Reflection and Poem on
Joe Beckett
(April 2, 1936 – August
19, 2019)
Ecclesiastes 3, 1-8: To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
Poet and writer X. J.
Kennedy ( his real name was Joe Kennedy, but he got tired of being
confused with the Ambassador to the Court of St. James, and father of
a future President) wrote: "I like poems where you don't really
know whether to laugh or cry when you read them."
As Kennedy feels about
poems, that is how I feel about people; the people who don't know how
to dissemble or otherwise hide themselves under “a shallow mask of
manners”, to use Oscar Wilde's phrase. Joe Beckett was that kind of
person. With Joe there was often laughter, sometimes profound,
sometimes impish laughter, and more than a few times down right
puerile, to which he would add with a mirthful twinkle in his eye
“Oh, I guess I should say, 'Bless me Holy Father for I think I was
close to sinning!” But even the impish laughter was as close as the
tears as entrances into his soul. Over the years that I have known
Joe, there were many opportunities to cry together and even more to
laugh together, yet in sharing tears or laughter, God was always
there in the sacred space between us.
Joe was a sailor who knew
the sea and would entertain us with stories of finding his position
anywhere on earth with the stars to guide him to find his way home.
The image I had when he would tell those stories was of Joe as the
dove that Noah sent out from the Ark to find evidence of a place to
return to dry land. In that story the dove brought back an olive
branch, a symbol of peace. Being with Joe was often like him bringing
back coordinates to find peace.
The Bible tells us that we
are all aliens and sojourners in this life and therefore we are to
treat aliens and sojourners with respect and justice. I came here a
stranger and Joe made me welcome. Joe was my first Senior Warden at
All Saints and I grew to trust him on getting used to this new church
with his wisdom on how the church worked, or not. He was a faithful
partner in prayer for many years. He would tell stories about how
this or that parishioner had faced difficulties and how other members
of the parish had come to stand beside him or her. He had the eye and
the inclination of looking and finding redemption. I grew to depend
on him to give me coordinates so I could sail the seas of Southern
Shores and for helping me find my way home here.
The Bible tells us that we
are aliens and sojourners in this life for we know that life has
limits and we will be returning at the end of our journey on this
earth to the arms of the creator. We are to live as if we have one
foot on earth and one foot in God's spirit. Joe demonstrated how to
live fully in this life and in spirit claim being in the presence of
the divine.
We give thanks to God for
Joe showing us how to love our partners as he loved Mary Lou. Joe
showed us how to extravagantly love children, starting with his own
three girls (Jean, Jane, and Jennifer) and two grandchildren (Jacob
and Antigone). His overflowing love did not stop at the family
limits, and for those of us who were not blood family, he taught us
how to gracefully receive love. Joe demonstrated with his life how to
serve his country and how to work hard and faithfully at employment
and in volunteer organizations. He showed us how to hold on to faith
in the middle of horrible situations. The lessons he gave us live in
us and give us strength to meet the days ahead.
Joe Beckett
There was a laugh at
creation's beginning,
that sheer joyful hope of
divine playing,
with stars, worlds and
creatures praying
as Joe echoed first laugh
by his grinning.
He also echoed the first
sob of human fall
of reaching limits and
wounds of loss
when our meager pride
forgot who's boss
and love is the only
medicine to give at all.
He would hold us in his
arms, tears like rain
falling into the fertile
soil of the holy ground
between us, while humming
a hopeful sound
of consolation, 'fore
words could begin again.
The sailor is home,
reminding me of the dove's
return to Noah carrying
signs of greater loves.
Thomas E Wilson
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