again to ask ourselves what is possible for us if God in Christ is truly credible in the lives of his holy people.
A great cloud of witnesses; lives and deaths which like the life and death of Etty Hillesum take responsibility for making God credible; lives and deaths belonging in that great chain of causality started off not only by the Cross of Calvary but by the eternal self-giving of God on which the whole world rests; lives and deaths telling us the truth by providing evidence, for that living truth in the whole Church Catholic and in our own Anglican Family we give thanks. And that truth we resolve to pass on with joy and hope to those without whom we shall not be made perfect.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Getting home from overseas
1945 at Glenholme Ave. Niagara Falls
My dad's wartime memories were, like many of his colleagues, not shared regularly with his family. I had the opportunity of a weekend with him at the Canada War Museum in Ottawa in 2006 and the displays there certainly triggered stories that I'd never heard.
As an Air Force radar technician (a cutting edge skill in the 1940s), he rarely saw battle action. (Ironic that it was this work he was discussing with the father of the bride at the moment he died.)He did take lots of photos and put them in a leather-bound album which these are taken from. I remember feeling envious of the adventures that wartime entailed for dad and his buddies. It seemed a bit of a lark to me, although I know that Remembrance Day each year brought back painful memories of friends he'd lost.
He was also very active as a padre or chaplain to the Royal Canadian Legion branches in Sudbury, Chelmsford and Copper Cliff; as well as to the War Pensioners Assoc. I'm sure his absence this Nov.11th will be felt at the Sudbury Cenotaph.
Lest We Forget
These photos are from Ed's WW2 album. He worked as a radar technician, training in Halifax and Fredericton, before being posted to England and then Gibraltar. Above is the 48th Squadron of the RAF Coastal Command in Gibraltar 1943.
Our Hut 1943 (Ed upper center)
Monday, November 2, 2009
Sandra remembers
I first met Ed when my children and I moved back to Ontario in 1987. He was so resourceful, patient and loving to my family. He and Jean supported my children and I thru illness and extreme circumstances. He was NEVER judgmental or harsh but was always loving and inclusive. I was often mistaken for Connie at Church.
One day, my baby who at the time was only about nine months old, wriggled out of my lap and headed straight for Ed, who was conducting his sermon...Zack ran straight into Ed's loving, outstretched arms and there he stayed for the rest of the service. Yes, we were considered part of the family, both at Church and in the community! I was baptized by Ed as an adult because there appeared to be no records of my baptism as a child. It was a beautifully touching sentiment. We were blessed to have Ed perform our marriage in his backyard 10 Aprils ago. It was unseasonably hot and sunny that day. Jean, my dad and sons were also in attendance that day. It was a beautiful start to our new life as husband and wife.
Both Ed and Jean contributed so much to our lives over 22 years that we cannot imagine life without him. My husband Mike lodged at the Erions for a time while working near Sudbury and he was never one for the conventions of religion...he now feels certain that he will never know another man like Ed. I echo those sentiments.
Love always,
Sandra and Mike Trodd
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Dealing with it all
As you may know if you've been through the challenges of the death of a parent, making arrangements to move the surviving parent, sort through all their STUFF, etc., etc.; it doesn't leave much time for grieving.
I feel that I've been on a different planet since Sept.11 when dad died. First, dealing with preparations for the funeral, then the visitation and funeral itself, a family dinner for 21 or so relatives, then staying on with mom and my sister, and on and on. Sudden death means a loved one gets to clean up your desk...and workshop... and clothes...and books, food, garden furniture...all that stuff we accumulate over a lifetime.
And it has not been all gloomy. Two weeks ago our son got engaged; and on Oct.17th our bookstore celebrated its 25th anniversary, with loads of long-term customers and several former staff. But we also got hit with the news that my mother-in-law, who has lived in a retirement home here in Waterloo for the past 3 years, has an inoperable cancer on her spine. Life is a roller coaster!
Mom is now living in Queenston Manor in Niagara Falls, near my sister, and this past Sunday (Oct.26) I drove to Sudbury with a friend (and his fabulous truck and 28-foot trailer) to pick up her furniture. This went fairly quickly, though it felt strange to be in their home with neither mom or dad there. We were also moving some couches, the paddle boat, etc. to our cottage near Parry Sound and had to be there for Tuesday when new windows were being installed (see photo). Unfortunately my immune system cracked under the stress, and I got a cold on Monday which forced me to 'lay over' an extra night at the cottage. All the heavy lifting of couches and windows didn't help.
So, I'm back in Waterloo, having driven my parents' RV here, which my son-in-law will use for his drumming and carving business. And we will complete the move for mom on Sunday (All Saints Day, right?). Hopefully this cold will be gone by then. And I've booked an appointment with a therapist.
