HOMILY (Given at the Memorial Service for Edward Austin Lank at Chalmers United Church Kingston, on Saturday May 25, 2013 by the Chalmers Minister Emeritus: the Rev. Dr. C. Wayne Hilliker) At such a time, in such a place and on such an occasion, for me to speak at all, is to speak in the name of the God who has created us, sustains us, and always waits to empower us. Today we bring with us, quite naturally, a variety of emotions. Many a heart is filled with understandable sorrow, and it is going to take some time, as happens with any sudden death, to appropriate for ourselves, that peace and acceptance which passes all understanding. And what a sudden death it was: there was Ed, sitting with some of his family, watching the Super Bowl game. There was intermission and then eyes were glued to the TV watching the second half. At one point all the lights went out in the stadium. But the lights didn’t just go out for all those players and spectators. For at that very moment the light also went out for Ed, as he sat in his chair. It was the darkness of death. But as the Psalmist reminds us, such ‘darkness is not darkness to God. For darkness is as light as the day’. So what descended on Ed in that room, became for him the dawning of a new day, God’s new day. Let me say right at the start of this personal reflection and affirmation, that Ed Lank was for me, and, indeed, for many others, a special kind of person within Chalmers Church. It is this aspect of Ed’s life, which is what I know of the most. Mind you, Ed wasn’t a high profile kind of guy. He didn’t seek or want the limelight. He was somewhat shy about speaking in front of a large group of people. He never took himself that seriously but always he took what he did seriously. My experience of Ed within this congregation is that when he did speak, when he did offer his opinion or share his thoughts, then people listened. I don’t think I am the only clergyperson around, who is willing to acknowledge that there exists in the minds of ministers, particular people in the congregations that we serve, who, without their awareness, find themselves on a private list within the minister’s mind. Now, I can’t speak for any of the other ministers who happen to be present this afternoon, but I know that you can get on my list in a variety of ways. You may be on the list because I find you threatening. Or maybe because I know the kind of trouble that you can stir up if you got really angry in your disagreement with me. It may be you are on the list because you are very well known and liked and respected and, therefore, being a very human minister, I’d kind of like to keep myself in your good books, thank you very much. But there are others who get on this list because they are a kind of litmus test for faithful discipleship. I stand here today to testify that Ed Lank was for me, during my 22 year ministry at Chalmers, that kind of role model and witness. The authentic ministry of hospitality that he and Elma displayed, was in my opinion, unsurpassed. They seemed to have an instant radar system that immediately detected newcomers. At the same time, they never let an opportunity pass to greet regular worshippers. This they did, whether they were the official welcomers or not. So warm was their welcome to one couple, on their first arrival at Chalmers, that it made them want to come back. And come back they did—I speak of none other that Jan and Doug Arrand! But the friendliness of Ed and Elma went further than a ‘good to see you’. They exercised what some call an invitational ministry. Having discovered the background of the newcomers, they went out of the way to introduce them to particular regular worshippers whom they thought would be a good match. Sometimes they would invite them to some program or event at Chalmers. (Women of Chalmers, or Men’s Lunch, or program for young children and families) Both Ed and Elma were quick to spot students. In my earlier years at Chalmers, the Lanks would invite them to their place for a home-cooked meal, and maybe some entertaining with Elma at the piano. The truth is that it is difficult to think of Ed without thinking of Elma. And it is hard to think of Elma without thinking of Ed. A more closely connected couple would be hard to imagine. One thing is clear. They were a couple in whose presence you felt your best. Elma was kind enough to allow me to read a letter she received, shortly after Ed died, from the Moderator of Chalmers Church, Doug Arrand. In reading the letter, I found myself resonating with Doug’s description of and deep admiration for Ed. He speaks of Ed’s intelligence, …his kindness, …his sly sense of humour, …but mostly of his abiding friendship. He mentions how much unheralded work Ed did behind the scenes, and the wise budgeting and financial advice that greatly assisted Chalmers financial well-being. In this whole area of stewardship, Ed and Elma ‘walked the talk,’ giving so discreetly and generously to the ongoing work and witness of this congregation. However, perhaps Ed’s most significant legacy to Chalmers will be the quiet way he lived his discipleship, and the unassuming way he chose to walk on paths less seen. A simple anonymous handwritten poem, found by the family, tucked away in some of Ed’s belongings, reveals that which was at the heart of his life. This is what he wrote: There’s an old Chinese proverb that if practiced every day would change the whole world in a wonderful way: It’s truth is so simple, it’s so easy to do, and it works every time—and successfully too! For you can’t do a kindness without a reward not in silver or gold but in joy from the Lord. You can’t light a candle to show others the way, without feeling the warmth of the bright little ray. And you can’t pluck a rose all fragrant with dew without part of its fragrance remaining with you. Grateful we can be for this loyal follower of such a Way. But no matter how much we say about Ed or any one of us, for that matter, there is always a part of us, and a part of Ed, that is unknown, that will always remain a mystery. Indeed, when anyone we love dies, all of us end up living with so many unanswered questions. In 1975, I sat where you are sitting. For I was attending the funeral service of my own father in Parry Sound. As I did so, I realized (while only half listening to the) that there was so much about my dad that I never knew. As I pondered the way his own quiet life had shaped my being and becoming, all kinds of other questions flooded across my mind: …what really made my dad tick? …what were his deepest fears or greatest anxieties or finest satisfactions? …what were the particular struggles that he had to wrestle with in his early childhood years, …and how did these things shape the kind of person he became? …what did he really believe? …why was it that he found it so difficult to display physical affection? …and how was it that I was never able to say the words ‘I love you Dad’ even when I visited him in hospital, knowing that it might be the last time I would see him alive? The fact of the matter is that when a parent dies, it is as if something in us has died as well, something that will never be recoverable, at least not in this life. I guess there is a side to us that only God knows. After all, we are such a mixture of light and shadows, of faith and doubt, of selfishness and selflessness. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, was a German theologian who was a pacifist at the start of World War II. But as he witnessed the demonic behavior of Hitler he changed and eventually was arrested by the Gestapo following a failed attempt to assassinate Hitler. While in his prison cell and shortly before his execution, he wrote a poem entitled ‘Who am I?’ At one point in this poem Bonhoeffer poses the question: ‘Am I one person today and tomorrow another?’ It is because this is our human condition, and thus my own condition, that I find Bonhoeffer’s concluding line in his poem so healing. It reads--- ‘Whoever I am, Thou knowest O God, I am thine’. According to those who have carefully studied the Bible, the one phrase that is said more often in the scriptures than any other phrase is the assertion ‘do not fear, do not be afraid, do not be anxious’. That is said more often than any other sentence in the bible. Many years ago, while studying at Union Theological Seminary in New York City, I tried to buy tickets to one of the then popular Broadway plays. But they were all sold out. Instead the Times Square theatre office sold me a discounted ticket to an off-Broadway play I’d never heard of. And I’m glad they did. Because now, over 40 years later, although I can’t remember much about the courses I took, I do remember the play. It was called ‘Shadow Box’. It was an unusual drama about 3 terminally ill patients: …a single young woman, …a middle aged man, …and an elderly grandmother. The scenes consisted of separate glimpses into their lives and overhearing their conversations with friends and acquaintances who came by to visit them. You then listened in as they pondered in private the different dimensions of their predicament. The final scene, spotlights on center stage, the young woman, alone in her room, close to death. You hear her quietly and courageously, say from her bedside, ‘I’m ready for everything’. And on darkened stage on either side you hear one patient muttering ‘fool’ and the other patient whispering ‘saint’. How did Jesus put it? There are many rooms in my father’s house, If there were not, I should have told you. It’s up to us whether we want to trust him or not. Remembering then, that saints are only sinners who keep on trying and trusting, let us dare today to whisper the name of another saint, Edward Austin Lank, for whom death cannot conquer. May it be so…no…we trust and pray, it is so. Amen and amen. * * * * * *