The Stump of Jesse

The Stump of Jesse

I cut that tree years ago, felled it to the ground, because I could

Though it was taller and stronger and had been there longer

Than I had.

I thought I had won, of course, but now there is this stump,

And I just can’t seem to kill it, I catch my blade on it, and it just

      Won’t stay dead.

Below the ground, I guess, what I cannot see, I have not even dented,

Since I find it blocking every hole I’d hope to dig, again it’s just there

         In my way.

And this invisible underground network, must keep fueling, every spring

This new sprig, this vine, shooting forth from the center, I must again

                 Cut it off.

Could this be how the Romans felt, and the scribes and the pharisees,

When they planted a tree on Calvary to kill this King of the Jews, this

 Stump of Jesse?

Of the Light for June Meitz

“Of the Light”

October 9, 2019

Homily delivered by Rev. Peter T. Atkinson

for A Service of Witness to the Resurrection

In Memory of June Meitz

Bethany Presbyterian Church, Zuni, VA

Luke 16:8b

I chose a different kind of verse, not typical for funerals, but it kept speaking to me about June, so I decided to go with it anyway.

The people of this world are more shrewd in dealing with their own kind than are the children of the light.

And Lord knows sometimes it is difficult to be a child of the light in this world, whereas the shrewd learn to play the game: The game of pretense and double dealing and using people, and all that makes it difficult for the child of the light to make it through.

But the one thing that a child of the light has is love, and there is no question that June Meitz was a child of the light. She was a Sunday School teacher, a mom, a singer of songs, a takerer of pictures, and she did all of those things because she was a cherisher of people, and she knew that those things could bring back memories people, allowing her to feel that love again.

A heart full of love like that of a child of the light knows what is important, and holds to it, whether it be a photo or the simple gift that a child made for her in Sunday School. She would cherish it and keep them, for she knew such things, and their power. Love teaches you that.

And its not just love, but light, because it is love and light connected to Jesus Christ, and the children of the light reflect his light, and the more dark the world seems to get, the more bright the light appears, and it’ true that sometimes such brightness would make you look away, and you might need a reflection.

June saw these reflections in people and she was a reflection herself. I can see that today, as I look around at all of you, whose lives were touched by Junes, how strong her reflection of the light was and is.

Especially her blood family and her church family, and truly anyone who would meet her because meeting her was being family. She did not know any other way to treat someone.

I came to Bethany, just after Paul died, though I was blessed to meet Paul as part of the Pastoral Nominating Committee, and having gone to Hampden-Sydney, I share many common friends with Mark, so I had some context into their family upon arriving, but I first met June then after Paul had died.

And I met someone whose mind was swimming, confused by the harshness of this world. Remember now a child of the light might have trouble in a world like ours, not understanding, but I came to realize maybe she understood somethings the rest of us didn’t.

And one thing I could always see and hear in her was that she was definitely a child of the light, no matter what could happen.

And that being the case, she was ready.  Mark said yesterday, that something he knew about and I remembered it from my teaching days was that planning backwards – focus on the end and count back – was always a good way of achieving a goal.

She did, she was ready for her moment, and so how appropriate the words in her obituary are when it said that she was running to be with Jesus. . . and Paul, and Scott.

I came across these words in a song by Merle Haggard and had shared them with the church because it they seemed to put to words some of the feelings that must have been swimming through and racing through June’s head these past two years.

If I could only fly. . . if I could only fly

I’d kiss this world goodbye and be with you

But I can hardly stand, and I’ve got no where to run

Another setting sun, and one more lonely night

Time can be cruel thing, as can be the limitations of our bodies, but now she can fly. . .

And now she can bridge the expanse between here and there, and be with everyone that she loves. . . here and there.

No more lonely nights. . .

And for those who love her. . .

If we can remember, the same is true for us. . .

Until that day we can all fly together.

Amen.

Memorial Service for Vera Fisher - Nana

A Service of Witness to the Resurrection

In Memory of Vera Fisher

September 28, 2019

Alleghany Memorial Garden, Clifton Forge, Virginia

Call to Worship:                                                                                      

We are gathered here as the clock strikes noon, or there abouts, to celebrate and remember the life of Vera Goodwin Fisher, and to witness to the resurrection, made possible by the Life, Death, and Resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

We'll begin with a familiar statement from scripture, of the Love and Protection God provides, Psalm 23

¹ The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. ² He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. ³ He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. ⁴ Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. ⁵ Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. ⁶ Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever. ^[1]

 

Prayer

Let us pray:

Eternal God, maker of heaven and earth:

you formed us from the dust of the earth,

and by your breath you gave us life.

We glorify you.

Jesus Christ, the resurrection and the life,

You tasted death for all humanity

and by rising from the grave

You opened the way to eternal life,

We praise you.

Holy Spirit, author and giver of life;

You are the comforter of all who sorrow,

our sure confidence

and everlasting hope.

