Rowan story preparing for Burial and Tree Planting

Dear Family and Friends,

In the last few days I have been culling passages from emails and cards to share people's heart-warming comments and some stories about Francis. I plan to read a few at the Tree Planting on Sunday.

I'll send these when I'm finished, but I'm attaching now, at the end of this, another precious Rowan story. You encourage me to continue sharing them. Here is today's:

When Rowan came into our home this afternoon she said to me, "Memere, I wish Pepere could see Bella! I wish he could pet her! "

Bella is Rowan's darling puppy, -- a Golden Doodle -- which she got on her birthday last month. After the party in which I took part as a leader of one of the four groups of Kindergarteners that went on a treasure hunt at Eastern Promenade close to Lynn and Lee and Rowan's home, I returned to drop off some eggs.

All the festivities were over, but there was Rowan sitting on the steps with golden Bella in her arms. I can understand why she would want Francis to see her. Bella, cuddled in her arms gave her face a very soft look that this very active godchild doesn't always reveal. Bright Rowan has a mind of her own, and because of that, the precociousness that yields insights I treasure.

I told that even though Pepere can't pet Bella, because he doesn't have a body as we do anymore, just the same, because he's in the spirit world (the expression she initiated last month) he might possibly see her, somehow.

Then Rowan asked me for a "very good piece of paper" because she wanted to write. So I got her another piece of that slightly wrinkled parchment the art store gave me for her. After she folded it neatly in half, she started writing while I was looking through the condolence cards to cull more comments about Francis. If I looked toward her in the least she told me she didn't want me to peek at what she was writing. But she did ask me how to spell "die." And when I did, she explained she wanted to know how to spell "died," so I spelled that word for her also.

Then when it was finished she gave me her story, and read it to me:

She read the "cover" of this "letter" first:
ROWAN SLATER
TO MeMe
(The top left had a drawing of a stamp on it.)

For the inside note, she read:
"I AM SO RILY BADLY SARY THAT PAPA (Obviously she meant Pepere) DIeD. i LOVe HIM SO MUCH THAT I CUD CRI. MeMe LOVeD PAPA SO MuCH.
FROM ROWAN

Then partly fighting back tears myself, but also letting myself cry, I told Rowan that it's okay to cry, even that it's good to cry. And it makes us feel better afterwards, I added. And, that our love and the crying go together, I explained. The crying shows how much love we have for Pepere.

So Rowan cried with me by turning her head and covering her eyes as I hugged her.

Then, seeing the cards in a pile on the floor where I sat, she asked me about them. So I explained that I was copying passages to share with people, because they loved Pepere very much.

Then she wanted me to read them to her. So with the two of us sitting on the rug, I opened one after another from the pile of cards I had isolated last night that had comments about Francis in them. She wouldn't let me omit anything but wanted me to read all those notes.

But after 5 or more minutes of reading Hap our contractor and handy-man told us that he had finished fixing the leak in the pond liner, and that if we wanted, we could go outside and empty the bucket full of tadpoles I had brought back from The Children's Center where I picked up Rowan this afternoon.

And so we got up and turned our attention to the frogs in the pond. Rowan delighted on this warm afternoon taking off her shoes and wading in the pond, and trying to touch the frogs.

Earlier while I was reading to her, the trilling frog that had enchanted Francis and me two years ago began to trill. I expressed my awe and told Rowan how Francis and I had opened the glass door so that we could hear all night long this most beautiful sound. Rowan said: "Better than Pepere?" I tried to explain the apples and oranges concept saying that the trilling frog is the very best frog sound I ever heard. And that Francis' voice is also the very best voice sound I ever heard.

When Lee picked up Rowan later and I read him Rowan's note while she played outside with Abigail, our neighbor's grandchild, he told me that Rowan often speaks of Francis.

An additional Rowan story about Francis I forgot to include last month was written while Lynn was telling me about her Easter Vigil dream about Francis. Rowan was eager to hear her dream. But while Lynn related it, and as we talked, Rowan wrote this in the Rowan Journal which I had started to keep in 2006, jotting down some sweet things she used to say, -- the way children do. This is what she wrote then:

I lovE mEme AND PePe WAN PePe HAD A BAC PAN iT WUS A LOUN TiM THeN Hee DiD ROWAN

On another page she wrote this. But let me explain that Rowan loves pancakes, esp. the maple syrup that goes on them. So I've made those for her each week since she was 17 months old. Francis used to give her her own little jug of maple syrup in which he had measured a generous enough amount (but not so generous that she could drink it as she'd have liked to do.) He did this in response to her request for each pancake!

