Steven Earl Gordon, RIP

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newtown, Connecticut

April 9, 2022

The Rev. Nancy E., Gossling

If there are worse times in our earthly lives, I can't imagine them being much worse than what you, the family members of Earl Gordon, have endured this week. Shock is like an arctic chill blowing unexpectedly on a warm summer day. It’s like a volcano erupting, and sending hot lava down upon your village. It’s like dust descending from a nuclear bomb, reminding us how fragile our human lives really are. Such is the season of Lent when we remember that we are dust and to dust we shall return.

After his son died, Belden C. Lane wrote, “There are times when the soul needs a canyon. A wide empty space unoffended by rage, un-insulted by tears. What are canyons, anyway, but absences, losses, vast places for pouring out our grief.”  (Christian Century, 3/9/22 , p20)

Having suffered the recent loss of your beloved husband, Laurie, and your loving father, Greg and Zach, and to all the extended family members and friends wherever you are, you may feel at times that this tragic death is almost too much to bear. Earl was too young. It was too soon. He was too good of a human being to suddenly disappear from our lives. 

In a Grief Observed, C.S. Lewis describes such a loss to be like a person who has lost a leg. Crutches and prosthetics may help us initially, and surely they will in the days to come, but the absence of a body part will always remain. And Earl was a member of the body of Christ, and a beloved member of his family. So how do you mend a broken heart? Or replace a piece of our Body that seems to be gone forever?

During this initial time of mourning, we will all cope with feelings of sadness, guilt, anger, yearning, confusion, and fear. In her book A Time to Grieve, the author writes that “the death of a loved one is, for most of us, the most profound emotional experience we will ever have to endure.” (Intro) There is no set schedule for grief. No right or wrong way to do it. It is our individual journeys that we take into that vast and deep canyon, sometimes accompanied by others, and more often, usually at 3 o’clock in the morning, when we walk alone. Our cries of grief will echo in that canyon.

“Canyons, in the end, have their way,” wrote Belden Lane. “They require our acceptance of emptiness. To encounter a canyon, we have to resist the temptation to fill what needs to be left open. Only love can fill the deepest void of the human heart. And all God needs is a hole that’s left open” to let the light shine in and to mend our broken hearts. 

This past week, when traveling in my car, I would listen to the radio station called The Message. I needed some blessed assurance, some renewal of my faith, and the song entitled Scars in Heaven helped me to cope. Casting Crowns sang, “There's a wound in my heart where something is missing. And they tell me that it's gonna heal with time.” So now is the acceptable time, I tell my Lord.

Distracted by my thoughts, I am guilty of driving too fast, perhaps even recklessly, and so I ask you, who drives carefully at 55 mph these days except Earl? Unfortunately, being careful doesn’t always protect us from accidents and heartbreaks. And so, after the dust has settled, and the merciful numbness of our shock wears off, we can begin our process of healing, recognizing the fullness of our emotions, and the deep love that we have for Earl. 

We may be afraid of that deep canyon that looms before us. Our words may catch in our throats, our voices will crack and our chins will quiver, and we will seek relief in a variety of ways. Our minds will get stuck in endless loops, repeating those groundhog day questions, like the arm of a record player stuck on the groove of an old vinyl LP. Angry, we may cover our deep sorrow, by shaking our fists at God and snapping at others. With eyes overflowing with tears, we will wonder if our pain will ever subside. And some of us will ask God to fill the void and heal the devastation that we feel in our hearts.

Earl was a man full of grace and truth, a kind man full of compassion and mercy, a little man with a big heart, and a good man we were privileged to know and to love. In this sacred space, in this community of faith, and in this sanctuary, which is a safe haven for all people, Earl served as an usher for others in their times of sorrow. He was a willing servant to this church community and to this town; and he made a difference in people’s lives throughout our world. Reserved in his words, his twinkling eyes and his generous smile clearly communicated love. 

Earl was a beloved child of God, who shared his life and his love in his own gifted and unique ways for over 66 years. He was a great cook, an accomplished businessman, and a generous host.  Earl had an adventurous spirit: riding his bicycle in China, taking railways and airplanes to explore different cities, driving around islands in a Jeep with Laurie, and hiking or skiing on the trails in the Adirondacks. Earl was Craig’s back up man for our snowmobile adventures, preparing us for our rides, and digging us out of the deep snow when we got stuck. 

We all have special memories of Earl and I hope you will continue to share them with others over the days to come. I remember the deep love that Earl had for his family, and the gratitude he had for his friends and his work. He was my dinner partner at our last supper together, with his good ear on my left side. We sipped red wine together as we ate the feast of food that lay before us. Before the meals that he and Laurie prepared for our community of 12, Earl would say grace. His prayers were always thoughtful, faithful, and heartfelt. Still waters run deep even in these empty canyons of our lives.

Times like these raise questions about heaven and earth; and we may wonder if there is a Resurrection from the dead, and a life in the world to come. If there is any truth to our faith, we may wonder occasionally, what’s up with Earl now? Is he at peace? Does he know our pain? Is he free from his own? And does he feel our endless love? 

When a little girl woke up in the middle of the night during a violent thunderstorm, her father tried to comfort her by assuring her that God was always there. In response, with tears running down her face, the little girl cried out, “Yes, but I want God with skin on Her.” 

In our journeys from birth to death, we need each other to help us, to care and protect us, the way Earl did for so many people, most especially his family. We need people with skin on them to offer us words of comfort, food for the soul, and strength for our journeys. As you enter into your own canyons of emptiness, talk to God. Talk to Earl. And talk to those whom you love and trust.

In our salvation story, God promises that God will never forsake nor abandon us, nor will God ever leave us comfortless. After his own death, Jesus promised that he would send God’s Holy Spirit to be with us, wiping away our tears, offering us hope, and giving us a peace that passes all understanding. Despite our incomprehensible grief, Jesus reminds us “not to let our hearts be troubled but to trust in God. Believe in God, believe also in me,” he said.  (Jn 14.10)

In God’s house there are many dwelling places, and there is room in the inn for us all. There is a feast of food and well-aged wines ready and waiting on the table. When we arrive there someday, perhaps Earl will usher us into God’s kingdom, pull out a chair for us like the gentleman that he was, and then he will say grace. Then, and only then, will our hearts be fully healed and God’s mission of reconciliation will be complete.

At his own last supper, Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, you will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born, she forgets the anguish. Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy. And on that day,” Jesus told his disciples, “you will no longer ask me anything.’ (Jn 16:20-23) 

So, today is our time for both grief and for the celebration of a life well-lived and a man well-loved.

I hope you can hear us now, dear Earl, and feel the overwhelming love that we all have for you. Rest in peace, dear friend. We thank God for the light of Christ that shines in our darkness, and for the love of God that is poured into our broken hearts. We thank God for you, Earl, and that the only scars in heaven are on the hands that hold you now.