Shimmering Gifts

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

March 4, 2025

The Funeral of Katharine “Kitty” Washburne

Micah 4:3

Psalm 23

1 John 4:7-21

Luke 10:25-37

Shimmering Gifts

Over the past couple of weeks, it has been very moving to talk with many St. Thomas’ parishioners whose lives were touched by Kitty in myriad ways: friend, teacher, inspiration, role model.

And it is very moving to see so many of you here this morning, gathering to support Kitty’s beloved family, to console one another, and to give thanks to God for this extraordinary person.

I am not at all surprised by the outpouring of grief and love – I’m not surprised, in part, because one day last summer, Kitty and I took a little road trip.

I picked up Kitty at her house, and we drove over to Blakehurst to visit her dear friend and former teaching colleague, Cynthia Murray.

I will always be grateful for that trip to and from Blakehurst. Over those 50 minutes or so, we talked about all sorts of subjects, covered a lot of ground – but that’s what most conversations with Kitty were like, right?

So, anyway, we arrived at Blakehurst and went to Cynthia’s apartment, but she wasn’t there. 

One of the aides told us that she was out of the building but would be back “later.”

So, what to do?

Well, since we were already at Blakehurst, we decided to try to see one of the other many people that Kitty knew there: Mary Ann Cover.

And we ended up having a very nice visit with Mary Ann and, eventually, Cynthia, which I’ll come back to in a minute.

      But there are a couple of other things I will always remember from that afternoon:

      Kitty and I were making our way all over Blakehurst, which was under construction then, and we got detoured and turned around a couple of times. And I’m sure many of you know those long hallways at Blakehurst. Well, after a while it started feeling a little like a march and I got worried about Kitty. So, at one point I turned to her, walking beside me at a good clip, holding her cane but really just as an accessory, I turned to her and asked if she was doing OK.

      Well, as I remember it, she said she was just fine and she gave me a look of, “Why would you even ask me that?”

      Her energy. To the end, her energy was just extraordinary.

      But here’s the most important thing: as we were making our way around Blakehurst, we kept running into people who knew Kitty – people who not only knew her but were overjoyed to see her.

Again and again, eyes and mouths would open wide and people would cry, “Kitty Washburne!”

It was like accompanying a celebrity as she was meeting her fans.

I’ve thought a lot about that memorable afternoon at Blakehurst and reflected on why people were so happy to see her. Part of it was simply surprise and shared history, I know, but it was much more than that, too.

For today’s gospel lesson, we heard one of Jesus’ best-known parables: the Good Samaritan.

There’s a lot going on in this parable – this story that illustrates what it means to be a neighbor.

The two official religious people in the story, the priest and the Levite, they are not good neighbors. They see the injured man by the side of the road, but maybe because they were frightened that there might still be bandits in the area, waiting to get them next – or maybe because they suspected that the injured man was a decoy luring them into a trap – or maybe – and this is what I think - maybe because they just didn’t want to get involved, couldn’t be bothered, they had places to be – for whatever reason, the priest and the Levite pass by on the other side and go on their way.

But the Samaritan stops and helps, and really goes above and beyond, doesn’t he?

And here’s the thing: the Samaritan didn’t see the injured man as a problem or a danger or an obstacle or an irritant – he saw the injured man as a human being – an individual person who needed help. 

      So, the merciful Samaritan helped him.

      That’s God’s way.

And that was Kitty’s way, too.

Several times over the last few years, she called me up about someone she knew who needed help – and I mean someone she really knew – she had taken the time to get to know their story, to really know them and care about them and wanted to find a way to help them however she could.

Maybe some of you experienced her mercy.

It was Kitty’s genuine care for others that made her not only a wonderful mother and grandmother but also an incredibly devoted friend – she maintained so many friendships over all the years and was still open to, still curious about new people, even me, the last in her long line of ministers.

It was Kitty’s genuine care that sparked the response I witnessed at Blakehurst that day.

