This homily was preached at the Burial Service for Harriet Gladys Mattheis (1928 – 2022) by Fr. Daniel London at Christ Episcopal Church in Eureka CA on December 2, 2022
“The sure provisions of my God attend me all my days; oh, may thy house be mine abode and all my work be praise. There would I find a settled rest, while others come and go; no more a stranger or a guest, but like a child at home.”[1]
This poetic paraphrase of Psalm 23 was written by the godfather of Christian hymnody, Isaac Watts, with whom Harriet Gladys Mattheis was certainly familiar. Harriet made God’s house (the church) her abode; and all her work was God’s praise. Whether it was directing a pageant or composing a Christmas Cantata or playing the piano or pipe organ or violin in worship, Harriet was much more than a stranger or guest in the church. She was like a child at home. She loved listening to our Kegg Pipe Organ here at Christ Church; and even when she was not able to join us in person, she continued worshipping with us by praying for our ministers and reading the Scriptures and prayers in our Sunday bulletins each week. Her beloved daughter Pam, who is a deacon of this parish and an archdeacon of this diocese, would bring Harriet the church bulletins each week. Although I met Harriet only a couple times, I felt I already knew her well through her daughter Pam, who has been such an amazing gift to the church and to me. I’m grateful to Harriet for raising such a wonderful daughter and for instilling in her daughter an enthusiasm for music and teaching and a desire to make God’s house her abode and all her work God’s praise. I’m also grateful to Harriet for her faithful and steadfast prayers. She was a woman of prayer. Pam told me that Harriet kept a photo of my wife and me in her room and prayed for us each day. The photo was taken on Laetare Sunday next to some pink camellia flowers; and I don’t think her attraction to that particular photo was accidental. Laetare Sunday is the Fourth Sunday in the season of Lent. Lent is a penitential season of fasting and repentance and self-denial and prayer, but Laetare is the one Sunday in that season when we are called to “rejoice!” Laetare is Latin for “rejoice.” We wear rose pink vestments on that day and we celebrate the gift of joy because we know that Easter is coming. It’s right around the corner. And on Easter we celebrate the promise of the resurrection, which we celebrate today. I feel like the meaning of Laetare Sunday captures so much about the spirit of Harriet Mattheis, who understood the absolute importance of prayer and repentance and who also knew how to bask in God’s joy, especially through the gift of music. Today we give thanks for Harriet and we grieve, but we also honor her by discovering joy in the promise of the resurrection.
There’s only one other day in the church calendar that is specifically devoted to joy and that is the Third Sunday of Advent, which is coming soon. It is called “Gaudete Sunday” and Gaudete is also Latin for “Rejoice!” It’s the only other Sunday when we wear the rose-pink vestments. And Gaudete Sunday, which changes each year (this year it’s Dec 11), happens to be the day that Harriet Gladys Mattheis was born. I looked back at an old 1928 calendar and learned that Gaudete Sunday that year fell on December 16th, the day Harriet was born. Joy was Harriet’s birthright and eternal joy is her forever home.
Pam knows how much I look to the church calendar for insight into the lives of those who have passed on into Glory. Although he’s not on our calendar, Pam informed me a couple times that her mother was born on the birthday of another composer who played the piano and organ and violin and whose music has been played in God’s house. Ludwig van Beethoven was born on December 16th; and when I looked at the calendar for 1770, it turns out the composer who wrote the “Ode to Joy” was also born on Gaudete Sunday.
What more evidence do we need to believe that Harriet’s invitation to us is to receive “the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit,” as the prophet Isaiah says. Harriet’s love for God was profound and her joy was contagious and she would want each one of us to know the Gospel (the Good News!) that we are beloved children of God, saved by grace through faith in the life, death and joyful resurrection of Jesus Christ her Lord and Good Shepherd. She would want us to know that Christ is risen and we too shall be raised!
So, as we give thanks for Harriet and as we grieve, may we remember above all to rejoice that she made God’s house her abode and all her work God’s praise. May we discover hope-filled joy in knowing that she now has found a most settled rest in God’s arms, not as a stranger or a guest, but like a child at home. May we rejoice even today because one day we will see her again and join with her in singing songs of joyful praise. I imagine Harriet, who was born on Gaudete Sunday, is inviting us to reflect on these poetic words that inspired Beethoven’s Ode to Joy, translated loosely from the German:
Friends, instead of songs of sadness, let’s sing a cheerful song of joy!
Let’s sing to Joy!
Joy!
Joy!
Joy!
Joy, you are the divine spark within us.
We enter your sanctuary, with fire in our hearts.
And your magical powers bind together what others have put asunder.
You make all men and women feel like sisters and brothers
and you lead us, like a shepherd, into the embrace of our divine mother
where we are kissed with a million kisses,
and where our cups runneth over.
Joy, you make us shine like the stars in their splendor
Like the angels who stand by the heavenly throne
And you inspire us to praise our loving Creator
With songs sung as freely as a child who feels at home.[2]
Let’s sing a more joyful song, friends!
Let’s sing about Joy!
Let’s sing to Joy!
Joy!
Joy!
Joy!
You are the divine spark within us, the Daughter of Elysium.
We enter your heavenly sanctuary, drunk on fiery libations;
and your magical powers bind together what others have put asunder.
You make all men and women feel like sisters and brothers
and you lead us, like a shepherd, into the embrace of our divine mother
where we are kissed a million times, more than the number of stars in the sky.
[1] Isaac Watts, “My Shepherd Will Supply My Need”
[2] “Ode to Joy” by Friedrich Schiller. Distilled by Daniel London.
