"A Banquet" by Rev. Barbara Merritt

Words cannot begin to capture my gratitude for yesterday’s celebration. This congregation, on a normal Sunday, knows how to sing, how to laugh, how to graciously welcome and how to pray. But the beauty and the spirit that was present in our midst upon the occasion of my retirement was beyond anything I have ever experienced.

It is still somewhat of a mystery to me. The only way I can describe it is that for a moment the veil dropped. Our hearts were open. I saw every one of you as perfect, whole and playing the exact part in this existence that you are called to play.

It might have been the music, which was glorious. It might have been the strange combination of laughter and tears. It had to be our capacity to feel loss and abundance at the very same time. It had to have something to do with how generous all of you had been in planning this amazing day.

Your cards, your heartfelt good wishes touched me deeply. (I want to send thank you notes to all of you who sent me a thank you note, but when would this exchange end?) The Bancroft Room became a stunning garden, a breathtaking setting for fellowship. And seeing the congregation having such a good time at lunch was the perfect benediction.

How can something be sad and joyous, simultaneously? What does it mean when we are both blessed and challenged? How can the same person, who at one moment is troublesome or annoying, turn around and reveal himself, or herself to be affectionate and supportive? I don’t know if my rational, linear brain will ever recover from such a surfeit of kindness and generosity and love and delight. A Shaker song written in 1848 may explain.

“When we find ourselves in a place just right,
It will be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gained
To bow and to bend, we shan’t be ashamed
To turn, turn, will be our delight
Til by turning, turning, we turn right round right.”

Sunday, May 23, 2010 it felt to me like the whole sanctuary was “turned right.” We were present to one another. We bowed to the holy spirit that was present in our midst. I got a glimpse of what the kingdom of heaven must feel like: where you know you are seen, loved, forgiven and accepted.

I haven’t recovered yet. I may never. Your exceedingly generous gift of $15,500 will mostly go straight into my retirement fund, plus one vacation for Jeffrey and me. And I have a lot of beading and gardening to do, and I now have the supplies to do just that!


Today I am still smiling and crying, and generally feeling overwhelmed. It could be that I am not constitutionally able to keep my balance in the presence of so much affection. But I’m going to try to learn to navigate this new territory where my heart is full. I find myself grinning at odd hours of the day and night. And I know in my bones what a privilege and a honor and a joy it has been to serve this parish.