Ring around the roses, pocket full of posies...

(I've kept reading the old 'View from above the Close' collection I found. This one is from March of 1993--over 20 years ago when we knew much less about HIV-AIDS than we know now. It is about two men who died from AIDS who would probably live today. I share it with you in their memories.)

...Ashes, ashes, all fall down.

This is a love letter. It is to Bill and to Ray.

"Ring around the Roses, pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down."

That carefree children's nursery rhyme that we all remember singing came into being during one of the plagues that ravaged Europe, leaving hundreds of thousands dead. One of the plagues manifestations was dark red rings on the body. "Ring around the roses." Posies were the most common flowers at funerals and their scent could lesson the smell of death's decomposition.. "Pocket full of posies." In the end, there was death...and more death.

"Ashes, ashes, we all fall down."

Bill and Ray have each enriched our lives as a parish and as individuals. Both of them, in their own way, have been 'holy examples' to us. They have lived out their deaths in our midst. They have taught us how to die. And in that, they have taught us how to live.

AIDS is a new plague. It robs us of some of the brightest and best in our midst. It takes away life too soon, too brutally.

Ray has been with us for a decade. He was sexton of St. John's and signed the service for the deaf for years. Ray--like all of us--had rough edges. His capacity for anger always showed me how angry I could be. His outrageousness often offended me and always reminded me how outrageous I could be and how I could offend.

But Ray was full of mischief and joy and wonder about life. He knows how to party. And he has, beneath his rough edges, a capacity for gentleness and insight and acceptance that is a model for us all.

Ray reveled in telling off-color jokes to people who would be shocked. He wore tee-shirts to work that always offended me with their slogans and invariably made me laugh. I often didn't like Ray--and I always loved him.

Ray gifted us by re-involving himself in the life of St. John's when he knew his life was slipping away. I will never forget how thankful I was to Ray that he gave me 'another chance' to know and love him in his vulnerability.

***

Bill just showed up here. For the life of me, I don't remember when it happened. And, for the life of me, I can't remember St. John's without him.

He became a regular at the Wednesday healing service. On good days and bad, he was there, reminding us all how fragile and how precious, life is.

His gift was even more than himself. He brought Jim and Lou with him. Jim is the Hospice volunteer who would drive Bill to church and eventually joined him in the pew. And Lou is Jim's life-partner--they've shared a life since they were both 18 and now share a hospitable home. Because Bill was accepted and loves here at St. John's, Jim and Lou felt it was safe to join us as well.

What a gift. Praise God.

I will never forget watching people hug Bill as they passed the peace to him. Lives were transformed--minds changed--hearts turned around. People who might have feared or hated Bill's sexual orientation--or certainly his disease--embraced him without fear and in a great love because he had insinuated himself into their lives.

Ray and Bill both became active in the Wednesday night Meditation Group and through their presence there gave gifts beyond imagining.

***

This is a love letter to Bill and Ray.

It is probable that before Easter both Bill and Ray will be dead. Ray is in Massachusetts, in a hospital waiting for a bed in a Hospice. Bill in in the Hospice in Branford. I see him weekly.

I don't mention their impending deaths to be sentimental. I mention it only because I love both Ray and Bill and it is important for me to mark the remaining days of their lives with thanks to God for each of them.

They have taught me how to die. And, in that, they have given me invaluable lessons in how to live. Lessons like dignity and integrity and honesty and good humor and fear and anger and confusion.

And though neither of them will ever again be physically present at the Table with us, their spirit and gifts will honor us. Their spirit and gifts will honor us each time we break the bread and share the wine.

We are better, more whole, deeper, more open, enriched, inspired, more complete for having Bill and Ray among us.

Ashes, ashes, all fall down.
Praise God for the lives and ministries of Ray Nole and Bill Heller.
Praise God.
Praise God, indeed.