Monday, October 19, 2009
the lost gift has been found
In reviewing Ed's finances after his death, we discovered a large payment to a jewellery store in Sudbury. Connie recalled that dad had asked her for help choosing a gift for his wife (our mom) for their sixtieth anniversary. They were busy planning a big party in their backyard on Oct. 3rd.
Connie suggested a diamond necklace, and with a call to the jewellery store we learned that he had indeed bought a diamond pendant. But where had he hidden it?
We scoured his dressing room, his desk, several closets, even his workbench, to no avail. I moved mom to Niagara Falls on Oct. 2nd and they have found a retirement residence there. But she insisted on returning to Sudbury to choose furniture and other belongings, and to continue the search for the missing gift.
Then on Saturday (Oct 17) Connie was in the garage talking to Robert, their yard man, and suddenly thought, what about here? The first box she looked into held a gift-wrapped jewellery box! Imagine the excitement of her and mom.
Connie suggested a diamond necklace, and with a call to the jewellery store we learned that he had indeed bought a diamond pendant. But where had he hidden it?
We scoured his dressing room, his desk, several closets, even his workbench, to no avail. I moved mom to Niagara Falls on Oct. 2nd and they have found a retirement residence there. But she insisted on returning to Sudbury to choose furniture and other belongings, and to continue the search for the missing gift.
Then on Saturday (Oct 17) Connie was in the garage talking to Robert, their yard man, and suddenly thought, what about here? The first box she looked into held a gift-wrapped jewellery box! Imagine the excitement of her and mom.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
How then shall we live?
I heard this story from more than one person during the vistation or after the funeral:
I spoke with your father after my mother [husband, father,...loved one] died and asked him, "Why me?"
His first response was, "Why not you?" and then he said, Why is the wrong question, you'll never be able to answer it.
The real question is " How then shall we live?"
Here's another version found on the web:
The past two weeks have been exceedingly sad ones for my fellow parishioners at All Peoples United Church. A son and a nephew – both age 32 – died within a week of each other. They each leave behind a wife and children, parents and extended family, and friends and co-workers who are in shock, who keep expecting the lads to phone them or just show up in the kitchen. And the question is “Why!? Why did this happen!”
At the funeral of the son of two members of my congregation, the presiding minister, Rev. Ed Erion, encouraged us to focus not on the “why” – because there is no answer we will ever be satisfied with. Instead we need to gather ourselves to ask, “How then shall we live?” How shall we live in such as way as to honour these men – indeed any loved ones who have died. More specifically, how can we continue not only the memories but the missions of others – especially those whose lives have been cut short.
I spoke with your father after my mother [husband, father,...loved one] died and asked him, "Why me?"
His first response was, "Why not you?" and then he said, Why is the wrong question, you'll never be able to answer it.
The real question is " How then shall we live?"
Here's another version found on the web:
The past two weeks have been exceedingly sad ones for my fellow parishioners at All Peoples United Church. A son and a nephew – both age 32 – died within a week of each other. They each leave behind a wife and children, parents and extended family, and friends and co-workers who are in shock, who keep expecting the lads to phone them or just show up in the kitchen. And the question is “Why!? Why did this happen!”
At the funeral of the son of two members of my congregation, the presiding minister, Rev. Ed Erion, encouraged us to focus not on the “why” – because there is no answer we will ever be satisfied with. Instead we need to gather ourselves to ask, “How then shall we live?” How shall we live in such as way as to honour these men – indeed any loved ones who have died. More specifically, how can we continue not only the memories but the missions of others – especially those whose lives have been cut short.
war diaries
Connie (my sister) and I had a few days (Sep 13-14) to choose pictures and memorabilia to diplay for the visitation for dad at the funeral home. Among the memorabilia was his Th.M. thesis on the role of the church in suicide, a pocket crest from Queen's, his war medals, and two volumes of his diary from WW2.
The next night at the funeral home, my son Tristan, was looking through these diaries and asked me why the one had Lloyd's name in the front.
Sure enough, this little pocket diary was not Ed's but his brother Lloyd's. So when Lloyd's widow, my Aunt Betsy, arrived at the funeral, with her two offspring (my cousins, Cyndie & Curtis) I was able to present it to her. She was flabbergasted, not knowing it ever existed. Also surprised that it was written in script, whereas Lloyd, in all the time she knew him, wrote only in type.
We of course will never know how dad came to have it, but I'm delighted it has finally found its home with Betsy.
RIP Edwin and Lloyd
P.S. At a family gathering on Dec 27/09, Betsy returned the diary. It turns out that, although Lloyd's name was in it (merely as next of kin), it is actually Ed's diary. Se the Jan 10 posting for a summary of Ed's wartime experience.
The next night at the funeral home, my son Tristan, was looking through these diaries and asked me why the one had Lloyd's name in the front.
