Sermon: People Who Shaped Me

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People Who Shaped Me -- Living Saints and Balcony People

By Charles Rush -- with Robin Naylor, Tina White, Rose Gelber, Penny Vigilante, Mary Dickey, and Nancy Davies

November 1, 2009

[ Audio (mp3, 6.6Mb) ]

re than any other mammal, humans have a distinct ability to copy others. Psychologists refer to this as mimesis. We are remarkably adroit at patterning our behaviors after others and we are far better at it than even the great apes. We spend the majority of our time in childhood watching others and copying their behavior. So we have this deep sense of shaping other and being shaped by them, for better and for worse.

Our scripture this morning invites us to remember those that have shaped us in the past and the Christian calendar sets aside a day to celebrate them. It is true that in the long course of Church history, we have quite a few extraordinary heroes that have suffered incredible hardships. Indeed, thousands and thousands of people have lost their lives standing for what they know to be true.

But if you read the book of Hebrews and look at the list of exemplars of faith that are lifted up for us to follow, you will notice that almost all of them have feet of clay. None of them is perfect. And rarely is there such a bird in real life either.

I was grateful to Ellen Fishbein who gave me a book about Mother Teresa that contained many of her journal entries. Mother Teresa, the iconic saint of service to the poorest of the poor, had many moments when she questioned whether God existed and whether the life that she had chosen was really authentic. Even the saintliest saints have doubts and difficult times. Truth be told, often more so than the rest of us.

And we can also see through the complexity and have the ability to remember both the good and the bad, but to be inspired by the good and leave the bad behind. So it is probably an important way to honor this day, to lift up- not just the heroes of the faith- but to also lift up the ordinary people that have shaped us. To remember and to thank them, to thank God… We are only who we are because they imparted something to us to follow.

Darla Stuckey

My mother shaped me in every way. I recall sitting next to her in church as a child holding her hands and playing with her rings and bracelets. While in church, she taught me how to make a goblet with my pinkie finger out of the sugar foil doublemint gum wrapper that she gave me to chew as a treat--probably to keep me quiet! I remember listening to her sing and how she traced the words in the hymnal with my fingers when I was just learning to read words and notes. I got thine and thou very early on! I remember that communion was only for adults and was fascinated by it. I remember more fondly than I can even explain, the story of The Good Samaritan that she told me over and over and over every Sunday in the car going home from church. I must have asked for it a thousand times.

When I was older sitting next to her I remember her crying in church sometimes. I was perplexed. Now as an adult I know why - maybe not exactly why - but I know what it is to be moved to tears by a sermon...

So yes she shaped me. When I go to church I feel like I'm at home sitting next to her and damn it if my hands don't look like hers now-liver spots and all! Not only did she shape me, she taught me how to shape others--the most important lesson of all.

Robin Naylor

I was blessed with an incredibly cool, "James Dean-like" grandfather. He inspired my love of fashion, adventure and work. He was a man who appreciated the finer things in life - Italian clothing, fast and fancy cars, Swiss watches, fine dining and Cuban cigars. He was proud of what he had and he took great care of things he acquired. From my earliest memories, I knew I wanted to be just like him.

My grandfather was a successful salesman and loved what he did. I remember hoping that one day I'd find something I like to do as much as he did.

He was a man of passion when it came to his hobbies. He loved to hunt, ride horses, sail and paint. He always looked the part of the day's activity and was an expert in the field. He adored me, and as a result, he shared his talents bringing me on the hunt, teaching me to ride and to sail - things I still enjoy to this day.

He was a perfectionist and had limited patience. So if you could focus and behave the possibilities for adventure were endless.

My grandfather understood me. He knew that if he taught me how to jump, I'd listen, practice and want to jump higher. His sense of adventure inspired me to be adventurous.

His work ethic was ingrained in me. I always looked forward to being a successful and dedicated salesperson, and I was. And much to my father's and now my husband's chagrin, I have a passion for fashion, fancy cars, Swiss watches, and fine dining – everything except the cigars. Most of all, my grandfather, unknowingly, gave me great tips on parenting: encourage your kids to take risks, seek adventure, try new things, work hard and know when to behave.

Tina White

In the fall of 1960, my mother enrolled me in the finest dance school Zanesville Ohio had to offer. My dance teacher was a powerhouse of a woman that we called Marjorie. Standing before me in her leotard and tights with her dance skirt on, she seemed larger than life despite the fact that she is actually a lovely petite lady who stood no taller than 5'2". She ran a very successful, very prestigious dance studio in our community of 40,000 at the time.

Dance class was my refuge and aside from my Mother and my Aunt, Marjorie was one of the three most influential women of my life. I not only learned dance, poise, courage and creativity, I developed a sense of self and self-assuredness during my time with her. When I was seven, my father had hit bottom - he was unemployed and hospitalized. Our family was in another one of our crisises. This one was because of his alcoholism. My Mother telephoned the dance school and explained that she would not be registering me for the upcoming year. Later that day, Marjorie called my Mother and spoke to her directly. "We are registering Tina for her classes and you can start paying whenever you think you can afford to." If Marjorie told you something, one did not argue or protest. And so Marjorie sponsored me for an entire year of ballet and tap lessons.

They never told me about Marjorie's generous gifts until many years later. I am glad that I didn't know at the time. I may have felt embarrassment or worse, shame. At Marjorie's Dance Studio, I felt at home in a wonderfully well cared for place that ran on a reliable schedule and was filled with beauty and charm.

