Lessons from the Cloud
Hebrews 12:1-2
Rev. Dr. Deborah L. Clark
November 6, 2022
“Thankful giving.” When we are thankful, we are inspired to give. When we give with an open heart, we are led to deeper thankfulness. It is a sacred spiral of God’s abundance, given and received, gratitude spilling over.
“Thankful giving.” It was easy for the Stewardship Team to come up with this theme: it expresses our own experience and our experience of this congregation’s generosity. It was more challenging to find a visual expression of the theme. We thought about water overflowing, but when you google “overflowing water” you get lots of pictures of burst pipes and flooded basements.
We broadened our search. Bettina found the beautiful rainbow-colored tree you may have seen in the Steeple or the weekly email. That’s what we were looking for! The roots go deep and wide, grounding a tree whose branches reach up to the sky and out to the world. The leaves are hearts, in rainbow colors. We imagined roots of gratitude nourishing our congregation so we can offer hearts of love to our world. And we thought of the leaf-hearts absorbing the light of God’s love, sending the energy of thankfulness down to the roots, which share that energy, through an underground web of connection, with the other trees in the forest. A tree of thankful giving: a church rooted, growing, grateful, giving.
Today as we celebrate All Saints Day, I am drawn to reflect on the roots of the tree that is our church. How has the thankful giving of the saints who have gone before us shaped who we are?
This could be a very long sermon—hours and hours of stories of church members who have died and who are still alive through the wisdom and love they gave. I’ve chosen just a few stories; I hope they will prompt you to share others—maybe even in coffee hour today.
Nancy Staver was one of the first people I met at Edwards Church. Warm, caring, deeply intelligent, she was a retired social worker who had done ground-breaking work in family therapy with children. Just before I came to Edwards, she had shared with the congregation that she had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. I was privileged to walk with her on that painful journey. I was honored to bear witness to the honesty of her struggle. I was blessed to see gratitude and compassion shine through it all.
Nancy was grateful for relationships: friendships she treasured, healing connections in her work. She was grateful to find a church that valued asking questions. She wasn’t sure what she believed, so she was thankful for a community that honored a wide range of ways to experience the sacred.
Her thankfulness led to a life of giving—through her work, through decades volunteering at Learning Center for the Deaf, through the time, talent and treasure she gave to the church. Back in the 90’s, she joined Mike Ellis, Len Ezbicki and me on the Growth and Outreach Committee, shaping how we extend an open-minded and open-hearted welcome, paving the way for Open and Affirming. She sang in the choir. She expressed appreciation for each person she encountered.
When Nancy was in the memory care section of Heritage, I led monthly worship services there. One service stands out in my mind. Nancy’s disease had progressed, and it was hard for her to express herself. An aide brought in a new resident and sat her down beside Nancy. They didn’t seem to know each other. The woman began to cough and became distressed. Without a word, Nancy reached over and put her arm around her.
In that simple action, I saw the impact of a lifetime of practicing compassion. Maybe that was who Nancy was from the day she was born. More likely, her kindness was a choice that became a habit, practiced so regularly it shaped the heart of who she was. That’s how I want to live. Nancy’s thankful giving impacts who I am; her thankful giving is part of the DNA of this church.
A more recent saint is Richard Whitmore, who died on Easter Sunday, 2019. It’s not hard to imagine what Richard was thankful for: he told us every single Sunday in celebrations and concerns. Richard was grateful for seemingly small things: a trip to a coffee shop, a booth at a craft show, an inspiring bible study, a lively music jam. He was thankful for people who helped.
His thankfulness led to a life of giving. He made coffee every Sunday—first at Grace and then here. He gave away the placemats he crafted. He invited Doris to come to church and whispered to her throughout the service in case she couldn’t hear. Always, he had a kind word and a bad joke to share.
I love to talk about God’s abundance as an ever-expanding spiral of giving and receiving. The kin-dom of God is at hand whenever we give and receive freely. Richard embodied that vision. His willingness to receive opened him to his capacity to give. The kin-dom of God is at hand in this community, in and through the lessons Richard taught us. It is blessed to give, and it is blessed to receive. When we remember both of those, blessings abound.