Sure enough, this little pocket diary was not Ed's but his brother Lloyd's. So when Lloyd's widow, my Aunt Betsy, arrived at the funeral, with her two offspring (my cousins, Cyndie & Curtis) I was able to present it to her. She was flabbergasted, not knowing it ever existed. Also surprised that it was written in script, whereas Lloyd, in all the time she knew him, wrote only in type.
We of course will never know how dad came to have it, but I'm delighted it has finally found its home with Betsy.
RIP Edwin and Lloyd
P.S. At a family gathering on Dec 27/09, Betsy returned the diary. It turns out that, although Lloyd's name was in it (merely as next of kin), it is actually Ed's diary. Se the Jan 10 posting for a summary of Ed's wartime experience.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
A Psalm of Life
...
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labour and to wait.
- Henry W. Longfellow
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labour and to wait.
- Henry W. Longfellow
Monday, October 5, 2009
Obituary
The Reverend Doctor Edwin Maurice Erion BA,MDiv,ThM,DD(Hon)
July 29 1922-Sept 11 2009
Ed Erion died suddenly but peacefully while doing what he loved best having just completed a wedding rehearsal (at Crane Lake Resort, near Parry Sound), on Friday September 11, in his 88th year.
Beloved husband for almost sixty years of Jean (Chamberlayne). Loving father of Charles (and Tricia) of Waterloo and Connie of Niagara Falls. Predeceased by his sons, Bradford (1979) and Gordon (1991), son-in-law William Valkenburg (2003), as well as his parents, Clare and Mina (Philpot), his brother Lloyd and sister Ruth (Loney).
Born in Lindsay, Ontario he grew up in Niagara Falls and served as a radar technician with the RCAF during World War II. Ed entered the United Church Ministry in 1962, having found his calling at age 39. He completed his degrees at Queen's University, Kingston in 1968, while serving as student minister at Batawa and Zion United Church.
His first full-time charge was in Chelmsford (St. Stephen's) and Dowling (Larchwood), then at Copper Cliff from 1973 to 1990. He retired in 1990 and he and Jean enjoyed travelling in their RV and time at their camp on Lake Onaping.
But his retirement was in name only: he returned shortly after to minister to the congregation at Chelmsford right up to the present. He was known throughout the Sudbury region as "marryin' and buryin' Erion" having conducted countless wedding, funerals and baptisms. He touched the lives of so many people with his caring concern and generosity.
Ed was active in the Ministry of Long Term Care institution (as chair), as board member of the Bereavement Foundation of Sudbury, as padre to the War Pensioners and Branches 224 and 553 Royal Canadian Legion, as member of the Social Planning Council, and of the Alzheimer's Society of Sudbury, not-to-mention countless United Church committees.
Ed and Jean were active and proud grandparents of Bronwyn (and Nii Addico), Graham and Tristan and of Rebecca (and Geo Massimi) and Rileigh Valkenburg, and of Jessica and David. And great-grandparents of Wisdom, Tetteh, Makilda, Lele, Daelyn and Logan.
The Twenty-Third Psalm was an element of every funeral Dad conducted. And now he "shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever."
July 29 1922-Sept 11 2009
Ed Erion died suddenly but peacefully while doing what he loved best having just completed a wedding rehearsal (at Crane Lake Resort, near Parry Sound), on Friday September 11, in his 88th year.
Beloved husband for almost sixty years of Jean (Chamberlayne). Loving father of Charles (and Tricia) of Waterloo and Connie of Niagara Falls. Predeceased by his sons, Bradford (1979) and Gordon (1991), son-in-law William Valkenburg (2003), as well as his parents, Clare and Mina (Philpot), his brother Lloyd and sister Ruth (Loney).
Born in Lindsay, Ontario he grew up in Niagara Falls and served as a radar technician with the RCAF during World War II. Ed entered the United Church Ministry in 1962, having found his calling at age 39. He completed his degrees at Queen's University, Kingston in 1968, while serving as student minister at Batawa and Zion United Church.
His first full-time charge was in Chelmsford (St. Stephen's) and Dowling (Larchwood), then at Copper Cliff from 1973 to 1990. He retired in 1990 and he and Jean enjoyed travelling in their RV and time at their camp on Lake Onaping.
But his retirement was in name only: he returned shortly after to minister to the congregation at Chelmsford right up to the present. He was known throughout the Sudbury region as "marryin' and buryin' Erion" having conducted countless wedding, funerals and baptisms. He touched the lives of so many people with his caring concern and generosity.
Ed was active in the Ministry of Long Term Care institution (as chair), as board member of the Bereavement Foundation of Sudbury, as padre to the War Pensioners and Branches 224 and 553 Royal Canadian Legion, as member of the Social Planning Council, and of the Alzheimer's Society of Sudbury, not-to-mention countless United Church committees.