Amazingly, she is still the matriarch of her dance studio and is a fixture in the community even in her nineties. Her generous heart, her guiding hands (and feet) helped to shape the character of many young women.

Rose Gelber

When I was growing up, my father never seemed particularly spiritual. A well-respected physican in the community, he always appeared very self assured and in complete control of all things. Occasionally though, I woke up early enough to see him just after he rose from bed. Or if I was up late enough at night, I would see him when he was ready to go to bed. He would be down on his knees praying. It always astonished me that this man humbled himself in this way before God. I felt that if he believed in the power of prayer this much, then surely I needed to explore religion more seriously.

Penny Vigilante

My life has been positively impacted by Wilbur Nelson.

When Chuck mentioned in the service two weeks ago that he would like input on People Who Shaped Us, I thought immediately of Wilbur Nelson. I went all through Brayton School. Mr. Nelson was our wonderful principal, who kept order and commanded the respect of the students while being a warm and approachable figure of authority at Brayton. Mr. Nelson was a fixture at Brayton for decades. He cared about each and every student, and knew most of us by name. I remember the teachers all seemed to feel comfortable in his presence, and he would wander in from time to time to our classes just to see what was going on.

My memories of Brayton are fond ones. I still remember so many of my Brayton School teachers: Mrs. Rucker, Mrs. Randall, Miss Whooley, Mrs. Gallagher and the famous sixth grade teacher, Mr. Geckler, or "Sir" to all of his students. I loved elementary school, and I attribute that in large part to Mr. Nelson. Imagine my surprise arriving at Christ Church and, one day, spotting him installed in his seat in one of the last pews. I went up to him to say hello and remind him that I was one of his students, and he remembered our family and even noted that my mother volunteered in the Library. Fond memories of Brayton School abound, thanks to Mr. Nelson!!

Mary Dickey

My grandmother (Katie Colbert) lost her husband and infant son in the great flu pandemic of 1918. An Irish immigrant only 24 years old with little education, she supported herself and her surviving two children by working as a cleaning woman in the Baltimore court house and as a laundress. When she fell ill with tuberculosis, she was put in a public sanatorium and her two children (my father and aunt) were placed in an orphanage. The family remained apart for almost 2 years. When they were reunited, Katie went back to mopping the courthouse, leaving her 9-year-old daughter in charge of the small household.

In spite of these harsh circumstances, my grandmother was a truly merry soul. She was lively, inquisitive, witty and unrelentingly optimistic to her last days. She was a great storyteller--tales of her own childhood and recountings of history--the sinking of the Titanic, the abdication of King Edward for the love of Wallis Simpson, the Lindbergh kidnapping, the murder of Sanford White. I think I learned to like history from her inventive take on the great events of her time.

Whenever I have my dark moments, I think about Katie's life and all that she faced and overcame. I never fail to feel grateful for my own situation and inspired by her triumphs. I often recall a wooden plaque that hung on the wall in her little kitchen. It showed a happy housewife in a kerchief facing a pile of dishes. The verse read:"Thank God for dirty dishes/They have a tale to tell/While others might go hungry/We're eating very well/With home, and health and happiness I wouldn't want to fuss/ By this stack of evidence God's been mighty good to us."

Finding the positive in a sinkful of dishes--that was Katie! Here's to you, Grandma, thanks for everything you taught me.

Nancy Davies

When my mother was perhaps five, her father gave her her first book of poetry: "Silver Pennies." My grandfather loved poetry and passed that love along to my mother.

"If I can stop one heart from breaking

I shall not live in vain.

If I can ease one life the aching,

Or cool one pain,

Or help one fainting robin

Onto his nest again,

I shall not live in vain."

--Emily Dickinson

Twenty-five years after receiving "Silver Pennies", my mother began to share her love of poetry with my sister and me. Often at bedtime she would lull us to sleep with her sweet voice as she recited poems to us...followed by a "Pleasant Dreams, girls!" and a kiss.

To Any Reader

by Robert Louis Stevenson

...For long ago, the truth to say,

He has grown up and gone away,

And it is but a child of air

That lingers in the garden there."

When 25 more years had passed, and I had become "a child of air" my mother had a chance to once more share her poetry with her granddaughter. Whenever they were together at bedtime I could stand near the door and hear those favorite poems once again.

..."The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep."

--Robert Frost

And 17 years later, before my mother "slept", I was able to be with her...sitting on her bed; camping out beside her during her final nights. Those nights I sang all of the old Girl Scout songs she used to love...as a young scout and later as a leader.

Moments before she passed away, I took a deep breath through my tears and conjured up the strength to recite a poem to her.

Farewell

by Emily Dickinson

...Goodbye to the life I used to live,

And the world I used to know;

And kiss the hills for me, just once;

Now I am ready to go."

Conclusion

My brothers and sisters, remember the power that you have to shape others. Remember the marvelous privilege you have to imprint this generation and the next with the healing power of love. I want to close with a few lines from Isaiah 40 that are spoken about God who is shaping and healing us. And may someone in the next generation call you to mind when they read this verse in the future because of the remarkable inspiration that you provided for them.

Have you not known? Have you not heard?

The Lord is the Creator of all that we see

God does not grow weary or lightheaded

God's understanding is unsearchable

God gives power to the faint

And increases strength in those who are weak

Even young women grow weary and faint,

Even young men will fall exhausted

But they who wait upon God

Shall renew their strength,

They shall mount up with wings like eagles,

They shall run and not be weary.

They shall walk and not be faint.

Amen.