Services were held this past Saturday morning, May 31, at Jean's family's Calvary United Methodist Church, in Johnstown. Several of us were able to attend and to express Christian sympathy and friendship--but I know many others were not able to make the trip and so could be present only "in spirit." The preacher at the service, Jean's friend and chaplain-colleague, the Rev. Paul Edwards, was kind enough to share a copy of his sermon, which I'm glad to post here.
Memorial Service
for Jean Larraine Haslett (My dear Jean)
Calvary United
Methodist Church
Chandler Avenue,
Johnstown, PA,
May
31, 2014
Lesson:
2 Corinthians 5:1
Text:
2 Corinthians 5:1
Topic:
“I know”
Intro:
First, allow me to express words of sincere condolences to the Haslett family
and all Jean’s other relatives and friends, on behalf of the President, faculty
and staff of the Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, and the Alumni Association;
dear friends of Jean’s - retired Chaplain, Rev. Elizabeth Wrightman, (with whom
Jean attended seminary and worked with, at West Penn Hospital in the Pastoral
Care Department) and retired UMC Minister, Rev. Gail Walker (with whom Jean
also attended seminary) I would also like to add to that list, my wife Delease
and our son, Najiv. Jean holds a very special place in their hearts and you are
in their thoughts and prayers. I also want to recognize Rev. Paul Henry,
Chaplain at West Penn Hospital, who also worked with Jean at West Penn, and who
is here with us today, with whom I travelled to be here.
Moments
like these are never easy. There is nothing easy about losing someone we love.
No matter what anyone says, we are never prepared when it happens. Jean and I
have talked about a day like today for the past, oh, about 19 years, and I feel
numb and unprepared to wrap my mind around the fact that she’s really gone.
Please indulge me a bit. I’m a Baptist preacher, so I hope everyone had a
really big breakfast. If not, I hope you brought snacks along, because we could
be here for a really, really, long time! Jean and I have covered many trails
and an hour and a half is not enough time for me to say all I need to say.
Okay,
so, I met Jean way back in the days before GPS was invented; way before cell
phones weighed less than lead, way, way before e-mail was a popular mode of
communication and way before Facebook, MySpace, Twitter, Instagram were even
words, let alone, ways that people communicated with each other and disseminated
information. During that time, Jean and I became close friends. Matt and I were
talking recently about how close we were and he mentioned the word “twins”. I
think that’s a fitting descriptor of our bond. Talking with Jean was easy,
because we shared so much in common. We both liked to think things out and plan
ahead, as much as we realistically could. We had shared views on just about
everything – I mean…..everything! Politics, religion, social justice issues….you
name it. I’d hear a report on the news, or read something in the papers and I’d
immediately think, “Hmm. I can’t wait to talk with Jean about that! We are
going to have a good time dissecting that one!” And, guess what? We’d have fun,
poking holes in some dumb statement made by a politician (I hope we don’t have one
here with us) and wonder out loudly how on earth did such folks get elected,
always thanking God that we certainly had enough sense not to vote for him/her.
We’d joke that perhaps one of ought to run for office. We could certainly do better
than what we were seeing! At least there’d be some guarantee that the people
had someone with a brain, a bit of common sense and a heart for doing the right
thing.
So,
I speak to you today, as a friend, a dear friend of Jean’s; someone who shared
seminary classes, and chaplaincy training with Jean; someone who logged a lot
of miles, on the phone, getting together for lunch when our schedules allowed.
I speak to you today as someone who has been there for her when she needed me
to and someone who received Jean’s wisdom, love and encouragement when I needed
it. This is a hard place to be today, and I am honored, Bill, that you asked me
to do the homily today. I have a few thoughts I’d like to share with you that
might help us find some perspective. My hope and prayer is that somehow, these
words might help ease the pain and sadness we all share today. It is not going
away any time soon, but maybe, just maybe, we can embrace it, instead of
fearing it. Maybe, just maybe, we can embrace it, instead of avoiding it.
In
recent years, when Jean and I would talk, I’d end my calls with, “I love you
Jean.” She’d respond, “I know. I love you too, Paul”. Allow me to suggest to
you today that not only did Jean know that you loved her; she also loved you,
and that’s not news to you because…..you know. In keeping with that thought I
want to invite you to reflect with me on this thought: “I know”. In writing to
the church at Corinth, in 2 Corinthians chapter 5, and verse 1, the Apostle
Paul wrote: - “Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed,
we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human
hands.” Allow me to put some perspective on that might help us in this new
reality of the moment. Like a good Baptist preacher, I have three thoughts that
come to mind.
1) She knew she was losing
the battle
First,
Jean knew she was losing the battle. She knew that one day her physical
body (what the Apostle refers to as the earthly tent) would not be able to keep
the fight going. Sure, she wanted to be around for a bit longer. She had plans
to return to Johnstown and resettle here; to enjoy her family and relax, after
a life of service to others in the church, the schools, and in the community.
