The Ven. Richard I. Cluett
In Thanksgiving for The Rev. Cn. Charles Shreve
and "Ralph Davis"
and "Ralph Davis"
Luke 10:38-42
As Jesus and his disciples went on their way, Jesus entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, "Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me." But the Lord answered her, "Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her."
On this hot Sunday in late July of the hottest summer on record, I thought I would tell you a couple of parables and along with trying to engage you, at the same time try to entice you into a little personal reflection later on, not about what you do, but about how you do what you do.
The first parable.
Almost 40 years ago, I went to Christ Church, Corning N.Y. as the Associate Rector. Christ Church is a very large church, about like this cathedral in building and in membership. I had a very big job, and I became very busy doing God's work. As clergy do when we come to a new parish, I spent a lot of time visiting with my new parishioners. And I really had to hustle from visit to visit.
Finally I was getting down to the less active members and it came time for me to visit a man I will call Ralph Davis. He was about 85 years old. Been retired from railroading for some 20 years. He lived in the house he grew up in, and it looked as if it hadn't had a coat of paint since the day he was born.
I knocked on his door and the door swung slowly open. I called out, “Hello, Mr. Davis?” A muffled reply came back, “In here.” I proceeded to the parlor. I walked into the darkest, dingiest, dankest, dirtiest, dustiest, disgusting-est living room I had ever seen. And there was Ralph seated in his chair...his foul smelling chair...in the middle of it all.
“Who the (expletive deleted) are you?” “I'm Rick Cluett from Christ Church.” “You must be new. I always get the new one. Well, you needn't bother. I got along fine before you, and I will after you.” A great beginning. I said, “Mr. Davis, I'm very busy. I have people to see, places to go, and work to do, now if you don't want me here, I will be glad to leave.” (Hoping against hope, he would end this unpleasantness.)
“Well, all right you might as well sit down seeing as you’re here, but be quiet so I can finish my show.” Ten minutes of his show, and I was gone. Back to work; on to another parishioner for a visit. I did go back to Ralph, but only on the highest holy days to take him the sacrament, for which I turned off the TV, and immediately afterward turned it back on again, so that I wouldn't have to talk to him and I would leave.
Another parable.
You long time members of Nativity will remember Canon Charles Shreve who served this cathedral faithfully for a number of years, when he and his beloved wife, Patti Pickens, retired to Bethlehem. For those who didn’t know him, Charles’ ministry had taken him into the company of the powerful, the elite, the luminary and famous, corporate and political leaders, talented artists and artisans, and to the great cathedrals in Paris and San Francisco.
One day in this cathedral pulpit many years ago he told this story from his time as canon and bishop’s chaplain, an important and powerful post, at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco.
He was very busy in his office when his secretary called him to come out to help her "deal with" this man who had come to ask for money.
Charles saw a man who was an obvious street drunk – his body was dirty, he was unkempt, wearing filthy clothes. Charles invited him into his office, anyway. The man told him a well-rehearsed story of his descent into his present condition. He just wanted money for food, he said. Charles asked him, "Isn't there anyone in this world who you could look to for help."
He said that there was no one; except his son whom he had not seen for several years, since his graduation from Stanford, and he had no idea where to find him, or even if it was worth finding him, given his present condition. When he mentioned that the son had graduated from Stanford, a possible way to trace the son crossed Charles’ mind. He asked the man the name of his son.
The name he gave was the name of a young man Charles knew. This young man was a kind of golden boy, a rising star in the corporate world, active in cathedral life and ministry. He was young, handsome, well educated, well employed, had a winning personality and made a good buck.
Charles asked the man if he would come back the next day at 12:00 noon, and said he would try to locate his son. Reluctantly he agreed. Charles then called the son and told him the story of his father. The man said that he hadn't seen his father since his graduation. His mother had divorced his father because of his alcoholism. He had lost track of him. But with a rather reluctant “yes”, he said he would come to the cathedral at noon.
The old man arrived first and Charles invited him to wait in his office. Shortly afterward the son came in. Dressed in a beautiful, double-breasted Cashmere overcoat. The old man stood up and said, Hello Son. The young man said, Hello Dad. And he went over to him: this dirty, grubby, disheveled, drunk who was his father. He took off his coat and placed it around the shoulders of his father - wrapped him up in it - and drew him into a warm embrace of love. Tears began streaming from three pairs of eyes. It was a moment of reconciliation and the beginning of the redemption of a human soul.
To finish the first parable.
One day I brought the sacrament to Ralph, and for the first time, somehow it truly became the bread and wine of Holy Communion. Afterward Ralph asked me not to turn the TV on again. Instead, he said, “Sit down,” and asked, “How are things going down at the Church? Where'd you grow up? Tell me about your family.” And so on. He also told me details and anecdotes about his amazing life.
After two years of visiting him in which I never really visited with him, he made me sit down and engage him – relate to him. And he was tenacious. I would get up to go, and he would ask me a new question. I would say what I thought, he would argue, and he would probe, and probe and probe -- deeply. I felt a little like Jacob wrestling with the angel. We wrestled, we wrangled, and in the end we both won.
For when it finally came time for him to go to the hospital for the last time, he told me he wanted me to take him. So I cleaned him up, dressed him, took him to the hospital in my car, sat with him, helped him die, buried him, and mourned his loss ...and gave thanks to God for him and for what he taught me about dignity and courage and faith and patience, and compassion -- and something about what the good part really is, where it is found, and that it is of God.
Now what was it that Jesus was saying in this gospel story of Mary and Martha?
Becoming whole persons, holy persons, depends not so much upon changing what we do but in doing for God and those around us what we ordinarily do for ourselves. This Gospel doesn't deal with competition between action or contemplation, faith or work. It has everything to do with living deliberately, intentionally and attentively in relationship by God's grace.
God didn't create us to fill some role, do some job. God made us for relationship and for love -- to be loved by God, and to express with our life and our welcome of others how we see God loving the world.