And, I have to say, Kitty was also formidable.

In one of our last conversations, she described herself as “ornery.”

Her word, not mine!

Well, she certainly had very high standards for herself and others, high standards, of conduct, honesty, justice, integrity.

So, back to that day at Blakehurst. We did finally visit with Cynthia Murray.

And during our conversation, Cynthia mentioned that Kitty had been a wonderful boss at Bryn Mawr. Kitty trusted Cynthia so much as a teacher and as a person that she never asked Cynthia for lesson plans or anything like that, simply trusting her to be the excellent kindergarten teacher that she was.

Many decades later, Kitty’s respect and trust still meant so much to Cynthia. 

      And how could it not?

Some of you know that not too long ago, Kitty wrote and published a childhood memoir called Gifts Shimmering in the Ripples.

In her book, Kitty shares stories of adventures with her uncle Ragie, adventures not in some far-off land but just down the road at Green Spring.

Ragie led her and the other children on expeditions to discover different kinds of plants and fish, right there around her home, and to learn some important life lessons.

And although Kitty lived most of her life right there, right here, she never lost that spirit of unquenchable curiosity, that spirit of adventure, the ability to uncover wonder right outside her door, to discover marvelous gifts in all sorts of people.

Right now, on the church calendar, we are in Lent – a solemn time of reflection, sacrifice, and repentance, a season that began two weeks ago today on Ash Wednesday.

And I find it particularly meaningful that Kitty died on Ash Wednesday night.

No more Lent for Kitty.

For Kitty, it is already Easter.

It is Easter forever.

Kitty has returned to the God who is Love.

      And the “Alleluias” are ringing out, and across the fields the daffodils are blooming, and the fragrance of lavender is in the air.

And Kitty has been reunited with Tom, and Ragie, and so many others who have gone before.

And new adventures, new unimaginable wonders, await.

For us, it’s still very much Lent.

But Kitty has given us her love and her example.

      Kitty has left us with so many shimmering gifts – gifts that will continue to bless us and guide us.

Amen.

Works in Progress

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

March 1, 2026

Year A: The Second Sunday in Lent

Genesis 12:1-4a

Psalm 121

Romans 4:1-5, 13-17

John 3:1-17

Works in Progress

So, I don’t know when this thought first occurred to me, but at some point, during my youth, I realized that none of us have ever been as old as we are now.

Seems obvious, I know, but as a kid, on some level I just thought that my parents and grandparents had always sort of been the age they were at that time.

That’s all that I had ever known, ever seen.

And I also just assumed that my parents had it all figured out: of course, they knew how to be, I don’t know, thirty-ish and raising two young children.

And I guess I assumed that my grandparents had it all figured out too: of course, they knew how to be older, how to deal with retirement, aging, medical challenges, and all the rest of it.

I don’t know when it dawned on me that, no, my parents and grandparents had never before been the age they were right then – that, just like I was figuring out how to be a boy, a teenager, they were figuring it out, too.

I realized that we are all – no matter our age and experience, all of us, whether we admit or not – we are all works in progress. 

We are all works in progress.

I think we realize this – or maybe just admit this – when we live in “interesting times,” when we face a crisis, when we’re presented with a new situation and we’re not sure how to proceed.

I often think back to the pandemic, when we all had to scramble to figure out how to keep going when so much that we had taken for granted was suddenly paused or gone.

We had never been down that particular road before. 

It’s funny what you remember.

I’m not sure about here, but back in Jersey City, we had to line up outside the supermarket because only a certain number of people could be inside at any time. And when we got inside, I remember how challenging it was to open those plastic produce bags while wearing plastic gloves – never had to do that before.

In times of crisis, many people turn to the church, but in that time, the church had to figure out how to go forward.

      “Being nimble,” “pivoting,” those were the words of the day.

And in just a couple of days, we all learned online worship.