STOrieS Of MeMe AND PePe
PePe UOOST TOO PuOR MAPLL SRUP for Me THAN Hee GOT THe BAC PAN FOR WeecS AND WeCS
TAN Hee DID
By ROWAN

Love and Gratitude,
Elaine

Specifics for May 22nd Commital/Burial and Tree Planting on May 23rd and Our Closest Friend

Dear Family & Friends,

I have a quote on death for all of you at the end of this post by Rainer Maria Rilke -- called "Our Closest Friend." Those who are NOT coming to either Francis' Committal/Burial or the Tree Planting can therefore just skip the following specifics about these two events and go right for the quote.

BUT I DO NEED INPUT FROM THOSE WHO ARE GOING TO EITHER

THE LUNCH AFTER Francis' Committal/Burial (on Sat May 22 at the Notre Dame Cemetery in Springvale) at the Oak Street Bistro in Alfred Maine ...............
AND/OR.....

THE POTLUCK AFTER the planting of the Japanese Stewartia -- our "Be-Loved Francis Tree" -- (on Sun May 23 at our home)

A
LUNCH on SATURDAY
I have to telephone the manager of the Bistro on Friday May 21 to tell him how many people are coming so we can sit together. So please give me your final decision about the lunch by Thursday May 20.
This Lunch in Alfred is where Leedy's used to be, -- at 3 Oak Street (easy to find!)
When I heard they offered promotional discounts, I thought I'd inquire on your behalf, but I learned they do not. However their prices are reasonable. You can check the lunch menu here which should include (but doesn't) the appetizers, etc. included in the brunch menu: http://www.oakstbistro.com/

B
For the POTLUCK SUPPER AFTER THE TREE PLANTING, -- IF it's easy for you to do, -- could you please tell me what you plan to bring so we'll have a well balanced supper to enjoy together.

If you need directions to get to either place, look at my earlier posts or do a web search, or just ask me.

OUR CLOSEST FRIEND by Rainer Maria Rilke

"...Assume the unity of Life and Death and let it be progressively demonstrated to us. So long as we stand in oppsition to Death we will disfigure it. Believe me, Death is our friend, our closest friend, ...And I do not mean that in the sentimental, romantic sense of distrusting or renouncing life. Death is our friend precisely because it brings us into absolute and passionate presence with all that is here, that is natural, that is love...Life always says Yes and No simultaneously. Death...is the true Yea-sayer. It stands before eternity and says only: Yes." Letter to Countess Margot Sizzo-Noris-Crouy, Epiphany, 1923

****************************************************

Friends around Portland: If any of you have time to help me plant, I'd appreciate it. It's a big challenge to get done by myself what Francis and I accomplished together, esp. right now with projects getting completed, -- like our garage being rebuilt. The solar hot water system just got completed two weeks ago, and it's marvelous!

Loving gratitude to all,
Elaine

Date Change to Plant Tree + Rowan Story & photo

Dear Family and Friends,

I learned today that June 12 is too late (because of its size etc) to plant the beautiful tree our arborist Shawn Clark and I handpicked today. So, please excuse me, but everything else about the planting of Our Beloved Francis' Tree is the same. Come now, -- not on June 12, -- but on Sunday May 23 at 3:30.

May 23 is the day after Francis' burial/committal, -- an even more fitting day for a tree planting. On Saturday May 22 we will surrender Francis' bones to Mother Earth, and on Sunday May 23 we will be planting his tree, proclaiming love everlasting.

Shawn, (who had strung lights on the Canadian hemlocks directly in front of Francis' hospital bed at Christmas time) drove me this afternoon to an enchanting, beautifully kept tree farm in Ogunquit to pick out our tree. Though I couldn't find info on it through the web (I must be misspelling it,) -- the delicate, tall, elegant flowering tree we chose is a "Stuartian."