Ed and Jean were active and proud grandparents of Bronwyn (and Nii Addico), Graham and Tristan and of Rebecca (and Geo Massimi) and Rileigh Valkenburg, and of Jessica and David. And great-grandparents of Wisdom, Tetteh, Makilda, Lele, Daelyn and Logan.
The Twenty-Third Psalm was an element of every funeral Dad conducted. And now he "shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever."
Chuck's Eulogy, Sept. 17, 2009
Eulogy for Edwin Erion
Before I begin, I’d like to ask you to do something. This is for my benefit and for Ed’s grandchildren to see. Please stand up if you were married, or baptized, or had a love one buried by Ed Erion. (At least 80% of the 300-plus congregation stood up.)
The last time I was in this beautiful St Andrew’s church was years ago for an Easter Vigil on a Saturday evening that I attended with Dad and my wife, Tricia. After the service we stopped for coffee and donuts and a long talk. This became a tradition for my own family of 3 children: for years we would take them to the Easter Vigil at our church in Waterloo and out for donuts after because that is what “Grampa Ed” does.
Dad was born in Lindsay, Ontario but spent his formative years in Niagara Falls with his parents, Clare and Mina, and his younger brother, Lloyd. He also had a half-sister, Ruth. Dad’s shock of red hair earned him the nickname “Red”. Old friends continued to call him Red long after his hair turned snowy white.
After the war, he met a very pretty nurse and, as Mom is fond of recounting, they had 19 dates over 21 days and it was on the 20th date that he finally kissed her! Dad and Mom started to form a team in those 21 days and continued that way for 60 years…or it would have been 60 yrs. this coming October 12th.
They lived in Niagara Falls where I, Gord, Brad and Connie were born. Dad worked in real estate and in a law office. He was very involved with Lundy’s Lane Church, where he’d grown up. It was at a vocational workshop at Five Oaks that he felt called to the ministry at the age of 39. This meant doing his arts and then theology degrees over 6 years at Queens while working as a student minister with a 2 point charge at Batawa and Zion.
There is a book called “The Seven Laws of Money” and the first law is: if you are doing the right thing the money will follow. Mom and Dad were doing the right thing because when finances got really tight, invariably there would be a cheque in the mail from one of the congregion at Lundy’s Lane. The generosity of that church community helped them get through those lean student years and ever since they have turned that generosity back to the community. That faith in doing the right thing and not worrying about the money was a critical factor as Tricia and I started out bookstore.
As a teenager I had teeth that needed braces. My orthodontist was in Kingston, where dad spent his weekdays as a theology student. It was a thrill for me to take the bus from Batawa to Kingston on a Friday morning and visit the orthodontist, then walk to the Queen’s campus and meet dad for lunch, or even sit in on a class, and then drive back to home together. This ignited my love of academic life, and I set off for university even before finishing high school. Thank you dad.
In the early 1970s Dad and Brad built the camp at Onaping Lake. This became a much-needed retreat for the family: without phone or electricity, it was life down to basics and away from the whirlwind of their ministry. But even at Onaping they showed their generosity, constantly inviting other families to use the place if they, too, needed a “getaway”.
When they retired from Copper Cliff Dad and Mom purchased an RV and traveled. Many times they would take Graham, Bronwyn, Tristan and Becky with them to the States and then on to Regina to meet up with Jessica and David. They loved having their brood of grandkids around them. Dad would ensure that each kid had a chance to ride shotgun in the front seat of the RV. Mom would ensure that each kid had a chance to be her kitchen lackey and help with meal preparation. I wonder if this is why all these grandkids now travel a lot and are good cooks! Rileigh, being the very youngest did not get quite the same experience but was able to spend many summers up at Onaping with them. Again Mom and Dad would show their generosity by insisting she bring some friends up with her so she would have playmates her own age.
The death of his two sons, Brad in 1979 and Gord in 1991, had a profound impact on Dad and all of us. He had conducted all of his children’s weddings, but never expected that he’d be conducting their funerals as well. Then in 2003 he was called again to do the funeral of his son-in-law Willi, Connie’s husband. At each time his community grieved with him and he would be their comfort.
[this paragraph was accidentally omitted at the funeral]
I have to tell you something about bereavement, something dad was an expert in, as you well know. I felt that my own grieving for Brad, Gord and Willi was prolonged because I didn’t get to see their bodies after they died. With dad, Connie & I both realized that we needed the experience of washing his body before the funeral home started their work. This turned out to be one of the most profound experiences of my life. Mom, Connie and I spent around 40 minutes washing him and saying goodbye. I was struck by the fact that our physical bodies are temporary – “remember o man that thou art dust and to dust thou shall return” –but that his soul had begun its journey to another plane.
