Beloved Wife, Mother, Grandmother, Sister, Aunt, Mentor & Friend
By Marjory Zoet Bankson
Text: Matthew 3:1-12
In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come
near.”
On this second Sunday of Advent, we step once again into the other Christmas story – the one told by Christian tradition as a
time of waiting, a time of preparation – an image of pregnancy nearing completion rather than the commercial rat race of
getting and giving. As David reminded us last week, Advent can be a countdown for cultural Christmas activities OR it can be a
daily awareness that the realm of God is here, now and always. The daily choice is ours to make again and again.
Last Tuesday, Peter and I got up at five a.m. to drive through the traffic on I-95 to Virginia Beach for a memorial service. We had
gotten a call on Saturday saying that our friend, Chip Mueller, died on Thanksgiving morning, less than a month after she’s
been diagnosed with brain cancer. Peter and I exposed her to clowning at a church retreat in 1978. She loved it! As a
diocesan educator, Chip taught, led, defended and encouraged clowning throughout the Diocese of Southern Virginia. And we
were not surprised to see clowns at the service. She became the mother and grandmother to many clowns because, to her,
“Repent!” meant to turn away from stilted rules and false propriety in the church. According to Chip, the 11th commandment
was surely “Thou shalt not bore thy people!”
But now she is gone and her extended community gathered to grieve her passing. After the service, we were invited back to
their home for more food and more stories. Then as we started to leave, her husband asked us to “look at her bookcase.”
Puzzled, we walked down the hall with him and turned into a small bedroom/office. There, on her shelves, was the story of her
spiritual journey, beginning with a battered copy of “I’m OK, You’re OK,” including writers like Elizabeth O’Connor, Henri
Nouwen, Walter Breuggermann and Edward Hays. It was a picture of her spiritual search over time. In fact, her bookcase
looked a lot like mine and maybe yours as well.
We live in a time when reading and imagination can take us far beyond the doctrines of one church or denomination. We can
pluck the fruits of monastic life and sample the mysteries of ancient prayer traditions without understanding much about the
fabric of community out of which they came. It’s both the gift of our time and technology, and a temptation to think that more
words can heal our souls.
“What shall I do with these books?” her husband asked, as we stood there in silence. “Would you take one? Or more?” I
looked hard to find one that I did not already have, and finally chose Henri Nouwen’s “Praying with Icons” and Ed Hays’
“Feathers on the Wind.” They speak to me of her search for wholeness… and my own as well.