Another precious Rowan Story

In early March having read Francis' love letters and reflecting on love that keeps on growing, I was moved to take down from the top of a bookcase, -- my old Liber Usualis. (This is the 2 1/2 " thick book that contains the Gregorian Chants which, since convent days, I still love.) I sang, -- actually re-learned-- the "Veni Sancte Spiritus, reple tuorum corda fidelium: et tui amoris in eis ignem" -- Translated: "Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful, and enkindle in them the fire of your love." And then I placed it for easy access among my books on grief and theology.

Well, -- it didn't take long for 5 year old Rowan to notice it! The first week she just admired the shiny red gilded edges of its pages, but the following week, while she was at the other end of our living room, I heard her mumbling out loud about "the red book." Then I saw that she had picked it up and brought it near her library nook. She had a pencil in hand too (She loves to write!) so I went over to tell her this was not a book to write in, nor even a book with stories in it, but a book to sing from because it had Gregorian Chants in it, -- in Latin!

Then Rowan asked me to sing from it, so I sang that Veni Sancte Spiritus chant and she sort of sang along with me, seeming to enjoy it, judging from her smile and a calm look people often get when hearing chant. When I finished it she asked me to sing a second one, and then a third! I chose "Christus factus est" and "Assumpta Est" for the second and third.

Then Rowan said "Love never dies!" and added that she wanted to write "words about love, -- not a story," she explained, -- "but just words."

So we went over to the desk where she wrote -- by herself -- her words about love, sounding out the words for herself as they do now in kindergarten (unlike using phonics as we did in my day.)

The previous week she had written a story about reptiles, and the week before that, about chickens. When she had read her chicken story to Lee and me later in the kitchen, -- and Lee and I heard that she had put Francis in her story just as surely as if he were around all the time, "Memere and Pepere love their chickens," -- we had looked at each othe, our eyes widened.

Anyway this time, writing her "words about love" she asked me to spell only a few words. This is what she wrote on scrap paper first, and then recopied on some lovely slightly wrinkled donated parchment paper:

"LOVe NAVR DIS
LOVe U WILL FIND IN YOR HRT
LOVe YOU WILL FIND
AVREWAR

BY ROWAn SlAter
to MeMe AND PEPE

i LOVe YOU"

Then Rowan said we should sing her words too. So I improvised a melody and she sang it along with me, copying my improvisation. I was so moved I wept and told Rowan that memere was crying for joy. She repeated what she had said the previous week when I was talking with Lynn in the kitchen during our supper, and was crying then too: "Look Mama, memere is crying, but she doesn't look as if she's crying."

After Rowan and Lynn left and the dishes were done, I carefully trimmed the parchment paper and folded that precious composition to fit in the Liber Usualis along with this story. Someday when Rowan inherits this house she'll be able to reread her own "words about love."

Love,
Elaine

June 12 - Planting of "Our Beloved Francis Tree"

Dear Family and Friends,

Early after Francis' death I've visualized and planned for a tree planting ceremony, not just in Francis' memory, or in his honor, but to symbolize our love that is stronger than death, (Song of Songs 8:6.) and that keeps on growing. (My view is bolstered by theology. See my reference below* to Elizabeth Johnson's book.)

But when we plant it on June 12, I'll proclaim it's a tree that symbolizes your love too, all of your loves that keep on growing, not only Francis' and mine.

Some of you have told me that you feel close to Francis, that you light a candle or incense for him in your daily prayer, or that he came to you in prayer, or in a dream. One of you said she never felt the presence of someone who had died before, but she does feel Francis' presence. Another referred to "our beloved Francis" in an email yesterday. So I awoke yesterday morning with the idea of calling the tree -- "Our Beloved Francis Tree."

But there's another reason: Among other endearments, Francis and I often called one another "my beloved," especially I, toward the end of his life. So it's not surprising that during my twice daily Sitting Practice (aka Meditation, or Centering Prayer,) the word "beloved" very often comes up.

About a month ago, it suddenly came to me "out of the blue:" The noun "beloved" became the sentence "Be loved ! " Francis was telling me to -- "BE LOVED" !!

There's solid ground for this too: When I was learning how to pray as a young nun, we were told to just sit comfortably, relax, watch our breath slowing down, and, with or without a "Centering Prayer" word (or mantra,) to simply let ourselves be loved by God who IS Love.

