Gains and Losses
Dec. 1st, 2011 01:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogI seem to be posting so many of this sort of entry recently, enough to consider setting up a memorial filter for those who care to share the memories or to exclude those who find it all too Debbie Downerish. If I get any interest in that, I'll poll for actual inclusion.
Last night was the second of two moving memorials within the past two weeks, and I'll start with that one. Margie's primary memorial service was two weekends ago at her final stop on her faith journey, in Ithaca. I wasn't able to make it to that one, although hundreds of people did, but last night's, in the chilled yet radiant Rochester sanctuary in which we grew to know her, was a far more intimate and moving experience for me. The church conducted it in the Taize tradition, with simple songs, brief readings, lots of silence and streams of tears. Between and during these moments, a liturgy-free experience of communion was offered, and I wound up being served, and blessed, by Margie's fellow pastor from her years there, who also officiated at our wedding and (with Margie) at Emily's christening.
I hadn't thought all that much of the stock photo they'd hurried to post when the news first came out last month. The bulletin from last night, with more time to prepare, speaks volumes more about the woman we loved:
In the finest moment of the brief eulogy given, that church's former senior pastor, who'd known her the longest of the officiants, spoke of the ability we are given- I'll leave it to you to decide whether God, Darwin, the TARDIS or whatever- to withstand even that which we cannot understand. After last night, I do, a bit more, even though I truly don't.
----
Two Sundays before that, another friend was memorialized in a different but equally beautiful way.
Lois came to our current Buffalo church some years after we did, but with more gifts than I will ever hope to carry into or out of its doors. A routine procedure, a few years ago, led to findings of Very Bad Things, and her passing was far more sudden (for her) and painful (for us) than would ever have been imagined. We mourned her loss at the time, led by a multicultural group of clergy including the cantor of our sister synagogue, who herself perished in the Flight 3407 crash not long thereafter.
Yet the closure of her life with us could only be complete with music, for Lois was a musician, and a teacher of the craft, and a lover of it in all its forms. Our choir commissioned a piece in Lois's memory, which they debuted in that morning's service.
The first two verses develop the "Simple Gifts" motif, while the bridge conveys "Thank We All." Well played, and always remembered.
Last night was the second of two moving memorials within the past two weeks, and I'll start with that one. Margie's primary memorial service was two weekends ago at her final stop on her faith journey, in Ithaca. I wasn't able to make it to that one, although hundreds of people did, but last night's, in the chilled yet radiant Rochester sanctuary in which we grew to know her, was a far more intimate and moving experience for me. The church conducted it in the Taize tradition, with simple songs, brief readings, lots of silence and streams of tears. Between and during these moments, a liturgy-free experience of communion was offered, and I wound up being served, and blessed, by Margie's fellow pastor from her years there, who also officiated at our wedding and (with Margie) at Emily's christening.
I hadn't thought all that much of the stock photo they'd hurried to post when the news first came out last month. The bulletin from last night, with more time to prepare, speaks volumes more about the woman we loved:
In the finest moment of the brief eulogy given, that church's former senior pastor, who'd known her the longest of the officiants, spoke of the ability we are given- I'll leave it to you to decide whether God, Darwin, the TARDIS or whatever- to withstand even that which we cannot understand. After last night, I do, a bit more, even though I truly don't.
----
Two Sundays before that, another friend was memorialized in a different but equally beautiful way.
Lois came to our current Buffalo church some years after we did, but with more gifts than I will ever hope to carry into or out of its doors. A routine procedure, a few years ago, led to findings of Very Bad Things, and her passing was far more sudden (for her) and painful (for us) than would ever have been imagined. We mourned her loss at the time, led by a multicultural group of clergy including the cantor of our sister synagogue, who herself perished in the Flight 3407 crash not long thereafter.
Yet the closure of her life with us could only be complete with music, for Lois was a musician, and a teacher of the craft, and a lover of it in all its forms. Our choir commissioned a piece in Lois's memory, which they debuted in that morning's service.
The first two verses develop the "Simple Gifts" motif, while the bridge conveys "Thank We All." Well played, and always remembered.