Virginia Lamb, a long, faithful member of our parish, passed away on Wednesday, May 6, 2020 at the age of 87. We invite parishioners and friends to email any personal remembrances of Virginia to info@emmanuelwr.org. We will post them here.

Virginia Lamb loved the church. She had a wide-ranging interest in what was going on and always had an opinion.  She had a sharp mind and an incredible memory. A highlight of her time while staying at Sherrill House was to have the Bishop of Massachusetts bring her communion.

Fr. Robert Edson

 

This week marked the end of an era in the life of the Parish of Emmanuel Church with the passing of Virginia Lamb. She had been a faithful parishioner at Emmanuel for as long as I have been attending. Prior to this she attended the Church of Our Savior in Roslindale until its closure in the eighties.

Virginia had a lifelong commitment to the Episcopal Church in New England. She had previously worked downtown for the Diocese of Massachusetts for many years before retirement. She took an active interest in the life of the parish.  She was always one of the first to greet and contact newcomers and help guide them through the liturgy if they were unfamiliar with the BCP.

She served as the parish historian for many years.  She was a great source of institutional knowledge and history for countless Vestries and clergy alike. I remember her bringing teaching aids and pamphlets from her time spent as a Sunday school teacher in the past to encourage a new generation of budding Episcopalians along the path.

Virginia took an active interest in everyone in our church family. She always made sure that we knew who was celebrating a birthday or other significant life event during the weekly prayers of the people. Even as she grew frailer and unable to get to Eucharist each week, Virginia would find a way to make it to the important stuff.  She always attended  the Annual Meeting, where you could count on her to read, mark, and inwardly digest the contents of the annual report with a fine-tooth comb. She made sure every penny was properly accounted for. She was never shy about speaking her mind and you always knew exactly where you stood with Virginia.

I recall the lamb paraphernalia, soft toys and pictures that decorated her room in Sherrill House on the last occasion I visited her. It seems fitting that last Sunday, the fourth Sunday of Easter or Good Shepherd Sunday should fall so close to the time when our own Virginia Lamb was reunited with the Good Shepherd in eternity.

May she rest in peace.

                                                                                                                                    John Gooey

One Sunday I made his way into an unfamiliar church building.  I sat in the last row and the very last seat in the darkest shadow of the corner of the hall. I had not been in that seat even a few minutes before a fine lady took me to sit with her.  I was totally unfamiliar with the church service but I sat with her week after week and I grew to have a strong feeling for her and our little church. At the time I had never been baptized and I was not able to receive the Eucharist, but it was part of the Church I wanted badly, I knew it would bring me closer to Christ.  I asked Virginia and Fr. Robert to help me prepare for baptism and about one year after that first day in the church I was baptized at Emmanuel. I will never forget that day, Sunday August 6, 2017, which happened to be the day of  “The Feast of the Transfiguration”. Virginia happily became my Godmother, I was 49.  She got a kick out of that. I love her and I will miss her.

Scott Gordon

I have known Virginia for over 20 years. She played a huge role in my Emmanuel and Christian faith journey.

Virginia never tired of bringing a Christian message forward. I once called the office copy machine stupid for not printing my holiday letter properly. She spent a full day helping me get the mailing out.

Virginia was a chronicler of all things connected to her life. She was legendary for this skill at Emmanuel and few knew or ever saw her personal life chronicle which was amazing in scope and depth. I was honored when she shared its intricate and precise layout with me. It was a perfectly organized library of her family, friends, work, mission, and faith. She shared many experiences as we travelled this journey of faith together.

Her gift was in sharing a journey of endurance, patience, duty, and love of the message. I was grateful to receive this message. She never tired of teaching.

For the past three years Virginia and I shared breakfast while I drove to work. I enjoyed these few minutes. After Sherrill House went on lockdown, we still shared breakfast every morning. One day, however, there was no answer to my call. It was my hardest ride to work. I tried to dial through the administrative channels at Sherrill House to find my friend. Sherrill House was most cooperative.

I close with one last hands-free call I know she will hear: ‘Please say a command; call Virginia Lamb; calling Lamb Virginia.”

Rest in Peace my dear friend.
                                                                                                                                   

Terri Halliday

I recall when Virginia, and others were welcomed at Emmanuel, after “Our Savior” closed. Virginia quickly became involved in the parish.  She taught Sunday School, and my grandson, Daniel, was in her class. He usually came home with religious items prepared by Virginia.  Virginia enjoyed arts and crafts, and she did an exceptional job with the “Joshua Tree.”  

Virginia’s father had made lovely Christmas items, which she lovingly displayed.  I would look forward to being invited to view them at the Holy Season.  

My fondest memories of Virginia were when I was a Eucharistic B Minister, and brought Holy Communion to shut ins. I often asked her to join me, because I would be driving her home from church, and I needed to make the calls. She enjoyed coming along and we had great visits. Some of the folks had  been members at Our Savior, and it was a good time for them all to reminisce  At times we drank tea, and one time a man went out to his garden, and dug up some plants for us. As they say, “A good time was had by all.”