A couple of years ago I was ‘blessed’ with the chance to share his war time memories while he and I visited the Canada War Museum in Ottawa over the Father’s Day weekend. As a teenager in the 60s -the era of the Vietnam war, I was strongly opposed to war, and also resented that my father’s generation had found their male identity so readily in a military uniform. But at the War Museum I got to hear dozens of stories that he’d never told, and gained a deep respect for what dad and his buddies had done, some of whom did not return.
Another blessing: In early 1990 I came across an event listed at the Five Oaks Retreat Centre called Finding Our Fathers. I asked Dad if he would be willing to go and he said yes. Once we got there and mingled with the other men, I was amazed to find that I was the only one there with his father.
We did a clay sculpture exercise to shape something that represented our fathers. Ed made a pair of lungs that he wanted to give to his father who had died of emphysema. Whoa! It turned out that my dad was searching for his dad, and it suddenly struck me, that my issues about not having enough time with him had to go back another generation.
When Tricia and I were here for his birthday back in July, I asked him if he was thinking about stepping back from his full-time commitment to the church in Chelmsford.
He smiled and said no, he hoped that he could do it for another 3 years until he turned ninety. I teased him, saying “Dad, you’ll die with your boots on.” He said “I hope so.”
And he got his wish. God bless you dad for all the ways you have blessed me and all the people gathered here in your honour.
Before I begin, I’d like to ask you to do something. This is for my benefit and for Ed’s grandchildren to see. Please stand up if you were married, or baptized, or had a love one buried by Ed Erion. (At least 80% of the 300-plus congregation stood up.)
The last time I was in this beautiful St Andrew’s church was years ago for an Easter Vigil on a Saturday evening that I attended with Dad and my wife, Tricia. After the service we stopped for coffee and donuts and a long talk. This became a tradition for my own family of 3 children: for years we would take them to the Easter Vigil at our church in Waterloo and out for donuts after because that is what “Grampa Ed” does.
Dad was born in Lindsay, Ontario but spent his formative years in Niagara Falls with his parents, Clare and Mina, and his younger brother, Lloyd. He also had a half-sister, Ruth. Dad’s shock of red hair earned him the nickname “Red”. Old friends continued to call him Red long after his hair turned snowy white.
After the war, he met a very pretty nurse and, as Mom is fond of recounting, they had 19 dates over 21 days and it was on the 20th date that he finally kissed her! Dad and Mom started to form a team in those 21 days and continued that way for 60 years…or it would have been 60 yrs. this coming October 12th.
They lived in Niagara Falls where I, Gord, Brad and Connie were born. Dad worked in real estate and in a law office. He was very involved with Lundy’s Lane Church, where he’d grown up. It was at a vocational workshop at Five Oaks that he felt called to the ministry at the age of 39. This meant doing his arts and then theology degrees over 6 years at Queens while working as a student minister with a 2 point charge at Batawa and Zion.
There is a book called “The Seven Laws of Money” and the first law is: if you are doing the right thing the money will follow. Mom and Dad were doing the right thing because when finances got really tight, invariably there would be a cheque in the mail from one of the congregion at Lundy’s Lane. The generosity of that church community helped them get through those lean student years and ever since they have turned that generosity back to the community. That faith in doing the right thing and not worrying about the money was a critical factor as Tricia and I started out bookstore.
As a teenager I had teeth that needed braces. My orthodontist was in Kingston, where dad spent his weekdays as a theology student. It was a thrill for me to take the bus from Batawa to Kingston on a Friday morning and visit the orthodontist, then walk to the Queen’s campus and meet dad for lunch, or even sit in on a class, and then drive back to home together. This ignited my love of academic life, and I set off for university even before finishing high school. Thank you dad.
In the early 1970s Dad and Brad built the camp at Onaping Lake. This became a much-needed retreat for the family: without phone or electricity, it was life down to basics and away from the whirlwind of their ministry. But even at Onaping they showed their generosity, constantly inviting other families to use the place if they, too, needed a “getaway”.
When they retired from Copper Cliff Dad and Mom purchased an RV and traveled. Many times they would take Graham, Bronwyn, Tristan and Becky with them to the States and then on to Regina to meet up with Jessica and David. They loved having their brood of grandkids around them. Dad would ensure that each kid had a chance to ride shotgun in the front seat of the RV. Mom would ensure that each kid had a chance to be her kitchen lackey and help with meal preparation. I wonder if this is why all these grandkids now travel a lot and are good cooks! Rileigh, being the very youngest did not get quite the same experience but was able to spend many summers up at Onaping with them. Again Mom and Dad would show their generosity by insisting she bring some friends up with her so she would have playmates her own age.
The death of his two sons, Brad in 1979 and Gord in 1991, had a profound impact on Dad and all of us. He had conducted all of his children’s weddings, but never expected that he’d be conducting their funerals as well. Then in 2003 he was called again to do the funeral of his son-in-law Willi, Connie’s husband. At each time his community grieved with him and he would be their comfort.