Before yoga on Tuesday, Marge Roy and I sat down to talk about another saint of our church: her husband Dave. I asked her what Dave was thankful for. Our daughters, she said. He was especially grateful for close connections he had with them as young adults. Deb, Pat and Peggy all went to Boston College, where Dave taught Geology. They would stop by his office to hang out between classes. He treasured that time.
I think it’s fair to say Dave was thankful for rocks—for their beauty, for the stories they tell of ancient times, for the ways they challenge us to take a long view, for the awe they evoke. He was thankful for the unique gifts of each person, and for a church that recognized those gifts by calling the first woman pastor in Framingham in the 1970’s. He was thankful for music—playing the guitar, singing in the choir beside good friends. He was thankful for questions that led to the pursuit of knowledge—and for the new questions inspired by that knowledge.
From his thankfulness, Dave gave in so many ways. He gave dozens of sermons—inviting this congregation to think deeply about the intersection of science and faith. He gave thousands of hugs. He shared his vision: five years before we even began talking about a new education building, Dave imagined construction remarkably like what we now have. He shared his conviction that if you want to be part of a community, you need to contribute. Singing in the choir. Serving as moderator. Anchoring the team that proposed and oversaw construction of the Susan P. Dickerman Building. His thankfulness for the wonders of life was lived out in hours of rehearsals and conversations and meetings.
Anyone here remember Rose Gagnon? I hardly got to know her, but I heard stories of how she made bookmarks from dried flowers and gave them away. Almost every Sunday, I am told, she stood in the back of the church handing them out—gifts to remind congregation members of the beauty of creation as they enjoyed a favorite book. I wonder what thankfulness inspired her giving.
Then there’s Brownie Brown. In the last year of his life, I got to see his art—paintings of great beauty and depth, a gift that complemented the gifts he gave as Treasurer of Grace Church. After he died, when I saw the poems and prayers he had tucked into his Bible, I got a glimpse of the thankfulness that inspired his giving.
Brownie had a rough childhood. He struggled to feel he was good enough. When he met Nancy, that began to change. Her family embraced him; over time that embrace helped him claim his worth. Their love was an expression of God’s love, grace poured out to heal his soul. Brownie was thankful for grace. That thankfulness opened a well-spring of creativity that led him to offer gifts of great beauty to our world.
There’s Sue Dickerman, whose gratitude for each person’s talents was expressed in her offerings of “leadership opportunities” and her assurance –“yes, you can do this.” Mary Roby, trailblazer in so many ways, lived out her gratitude by challenging the church to work for racial justice in the 1960’s. Ruth Heckman’s life was leaves of love blown far and wide by the Spirit. I’ve heard many stories of Carroll Kell and spaghetti suppers. Remember Olof Arnheim with his chef’s hat, running the kitchen to prepare afternoon tea for our quilt show? Phyllis and Don MacDougall shared their gift of music. For Kay Gooche, thankful giving took the form of letter writing. Sheila Calnan proudly wore rainbow colors as she stood up for her LGBTQ family and friends. And so many more…
The book of Hebrews uses a vivid metaphor for the saints who have gone before us: a cloud of witnesses who surround and enfold us, cheering us on as we run the race of life, as we walk this journey of faith. It’s a beautiful image. Can you see the cloudy figures by the side of the path? Richard and Rose and Sue, shouting their encouragement; Phyllis and Don singing; Carroll offering a plate of carb-loading pasta; Sheila in an outrageous costume, smiling and throwing confetti…
I love that picture of the saints, and I also love the picture inspired by our stewardship logo. The saints of our church are the roots that send us nourishment—wisdom, love, peace—as we grow strong and fruitful, as we reach out our branches, offering leaves of hope to the world. Can you absorb the nourishment of Nancy’s compassion and Ruth’s hugs? Can you feel a surge of energy as Sue and Olof urge us to dream big? Can you allow Mary’s passion for justice to inspire yours? Can you sense Dave’s curiosity spurring your own?
Cheered on by their shouts of encouragement, nourished by roots of inspiration, let us live our own legacy of thankful giving. The leaves of love on this tree which is our church come in many shapes and sizes, so many different ways we give of ourselves: coaching, voting, listening, working for justice, welcoming strangers, building bridges, singing, gardening, baking, protesting, planning, giving of our time and talent and treasure. With thankfulness for all we have received, honoring our roots of thankful giving, let us shower our world with leaves of love. Amen.