Remembering Fr Bill Hibbert

The following is a "guest post".

These comments were given by Dn Marty Garwood, who would also like to acknowledge the contributions of The Rev. Evelyn Weaver, The Rev. Sandy Williams, and the Rev. Deacon Mike Weaver.

Dn Marty shared these reflections on Saturday March 8 at St Andrew's Episcopal Church. The occasion of the funeral service for Fr Bill Hibbert, much beloved former rector of St Andrews. Fr Bill had been welcomed by our Lord the previous Tuesday and we all miss him dearly.

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Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer.

These words from the psalmist were often used by the Rev. William Hibbert to begin his homilies. But more importantly, they were words that Father Bill lived by.

He lived completely and totally to give glory to his God. His was a life lived with complete trust in God. He was a man filled with the Spirit.

We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of William Chattin Hibbert – a life that was centered by his God. God moved and breathed in Fr. Bill’s very being. And there was no doubt who Fr. Bill was. And there is no doubt to Whom Father Bill belongs.

Fred and Dick – you know him as brother. Rick – as uncle.
Virginia – you shared an extraordinary friendship.
We knew Fr. Bill as friend, pastor.
We knew him as teacher, counselor, as a guide and companion on our journey through life.
We knew Fr. Bill as an advocate for youth and as a life-long Boy Scout.
We knew him as a master in the art of making a short story long.
We knew Fr. Bill as a musician – a lover of Bach.

And we especially knew him as a kind and gentle man.

But regardless of the infinite variety of ways in which we each individually knew Fr. Bill, there is a common denominator.

We all knew him – we still know him - as a beloved child of God.

It may seem strange that we speak of our time together this morning as a time of celebration. As we look around the sanctuary, the environment seems bleak and harsh. This is not the usual look of a church that is in the midst of a holy celebration. Our hearts are heavy and our eyes fill easily with tears. We come together to mourn – to receive comfort for ourselves and to offer comfort to others. There is no shame or weakness in the tears we shed. Our sadness is natural. We are meant to mourn just as we are meant to love.

Yet, there is much to celebrate this day.

We are in the middle of Lent – those forty days from Ash Wednesday to Easter – a season marked by both repentance and renewal. Lent is a time of austerity that is tempered by a sense of anticipation and hope. Our sanctuary is dressed for Lent. We see before us the harshness of the naked branches, the thicket of briars – inhospitable, desolate.

We think of the time Jesus spent in the desert – in the wilderness – in the wild-ness. We feel as though thorns are piercing our hearts as we grieve for our loss. We feel the desolation – the wild-ness of our grief as we contemplate our lives without the person we love. Sometimes it may feel as though our sense of hopelessness separates us from God.

Yet, in the midst of that naked life-less grapevine – there is hope. The bright shimmering waters of the baptismal font remind us that Jesus was baptized by John in the River Jordan and was anointed by the Holy Spirit. As the Messiah, Jesus would lead us through His own life, death, and resurrection into everlasting life.

We are renewed and refreshed as we are reminded of the waters of our own baptism. We have been formed and reformed – transformed – by those very waters. We share in the Baptism of Jesus Christ and we are reborn through the Holy Spirit.

It is by virtue of our Baptismal vows that each and every one of us is a minister of the Church. We are to represent Christ in the world and we are to bear witness to Christ wherever we might be.

Father Bill had a particular knack for recognizing the unique ministries we each possess. We might have just called it our own gift or perhaps just accepted that it was simply something we felt called to do. But Fr. Bill named it – he called it what it is – a ministry. He encouraged and fostered those ministries in every person he met. That conviction of the power of our Baptismal ministries is what gave him the commitment to the ideal of what is often called Total or Mutual Ministry.

This homily is an example of the concept of Mutual Ministry. I may be standing here in front of you – but these thoughts and words are not mine alone. Evelyn Weaver, Sandy Williams, Mike Weaver, and I all have ministries that have been deeply impacted by Fr. Bill. The four of us worked together – we collaborated – to form the message you are now listening to. The four of us stand as representatives for everyone whose Baptismal ministries were recognized and honored by Fr. Bill.

The waters of the Baptismal font reassure us of who we are. This morning as you come forward to receive the bread and wine of communion, I invite you to dip your hand in the waters of this baptismal font. Allow the fresh cool water to remind you that through our Baptism God forever changed us. We have been marked as God’s own forever.
The Kingdom of God is a radical world. It is a world that is turned upside down and inside out from everything that seems logical or reasonable.

In the Scripture reading from Revelation, we are told that to the thirsty will be given water as the gift from the spring of the water of life. This is an especially poignant passage. During the last several months, Father Bill was on a very restricted diet. Every drop of fluid was measured; every drop of fluid was treasured. His physical thirst was constant and unsatisfied.

What kind of logical world is it when we have been freely given the gift of Living Water – Living Water that quenches the thirst for all that we long for? It is a world of a God that loves us beyond all reason. It is with an amazing confidence that we are able to accept the invitation to drink of the spring of the waters of life.

The world is turned around when we are told that the last shall be first and the first shall be last. There is nothing sane or reasonable in a world where the Son of God dies on a cross between two criminals. The world turned upside down when the stone rolled away from the tomb.

And it is incomprehensible that we should be a part of such a world – that we in our humanity – our humanness – can share in the Baptism and Resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ.

But we do.

As incredible as it is – we have indeed been loved into that very kingdom of God. Jesus tells us that He is the way, and the truth, and the life. We are assured that our faith will bring us life even though we will experience death – but it will not be a death forever. It is our tomb that the stone has been rolled away from.

Jesus has prepared a place for us. In this extreme world made new, Jesus has promised that He will come again – so that where He is – there we may be also. We have been promised that we will share in Paradise. We have been given the assurance that upon our death we will join with all the saints who have gone before us – those saints who were everyday ordinary folks.

Everyday ordinary folks like Fr. Bill.

Everyday ordinary folks like you and I.

In this radical world of our loving God, the everyday and ordinary becomes extraordinary and beloved. Once again, we will be formed and reformed – transformed. From the ashes we have been created – in the waters of Baptism we have been washed and given new life – we too will one day stand in Paradise with Fr. Bill.

Alleluia. Christ is Risen.

The Lord is Risen Indeed. Alleluia.