Gloria Dei Lutheran Church

Matthew 5:1-13 + November 18, 2024 + Funeral for Florence Stater

Brian and Kim, Bradley and Grace, Brent and Molly, Esther, the family, friends, members of Gloria Dei, God’s grace and comfort be with you in these days.

On the day after Florence died, I watched a video of her describing the symbols of the church. She began by saying that the sanctuary had seven pillars, and she summarized the importance of the number 7 in the Bible. I thought to myself, “Did she realize that the renovation of the sanctuary required the removal of one pillar?” It stood right here. (Note the square on the ceiling; that’s the mark.) Now there are six, which is not as popular of a number in Scripture. Would she resist this change?

No. She wouldn’t. In fact, she probably knew it already. From her bed at Lyngblomston, she would ask to see the latest design plans for the new renovation, offering her suggestions and always her approval. The church must change to meet the times, she believed.

Long ago, she joined the property committee here at Gloria Dei. As was often the case for her back then, she was the only woman. On my last visit with her, she told me again about how she climbed up in the steeple to show the men what needed to be done on the roof. If you want to see some of her handiwork, look in the kitchen downstairs. When it needed to be renovated, she argued that it should be a commercial kitchen—which was a really expensive project—because only then would this church be ready to serve its neighbors. She also knew all the health requirements, exactly where everything should go, and she didn’t hesitate to tell you and, of course, enforce it.

At her death, Gloria Dei did, indeed, lose a pillar. In literal and metaphorical ways, she built this church. Like that square on the ceiling, there are marks all over this building, and in this community, and in our hearts, where her presence made us who we are today. Some might have perceived her as a “church lady.” But look out, if you thought that meant she was content with a traditional role. She always had one hand holding on to the traditions and patterns and relationships that she treasured, and one hand reaching into the future holding on to a vision of a world that was better, healthier, more loving and inclusive, a world that cared for “the least,” who were to her never “the least.”

That was, of course, true in her vocational life. She was at the forefront of education and nutrition, from Minnesota to Washington D.C. She might have taught home economics, but she did not believe a woman should stay in the kitchen or have her life defined by a set of responsibilities determined by men. When she started working with the state, most women were secretaries. In 1974, she was the only woman who testified to a Senate committee about federal approval of national nutrition policy. “We have the resources. We’re ready to go, if you pass the legislation,” she told both Hubert Humphrey and Walter Mondale. Now we understand the impact of nutrition on health and education, but she was ahead of her time. She had her eye on a healthier, more inclusive, stronger country. We’re still fighting about it as a country, and I suspect she was following those debates into her last days.

Her reach began early. She grew up without electricity in the woods on the farm, far from “civilization,” so she began to read. Her world grew and her spirit claimed a life far beyond that place. She went to the U; lived in the Cities, yet her heart never left that land, even in later years wishing it could be a sanctuary for butterflies, who needed an ally that understood both the future and the land.

Aunt Florence was an ally to you in the family, too. I know she delighted in you, in the lives you lead. She was interested in your education. It was as important to her as it was to you to spend those summers fishing, sleeping on the ground, roughing it with the best of them, even when her age was making it harder. She didn’t want to be left out. You were part of her world. That was the hardest part of having a body that could no longer show up at church, or sleep on the ground, or even come visit. She never stopped chafing at some of the requirements of her life at the care center.

Some might say she was ahead of her time. I would say she was living in God’s time, captured by, marked with, a vision where all have something to contribute for the world that to be more loving, just, and healthy. She picked out a selection of verses that teach us about what God’s way looked like to her. Equal, no longer male and female, but all one in Christ Jesus. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control, her guiding principles. She chose the Beatitudes, Jesus’ vision for who is centered in God’s eye. Not the powerful, or the strong, or the wealthy, or one particular gender, but those in whom God holds close: the poor, the grieving, the pure of heart, those persecuted for standing up and witnessing to a different world: those doing justice, loving kindness, and walking humbly with God. She reached forward into heaven, and brought it home: to her family, to her workplace, to her home. She was as much a prophet as she was a home-ec instructor.

I’ll admit I added one more verse to her gospel selection, “You are the salt of the earth.” Because salt is necessary for life. It enhances what we can taste, making what IS better. We could not be who we are without the mark of Florence Stater, our sister, our aunt, our teacher, our organizer, our enforcer, our delight, a channel of blessing, a sacrament of Christ’s love.

Just as she always reached forward, heaven now reaches for her, as it did on the day she was baptized. The Christ, whose love was marked on her forehead in the sign of the cross, holds her in a love that is eternal. There’s another selection of scripture that I might add, “Well done, good and faithful servant.

And there at heaven’s gates: Welcome home, blessed one. Your mother, all who have gone before, have been waiting for you. Come, rest, rejoice. Your health is restored; your vision is now clear; your ears can hear the sound of the angel song. You made your mark. Prepare now to receive those who will one day join you, when love will gather all of us.

But, until they arrive, there’s a kitchen project that needs your direction.

Alleluia.