September 8, 2007
(Funeral for the Very Reverend J. Earl Cavanaugh)

All That Come to Me

by The Rev. Peter DeVeau

Nancy and Helen, and all Earl’s family,
Terry and the people and clergy of this cathedral church,
Barry and the people and clergy of this diocese of West Missouri,
people and clergy of the Diocese of Kansas and of the wider Church,
Representatives of many faith communities,
People, leaders and public servants of Kansas City, this region, and beyond:

Grace to you and peace. Nothing can separate us from the love of God.

Not long before Earl died, Earl and Nancy called me in Seattle to ask if I would deliver the homily at this celebration and thanksgiving to God for Earl’s life and ministry. I was stunned and frankly, humbled. And, I have to tell you, it is the first time anyone in asking me to preach for a funeral, has had everything so well planned out. Looking ahead goes with the territory when it comes to our friend, Earl Cavanaugh. I certainly learned that in sharing five years of ministry with Earl in this place, in the year and a half here after his retirement, and ever since.

Looking ahead, with a sharp eye for the present and a healthy respect for the past, is so much of what characterized the life of this congregation during Earl’s tenure. In those days, as I imagine is the practice today, not one Fall schedule was planned here without a full knowledge of the Chiefs home schedule. For Earl, I believe such sensitive planning was both a practical measure for survival and success, and a recognition that we always begin with people right where they are and where we are. This has been part of the DNA of this congregation long before Earl’s time, as it is today. Seeking a vision for God’s future grounded both in the present and past is what I believe has made this church at the heart of Kansas City a place of grace, of holiness, and of service.

Let’s begin with where we are. Here we are: Earl’s family, friends, and baptizing community; his colleagues, fellow citizens, and acquaintances; his supporters and detractors in life. We gather to mourn his death and offer thanks for his life, for this person whom Helen Gray of the Kansas City Star describes as “a big man with a big heart for people.” Earl certainly commanded presence. No doubt many of us here have one or more big memories of Earl. I am reminded of the time Earl and Nancy visited us in Seattle while attending a meeting related to Earl’s work with the Executive Council of the Episcopal Church.

It was April and right after Easter. I drove Earl and Nancy to the Skagit Valley north of Seattle to see the tulip fields in bloom. A little known fact to pick up today is that Washington State exports tulip bulbs to Holland. There is a picture Nancy took of Earl standing in a vast sea of mostly yellow tulips (though here and there were red ones and striped ones): This big guy with a big stick (he had his cane), standing amid these big tulips in a vast field. Things actually were to scale. Skagit tulips are tulips on steroids. I like to think of this post-Easter, post-Earl’s retirement scene as embodying an understanding of church and of Jesus that I saw in Earl.

“Everything that the Father gives me will come to me, and anyone who comes to me I will never drive away.” The piece of the Gospel of John that we read today, a passage selected by Earl, points out, as one commentator has written, that “God’s will for human salvation is inclusive in intent, not exclusive.” Being “inclusive” was something Earl worked at long before inclusive became a buzz word. The whole blooming field belonged to God.

If I am to learn one thing only from the testimony of Earl Cavanaugh, it is that bringing people together is what Jesus was and is all about. This fundamental “inclusion” of the gospel is set in a definite context. Those sayings of Jesus we hear today are preceded immediately by John’s account of Jesus’ feeding of the five thousand, the other-worldly scene of Jesus walking on the water, and of Jesus teaching about himself in a sort of Jungian moment of symbolic actualization with the words, “I am the bread of life.”

Feeding the five thousand is one way, I suppose, to err on the side of inclusion. Feeding is what this place is about. During Earl’s ministry what is now the Kansas City Community Kitchen came into being. It was also in Earl’s day that Eucharist, that meal of word and of sacrament, became the regular pattern for Sunday worship. It’s hard to say which move caused the biggest stir. The table of grace was extended in a different way through ecumenical and interfaith efforts, notably the covenant between this cathedral and the Roman Catholic cathedral.