I can't tell you how fruitful that one word, now also two words, have become in my life. I share these stories hoping they will give you fruit too.

So, come to our home, 62 Avalon Road, Portland, Maine 04103 on Saturday June 12 to celebrate the planting of "Our Beloved Francis Tree!" Arrive around 3:30 pm for a 4:00 pm tree planting followed by a supper potluck. (Rain day -- Sunday June 13)

By then our grapevines should be in bloom, and our fruit trees producing perhaps tiny cherries, plums and peaches, and the strawberries are likely to be ripe beside our lily-padded, frog inhabited pond with its solar powered waterfall. And we can't leave out our darling, entertaining chickens, running around in their elegant pen!!

I say "our" because it's Francis who helped me put in place the foundation (on our 8,000 sq ft lot) for this Permaculture Eden. Ours is a demonstration site for creating an edible landscape, or an ecological system in suburbia.

But, as our Permaculture Community members do every time we share food, if possible, along with food to share, please bring your own plate, bowl, utensils and cup. I'll provide napkins and yes, extras of everything for those who don't remember, but it would be a help if you did.

I have more Rowan stories to tell, but this email is long enough as is.

As the Buddhists say, -- May all beings be well, may all beings be happy. Peace, Peace, Peace.

Much love and gratitude,
Elaine

* In her book Friends of God and Prophets, A Feminist Theological Reading of the Communion of the Saints," Elizabeth Johnson writes that "religious scholars...think that human development is perhaps not frozen at death but that maturity is a continuing possibility." (p. 188) And, -- that "heaven is the symbol of a community of love sharing the life of God. This entails forever exploring the absolute mystery of the Other with new discoveries forever abounding..."(p. 190)

Francis' committal/burial and quote

Dear Family and Friends,

First, -- the quote:
When I went for my colonoscopy this morning (and it went well, even without sedatives,) I brought along a small journal in which I keep poems and passages, half of which I've already memorized, and half that I plan to memorize. I rediscovered there this moving quote from Karl Rahner, the Jesuit who wrote The Theology of Death:

"The great and sad mistake of many people is to imagine that those whom death has taken, leave us. They do not leave us. They remain. Where are they? In darkness? Oh no! It is we who are in darkness. We do not see them, but they see us. Their eyes, radiant with glory, are fixed on our eyes. O infinite consolation! Though invisible to us, our dead are not absent...They are living near us, transfigured...into light, into power, into love."

Now the specifics:

If you would like to carpool to go to Francis' committal/burial on
Saturday May 22 at noon, could you let me know? I'd be happy to coordinate rides.

Could you let me know also -- if you want to join us for lunch at a restaurant ?
I think it would help to know how many are coming, when I try to negotiate the "discount coupons" which the "Oak Street Bistro" offers online. The Bistro in Alfred is not too far from Springvale.

To get directions to the cemetery just do an online search for: Notre Dame Cemetery, Pine Street Springvale, Maine. I easily found it at: http://maps.google.com

But if you don't use an online mapquest, here are the directions: Get onto Main Street in Springvale, (a twin-town of Sanford,) go through the square driving toward Mousam Lake. But take a right onto Mill Street. It's easy to recognize where you take a right onto Mill Street (if you're already on MAIN STREET) because there's a Courthouse on the left, and then the Springvale Library on the left -- right across the street from Mill Street where you would turn right. Then from Mill Street, take a left (the 2nd left I think) onto Pine Street. Drive to the end of Pine Street where you'll see the cemetery.

Thanks for your support, those who said they're coming, and those who'll be with us in spirit.

Love,
Elaine

Date of Francis' Burial + note

Dear Family and Friends,

You're all invited to join us at 12:00 noon for Francis' Burial, (or what they now call "Committal,") at the Notre Dame Cemetery in Springvale Maine, on Saturday, May 22, 2010. Francis' and my nephew Rev. Terrence Curry S.J. who officiated at Francis' funeral in Portland will officiate there as well. And we hope Rev. Richard D Bertrand S.J. will come to participate as appropriate. I'm so grateful Francis' siblings and family in Maine, Josephine & Lou Curry of Houlton and Lou McGillicuddy of Cape Elizabeth and maybe others too, will be present for this brief ceremony!