We worship you.

To you O  blessed Trinity,

be glory and honor, forever and ever. Amen.

Prayer for Illumination

Source of all true wisdom

calm the troubled waters of our hearts,

and still all other voices but your own,

that we may hear and obey

what you tell us in your Word,

Through the power of your Spirit.

Amen.

Homily – Her Own Way

They, who ever they is, they say in the Bible that there are only 4 kinds of love. I think such people are trapped in the notion that because there are 4 different Greek words that mean love there must  only be four different kinds.

1 Corinthians tells us that Love is patient and kind and slow to anger, that it never fails, that it ranks with faith and hope, but somehow always pulls ahead in the race towards greatness.

It tells us that without love we are nothing, or much worse a loud clanging cymbal, the kind that Nana could hear in the other room, or maybe it was just the sounds coming out of the big bedroom at the camp. . .

And to know Nana is to know that there must be another definition of love. There must be more than merely 4 types. There must be a type all her own, for she had so many ways that she would show her love. . .

So I want to use this other definition, and it is also a scriptural definition, and so just as important as those others. Just as prominent, just as needed, and just as profound if not as poetic:

“Love must be sincere.” –  Romans 12:9

Meaning That it is pure, that it is clean.  That means that it is there at the heart, and is true at the heart, and is real at the heart—there, true, and real in the heart.

That it isn’t fake.

It comes from a Latin pair of roots that when jammed together means – “without” – sine and “wax” – cere.

“Without wax.” Without pretense, some might even say without show, without anything fake.

The truth is that Nana’s love breaks through the notion that there are only 4 types because her love, at least the ways she’s showed it, was different. It was different in different situations, and it was different for and to each of us, the way she showed it was different.

But the one unifying principle was that it was sincere. Underneath it all, there at the heart was love.

Think for a minute how she showed her love to you.

Was it always patient?

Was it always kind?

Was it always slow to anger?

Yet I bet it was always sincere. Again, as I said, underneath it all.

And maybe she showed it by a thousand little things like:

Not being but so mad when you took her stuffed animals and put them down the laundry chute. Or maybe that after doing it once, you showed up the next time and there were more bears to do it to.

Maybe it was a Christmas spread, with cold shrimp, rolls and potato chip dip, and apparently there was some potato salad, too.

Maybe it was imposing a 5 dollar fine for whining, and not seeing the irony in it at all.

Maybe it was that deep down you knew there was something to this lady because she loved the song that goes “I like my women just a little on the trashy side.” Again, no irony.

Or Grandma got run over by a reindeer, no irony.

Or maybe it was being the one a loving man loved, and maybe that is not as easy as it would seem.

Especially when you have the power and vision to see a tick around the corner, or a mosquito, or a you name it, if it was a problem, she was going to point it out.

And maybe the fact that she couldn’t let things go, could make you feel bad, or sad, or guilty, or a number of feelings, and that those things could pile up year upon year. It never meant that love was not there, sincerely, without wax at the bottom of it all, at the heart level.

Maybe knowing that was true was what could make it all so much more painful.

But then you might think that there was some pain on her end too.

Because there is a tough façade to a woman like nana, but she is also, one who taught me something special about love.

That if you can find a way to communicate your love to someone, you should cherish it because such things also are not as easy it would seem.

We always wish for one more way.

But at the same time, we really don’t need it because really we know, love is there, and it always was. No matter what.

And still is, no matter what.

Because nothing can separate us from it.

Certainly not death

For such things have no power, as we thought they might.

Prayer of Thanksgiving and Lord’s Prayer

O God, before whom generations rise and pass away,

we praise you for all your servants, who, having lived this life in faith

Now live eternally with you.

Especially we thank you for your servant Vera, whose baptism is now complete in death. We praise you for the gift of her life, for all in her that was good and kind and faithful, for the grace you gave her, that kindled in her the love of your dear name, and enabled her to serve you faithfully throughout all her years.

We thank you that for her death is past and pain has now ended, and that she has now entered into the joy you have prepared.  For in Jesus Christ you promised many rooms within your house. Give us faith to see, beyond touch and sight, some sure sign of your kingdom, and where vision fails, to trust your love which never fails. Lift our heavy sorrow and our joy, mixed in all of our memories, and give us hope in Jesus Christ, in whom we give all praise and glory, and humbly pray, as he taught us saying. . .

Our Father

Commendation

You are immortal, the creator and maker of all. We are mortal, formed of the earth, and to earth we shall return. This you ordained when you created us, saying, "You are dust and to dust you shall return." All of us go down to the dust; yet even at the grave we make our song: Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia. Give rest to your servant, with all your saints, where there is neither pain, nor sorrow, nor sighing, and not even a five dollar fine, for there be no whining, but life ever lasting.

