Monday, June 19, 2017

Rosemary: Reflection and Poem for Rosemary Rosenburg



A Reflection on the Occasion of A Memorial Service for Rosemary Rosenburg
June 19, 2017              All Saints’ Episcopal Church, Southern Shores, NC
Thomas E. Wilson, Rector

Isaiah 40: 1-5, 28-31               Psalm 23          John 10:11-16

Rosemary
Usually I start off with many quotes from the Bible, but today I want to start with a line from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Act 4 scene 5, where Ophelia has died after going mad with sadness over death of her father and her rejection by the Prince Hamlet.  Queen Gertrude, Hamlet's mother, mourning her, comes in carrying flowers and says “There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.”

Today we come together for a service of remembrance of Rosemary. The family has shared with you some thoughts and pictures; they have known her their whole lives, and they know her better than me. They know what it is like to need her and to be needed by her. They know what it is to live with her day in and day out and to fight with her sometimes. I have not known her my whole life, and I have never fought with her. I have only known her for what seems like too short a number of years. She did not unload all her history with me,  and I could see she kept many things inside herself because she did not want to burden people.

When I saw her, she was always worried about other people, acutely aware of the pain and suffering in others. I saw her when she was with friends offering them a listening ear instead of dominating the conversation. When she would fill in at the office, she would turn on that dazzling smile and make people feel welcome. The way she dealt with interruptions reminded me of a conversation I had with a retired Priest when I was in the first year of my ordained ministry. I was complaining that I was getting behind in my work because I had so many interruptions from parishioners, and Herb Myers - I later was to call him “Uncle Herbie” – said, “In ministry the interruptions are the work.” Rosemary was a minister, but the church overlooked her, underestimated her, and never got around to ordaining her. 99% of the real Christian ministry in churches is done by lay people.

In the lesson from Isaiah for today, the prophet is telling the people coming home, back from exile in Babylon, that the LORD would be with them as they walked that perilous journey:
 “Creator of the ends of the earth does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless. Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted; but those who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.”

Rosemary had a tough life, but her strength was renewed every day, and while she may have looked faint at times, in the quiet moments with her, we knew that her faith allowed her to soar like an eagle through things that would have hobbled others.  When she fell off that kitchen stool when she was trying to get things off the upper cabinets, I lamely joked with her at the hospital that she must have been trying to fly. As in all humor, there is a hidden truth; she believed that, whatever happened, she would not be ruled by fear. She was, as I told her using the totally inappropriate comment, “one tough broad”.

I see the pictures of this beautiful woman taken more than three score years ago, the pictures after she had many moments of hard times and before she faced so many obstacles, disappointments, losses, and abuse, and I could see that Rosemary of so many years ago in the woman I last saw several weeks ago, looking weak but full of inner strength. Rosemary knew that the Good Shepherd was walking with her through the valley of the Shadow of Death. She lived a life of being a Good Shepherd, laying down her agenda for others.

It was her ability not to hold grudges that set her free to save her energy for the important things like helping others, as in developing and strengthening food banks to feed the less fortunate. It was her knack for refusing to dwell in the past that left her free to thrive in the present and have hope in the future. Anyone who loves to plant flowers like she did has to have hope for the future. She planted flowers and she raised children and cherished friends because she believed that God’s creation should be a place of graceful blessing rather than a bitter habitat of weeds. 

We come together to thank God that she is free from her distress and has finally come home where she can rest in the Divine arms. We come together to mourn that she will not be with us. But the deeper reality is that she is still with us in the space between us. My theology is that in communion, that service of the remembrance of Jesus' love as he gave himself for us, she is on the other side of the table, eating the bread of heaven with us. She is here whenever we have the strength to forgive and to love, for she taught us by her life how to do those things. She is in the middle of the laughter of a well-told story. Her invisible arms are comforting us in our sorrows and strengthening us in our resolution to go on, to soar like eagles. When we remember Rosemary, it is not meant to be a mere intellectual exercise of recollection of facts and stories but a spiritual experience of seeing her and the gifts she had still living in our lives.

“There's Rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.” 

ROSEMARY
The best poet has Hamlet’s mother say:
“There’s Rosemary, that’s for remembrance.
Pray you, love, remember.” 

As if our days from her would stray?
Forgetting that shy smile and soft laugh?
Her arm entwining welcome as wing of bird?
That solid dependability to keep her word?
Those words “I love you” when she would leave.
with laughing reckless promises to see us again?
That easy forgiveness while dismissing her hurts?
That courage to pick herself up and try again?

We take all of her members, reconnecting them
together, holding, encircling them in our hearts,
no mere mental exercise  but an act of defiance
of death which has no power to rob us of her love.
She is in the Divine arms and in the between us
as we tell the stories, giving thanks for the tears
and the laughter mixing the hope to see her again.

“There’s Rosemary, that’s for remembrance.
Pray you, love, remember.”  As if we could forget.

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