Luke 9:28-36
February 15
Eric Barreto
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Psalm 112
February 8
David A. Davis
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“For the righteous will never be moved; they will be remembered forever.”

Louise Goss was the most elegant and eloquent woman of faith. Her passion and gift for music, her life-long commitment as a music educator, and her deep and abiding faith, it all came together in her in a way that made her an absolute connoisseur of Christian worship. And she would wear that mantle of authority with such humility and a commitment to never say an unkind word about anybody. She was a member of this congregation for 69 years. She joined the great cloud of witnesses a few months shy of her 100^th birthday. I once went to visit Louise after Easter in her room at the old Merwick Long Term Care Center behind the YM/YWCA campus. Seems strange to say it, but there was a heat wave that early spring. Only hot air was blowing out of the HVAC unit in Louise’s room. It was really uncomfortable in there. “Louise, can you believe this heat?’ I said with a groan. “David, I don’t think in all of my life I have seen a string of more beautiful days. They’ve just been stunning, haven’t they?” There in a room with barely a view outside to creation, the words were said with such joy, and fulfillment, and contentment, and gratitude, and affirmation, and it was so clear that her words went far beyond the weather! It was her summary statement of life: a string of more beautiful days.

I remember an Advent Sunday at the church door. Louse Goss just beamed with joy, and as I bent down to greet her, she took two hands off her walker and put them on my cheeks, and said, “David, that was the best Advent service I have ever experienced.” I teased her and said, “Louise, you told me that last year!” She didn’t miss a beat. Right away, Louise said, “I know, and it just keeps getting better!” It occurs to me that she was talking about more than a hymn, or a prayer, or a worship service. Louise was sharing her affirmation of faith and life in the Body of Christ. No one could greatly delight in the Lord like Louise Goss.

“For the righteous will never be moved; they will be remembered forever.”

Bob and Helen Duncan moved into the Glen Acres neighborhood in the early 1960’s. Established by the Princeton Housing Group, Glen Acres was an intentionally integrated neighborhood right off Alexander Road, just this side of Rt 1. Bob died in 2019, and Helen moved not too long ago to Reston Va to be near family. After Bob died, a church member wrote to tell me of the conversation he had with Bob when he was a relatively new member of the church, and Bob and another elder came to see him on behalf of the nominating committee, asking him to become an elder. Bob explained a fundamental part of Presbyterian Church governance that maintains that each elder is not expected to represent or vote the will of the congregation. No, each elder is to discern the will of God and vote their own conscience as led by the Spirit. Bob said it better. He told the much younger church member that  “each elder is to ask themselves ‘what would Jesus do’”. Of course, Bob Duncan wasn’t referring to some kind of pious, self-righteous morality. He was referring to leaders in the church committed to welcoming the stranger, feeding the hungry, visiting the sick, showing mercy, and speaking for justice and righteousness. Few embodied this congregation’s commitment to justice more than Bob Duncan.

Several years ago, Bob and Bill Wakefield were invited to speak at Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church in NYC to share Nassau’s ministries of immigration and refugee justice. They told the story of John Nasir. Along with others, Bob and Bill worked tirelessly to get John, an undocumented immigrant, released from the Elizabeth detention center. During the question and answers up there in the adult ed class at 5^th Avenue,  a member of the church asked them about all the time, effort, and legal fees spent for just one person. They both shared with me later how stunned they were by the question and the tone of the questioner.  It was Bill Wakefield who responded, “Well, how else would you do it?” Bill Wakefield also told me in no uncertain terms that his passion for social justice and the gospel and Matthew 25 was inspired by Bob Duncan. A light rising in the darkness shining for mercy and justice.

“For the righteous will never be moved; they will be remembered forever.”

Just the other day, I asked at a staff meeting if folks remembered the Sunday morning when Ruth Wyatt called into worship from the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge. We didn’t have the technology we have now in this room, but John Baker, our sound engineer at the time, made it work. Ruth had brain cancer. Ruth and her family joined a walk to raise awareness and money for research. What I remember most about that moving morning, as I stood here at the pulpit talking to Ruth, was how Ruth just kept saying “thank you” over and over again. Like so many of the followers of Jesus I have visited over the years who were enduring horribly disease, one always came away from a visit with Ruth being humbled by what she gave to you, even at her sickest.

Ruth died almost 20 years ago, but I still remember the visits. Ruth always said thank you, no matter what was being done for her or who was doing it. Ruth was more inclined to enjoy every conversation and to crave the laughter when a friend would bring some stories rather than wrestle with questions that had no answers. Ruth would rise to the occasion of a visit so others could feel a bit more comfortable. She craved intentional conversations with those closest to her. She basked in the unquantifiable love of her family, her friends, her church, and her God. She was content to relish the treasures of life even in the midst of illness. She never let the brokenness of her body take away from the God-given treasure of her life and the treasure of her hope for the life to come. Her heart was firm and secure in the Lord. Her heart was steady and not afraid.

“For the righteous will never be moved; they will be remembered forever.”

I watched Jim Fitzpatrick sit in a pew over by that window and shed tears during at least one hymn every Sunday for pretty much sixteen years. The son of a Methodist preacher, Jim craved the hymns and preaching of the church like the food we eat and the air we breathe. In April of 2014, Jim wrote a note to the Session of Nassau Church.

“I will never forget the time when I was listening to David Davis as he was at the peroration pitch of deliverance. I was so engrossed to the extent of not watching my speedometer and ran right into a Maryland speed trap for a cost of over $200. I was not dangerous; I was just enthralled with what David was saying. It was worth the fine, but I could not persuade the state trooper that this fine should be better put to use in our hunger offering. When I sayeth unto him verily, verily that was the case, the cop sayeth back to me in clear, definitive terms that I could my verilys and Maryland would keep the money.”

Jim was a man of many words, both in his speaking and in his writing. That might be a bit of an understatement. To listen to him tell a story at a dinner party in his home was to often feel like he would go on for eternity. He once told me he got an F on a three-page paper in college because he wrote one long sentence. It was grammatically correct, he insisted.  It was so striking to me that when Jim Fitzpatrick talked about his faith, especially the older he got, he would use very few words. One afternoon at their home on Palmer Square, Jim started to tell me of the debt and gratitude he felt toward God. It was a level of gratitude, he said, that came with a profound sense of responsibility; responsibility to give back, to try to be faithful, to contribute to the common good, and to offer thanks and praise in worship. But he had come to the conclusion that his entire relationship to God could be described by gratitude.

We had another conversation one day over lunch, sitting at two TV trays in the apartment down on Palmer Square. Jim had more beverages in front of him than he could drink in a week. There was a glass of water, a can of Ensure, a mug of something I guessed was coffee or tea and a glass of what I assumed was apple juice. A bit later, he offered me a sip and told me it was scotch. It was during that conversation we talked about eternity, about heaven. “I know people get all worked up about what to believe, and they have trouble with this scripture or that”, Jim said. “It doesn’t seem to me to be all that complicated. For me it all comes down, the gospel all comes to down to love. The promise is God’s everlasting love. That’s enough for me, he said. I don’t need any more than that.  God’s everlasting love”. Blessed are those who entrust their lives now and forever to God’s steadfast love.

“For the righteous will never be moved; they will be remembered forever.”

Louise, Bob, Bill, Ruth, Jim. I remember them and so, so, so many more. How about you? Who do you remember? They will be remembered forever. “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus…” They will be remembered forever and we shall never be moved.