Funeral of David Bennett – Matthew 5:13-16
They say that a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Anyone who ever went walking with David Bennett might have had to say it begins with a few steps; Dave’s pace was quick and he was hard to keep up with. But for him, the first step took place on a summer day in 1938 in Reading, Pennsylvania. In that tiny infant in the Bennett household, a new life came to being and the light of Christ sprang to life in him.
It’s funny; though separated by a few years, Dave and I grew up in practically the same place, even getting our degrees from the same Albright College. It’s delightful to me to think of white-haired Dave Bennett, the same Dave Bennett who so consistently as an usher here at Immanuel would greet you with a stiff handshake and a warm smile, to think of him as a young man being tossed into the Albright College pond by his friends on his birthday as is tradition on that campus. Can it really be the same man? Certainly the same joy hides behind that smile.
Growing up in Pennsylvania Dutch country has an effect on any one of us who have that experience. It’s not just a love of ring bologna that Dave picked up from the culture in which he was raised. The people thereabouts are very private; they keep to themselves, and tend not to let others into their lives easily. Dave’s beloved pastimes—golf, and reading, and a love of nature—were certainly appropriate places for a guy from Berks County to devote his energies. And yet, even a sort of private sensibility couldn’t keep his light from shining out to others.
See the evidence. We know that light caught the eye of a certain young woman from the Carolinas—and almost as an accident, since both Mickey and Dave were “extras” invited along as a second couple with some friends. Whenever two people enter into the bond of marriage, they do so as an adventure in faith. Neither one knows that the other will always be attractive or cooperative. David certainly did well on that account—at least for the former; I can’t speak to the latter. But the new couple accepts each other on faith, taking their vows, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, trusting that the light of Christ will shine in them and make it work. This faith is a lovely thing when we see it around the altar at a wedding, but it is far lovelier after many, many wedding anniversaries have been celebrated. And after just short of fifty years together, I was always struck by Dave and Mickey as a wonderful example of how two very different people can make a wonderful, faithful couple. The light of Christ shone in them.
When parents bring children into the world, that too is an adventure of faith. They cannot know whether the child will bring shame or honor to the family, whether their parenting techniques will work, whether the child will grow to be a joy to their eyes or a distant and broken relation. Jennifer tells me that Dave staunchly refused to tell his children what to do. Instead, setting a good example for them, he allowed them the opportunity to make their own decisions, to find their own paths in life. How hard it must have been on occasion to let them fail! And how joyful each success! The Bennett home became the popular place for the children’s friends and neighbors to gather, known as a place that was safe, that was fun, a place where love reigned and Christ’s light shone out to all. It should be no wonder to any of us that Jonathan, Jennifer, and David have grown to be such different—and yet such fine, successful, loving people.
In older years, Dave became an important part of this congregation and its life. The friendships he made, especially among the Open Door Koinonia group here, were powerful and long-lasting. I have never in all my travels seen a group of people so devoted to one another, so filled with love and care for their sisters and brothers in faith. Dave was an integral part of this group, and it won’t be the same without him. Here in our gathering, he was a constant, faithful part of our ushering team. One of those quiet folks who stood in the back, said little, but was quick with a warm smile to greet each person as they walked in. Behind that smile was the same joy, the same light of Christ that went bounding from the young man tossed into a pond by his friends in his college years.
One would have been hard-pressed to identify that joy, that warmth, that light as one struggling with a broken body. His illness never seemed to stop him until just the very end. In those last weeks and days of his earthly walk, the friends and family that gathered around him, sharing in the care-giving work and helping to bring meaning to each moment were a sure sign of the light that still shone in and through him, that was reflected back by the many people who love him.
David’s journey ended early Thursday morning as he passed into the eternal care of his heavenly Father. With St. Paul, we can say that he has “run the race.” And yet, even though the race is over, Dave’s light has not ceased to shine. That flame burns on still in the friends and family he leaves behind, in the remarkable people his life touched and that he helped to form. But more than that, his light continues to shine in and of itself.
That is God’s promise to each of us: That Jesus Christ is the light of the world, the light that no darkness can overcome. And not even death can serve as a bushel basket, covering and darkening our light. Instead, death has no power over us. We may be separated for a time, but we know that in Christ Jesus there is new life, life eternal, life that does not end. And death is only the first step in a new journey, a journey that leads David and all of us to a city on a hill where our light will shine forever, giving light to all.
May the lampstand that was and is David Bennett forever shine in your hearts, and may his memory be a sure sign of God’s constant, faithful love for each one of you all the days of your life. Amen.