a sermon preached at the Service of Witness to the Resurrection in Celebration of the life of the Rev. William “Bill” Schram – 6/30/24
I begin with thanks.
Thanks to God for this day. A day made by God and given to us.
Thanks to Jenny, Melissa, Jessica, Katie and all the members of the Rev. William C. Schram’s family for the honor of preaching on this occasion. Thanks also to the family for the privilege of wearing Bill’s robe.
Thanks to Rev. Chris and the session of the First Presbyterian Church at Caldwell for the invitation to participate in the service.
Thanks to all who have gathered in person or online to celebrate the life of this good man and faithful servant, to stand in solidarity with his family, and to proclaim the resurrection in which Bill believed and stood.
And yet, despite the gratitude which washes over me, I do not want to be here.
I do not want to be in this space. In this pulpit. On this day. At this time. For this reason.
I want Bill to grow old and enjoy life with Jenny and their family.
I want my friend to bask in retirement, alternating between moments of stupefying boredom and sublime, manic overload.
I want to attend Presbyterian gatherings and walk down the hall and unexpectedly, like some form of Presbyterian Spanish Inquisition, recognize that familiar laugh I first head almost fifty years ago.
I want to inwardly groan when I see hump day humor memes and bad dad jokes posted on Facebook. And sometimes I would outwardly groan.
I want to receive messages with the word of the day. Long, unpronounceable words whose definitions bring a tear to my eye and a smile to my lips as they remind me of life shared.
I want to rejoice with Bill when the Lions or the Jets or even the Bears finally win the Super Bowl – after the Steelers put together a streak of ten consecutive championships.
I want to share photos and stories of grandchildren.
That’s what I want. I do not want to be here.
And yet, the way life has played out, I would not be in any other space at this time and for this reason.
Everything has a season. Every matter has a time. That’s what the writer of Ecclesiastes tells us. The writer goes on to list many aspects of life.[i] Implying that each time or season happens discretely – one moment following the other. We imagine time as a straight line. Moving from one moment to the next. That understanding contains truth. But not all the truth.
As we live, times and seasons often, maybe always, come together simultaneously. As they do today. We have multiple matters on our mind. We gather suspended between the brevity and the beauty of life. We know the certainty of death and the undying reality of love. All things must, and do, pass. Love never ends.
The time and the times of our lives – the purposes and matters of living – the seasons – intersect in intriguing ways. Perhaps that happens every day. It certainly does today.
This is a day of many seasons. A moment of multiple, intertwining times.
This is a time to give thanks to God for the life and love of Bill Schram. For a season, God shared Bill with us. Through Bill’s love, God touched and blessed us. Even those who never met Bill in person have met him through Jen, their children, grandchildren, and family. However we met Bill, we are better—our lives are richer—for having known him. Thanks be to God for the gift of Bill and for the love we shared; the love that through the mystery of the Communion of Saints, we continue to share.
This is a time to honor ministry. Bill served the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) in multiple congregations in multiple states for almost 44 years. Through sermons preached, prayers said, justice work done, congregational transitions facilitated, pastoral visits made, hands held, great humor and even bad jokes, Bill faithfully followed Jesus Christ.
When we were in seminary. Bill had this habit of breaking out in song from time to time. The same song. A song of sublime musicality and profound, poetic lyrical power.
A sunbeam, a sunbeam,
Jesus wants me for a sunbeam.
Occasionally he would add a liturgical dance as he sang.
That may make you smile. It may make you laugh. But if you ever worked with Bill or if you ever attended a church that Bill served, you know the song described the man. Bill was a sonbeam. A S O N beam, sharing love, seeking justice, living good news and all the time pointing to Jesus.
This is a time to remember. We remember shared life. Tender mercies. Blessings. Over the course of a life well lived and love freely shared, there are a lot of memories. All of us have them. Some specific to our experiences with Bill and some shared with others. Our memories rush over us at times. And at times they sneak up on us. We may tear up without warning. Or we may smile at what seems like odd moments. In both cases, this happens because a memory of Bill enters our heart.
This is a time to grieve. Death has come for Bill. Too soon. Too young. Death has come. As we do with any loss, we grieve.
Grief is the raggedy emotion rooted in our our values. We grieve because we love. We grieve to honor who and what is dear to us.
Grief brings common elements. We may weep as Jesus wept at the death of his friend Lazarus. We may ask questions. We may deny what happened. We may become angry in many ways, even angry at God. We may feel paralyzed and unable to function. We may want to withdraw completely. We may eat too much. We may not eat enough.
You may have been on this roller coaster journey of grief since you learned of Bill’s death. I know I have. I have wept. I have asked questions. And I have been, and I am, more than a little pissed at God. At times death may be welcome. Always death is part of life. But that does not mean I have to like it in every instance. In Bill’s case, I do not like it.
This is a time to grieve together. Grief is natural and human. It is individual. But we can support one another. We walk the shadowed valley of grief for ourselves But, we do not have to walk it alone. We can share memories, tell stories, sit together in silence. Provide a cup of coffee, offer a listening ear, extend a helping hand. Together, we can make our way through grief.
This is a time to hope. We grieve. But even in our deepest grief, hope remains. Paul told the Thessalonians not to “grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have died.”[ii]
The Second Letter to the Corinthians tells us that “we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.” Do I understand that verse completely? Do I know what that house will look like? What style it will be? The floor plan?
Of course not.
But in this I trust, by this I seek to live. God is love. Jesus proclaimed that God is love. In the power of the Holy Spirit, Jesus lived God’s love.
God is love. God loves us. Now. Always. Unconditionally. God’s love never ends. And God’s love is stronger than death. When the powers of domination and oppression sought to put an end to Jesus and his message of love, they failed. Oh, they tortured and humiliated and killed him. They put him in a tomb. They sealed the tomb. But three days later God raised Jesus to new life. I don’t understand what happened. Nor do I understand how whatever happened, happened. I can’t explain it and will not try.
But I affirm that resurrection happened. I affirm resurrection because of the experience of the followers of Jesus through the ages. Because of my experience of the church today. Because more than 2,000 years later, every day and in countless ways, followers of Jesus like Bill share unconditional love, modeled on the love of God revealed in Jesus.
This is a time to say to death, with breaking, aching hearts and shaking, trembling voices, “Christ is risen! Christ is risen, indeed!” Alleluia.
In life and in death, we belong to God.
In life and in death, we belong to God.
The Rev. William C. Schram, my friend Bill, is held securely in the loving care of God.
Each of us and all of us are held securely in the loving care of God.
Now and always.
There simply is no better place for any of us to be.
And this brings us full circle. We started with thanks. We close with thanks.
For the life and love and faith and work of God’s beloved child Bill Schram. For the love we shared. For the love we share. For the love of God which is the source of Bill’s love and our love and which holds us fast. Thanks be to God.
Alleluia.
Amen.
[i] Ecclesiastes 3:1-8.
[ii] I Thessalonians 4:13-14.
Along the Graybeard Trail 