[this paragraph was accidentally omitted at the funeral]
I have to tell you something about bereavement, something dad was an expert in, as you well know. I felt that my own grieving for Brad, Gord and Willi was prolonged because I didn’t get to see their bodies after they died. With dad, Connie & I both realized that we needed the experience of washing his body before the funeral home started their work. This turned out to be one of the most profound experiences of my life. Mom, Connie and I spent around 40 minutes washing him and saying goodbye. I was struck by the fact that our physical bodies are temporary – “remember o man that thou art dust and to dust thou shall return” –but that his soul had begun its journey to another plane.
A couple of years ago I was ‘blessed’ with the chance to share his war time memories while he and I visited the Canada War Museum in Ottawa over the Father’s Day weekend. As a teenager in the 60s -the era of the Vietnam war, I was strongly opposed to war, and also resented that my father’s generation had found their male identity so readily in a military uniform. But at the War Museum I got to hear dozens of stories that he’d never told, and gained a deep respect for what dad and his buddies had done, some of whom did not return.
Another blessing: In early 1990 I came across an event listed at the Five Oaks Retreat Centre called Finding Our Fathers. I asked Dad if he would be willing to go and he said yes. Once we got there and mingled with the other men, I was amazed to find that I was the only one there with his father.
We did a clay sculpture exercise to shape something that represented our fathers. Ed made a pair of lungs that he wanted to give to his father who had died of emphysema. Whoa! It turned out that my dad was searching for his dad, and it suddenly struck me, that my issues about not having enough time with him had to go back another generation.
When Tricia and I were here for his birthday back in July, I asked him if he was thinking about stepping back from his full-time commitment to the church in Chelmsford.
He smiled and said no, he hoped that he could do it for another 3 years until he turned ninety. I teased him, saying “Dad, you’ll die with your boots on.” He said “I hope so.”
And he got his wish. God bless you dad for all the ways you have blessed me and all the people gathered here in your honour.
Catherine Somerville's Eulogy, St. Andrew's United Church, Sep 17, 2009
Do you have time for just one more quick story? That was the way conversations with Ed always went. Whether you met him coming or going from the funeral home, or at the hospital, or in a phone call- Ed loved to talk, and he always had just one more quick story to share.
so....Do you have time for just more quick story?
My answer was always yes.
Ed was my mentor, my guide in this journey of ministry. Beginning 22 years ago, when I showed up at Jean and Ed's house in Copper Cliff, to stay for the night as part of the Manitou Conference orientation tour to new ministers, to my Sunday night escapes when I would knock on their door, for a meal and a glass of wine and a place to stay, on the way to do some retail therapy, to our wedding in Huntsville, where both sides of our families could not believe that the minister could play volleyball so fiercely, to visits to the cottage on Lake Onaping, to coffee shops and United Church lunches and teas all over the city, Ed shared his love for God through the people he ministered to and with, and all the holy encounters that were forged in conversations along the way. There was always one more funny story to share, one more bit of wisdom to impart.
Ed Erion taught me how to be a minister.
He had a view of the church that was wide and inclusive. If you asked him to do a wedding, a baptism or a funeral, invariably his answer was yes. He was not the sort of minister to prescribe to marriage or baptism policies. To be honest, he never really understood why they were needed in the first place.
For Ed, the role of the church was to be present, as a visible, tangible, living, and embodied witness in the world. Many people, and I must confess,
myself included sometimes, did not understand why he did what he did. I have often found myself wrestling with his notion of inclusion that stands in stark opposition to all the church policies, that tell us people should be part of the church community before we will offer them the symbols of God's grace. While we were busy building our walls, Ed never thought twice about taking God's story into the world.
He would do a wedding or a baptism, partly I suspect because he needed to be needed, and he loved the role of being the officiant. Jean called it working the crowd. He did that part of the job so well. But in our conversations, all those times when he offered just one more little story, I began to learn and understand just what it was that he was trying to teach me.
Ed showed us that ours is the God of welcome, acceptance and peace. Ours is the God who says yes when someone asks. Ours is the God of the open and inviting doorway. So many people, thousands of them in our community, I suspect, knew this. They called on him all the time, to preside at their weddings, to share their joy in the birth of their children, to accompany them as they buried their dead.
One time, I spoke with a nurse friend, who was telling me about all the hours Ed gave to the hospital. He would come in to visit anytime someone called. This nurse said that only God and Ed knew how much time he spent in the emergency department with families, “and God wasn't talkin' and Ed didn't keep track.”
I wonder if this vision of the church, that Ed held, is not exactly the way we are headed today. We are living through a time of deep examination and radical change within our denomination. What we are being told is that the church can no longer stay hidden behind our walls, but that we have to get out and live God's story in our neighbourhoods. We have to bring the good news to people wherever we find them. We need to let go of policies that limit, and embrace the love that God calls us to share.