Virginia found her Christian faith to be the most important thing in her life. She was a lifelong Episcopalian and loved the church.

She and I would discuss the changes and of making our confirmation at age 12, as did I.  There was no Eucharist until confirmed, and it usually took place at the same time.

Virginia was a good and faithful servant. Rest gently in the arms of Jesus.

Anne Harzbecker

Since my family and I joined Emmanuel well after most of the people who have written here, it seems fitting that much of what I remember and value about the presence of Virginia Lamb on Earth and in our lives forms a sort of overlapping Venn diagram with their tributes, incorporating elements of many.

The lamb metaphors describing Virginia’s return to the arms of the Shepherd, and the references to the stuffed lambs she kept about her are surely appropriate and comforting. I have on the other hand spent a fair amount of time on farms and around real flocks of sheep (and lambs), and have noticed that the crook carried by shepherds isn’t just a picturesque prop. Lambs pretty much go where they please—or try to—and it is the shepherd’s constant responsibility to bring them back to the shelter of the flock. And when lambs get together, the main way they interact is by head-butting.

Virginia sought to follow her own way in word and deed; and some of her interactions involved a bit of head-butting. My own head got handed to me once or twice in the process, and I realized that until I discovered the ways to her heart, that conflict would probably continue. Though I saw it only through the lens of 20|20 hindsight, I could have found some help in the ancient and deceptively simple game of Rock|Paper|Scissors.

“And I say also unto thee, that thou art Peter [which means “rock”], and upon this rock I will build my church.” As often noted here, faith was the bedrock of Virginia’s life, and she exemplified that faith by welcoming newcomers. Being the chief greeter, and the explainer of what Emmanuel had to offer, was her territory; as long as I understood that, I could be forgiven the Congregational ways of my youth, and schooled (with occasional use of the crook) in the intricacies of both the BCP and Divine Service (with a side of the correct and acceptable hymns), while serving as a respectful acolyte to her outreach work. Otherwise, I was to, ahem, butt out: this Lamb had the flock—and the task—well in hand.

It has been said here, too, that Virginia paid meticulous attention to detail, forgot virtually nothing, and insisted that large and small events and facts be noted and made right. Most of those details were on paper: facts and figures (and commas!) in the Annual Report; parishioner’s birthdays in the Sunday bulletin; the history of Emmanuel Episcopal Church and indeed the Diocese in the stacks of paper she manipulated and kept track of her entire professional life—and in the case of Emmanuel’s records, much of which she seemed to have committed to memory and could call up on short notice and with no apparent effort.

Talking about proofreading, the importance of remembering birthdays, archiving, and the joy and burden of keeping disorganized people—people usually being men—organized for a living (thinking here of Virginia’s many years of work for the Diocese) gave us plenty of good conversational time, and much healing laughter.

I see scissors standing for Virginia’s remarkable creativity, artisanal crafting skills, sense of design and color, and responsiveness to beauty. Besides the handsomely designed life journal and the well-presented teaching materials that Terri and John have already referred to, Virginia sent hand-made cards on birthdays and other occasions, exquisitely designed and written, each one ornamented on the back with a stamped image of her trademark lamb.

I still have mine, as well as the thank-you note she sent each of us in the choir after we sang at Sherrill House. She was so pleased to see us there, relished the music, and proudly introduced us to her fellow residents—a group of whom she had been instructing in the cutting out and coloring of tongues of flame for Pentecost. Our shared delight in paper crafts, stationery, special inks, stamping, and good penmanship provided additional satisfying and amiable chats.

And Scott’s touching story here of her nurturing his faith journey reminded me of the day he was baptized: for the first time in the years I’d known her, Virginia wore a very pretty dress in honor of her “godson’s special day. I don’t know if her talents extended to sewing, but she had in any case chosen an outfit that suited her perfectly, as if it had been made just for her. When I told her how spiffy she looked, her eyes sparkled with joy.

Toward the end of her life, and after many reverses, that sparkle dimmed a bit; nevertheless, Virginia’s resilience and tenacity impressed me always. The lamb-motif and other keepsakes and treasures at Sherrill House were but a shadow of all she had lost when her home was emptied and sold and she moved to her final earthly refuge—but she still showed them off with delight when we visited. As she once commented to me, with a wistful chuckle, “A lifetime of memories—all gone, just like that!”

Yet the next minute she pointed out the new top she was wearing that had replaced her older, vanished clothes, and proudly displayed the carefully arranged, many-pocketed pouch attached to her walker in which she’d placed paper, writing implements, and other supplies to have close at hand in case the urge to write or draw struck. (Besides vowing to emulate her positive attitude, I wrote this Note to Self: deal with your possessions now, while they’re under your control. I’m sure Virginia would have been gratified to know that she still had something to teach me.)