We'll be going out for lunch afterwards at a local restaurant in Springvale or Sanford, its twin town. Join us for that too.

Absorbing the reality of Francis' death is the biggest challenge I have ever faced. I understand those who say the grief never goes away; one just learns to live with it. In fact, because love is wedded to the grief I wouldn't want it any other way. However, I told a friend last week that my gratitude is beginning to outweigh my grief. It's as if there are two rivers within me, -- the river of grief, and the river of gratitude. And the river of grief is beginning to merge with the deeper river of gratitude.

I'm filled with gratitude for the blessing of so many good friends! One told me recently: "You may be physically alone now, but you are surrounded by a loving community." And what a treasure I have, -- having lived with Francis all these years! And now I can say with confidence, -- my greatest treasure is Francis' supportive, loving presence, -- with me at all times.

There's so much going on interiorly I'm doing a lot of journaling. The grief books have mostly given way to even more helpful theology books: The Theology of Death by Karl Rahner; a book by Marc Oraison, Death - And Then What? who wrote the preface for La Mort Est Une Nouvelle Naissance (tr: Death Is A New Birth;) and the illuminating book I paid $114. to get online (because it's out of print and rare, but I really wanted it!) -- The Mystery of Death by Ladislaus Boros.

The material in these books is buoying my spirit and supporting my journey. When I'm ready, I'd like to share what I'm learning (and likely our story) in some form of written material. Who knows? Maybe it'll be "A Letter to our Godchild Rowan." (She'll turn 6 years old next week.) That's not a bad idea either because Rowan is endearing herself to me on those Thursday afternoons when I pick her up at school until her mother Lynn joins us for supper.

I'm beginning to collect some sweet Rowan stories, e.g. Right in the middle of supper last week, without my having said anything earlier about Francis or about love never dying, Rowan said, (and I quickly grabbed a pen and wrote it down on a piece of scrap paper on the kitchen counter:) "Love is in you. God you will find in your heart. God you will find everywhere you go. God will say 'Sorry' when people die. Got it? That's my idea."

Here's another: Two years ago Francis and I bought a 3' statue of St. Francis of Assisi which we placed outside facing the pond. But during the winter, we placed it in the side entrance, facing the outside, side door. When Rowan first saw it she said: "There's Pepere." (She's right! It looks so much like Francis that our friends who helped make funeral preparations decided to bring it to Francis' wake and funeral.)

Well, two Thursdays ago when Rowan and I walked through the side entrance and saw the statue (which I decided to leave there now to "greet visitors" as they open the door,) Rowan picked up a soft old-fashioned brush and brushed off the statue. Then last Thursday she picked up the brush again and said, while brushing it: "Have you been taking care of Pepere? You've got to use this brush to keep him clean! Do it every day!" I was flabbergasted and delighted.

Later that afternoon when Rowan and I went into the living room, we passed the two large posters of photos of Francis which friends had put together for the wake and funeral reception. (The posters are still there because I plan to add more photos, have them shrink-wrapped and put aside for posterity, -- meaning Rowan.) When I finished putting a big book back on the bookcase near the posters and turned around, I saw Rowan hugging the large picture of Francis centered at the head of the poster. So I said: "Can I have a hug too?" But Rowan said, -- "No, you're in the picture too, so I gave you a hug with Pepere."

Thank you for your prayers dear family and friends. I still need them!

Loving gratitude,
Elaine

A Month Later & Bill Gregory's Column on Francis' Funeral

Dear Family and Friends,

Stu O'Brien, a member of CORPUS who's in charge of "Member Services" (He himself lost his wife not many years ago) sent me a helpful little book -- Healing After Loss, Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief by Martha Whitmore Hickman. I also finished reading a small book Living When A Loved One Has Died by Rabbi Earl Grollman. It was recommended by Linda Hopkins, VNA's Home Health and HOSPICE "Bereavement Coordinator" who came to our home for an hour this week just to talk but also to invite me to the weekly Grief Support Group she's organizing, beginning next Tuesday. I'll go see if it's a good fit.

I also ordered a few other books suggested in Linda's Grief Notes monthly newsletter. It's good to have these resources. I don't need a book to tell me that the loss of a spouse is an "intense anguish." But it is helpful to learn that grief can leave one feeling confused, fragile, unproductive and even with a kind of "cognitive dissonance."