Holy God, by your creative power you gave us life, and in your redeeming love you have given us new life in Christ. We commend Vera, Nana to your merciful care in the faith of Christ our Lord who died and rose again to save us, and who now lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit one God, now and forever.

Benediction

Go in Peace, and find ways to show your love in all you do. Amen. 

---

^[1]The Holy Bible : King James Version. 1995 (electronic ed. of the 1769 edition of the 1611 Authorized Version.) (Ps 23:1-6). Bellingham WA: Logos Research Systems, Inc.

Saving Love: for Nana

Saving Love

for Nana

"Precious treasure and oil are in a wise man’s dwelling,

but a foolish man devours it." – Proverbs 21: 20

I would sneak in there because I wasn’t supposed to,

At least it seemed that way to a me, a child: the room

Your grandparents slept in, where all their stuff was.

It had a certain darkness and hiddenness, the secret

Adult world kids no nothing about, so hold in awe.

It sat on her dresser, like a treasure chest, holding

Her jewelry, but I didn’t seek the treasure in stones

Or precious metals. What I sought was the little key,

That when turned broke the silence with little clicks

As it turned winding the notes of its music inside.

I would wind and wind, and not let any note escape,

Mostly because I didn’t want to get caught, and she

Might hear if I let some go. She couldn’t ever prove

It was me, if she never caught me, and she never did.

The last few clicks were always the hardest to conceal,

Tighter and louder, letting me know I was near done.

I’d close the lid, leaving the music there inside for her

To find. I don’t know when I first did it, but I always

Would sneak in there when we visited and wind it.

I don’t even remember when the secret became

A talked about thing, with me never owning up to it,

And her never coming right out and accusing me,

But each knowing, heart to heart what it was.

You see, she would save it, opening her jewelry box,

Only for a second, treasuring the captured notes,

Her notes, like they were from me to her, erasing

The miles and the time between us, one note

At a time. They say that a melody is made up of

Different notes played in sequence, but the song

She heard meant more, played one note at a time,

Stretching it out for as long as she could, saving

Each treasured note and what it meant. I hope

There weren’t many times when she would open

Silence, but I’m sure there were. The truth in the

Silence is all too true of Grandparents, and there

Just never being enough time to visit enough.

Love like that knows no such thing as enough,

Only what is. You learn such truth as you get older

Because you’ve lost enough to see it differently

And value each moment more. Like I’m not sure

When I started doing it, I’m also not sure when,

Upon learning that she saved the music, I came

To know what it meant, but I can’t think of any

More important lesson for her to teach me

Now that I know: There just aren’t enough ways

In this world for us to show our love to each other,

But when we find one it’s worth doing and saving.
I wish I had turned that key more times in these

Last few years. I wish I could’ve given her more

To save. I wish I could let her know I valued love

As much as she did. But I will never wind nor

Hear a music box again without remembering

The precious treasure she has given to me.

In Plain Sight

In Plain Sight
For Velma and Chuck in memory of Chris

We can’t always see it,
The light that lights the world.
It just is, and no longer dark,
But sometimes when the angle
Is just right, and the certain slant
Peaks through the shadows,
And there’s just enough mist
Or dust, or something, the ray
Reveals itself, visible in a line
Straight to heaven. And we don’t
Think angle then, but angel,
And not mere dust, but breath,
Holy and illumined, and our heart
Finds rest. Such times are not just
Nature, but miracle, given at just
The right time, like a rainbow,
Or a friend, or the answer to a prayer.
Again we find peace, passing all
Our understanding, but unmistakable
In our hearts as knowing feeling,
And thus more true and more beautiful
Even than the sunflowers standing
There in plain sight, just right.

Lord, Send Your Breath. . . for Hannah

Morning Juice

Morning Juice

Coach Atk

The grass is wet from the dew

Your helmet still wet from last night

Your hair wet from the wake-up rinse

You head out, helmets and shorts,

Stiff still, to stretch, and lose the stiff

While it’s still mostly cool, almost

As the sun sends out its glistening gleam

From the hard angle of morning, you can

Already feel the heat despite the breeze

And that wet grass is just cold heaviness

For a second, then it turns into hot heaviness

As it mixes with the sweat of conditioning

Not quite sure if the vapor you see is

Steam or fog, where the only difference

Is the source, your heat or the sun’s

Both become inseparable, bear crawling,

Up downing, left slide, right slide, hit it

The wetness is forgotten, a fact, just accepted

Replaced by another focus, competing,

Finishing faster than the fool in front of you

Who is becoming a brother somehow

Through this work we do in parallel

Only in math do such lines not intersect,

Side by side together losing You to find We

Team is formed here, victory begins here

Champions are forged here, friends made,

And life is learned here, for here we are

Another long day has begun, where it’s

Field, food, field, food, pool, field, food, bed

Repeat, just to put the ball down and play

Is it worth it, many would say no, even most,

But then, if it were easy they’d be doing it too,

What say you? Have you had your juice today?