As the challenges of her health (that really appeared out of nowhere) loomed
large, Jean was acutely aware that her earthly tent was losing the battle. As
we talked about options and outcomes, I’d tell Jean that only she knew how she
felt; how her body felt. I further told her that she’ll know and when that time
comes, even though I’d be sad, she needed to tell me when that time came. So,
three weeks ago, to this day, Jean realized that and said to herself: “I know”
it is time. She wanted to keep on fighting. She wanted to fight her illness, not
for selfish reasons, but for everyone she cared about. Jean might have lived in
Pittsburgh, but her heart was always in Johnstown. She and I talked about you
guys all the time. I got family updates about her nephews and her cousins, the
twins, and everyone. She was the person who went grocery shopping with a dear
friend and seminary colleague who needed a friend when others were too busy to
care. She was the one who did not mind going on doctors’ visits with her friend
Patty and being support to her when she received a diagnosis that required
treatment. It was just Jean’s way. It was her way of showing that she cared
about what was going on with you. It was not just pure talk. And yet, one day, she
looked at all she was facing, weighed all the facts, examined all the
possibilities and admitted to herself: “I know”. She knew the fight was too
intense and she just was not winning. In her words, “Paul, I’m losing ground.”
She knew.
2) She knew she was
grounded in her faith
Secondly,
Jean knew what it meant to have faith, even when we ourselves at times struggle
with how that is and how we express that. Jean was always vocal about how
traditional religion tends to try to box folks into certain molds. As
chaplains, we saw our fair share of folks who did not fit the traditional molds
but, for whom their faith was just as deep as anyone else’s. It was always a
joy to talk with Jean about such matters. She was a brilliant woman, who had
the gift of being unsophisticated when talking about God and faith. I wish more
of us would display an unpretentious, “down-to-earth” outlook on issues of
faith. Somehow we manage to make faith and spirituality far too complicated,
when it’s really quite simple. For Jean, faith in God was important. It had to
be, when she had to jump through so many hoops in order to become a full elder
with the church. All she wanted to do was to be ordained to the Word and
Sacrament, so that she could fully serve as a hospital chaplain. That was her
passion and she pursued it with dogged determination. While that process was so
uncertain at times, one thing she was certain of was this: she knew she
was called of God. She knew God, and God knew her, and God knew of her desire
to serve God’s people in specialized ministries, even in the chaplaincy. And it
did happen, despite the obstacles. It was going to all come together. She knew.
A few weeks ago she said to me, “I don’t want to go now, but if I have to, it’s
okay. I’ve done all I needed to do. I am really okay”. She knew.
3) She knew there was a
new body awaiting her
Thirdly,
Jean not only knew that she was losing the battle with this earthly tent (this
physical body); not only did she know, with great conviction, that she had
faith; she also knew that there was a new body that awaited her beyond this
beyond this reality. That’s precisely what the Apostle Paul was talking about
when he wrote: Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed,
we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human
hands. That’s the whole purpose of having faith. It is that which sustains
you when all else is inadequate. It is not simply a way to explain away or wish
away, into denial, the hard, harsh things of life. Rather, faith gives
substance and meaning to those things that cause us to stop and evaluate
everything that is important in our lives.
One
thing I simply admired about Jean (and I know I’ve said it before) is that Jean
was never really sophisticated when she talked about matters of faith. She was
sure that things do get better, on the other side. That is our prayer, as we
gather here to reflect, to cry, to embrace each other. The sadness of this
moment is indeed great, and that’s okay. We do know, that Jean’s body is no
longer filled with life, but, as people of faith, we are confident that Jean
has a new body. Why do we know that? We
know that because Jean knows that. We know that because the Apostle Paul
assures us that when this reality ends for us, to quote him, “We have a
building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands”. He
knew and Jean knew that too!
CONCLUSION:
So,
as we have come together to remember Jean and to celebrate her life, we also
need to draw comfort from the words of the Apostle Paul as he wrote about this
changed reality – from death to eternal life. Hear his words again: - “Now
we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building
from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands.” I pose a
question to you. What do you know? While you are thinking about that, allow me
to suggest a few things. Know this: that you are loved. Jean loved each and
every one of you. Her family was everything to her. It was not just words that she
used. She followed that through in her actions. She was back here on visits as
often as she could. She made arrangements to be actively involved in caring for
her mother in her mom’s later years, before her mom predeceased her, at that
time spending more time in Johnstown than she did in Pittsburgh. Oh, and she
never forgot birthdays and special anniversaries and holidays. If anyone else forgot,
Jean did not. Her “Birthday Book” made certain of that! And those phone calls,
at times when you needed them, served to reinforce the fact that she loved you.
For
us, the words of the Apostle Paul are encouraging because they reinforce our
Christian faith that assures us that this is not the end. Yes, it is a change
in the way things have always been, and we who are left have no choice but to
try to adjust. However, as Jean knew, so we also know, that when the current
form in which we exist is no longer, “we have a building from God, an
eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands”. My prayer is that all
of us, collectively, will be able to not just hear the words of the Apostle, but
to also echo his words as our own confession of faith and say, “We know”. And
so, we await the day when those words will indeed become more than a statement
of faith but an affirmation of our transition to that eternal place of peace
and rest; that place where we know Jean is. Amen.
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