Ed lived the words of the great commission, that scripture from Matthew's gospel, which Marj shared with us just a moment ago. Jesus told his followers that our call, and our commission, is to go out into the world and train everyone you meet, far and near, in this way of life, marking them by baptism, and then instructing them in the practice of all that is commanded.
When we do that, when we go out and tell what we have seen and heard, what we have experienced and grown to know deep in our hearts and our lives, then we are told that God will be with us day after day after day, right up to the end of the age. Those are the closing lines of Matthew's gospel, and maybe, they are that last little story, that ancient writer needed to share with all of us, who would find ourselves reading his words two thousand years later. I suspect that these words might well be, the closing lines in Ed's life too.
Following the example of our Brother Jesus, Ed helped to showed us all, that whatever we do, we just need to say yes. And when we do, then we can't help but find ways to share good news by our presence, our words of encouragement to one another, our actions and commitment to justice-filled living, and by all the ways we can find to share our gifts and our abundance.
Do you have time for just one more quick story?
Chuck reminded me of this story the other night. It was post 1988, and The United Church had just come out with a landmark decision that was rocking our denomination, and causing a lot of consternation wherever you went. We had affirmed a statement saying that all people, regardless of their sexual orientation, are welcome to serve as ministers in The United Church of Canada.
I remember that time, how angry people were in our congregations, how the voices of exclusion were drowning out all of us who thought it was a good idea. The word had just come back from that General Council meeting in Victoria, and all of us clergy were invited to gather in a backyard here in Sudbury, and try and come up with a plan for how we would deal with the fall-out. You have to remember that in those days, if you spoke up and said this was a good policy, you would likely be writing your letter of resignation. It was time of fear and finger pointing and wall building.
Ed had been one of our delegates to that meeting, and he had been specifically asked to be on that commission by our executive secretary at the time, Stew Bell. People were being hand-picked to serve there, people who were noted for their balanced judgment and ability to weigh all sides of the argument.
Ed told us the story of what happened.
The commission was in deadlock. They did not know what to say or how to bring resolution. They were at the point of returning to the meeting and admitting defeat. They decided to break for lunch and give the whole thing time to percolate.
Ed told us that everyone that day had been given a brown bag lunch, and some of the lunches contained oranges, along with the sandwiches and cookies. Many of the people who had the oranges threw them in the garbage, because they were just too messy to peel and eat without a knife.
Ed looked over and he saw a homeless person digging through the trash, pulling out the oranges that had been discarded, and putting them in his pockets.
Ed believed that he saw Jesus Christ in that homeless person eating United Church leftovers. As he told us this story, he broke down and sobbed.
He said that after seeing this, he found Marion Best, who was also on that commission, and who later went on to be elected as one of our moderators. The two of them went back to the classroom where they were meeting. Ed walked up the blackboard, and with Marion's help, crafted the words that became our 1988 statement on ministry: “That all people regardless, of their race, gender, age, income, ability, or sexual orientation, are welcome to be members of The United Church of Canada. And then the second line of that document goes on to say, that all members are entitled to be considered as ministry personnel within our denomination.”
Standing there in that backyard, hearing Ed's story, I was never so proud to call myself a member of The United Church of Canada.
so....Do you have time for just more quick story?
My answer was always yes.
Ed was my mentor, my guide in this journey of ministry. Beginning 22 years ago, when I showed up at Jean and Ed's house in Copper Cliff, to stay for the night as part of the Manitou Conference orientation tour to new ministers, to my Sunday night escapes when I would knock on their door, for a meal and a glass of wine and a place to stay, on the way to do some retail therapy, to our wedding in Huntsville, where both sides of our families could not believe that the minister could play volleyball so fiercely, to visits to the cottage on Lake Onaping, to coffee shops and United Church lunches and teas all over the city, Ed shared his love for God through the people he ministered to and with, and all the holy encounters that were forged in conversations along the way. There was always one more funny story to share, one more bit of wisdom to impart.
Ed Erion taught me how to be a minister.
He had a view of the church that was wide and inclusive. If you asked him to do a wedding, a baptism or a funeral, invariably his answer was yes. He was not the sort of minister to prescribe to marriage or baptism policies. To be honest, he never really understood why they were needed in the first place.
For Ed, the role of the church was to be present, as a visible, tangible, living, and embodied witness in the world. Many people, and I must confess,
myself included sometimes, did not understand why he did what he did. I have often found myself wrestling with his notion of inclusion that stands in stark opposition to all the church policies, that tell us people should be part of the church community before we will offer them the symbols of God's grace. While we were busy building our walls, Ed never thought twice about taking God's story into the world.
