Homily for Fr. David Paul Shewmaker’s Celebration of Life

Readings for Fr. David Shewmaker’s Celebration of Life.

Lamentations 3:22-26
Romans 8:14-19, 34-35, 37-39
Matthew 6:25 – 34

This homily was preached at Christ Episcopal Church in Eureka CA on February 25, 2023.

One week after Fr. David Shewmaker died, he appeared to me in a dream looking especially spry, slim, dressed in a denim jacket, and nearly leaping with vivacity. When we embraced, I felt lifted by a light-hearted buoyancy, almost like we were bouncing on a trampoline together. I started to become lucid in the dream and realized that I had been hoping for something like this since I sometimes dream of deceased loved ones not long after they die. I tried to seize this opportunity by asking him, “So, Fr. David, what do you want me to say when I preach at your funeral?” I tried to remain conscious enough to remember what he was going to say but not so conscious that I woke up from the dream. Fr. David answered me with a level of urgency and said, “Don’t worry about the quad.” I had no idea what he was talking about and before I could inquire more deeply about the quad, I woke up.

Puzzled and disappointed with this enigmatic phrase, I initially decided not to preach on it. And then I read Fr. Michael Kerrick’s first memory of Fr. Shewmaker, which was of him walking across the quad at seminary in Berkeley, which is now a struggling seminary that has recently decided that they no need to sell their quad. So, I wondered if Fr. David’s words were an assurance that although the church and its seminaries are in decline, we need not worry.

And so, I reflected more on these words that Fr. David spoke to me in what appeared to be his heavenly body; and in those words, I began to hear a clear invitation which he frequently offered me and many others throughout his life and that is the invitation to let go, to let go of our anxieties and to hold everything lightly, trusting in God’s love and providence. Even while I performed Last Rites with his family and anointed his body, which was covered by this Navajo rainbow blanket (which I instantly associated with the rainbow bodies attained by enlightened contemplatives), I felt his spirit was still saying, “Let go – let go. I’m no longer there. I am now enjoying the overflowing abundance of life in ways that you couldn’t even imagine. Let go.” I felt his spirit saying the same thing to me as we prepared for this service: “Don’t worry about it. Let it go,” words that he would often say to our Altar Guild Directress when she would worry about liturgical minutiae. Don’t worry about it.

On the side table by the chair where David was sitting when he died, I noticed a book with a bookmark in it. It was the novel titled A Man Called Ove [uuh va] by Swedish author Fredrick Backman. David’s daughter Megan had highly recommended to me the recent film adaptation titled A Man Called Otto starring Tom Hanks, which I watched this last week and experienced as a kind of parting gift from Fr. David. Without spoiling it, the film is all about letting go of anger and resentment, letting go of irritations and obsessions, and learning to bask in our belovedness. I commend the film to you and even invite you to receive it as a gift from Fr. David who is still teaching us now to let go.

Fr. David seemed to be so driven by this invitation to let go that sometimes he had a hard time letting go of that! Ironically, sometimes his grip on the idea of letting go seemed to become almost a little too tight. Letting go was so important to him because he knew how crucial it was for his own spiritual health, and because he had his own struggles with this lifelong process, his own wrestling with the ego. In one of his poems, he writes, “I have looked inside and seen both Jesus and the monster dwelling / Quietly I have tiptoed around them both / The love of either seems impossible to bear / The wrath of either is so great a fear / To bring out Christ I must [have the courage to] most intentionally [let go] / and watch the monster run away.”[1]

One of the most ancient and powerful ways to intentionally let go and “watch the monster run away” is through the practice of Centering Prayer, a discipline that Fr. David practiced faithfully on a regular basis for almost 50 years. In this spiritual practice, one is invited to let go of everything except the love of God by repeating a sacred word, like “Abba” or “Father” or “Love” as a way of returning to God when our thoughts drift away. Just as Jesus taught his listeners to let go of their anxieties and seek first God’s kingdom so too does the practice of Centering Prayer teach us to let go of all our thoughts and ideas and simply rest easy in God’s steadfast and loving embrace. Fr. Shewmaker launched a Centering Prayer group here at Christ Church that continues to meet faithfully today; and he found passion in teaching and leading others in this ancient practice. One member of the group recalled a story Fr. David would sometimes share to help illustrate the dynamic of this discipline, a story that reminds us that this priest was also a father, a husband, a brother, and a son. He said that when his son, James, was a young boy playing soccer, and David would watch him by the sidelines, James would frequently run to the sidelines just to physically touch his father for a few moments before going back on the field. And he would do this several times throughout a game. That’s what Centering Prayer is like, David taught. It’s a way to periodically step away from the often-hectic game of life, to let go of the stresses, and to reconnect with the love that matters most, the love of our heavenly Father, our Abba, who watches over us, beaming with pride and delight.

It seems clear that it was while deep in this practice of Centering Prayer that Fr. David passed away. He died while praying. Let that sink in. While deep in the practice of letting go, he let go completely and thus saved his best teaching for last. What better way could he invite us to let go and rest in God’s love then by letting go completely in prayer and falling softly into the warm embrace of his Abba.

During these memorial services, I usually offer a threefold invitation: to give thanks, to grieve, and to discover joyful hope in the promise of the resurrection. I still invite us to do those three things and yet I feel compelled today to offer a fourth invitation. The trinity of invitations has become a quadrinity, which may or may not be related to the “quad” David was referring to, but either way, I’m not going to worry about it. The fourth encouragement is an invitation for us all to spend some brief time together silently in Centering Prayer right now. I can’t imagine a better tribute to Fr. David.

So, I’m going to let Fr. David’s prayer bowl ring out and when I do, let us be silent together, knowing that silence is God’s first language. Everything else is commentary. In that silence, you are invited to silently repeat a sacred word like “God” or “Christ” or “Love” or “Abba” (which is Aramaic for “Father” or “Daddy”) and use that sacred word as a way to let go of everything and return to your belovedness in God’s eyes, the love that matters most. Fr. David would, of course, elaborate a lot more on the instructions, but I’m going to stop there and let the spirit of Fr. David and God speak to us through the silence. When the silence is over, I will ring the bowl once more.

Silence.

Amen.

[1] David Shewmaker, “To bring out Christ I must do nothing / Most intentionally / For both the inside Jesus and the inside monster / Are neither He nor Satan / But me / Incompletely Christ / Because I have not yet the courage / To forsake violence / And watch the monster run away.” Written July 30, 2010.