My friend and brother, The Rev. Canon Dr. David Hamilton, died earlier this week.
At the invitation of my St. Peter's Prep colleague Patty Nickerson, Sue and I first visited St. Paul's Church in Jersey City on the Second Sunday of Advent in 2000. We were impressed by the dark beauty of the old building and by the friendliness of the welcome. The choir performed with great skill. The sermon was engaging and wise. But what touched us the most was The Peace. Suddenly, everyone was in the aisle, shaking hands and embracing like beloved sisters and brothers. Used to just giving a friendly wave to the people nearest us, Sue and I were overwhelmed by the love. And then the priest appeared at our side, extended his hand, and said, "Hi. I'm Dave. Welcome to St. Paul's."
Dave Hamilton changed our lives forever.
By the time we met him, Dave had been through some hard times and painful losses. He made an unanticipated journey from the suburbs to the city. Yet, his scars made him a more compassionate priest and a greater man. Truly, he was a "wounded healer." His priesthood was about extending his hand to all of us and saying, "I'm a pilgrim on the road, just like you. Let's walk together."
Through Dave, God reawakened in me an old sense of call to priesthood. As I made my way through the ordination process and seminary, he listened to my fears and offered encouragement ("Persistence is usually rewarded," he liked to say). He took me out to lunch at his usual places like Kellogg Garden and Al's Diner, wanting to hear about what I was reading and learning. And there was always laughter. There was nothing better than his laugh. It started in his belly and usually ended in a coughing fit.
I had always expected that Dave and I would be priests "together" somehow. I don't know exactly what I thought that would look like, but for a long time, it seemed like it would never happen. He got sick around the time of my ordination and struggled quite a bit these last few years. We kept our friendship alive by talking on the phone and getting together for lunch near where he was living down the Shore.
But then, about four years ago, he surprised me by asking if he could preach some Sunday at St. Paul's. Of course! It had been a long time since he had been in Jersey City, but all of our longtime parishioners greeted him with so much warmth, love, and joy. It was a family reunion. It felt like Advent 2000 all over again. He preached powerfully from the heart, standing in the aisle, both frail and strong, looking like a prophet who had survived by God's grace alone during a long time in the wilderness. Finally, it was time for Communion. Dave and I stood beside each other at the altar, the 13th and 14th Rectors of St. Paul's, priests together at last.
Rest eternal grant to Dave, O Lord, and let light perpetual shine upon him.
Posts
