Henry Holiday, Ascension Window, Holy Trinity Church, 48th and Madison Avenue, NYC
A Heart’s Direction
Burial
Office for Alice Hamnett (Aug. 27, 1921-
Aug. 2, 2018)
Friday,
September 16, 2018, 11:00 a.m.
Isaiah
61:1-3; Psalm 23; Romans 8:14-19, 34-35, 37-39; John 14:1-6
The
Very Rev. Fr. Anthony Hutchinson, SCP, Ph.D.
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit: Amen.
The first time I ever visited Alice at home was not too long
after she moved to Ashland, when she was in a group home that has since closed,
up on Holly Street as I recall. She told
me a bit about her sons, her departed husband, a little about her nursing
career, her time in Hawaii, and all the Episcopal churches she had attended
since her youth. The stories were
varied, and rich in joy. It was clear
she had a passion for her whole life, and found that Holy Eucharist was a way
to connect with that passion and joy.
Daniel was very supportive of his mother in bringing her to church
nearly every week until the final month or two.
I feel very blessed to have been with Alice when she died.
Alice rarely talked about her experiences as a surgical
nurse in post-D-Day Normandy. She rarely talked about why she loved
Church. Yet during one of my home visits to her, Alice
told me what she loved most about Episcopalian congregations: the beauty of our
worship, our focus on loving acceptance, and our sense of duty. We focus on what we need to do for God and for
others, rather than on being true believers.
“We let God move us, and don’t worry about ‘being saved.’’ In a word, we leave mystery to God. We focus on service and not so much on how we
feel about things.
Alice really got this right, I think. In
my experience, what matters most is not whether you are a believer, but what
kind of heart you have. Is it open or closed? Does it seek
something beyond itself or is it satisfied or stingy with what it
has? Does it love and accept?
Does it move you to help others?
This is what our reading today from Romans is about: if our hearts are open even a little, even if
all we can manage by way of prayer is an incoherent “Abba, father,” God works
with us and gives us grounds for hope. As
Paul says, creation waits in “eager longing” for the “revealing of the children
of God.”
This isn’t just an
Episcopalian thing. Pope Francis wisely
has said that unbelievers who are honest in their unbelief are closer to God
that those who are dishonest in their belief.
Believers with cold, tightly closed hearts give
faith and religion a bad name: inquisitors,
guardians of morality and correct doctrine, holy warriors, who do horrible
things to other people using God as a weapon or a shield for their wretched
behavior. In the Gospels, the only
people with whom Jesus regularly gets angry are the closed-hearted
religious. To them he says, “Great sinners will get into the Kingdom of
God before you will—they at least recognize their need.”
Unbelievers, even disbelievers, can remain
open in their hearts, even if they cannot work up anything looking like faith
for now. An example of this is people in recovery in Twelve-Step programs
who cannot profess faith in God, but yet “come to believe” in a power greater
than themselves, a Higher Power, any higher power.
Openness is a habit
of the heart, an orientation of the personality, not signing on to a particular
set of teachings. The direction of our hearts is the
difference between being open or closed, inclusive or exclusive, helpful or
insulting.
Believers with open hearts remain in awe of what
they do not understand about God, what is unclear, and how far removed they are
from Deity. As Paul says, “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace,
forbearance, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control”
(Gal. 5:22-23). How’s that for a
description of Alice?
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