At a time like this it is a temptation to canonize the memory of Earl, to make him into a kind of perfect dean, a larger-than-life holy man, who in his day walked on water. The gist of the story is not that Jesus walked on water anyhow, it’s more about Jesus’ words to his disciples, “It is I, do not be afraid.” I am reminded of those times when the staff gathered together in the upper rooms that make up the cathedral offices. We did that not a few times when Earl wasn’t around. If at those times we heard the sound of the hydraulic elevator starting up everyone would disperse quickly. That elevator sound meant that Earl probably was on his way up. The stairs had become more of a challenge for him. One day as the staff gathered and chattered away the doorway to the stairwell opened quietly and in walked Earl. Around here we learned to love and fear the Dean. He always figured things out.

One of the staff once commented to Earl that he would be dangerous if he were more organized. Earl himself said to me the week before he died that he wished that he had been more disciplined about his spiritual life. He then named a bishop whom he felt modeled discipline itself. “Earl,” I said, “that bishop is German, you are Irish. The Irish like to party.” As death neared, Earl was concerned about the worthiness and faithfulness of his ministry. This too, might have something to do with his Celtic roots.

About his ministry, there can be no doubt that Earl was organized about what needed shape and direction, and was also open to the random and unexpected shaping and direction of the Spirit. Sometimes at a moment’s notice he would take the staff to lunch for no good reason at all. If he asked us to do something, the unspoken part of his request went something like, “got that done yet?”

If an idea seemed good to him he’d offer his support, but not first without asking a whole battery of questions. He also taught us to live by that mantra learned from Billy Kemper, “Has the check cleared yet?” Ideas need not only a hearing, but hard work and resources laid down on the line. Probably the biggest disappointments of his life were when Earl ignored those instincts that were Spirit-driven. “Like the lottery,” another one of Earl’s favorite sayings, “you’ve got to play it in order to win.”

Earl had his ways about making sure everyone knew they were invited to the party. While he could not be all things to all people, Earl tried as best he could. Being the Dean meant that there were only so many hours in a day to interact with the large and diverse community centered around this place. Yet in his time this Cathedral grew to be an “urban destination church.” Assembling a campus around this cathedral, seeing the building of a diocesan center, installing a gallery and an organ, repairing fallen walls, and preparing the way for Founders’ Hall required good measures of people skills and grace.

All of this activity was taxing, but it did not take away from his keen intuition and pastoral sense. Once, back in the days when the Future Farmers of America met in Kansas City, a group of teenage FFA delegates walked over to the Cathedral. A friend of these young men had died unexpectedly. Earl went with them into this cathedral, listened to their story and their grief, and prayed with them. A year later they returned to offer their thanks.

At a time when most people hadn’t yet considered the full participation of women in the life of the church, Earl perceived the Spirit was ready to act. He supported the ordination of women. Extending the borders even further, he received gay and lesbian persons as if each were his own child. Perhaps such a stance is the only way to overcome the fear and misunderstanding around this and other issues in our day. In the larger church this openness translated into a reputation for being fair. All persons deserved a hearing.

As I think of these things, I can hear the words of Jesus, “I am the bread of life, those who come to me shall not hunger. Those who believe in me shall never thirst.” These words introduce the gospel selected for today. What is vital for us in hearing them is to let them shape in us a deeper understanding of a wonderful mystery: God is bread. Living bread.

The words can work on us as individuals and a community to transform us. Earl knew all too well that what he did was not about him, it was about something greater. He did not presume to determine who was out or who was in. He sought to follow the One who said, “anyone who comes to me I will never drive away.”

You and I always enter into another’s labor. What is here, what is blooming today, represents the vision and labor of others, and more profoundly the abundant gift and providence of God. Carl Jung, one of the great workers in the field of psychology, whose work inspired Earl’s own self-understanding, wrote that meaning comes “when people feel they are living the symbolic life, that they are actors in the divine drama.”

Perhaps the best way to remember Earl is to enter into the symbol-language of the divine drama itself and listen for God’s call. Amazing things can happen when we broker in living bread. Just remember, from somewhere deep within, Earl will be asking with Jesus, “Okay. How do you think you’ll do that?”

With God’s help, I hope.