It's also good to be reassured that "Grief takes its time, and for a while it occupies all our time, ...The process will not be cheated. It will take as much time as it needs...Grief will tell me what it needs from me at each step along the way."

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross' and coauthor David Kessler' On Grief and Grieving even speak of "The Gift of Grief:" "Most important, grief is an emotional, spiritual and psychological journey to healing." Yet, -- "You will not 'get over' the loss of a loved one; you will 'learn to live with it.'"

There's been a lot to do since Francis' funeral, -- making changes in legal documents, giving away Francis' clothing, (I'm wearing around the house what loosely fits me of his clothes,) and now taxes are coming up, plus thank you cards I still want and plan to write, etc. etc.

Though I find myself unable to take in much world news except for Haiti, I've begun connecting with some friends. Last Sunday I went to a Portland Symphony Concert (benefit for Haiti,) and plan to go to other PSO Concerts (Webber's and Mozart's Requiem.) I remember how helpful music was for me after my father died. And I also plan to go to a reading performance next Saturday at Woodfords' Congregational Church on Etty Hillesun's An Interrupted Life, written during the Holocaust. Organized by the Portland Conservatory of Music, the performance will be accompanied by a cello.

After tending to necessities, my attention has been drawn, however, to reading what Francis and I wrote to each other over the years: His love letters written in the summer of 1970 when we were physically separated during my summer studies at Providence College after I had left the convent that January of the same 1970; our Marriage Encounter notebooks, http://www.marriage-encounter.org/; and now I want to read Francis' journal written before I met him and my own journals. So I've postponed teaching my Wednesday AM yoga class until April when the spring session begins.

Yes, I'm finding nourishment in our own words. Francis' last words spoken approx 26 hours before he died, are imprinted on my heart: " I feel so good! So good! I don't know which step this is along the way. But whatever step it is, I embrace it. I don't know if it's the earliest step or not, -- no, I don't know, but I embrace it. I do embrace it! Now let me rest."

My consolation lies in Francis' total readiness, even his blissful readiness to pass. He's pain free now, and won't have to experience being a widower!

Although memories give me a stab of pain because they underline our physical absence now, they're also and even more, such rich treasures to cherish! I give thanks to have memories like these.

I'm also consoled realizing the love we shared in this life lives on in both of us, -- and beyond. When Rowan told me spontaneously, and sadly, that she wished pepere hadn't died, I told her that yes, people die, but love never dies. In repeating it more than once -- "Love never dies," adding "Even if all the people die, love never dies,"-- she said it with spirit, as a kind of declaration.

So journeying along with the Caravan of Creation, looking ahead to where my close loved ones have passed, -- my father, my mother, and now my beloved husband Francis, -- I'm aware of the younger generation coming behind me and mine.

I'm told (in one of the Meditations:) "In the process of grief, our task is to be attentive when the messages of mind and memory come." Some of those messages seem to be coming for me through Francis' letters. His words about our physical separation in the past apply to me now, in his physical absence of another kind. Even more, I sense, his reflections and my own journals may be giving me understanding and context for the life I will go on living.

I have so much gratitude for your loving support, dear family members and friends. I thank you from my heart for your prayers/good vibes which I need and on which I very much depend.

Elaine
PS -- I learned that the national CORPUS http://www.corpus.org/ Conference will be dedicated to Francis this year. This is an annual Conference that Francis and I have planned never to miss. It's at several of these that Francis and I have prayed/chanted during the liturgy the Lord's Prayer and the Beatitudes -- in Aramaic. It'll be held in Fort Worth Texas, near Dallas, in June, and of course I plan to attend.

