Isaiah 25:6-9 Psalm 42:1-7  John 6:37-40

My soul thirsts for God,

for the living God.

When shall I come and behold

the face of God?

Distributing the Holy Communion is one of the great privileges of being a priest in God’s Church.  In better times, each communicant comes to the altar rail to kneel alongside fellow communicants in true communion.  There is a very tender moment as the wafer is placed within each hand, each recipient humbly kneeling with soul laid bare in the real presence of Jesus Christ – the bread of heaven, the cup of salvation.  It is a tiny slice of sacred time for communicant and celebrant; a time when the boundary between earth and heaven becomes very thin – a time that I treasure with particular reverence and gratitude as the observer of the work of the Holy Spirit in the lives of each recipient.

This very sacred moment of sharing the Holy Communion with Gladys Ivory, was, each and every time, most humbling for me.  Whenever Gladys consumed the holy food, there was no doubt that Jesus Christ was truly present for her, that her soul thirsted and was fed by the living God.  Her expression was like that of someone who, after a long exhausting search, had finally found something she desperately needed; or, of someone who, after walking miles in the heat, had been given a cool drink of water; someone giving over all of her griefs and earthly struggles as she was drawn into the peace and comfort of the arms of her Lord.

Last week, when we shared Holy Communion for the last time, my intention was to simply touch the drop of wine to her lips.  But, that was not enough for Gladys.  Even in her diminished physical and mental state, her earthly death so near, her understanding of the real presence of Jesus Christ was not diminished; she consumed the thimble full of wine with that same old fervor, responding to the words, “The blood of Christ, the cup of salvation,” with a hearty “Amen.”   Amen – so be it.  For that final time in her earthly life, Gladys offered herself into the arms of her Lord, held firm in his promise that all who see the Son and believe in him will have eternal life, trusting herself to the will of God.

The shining star of Gladys’ presence will be sorely missed.  She touched the life of every parishioner young and old with her concern and compassion.  As she knew Jesus Christ is present in the Holy Communion, she knew that Jesus Christ is present in each of us.  We could see our pain and our joy in her sparkling eyes.  We loved her gentle quiet nature of the English and her fine china tea pots.  We loved her well-coordinated outfits and glimmering jewelry and spritzy sandals.  We loved her updates of life-long friends and the Ivory clan reunions; news of her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren whom she loved so dearly; and historical accounts of her challenging childhood, the adventures of her evacuation from London during the Blitz that destroyed her home.  We loved her shared memories of Wendell, the love of her life, who brought her to America but never dimmed her love of England.  We all love England, even more, because Gladys loved England and we loved Gladys.

The second of our opening spoken anthems is a paraphrase from the Book of Job; it concludes, “though this body be destroyed, yet shall I see God; whom I shall see for myself and mine eyes shall behold, and not as a stranger.”  When Gladys was gathered into the loving arms of our Lord in the dark hours of last Friday morning, those were not the arms of a stranger.  She had known his presence throughout her long life; she experienced that presence every Sunday and every Wednesday and in each one of us.

When Gladys was gathered into the loving arms of our Lord in the dark hours of last Friday morning, the path was well-lighted path as she was gathered into immeasurable joy – into the holiest Communion.

The words of the prophet Isaiah never grow old,

“This is the Lord for whom we have waited;
let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.”

Let us rejoice, giving thanks to God for the life and ministry of Gladys Ivory.

Burial of Gladys Ivory