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Homily at Francis Hanson Memorial Service
The
Rev. George D. Smith
July 28, 2006
St. Mark’s, Glen Ellyn, IL
Isaiah 61: 1-3
Romans 8:14-19, 34-35, 37-39
John 14: 1-6
Let me begin with a word from Vermont, from Martha Irion, Frank’s
niece, who could not be here today but is here in spirit and
with this message:
My Uncle Frank...
The phone would ring...
“Hi Frank, it’s Martha.”
“Oh hello Kiddo.”
How that Midwestern phrase would warm my heart.
His Cubbies...His Chicago Bears...My Red Sox....My Patriots...
He would always ask about my partner Sandy. “Tell her
I send my love.”
Always a kind word with nothing but encouragement. The conversations
were never long....but the warmth and love radiated across the
miles we were apart.
I was Blessed to have such a Cheerful and Gentle Man to call
my Uncle.
This memorial service is in fact an Easter liturgy. That is
why during this normally green season of Pentecost, I am wearing
a white stole, and the Pascal Candle is lit. At the Easter Vigil,
which is celebrated the Saturday night before Easter Sunday,
a new fire is kindled, from which the Pascal Candle is lit.
The deacon or priest carries the candle into the hushed, darkened
church singing, “The Light of Christ, thanks be to God.”
This phrase is sung three times, each time a half step higher
in pitch. It is one of the most dramatic and poignant moments
in the church year, revealing the beauty and mystery of God’s
work of salvation, which begins with a flicker. Easter is about
light because God is about light. And our memorial service is
also about light – the light of Christ and the light of
a life which we celebrate today – a life filled with the
light of God that touched many people and continues to do so
in many way - in memory, stories and works of art that are now
spread out over many states if not countries.
Frank Hanson was born in Chicago but grew up in, raised his
family in and was in every way a Glen Ellyn man. He loved this
place, including this church, which his father helped build
and which Frank himself gave much, including his time, talent
and money. You might say that he lived the all-American, American
dream, marrying Ida, living in the leafy suburbs and blessed
with a daughter, Deborah. He took the train to the Loop and
worked for one firm for his entire career. To put bread on the
table, he did what he loved – drawings and layout for
a small but successful advertising agency. Add the Cubs, Bears
and a love for crossword puzzles, piano playing and the American
dream only shines brighter. Well, perhaps the Cubs actually
dim the American dream a bit – but as Frank’s daughter
remarked, everyone needs a hopeless hope. I should let you know
that my son is a Sox fan and wants to declare St. Mark’s
a Cubs-free zone.
Unlike our current culture which seeks to measure everything
in seconds and milli-seconds, the quality of a person is measured
over a lifetime. When Frank’s younger sister was born,
he was nine years old – an awkward age to have a newborn
baby around. He exclaimed, “I will take care of her if
I have to, but I won’t push her in a baby buggy.”
Nine year olds have an image to maintain – but I bet you
that he did gently push that baby buggy when no one was looking.
And it was when he was in the hospital before his death that
he said, “Hello Kiddo” to his niece, Martha, when
she called him on the phone. These are anecdotal bookends to
a life characterized by grace and goodness, gentleness and friendship,
loyalty and faith.
In the sweet spot of this life, Frank nurtured his God-given
talent - a love and proficiency in water color painting that
captured his passion and commitment. Many artists eschew watercolor
because of its unforgiving nature. You can’t simply paint
over your mistakes. It takes vision, patience and a keen understanding
of how the canvas is the light on which color is applied to
make it come alive. Many of you have one of Frank’s watercolors
or have seen one. Hold it in your mind’s eye and see the
light.
Light is one of the essential keys to the Scriptures that have
been read today and to our faith as a whole. The passage from
Isaiah announces good news to a hungry, brokenhearted and hopeless
world. It is the light of God coming into the world - the light
of God that grows and strengthens the trees of righteousness.
It is the powerful promise in the letter to the Romans that
nothing will separate us from the love of God; nothing will
extinguish the light of the canvas that lies behind the dark
colors of a broken world. It is the canvas that is our foundation,
and Frank’s painting remind us of that reality and hope.
The Gospel of John assures us that there are many mansions ahead
of us and that there is a place prepared for us - a place that
has all of the essentials – brushes, canvas, inks, watercolors
and of course, water. You can be sure that what is contained
in them is being used to depict them on a canvas – to
the delight of angels and archangels and all the company of
heaven.
Before this service, we committed Frank’s ashes to the
St. Mark’s columbarium. It is a beautiful garden setting,
with the church building as a background and a vista of Glen
Ellyn’s Main Street – a perfect setting to plan
new portraits of the town and people that he loved.
Amen.
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