Hello, good afternoon. It’s good to see you all, and an honor to officiate this service for a beloved matriarch of St James. With us today are Ann’s daughters, Annie, Sara and Linda and their husbands; her brother, Robert and his wife; sister-in-law, Meg; a granddaughter and niece -- did I miss anyone? And of course many parishioners who loved and knew her well.
In proper Anglican (or Episcopal) fashion, which Ann would have expected, we’ll be sharing our memories of her at the reception following the service, and I have a feeling we’re going to hear some good stories. I hope you don’t mind if I share one here. It’s of my first encounter with her. This would have been nine years ago, in 2016. I was new and still setting up my office when Ann came in, holding a copy of the parish directory. She walked around behind my desk, pulled up a chair, and went through that family by family, every man, woman and child, giving me everything she felt I needed to know about them.
I took notes, in the margins. I kept it for years but must have tossed it in one of my cleaning frenzies, to my great regret. But somewhere out there, like the Book of Life itself, is a summary of you according to Ann Cashen. And it was probably right!
When she moved to Chatham we were sad to see her go, but happy that you got the years with her that you did.
Ann was an indispensable part of St James for decades. You’ll hear more at the reception, but she was on the Altar Guild, ran the Memorial Committee that helped furnish our building, she served on the vestry, helped run the annual Rummage Sale, taught Sunday school … there’s probably very little that goes on here that Ann didn’t affect in some way. Perhaps of greatest significance, she helped found the Nursery school, in 1967, and became its second director, after Janet Darlington. Thousands of children since then have come through these doors and gotten a good start to life with a solid Episcopal education.
Her mark on this parish and this community is indelible, and we’re grateful.
This is a quiet but profound week in the church. Because, even as we continue to celebrate the resurrection with confidence and joy, we also in a few days will read the story of Thomas the apostle who insisted on seeing the risen Jesus for himself—not just on seeing, but on touching the wounds in his side, for himself. That’ll be the reading on Sunday, and it comes from near the end of the Gospel of John. The first time the risen Lord appears to his followers, Thomas isn’t there. He comes back from wherever he’d been and hears that he missed Jesus, but rather than take the apostles’ word for it, he insists on seeing and touching Jesus for himself. A week later, Jesus returns, and Thomas is granted his request.
That’s the best known passage about Thomas, and because of it, he’s often referred to as “Doubting Thomas.”
He also makes an appearance in our Gospel reading today. It’s a wonderful reading, and a common one for funerals. It comes from Jesus’ last supper speech given to the disciples. Jesus knows he’s about to leave them, and he’s comforting them with assurances of his presence, even after he’s gone. Moreover, as he tells them here, they will soon follow where he goes. “In my father’s house there are many mansions, and I go to prepare a place for you. And you know the way to where I am going.” To which Thomas replies, skeptically--or practically--“Lord, we do not know where you are going, so how can we know the way?”
If it weren’t for Thomas' role in the church calendar this week, I might not have noticed him here, in this reading. Is it too much to say that I detect a little bit of Ann in him? Thomas the skeptic, but more than that, the practical one, willing to jump in and say what others may be thinking, to insist on a satisfactory answer. We don’t know where you’re going. You haven’t explained that. You didn’t appear to me, and I won’t believe until I can not only see but also touch you.
Speaking anachronistically, Thomas would have been a good Episcopalian. He wasn’t afraid to express some doubt. And his faith wasn’t grounded on hearsay, or abstract theory, but in the practice of it. We come to know God through our senses, through the ritual of receiving the Eucharist, through the discipline of tending the altar, in the service to others’ needs. It’s not in dogma but rather in the tangible daily life of being a Christian that we encounter Christ and come to believe.
I think about all those years of hands-on service acted out by Ann, and the mountain of faith built from all those little acts.
Today we celebrate her practical, worldly faith that contributed greatly to this congregation, and that has surely secured her a place among the saints. May her memory be a joy to us, and may we, for our part, carry on her work and also her bright, industrious spirit, for which we’ll always be grateful. Amen.