Dear Saints,
As a parishioner was leaving church yesterday following Harry Pritchett's funeral service, he shook my hand and said, "I'm going to remember that for a long, long time." I felt exactly the same way. There are occasions when the best part of my job is to take a front row seat and watch this church in action. Martha Sterne and Barbara Brown Taylor offering something of an ecclesiastical double act, asking one another questions about what it was like to work alongside Harry's ball of Alabama energy. Laura English Robinson singing, 'Give Me Jesus'. Ray Chenault playing, Sondheim's 'Send in the Clowns'. Craig Cleland's eloquence. The choir's majestic beauty. And yes, of course, the Pritchett family, not only leading the congregation in singing Harry's "God is a Surprise", but leading the congregation out of the building altogether to "When the Saints Go Marching In", second line band and New Orleans umbrellas in tow. It was an all of All Saints' kind of service; an all of All Saints' kind of day. And I loved it. I gazed at Harry's cremains, filled with a swell of love and gratitude for him and for the eclectic family reunion we were having. Sometimes, this is the best job in the world.
I've thought a lot in the past week since Harry's passing about the church All Saints' has been. That page in our history book now turned, I find myself giving thanks for the church we are becoming. This MLK weekend, our sanctuary will once more be filled with jazz - a concert on Saturday night and jazz for us all to sing on Sunday morning. Come any Sunday evening to the Welcome Table service at five, and you'll find yourself singing jazz, and maybe even swaying your hips and smiling as you do. It’s a little infectious.
We are in so many ways fulfilling the vision of being a welcome table for all God’s people. This week I gathered online with about twenty or so folks taking an adult inquirers class, most of whom are brand new to All Saints', and I was just amazed at the diversity of journeys that brings people here. Some find their way in through the church doors on a Sunday, but plenty of others find another door in - Threads on a Thursday, Refugee ministries on a Saturday, or carols at the MARTA station, or worship in the park. "In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places"; the work of the church is to keep on setting the doors open until everyone discovers they also have a place, they also belong to God.
For all of you who walked with this parish through those Pritchett years, thank you for keeping the fires of faith and hope burning. Even as we turn the page on those wonderful memories of life together the saints go marching on. It has always been so, and always will. Faith forged together is a process of perpetual reinvention, a never-ending revelation of God's grace and love. God alone knows where exactly we are marching to, but we put one foot in front of the other fully confident that the One who calls is faithful.
Before we step boldly on, though, for one last time, Harry, you can have the final word,
Seek our God in hope,
moving as He goes
With judgement, grace and love
in anything that grows.
In anything at all, he suddenly may be,
‘Cause everything is His, you know,
even you and me!
Well, surprise, surprise,
God is a surprise,
right before your eyes, it’s baffling to the wise.
Surprise, surprise, God is a surprise,
open up your eyes and see.
Thank you for everything, good and faithful servant.
Peace,
Read the full E-News here, including the link to watch the funeral recording.