He would do a wedding or a baptism, partly I suspect because he needed to be needed, and he loved the role of being the officiant. Jean called it working the crowd. He did that part of the job so well. But in our conversations, all those times when he offered just one more little story, I began to learn and understand just what it was that he was trying to teach me.
Ed showed us that ours is the God of welcome, acceptance and peace. Ours is the God who says yes when someone asks. Ours is the God of the open and inviting doorway. So many people, thousands of them in our community, I suspect, knew this. They called on him all the time, to preside at their weddings, to share their joy in the birth of their children, to accompany them as they buried their dead.
One time, I spoke with a nurse friend, who was telling me about all the hours Ed gave to the hospital. He would come in to visit anytime someone called. This nurse said that only God and Ed knew how much time he spent in the emergency department with families, “and God wasn't talkin' and Ed didn't keep track.”
I wonder if this vision of the church, that Ed held, is not exactly the way we are headed today. We are living through a time of deep examination and radical change within our denomination. What we are being told is that the church can no longer stay hidden behind our walls, but that we have to get out and live God's story in our neighbourhoods. We have to bring the good news to people wherever we find them. We need to let go of policies that limit, and embrace the love that God calls us to share.
Ed lived the words of the great commission, that scripture from Matthew's gospel, which Marj shared with us just a moment ago. Jesus told his followers that our call, and our commission, is to go out into the world and train everyone you meet, far and near, in this way of life, marking them by baptism, and then instructing them in the practice of all that is commanded.
When we do that, when we go out and tell what we have seen and heard, what we have experienced and grown to know deep in our hearts and our lives, then we are told that God will be with us day after day after day, right up to the end of the age. Those are the closing lines of Matthew's gospel, and maybe, they are that last little story, that ancient writer needed to share with all of us, who would find ourselves reading his words two thousand years later. I suspect that these words might well be, the closing lines in Ed's life too.
Following the example of our Brother Jesus, Ed helped to showed us all, that whatever we do, we just need to say yes. And when we do, then we can't help but find ways to share good news by our presence, our words of encouragement to one another, our actions and commitment to justice-filled living, and by all the ways we can find to share our gifts and our abundance.
Do you have time for just one more quick story?
Chuck reminded me of this story the other night. It was post 1988, and The United Church had just come out with a landmark decision that was rocking our denomination, and causing a lot of consternation wherever you went. We had affirmed a statement saying that all people, regardless of their sexual orientation, are welcome to serve as ministers in The United Church of Canada.
I remember that time, how angry people were in our congregations, how the voices of exclusion were drowning out all of us who thought it was a good idea. The word had just come back from that General Council meeting in Victoria, and all of us clergy were invited to gather in a backyard here in Sudbury, and try and come up with a plan for how we would deal with the fall-out. You have to remember that in those days, if you spoke up and said this was a good policy, you would likely be writing your letter of resignation. It was time of fear and finger pointing and wall building.
Ed had been one of our delegates to that meeting, and he had been specifically asked to be on that commission by our executive secretary at the time, Stew Bell. People were being hand-picked to serve there, people who were noted for their balanced judgment and ability to weigh all sides of the argument.
Ed told us the story of what happened.
The commission was in deadlock. They did not know what to say or how to bring resolution. They were at the point of returning to the meeting and admitting defeat. They decided to break for lunch and give the whole thing time to percolate.
Ed told us that everyone that day had been given a brown bag lunch, and some of the lunches contained oranges, along with the sandwiches and cookies. Many of the people who had the oranges threw them in the garbage, because they were just too messy to peel and eat without a knife.
Ed looked over and he saw a homeless person digging through the trash, pulling out the oranges that had been discarded, and putting them in his pockets.
Ed believed that he saw Jesus Christ in that homeless person eating United Church leftovers. As he told us this story, he broke down and sobbed.
He said that after seeing this, he found Marion Best, who was also on that commission, and who later went on to be elected as one of our moderators. The two of them went back to the classroom where they were meeting. Ed walked up the blackboard, and with Marion's help, crafted the words that became our 1988 statement on ministry: “That all people regardless, of their race, gender, age, income, ability, or sexual orientation, are welcome to be members of The United Church of Canada. And then the second line of that document goes on to say, that all members are entitled to be considered as ministry personnel within our denomination.”
Standing there in that backyard, hearing Ed's story, I was never so proud to call myself a member of The United Church of Canada.
This was taken about 15 minutes before Ed died. He was doing what he loved best - conducting a wedding rehearsal, for Hannah Ulrichsen (pink dress) and Joel Kirk at Crane Lake Resort, near Parry Sound, Ont. The party moved indoors to share a rehearsal dinner and Ed was talking on a couch with Bob Ulrichsen (dark blue shirt) when he suffered a heart attack. There were several medical personnel present but he did respond to CPR or a defibrillator found onsite.
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