In Jersey City, during weekdays we offered “Church by Phone,” three conference call services every weekday, morning, noon, and evening. I don’t think I had ever hosted a conference call, but it turned out to be a simple and beautiful way to keep people connected.

The pandemic was a time of figuring it out, not always knowing what we were doing, making lots of mistakes, admitting that we were works in progress.

And the same is true during today’s “interesting times.”

When I was a high school history teacher, I used to remind my students that, while we know how historical events turned out, the people who were living through them did not know what would happen next.

We are living through challenging, confusing, unsettling times – and we’ve just added war with Iran to our long list of worries and uncertainties. 

We’re living in “interesting times.” We’re all trying our best to figure it out. We have no idea what happens next.

      We’re all a work in progress.

      In today’s lesson from the Gospel of John, we meet one of my favorite Bible characters: Nicodemus.

      Nicodemus is a religious person, a Pharisee.

      He’s educated and respected.

      He’s achieved a position of authority and responsibility.

      But, Nicodemus, he is very much a work in progress.

      He comes to see Jesus at night, which is a significant detail. He’s trying to keep this secret. Nicodemus probably doesn’t want his colleagues and friends to know that he is visiting the powerful and puzzling teacher and healer from Nazareth, this Jesus who is making the powers that be very uncomfortable.

      Nicodemus is a work in progress. He calls Jesus “rabbi,” - teacher. And that’s true enough, but that title only begins to describe who Jesus is.

      Nicodemus is a work in progress. He recognizes that Jesus has come from God because he has seen or heard about the signs that Jesus has been performing.

      Now, if you were following the conversation, it seems like Nicodemus was sort of stalling, kind of clearing his throat, working his way up to asking Jesus whatever it is that’s on his mind, whatever it is he wants to ask or say.

      But Jesus cuts to the chase. He tells Nicodemus, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born from above,” which is another way of saying, “born anew” or “born again.”

      And then we have this apparent misunderstanding, this funny exchange about what it means to born anew. When Nicodemus asks if Jesus means we somehow have to return to our mother’s womb and start over, it could be that this highly educated man doesn’t really get it.

      Or more likely, Nicodemus understands only too well that new birth is going to cost him. Being born anew is likely to cost Nicodemus his friends and his position and his prestige – and he is just not ready to take that step.

      And then, if you were following along carefully, you may have noticed that Nicodemus seems to just quietly vanish from the scene.

      A work in progress.

      And we continue with some familiar and most important words.

      There’s the famous verse, John 3:16 -

      “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life.”

      And the somewhat less known but just as important, John 3:17 -

      “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”

      God knows us better than we know ourselves.

      God knows that we have never quite been here and now before.

      God knows that we are works in progress.

      And, especially during this holy season of Lent, God encourages us to admit our mistakes and uncertainty and keep going, trusting that God will not let go of us.

      God gives us Jesus and invites us to new life, to start anew.

      So, about Nicodemus.

      After his nighttime visit with Jesus, Nicodemus makes two other brief appearances in the gospel.

      In the first, the chief priests and the Pharisees are trying to convince the police to arrest Jesus, which they are reluctant to do. Nicodemus is there among the other leaders and he speaks up for Jesus, saying that they should give Jesus a chance to speak for himself.

      That doesn’t sound like a radical suggestion, but the other leaders reject it and, maybe, grow a little suspicious of Nicodemus.

      And then, finally, at the end – or at what seemed like the end – after Jesus’ death on the cross, Joseph of Arimathea received permission to take away and bury Jesus’ body.

      And Nicodemus was with Joseph. He brought an abundance of myrrh and aloes – about 75 pounds – and together they prepared Jesus’ body and placed him in the tomb.

      And that’s the last we hear of Nicodemus.

      We don’t know what happened to him next.

      Just like we don’t know what will happen next for us.

      Nicodemus and you and me, no matter our age, no matter our “interesting times,” we are all works in progress.

      Loved by God.

      Amen.