-----------

REFLECTIONS
Affirmation from a life well lived
BILL GREGORY
January 30, 2010
REFLECTIONS is a column written by members of Maine's faith-based community. Opinions expressed in the column reflect the author's view and not necessarily that of the newspaper.
Perhaps you know the experience of being part of something grand in spirit that both affirms and challenges your particular faith persuasion. The involvement acquaints you again with the heart of things, stretches your imagination of what is good and possible. I love it when it happens, and it happened to me again this winter.
Francis McGillicuddy was a good friend – not a close friend until his last weeks, but a good friend. His story is bigger than I can tell in these few words. Let it suffice to say that Francis was a lovely man, a gentle man, a strong and compassionate man in heart and spirit, a courageous man who stood quietly but clearly for moral values in the tradition of Jesus.
Francis was a man who loved Jesus and Elaine McGillicuddy. Francis was a practicing priest and Elaine was a nun when they met, when they fell in love, when their integrity and understanding of faithfulness led them out of their respective orders and vows into new ones.
I met them both in a class on poetry of the soul. Later, we met on Wednesdays at Monument Square.
Many of us shared a common need to stand as we could for what we believed in. Francis and Elaine and my wife, Nancy, and I and many others – Roman Catholic, Protestant, Muslim, humanist, gay, straight, homeless, refugee, whatever – those who shared the joy and harassment of demonstrating for justice and peace experienced the spirit I spoke of above. It was a genuine ecumenism, oneness.
Now that is a $64 word, "ecumenism." It comes from the Greek word "oikoumenikos," meaning "of or from the whole world." The emphasis in the word is on wholeness. In Christian circles, it is the name given to a movement to overcome the divisions of denominations.
Experiencing ecumenism is an experience of common calling from a voice that speaks to each of our hearts. It is not an idea as much as an inspiration. It is a sense of being connected to and working together for something greater than the individual parts, for the whole of humanity, for the whole earth. It is an experience of the Spirit.
This Spirit is larger than any of us and all of our churches. When the faithful follow where it leads, they are introduced to a oneness with humanity and a connection of compassion with one another and all beings. It is a oneness inspired and served by love.
Francis and Elaine and those of us gathered with them at Monument Square for a year and a half experienced oikoumenikos, felt something of being a part of one world, one family, justice and kindness for all flowing from the Spirit that had called us there and bonded us. Francis was at home there. Those who knew Francis knew him as the embodiment of a faithful follower of love.
He died from cancer on Jan. 3. From the day he heard the diagnosis to the day he died, he strove to live every moment of his breathing, every experience of his journey.
A vignette here to make the point: Caring for the terminally ill can focus us on the question of when and how death will come. Francis understood this and appreciated his caregiver's attention to it, attention he shared to some degree.
But more than that, he wanted to share and be present for the time he still had. His counsel to our preoccupation with the end came in these words to Elaine, "Let's take it as it comes." He was lovingly alive in this world to his last breath.
His wake and funeral were held at Sacred Heart/St. Dominic Church in Portland. Both overflowed with people touched by his spirit, by the Spirit. Being a Protestant, I felt clumsy in the Roman Catholic liturgy but not out of place in my faith.
But we, Protestant and Catholic, haven't found our way to oikoumenikos yet. The doors were opened to all who wished to attend, but Communion was not. Clearly, the dominant spirit of that place and time was welcoming, yet at the same time, a spirit that felt less welcoming kept some Christians from the table.
I have no doubt that if Francis had been serving the bread and wine, he would have brought them to me.
I and every church I have served and know have clay feet. This was acknowledged in the eulogy. It celebrated Francis' life and spirit but also lamented clergy sexual abuse. As a new priest, Francis had been taken advantage of sexually by an older priest mentor.
Francis, a child of the church, was ahead of his institution at the end of his life. Maybe that is always the way it is. Our organized churches inspire their people with the vision of the justice, the courage and kindness of Jesus – a vision the churches have more difficulty fulfilling than many of the individual people they nurture.
Francis embodied the spirit of grace, of forgiveness, kindness, justice, of deep gratitude, of humility and joy in God's love, which is evidence of the Spirit. It was nurtured in Francis by many, including his church, for which I am grateful. In the spirit of oikoumenikos, I call members of his church my brothers and sisters.
The room set aside for his wake was far from large enough for the numbers who came. The beautiful sanctuary at Sacred Heart/St. Dominic was filled with people, even more with Spirit. It was not because he was a celebrity or a public man. I think it was because our world is hungry for people who believe in and live for love and stand unequivocally for moral values.
What will be said of us when our time comes? May in some degree it be said that in our time, we were faithful to our spiritual roots and that our highest branches reached to the light, the moral values, the hope, the dream empowered by and evidence of the Spirit of love for the whole oikoumenikos.
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