When United Methodists gather, as we have over the last few days from all over the state, there are many traditions. One of those traditions is a worship service that honors the ministers and spouses who have died over this past year. It is always a meaningful and touching service.People are reminded of those spiritual leaders who helped them struggle with their big questions.Those who sat with them when a loved one was ill or dying. The person who accompanied them on a part of their life’s journey that was transformative. Or those who simply were a good friend, a deep listener, a faithful companion. This is true, not only for those who were a part of a church these people knew as home for awhile, but also for those of us who knew them as mentors, teachers, nudgers, inspirers.
One part of the service involves the slow, measured reading of the names of those whose faces no longer grace our circle. As their name is read into the silence of the room, a bell is rung and that clear tone carries out over the people until its sound dissolves. Those who have had a relationship with the now departed person, stands at hearing their name. It is a witness to the imprint this person has made on our common life.
At this morning’s service, I became aware of how our bishop stood as the first name was read and remained standing throughout the entire reading of all the names. Perhaps this has always happened and I simply have not noticed. But as she remained standing, I began to realize that she has indeed been touched by all these lives.She has known their churches, their homes, their families, their gifts and their challenges. She has known where they struggled and the people within their churches who loved them and those who didn’t. She has heard glowing love of them. And she has also, I’m sure, heard vile complaints. As I became aware of her standing, it seemed to me a terrific load to bear.
The United Methodist Church claims as one of its central tenets a concept we call connectionalism. Each church is seen as a little point of light connected to another for reflecting into the world our understanding and experience of God. This is done through how we are church in any given community through worship and service, through trying as best we can to be the hands and feet of Christ in a world in desperate need of healing. The picture of this work comes in many forms, as many as there are people who try to express it. But the point of this ‘connection’ is that we are never in this work alone. No church, no minister, no member or constant visitor stands alone.
As this bishop, this one person given the responsibility,honor and authority to lead this rag tag gathering of well intentioned, faithful people who don’t always agree……to be honest who often don’t agree….on what that work should look like, she stood. Holding the work and the faith of those who had passed from this life into eternity. She stood holding the grief and pain of the family members who looked back at her from their seats. Both, I imagine, were remembering the people they could no longer reach out and touch. From time to time, others stood around the room as names were read. But the bishop stood for all.
She stood out of respect, as witness, and perhaps out of love. But certainly, most certainly, she stood full of her knowing. And as I became aware of her standing, I was struck that some day, a bishop will stand in just such a way for me. And I felt blessed to be a apart of this connection of people. Blessed and known and filled with humility.