Many here have wished our fellow Emmanuel-ite a peaceful eternity, and that is certainly a fine thought. But you know, once she arrives at that next stage of the soul’s passage, having shed the tired body and the marks of mortal strife, perhaps Virginia Lamb might prefer once again to follow her own path. I shall therefore think of her like this: busy, appreciated, creative—her intelligence respected, her directness honored, her skills put to use remembering the angels’ birthdays, and making sure the welcoming of newcomers is everything it should be. Keep ‘em on their toes, Virginia! Vaya con Dios.

Anne Jackson

My relationship with Virginia Lamb was a bit different from many others.  Most Sundays we engaged simply in small talk about current events or church matters.  This may be because I was absent from Emmanuel between 1961 and 1993, years which I believe included her most active time in church affairs. 

 So it wasn’t until 1993 that I regularly spoke with Virginia, but I may actually have met her some 68 years earlier when we were both teenagers at Church of Our Saviour, I on the lower end of the teen spectrum, she on the higher end.  This was when my family attended that church for a year or two.  (The reason for this is another story for another time.)  Our Saviour was a small active parish like Emmanuel so it was inevitable that Virginia and I would have crossed paths during church activities.  She was on the high end I was on the lower end.  In recent years we would discuss people we both had known at Our Saviour, together with the some of the unique church customs (such as members of the young people’s choir wearing a giant bow over the cotter.)

It was notable that I never heard her say a negative thing about anyone – that was one of her graces – she commonly offered instructional criticism about “things,” but not about people.  Our talks also tended toward secular subjects. 

Virginia had a wide range of interests beyond her churchly callings and duties – and history was one of them.  During a conversation about three years ago we talked about the history of the area where she lived most of her life in Roslindale. The following week I brought a map of her neighborhood as it existed in the 1800s and she was absolutely fascinated with the knowledge that her property was once part of a large estate on a hill with a vast west-facing vista.  She poured over the details of that map for the better part of an hour. 

But one of my favorite moments of recall involved the selection of an anthem for the choir to sing on a particular Sunday.  There must have been conversation between Andy Castiglione, our choir director, and Rev. Robert Edson regarding the choice of music: one composition was very traditional in the Anglican manner, the other was more contemporary.  I believe the more modern piece was selected.  After the service I asked Virginia how she liked the anthem we sang.  With a serious face and voice to match, she replied, “….  too Congregational.”  That was Virginia.

Edward Barrett

“Sacramental hunger and eucharistic practice”: Pastoral reflection from Bishop Alan M. Gates

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-qYw41Igz0s&feature=youtu.be

It was my son Benjamin’s first day of school at Boston Latin.  I had just begun a new position and was newly married. Driving near Boylston Street, I came to an intersection where there was a four-way flashing yellow light.  Overgrown tree branches hid the light. In the middle of the intersection another car careened into the passenger side of my car causing major damage to the car, my pride, and my son’s sense of well-being.  The car was not drivable.  We were not injured.

I was shaken and upset, and worried that Benjamin would be traumatized forever, the cost of repairs would sink our budget into oblivion, and my husband, Ray, would be angry with me.  With all this on my mind, I called Ray from a nearby public telephone booth.  Sheepishly I reported my predicament.  I still needed to get Ben to school.  Feeling like a fool and that I had ruined Ben’s first day of school, my car, and caused all sorts of problems, I told Ray what had happened and braced for harsh words. I heard the sweetest response.  “Are you okay?”  It still brings tears to my eyes as I write this.  What I was expecting was recrimination, chastisement, and anger.  What I got was love, concern, compassion, and empathy.

We learn about ourselves, our relationships and about love in these little events.  Ray showed me more love in that moment than I thought I deserved.  It was one of the many ways that I understood his love for me.  It is also one of the ways that I experienced a sliver of the love that God has for me.

God’s love is like that.  It is found in the space between relationships and is the tangible sense of well-being that comes in unexpected ways.  It is there in the breath of soft words in times of need, empathy, compassion and understanding between one another.

We lost a member of our congregation, Virginia Lamb, this week.  I have witnessed the ways in which the Emmanuel community has ministered to her over the years.  After she went to live at Sherrill House some of you called and reached out to her to keep her connected.  She was welcomed and nurtured in the life of the parish.  I also know that Virginia was a complicated and sometimes difficult person.  Even so, we held her in our midst, offered her the unexpected love that we know is there for her – for us, too, from God.

Now, Virginia is with Our Lord.  God will hold her to his bosom, and she will be safe and loved and happy.  We at Emmanuel helped to bring her to that place by loving her in God’s house, our house of prayer.

So be at peace, knowing that all things are made well through God and that our rewards will be unexpected and undeserved.

Virginia will be buried at Mount Hope Cemetery on Monday, May 11 in a graveside service.  May she rest in peace in the eternal arms of our loving creator.

The Rev. Joyce Caggiano

Join Bishop Curry each week to cultivate a ‘habit of grace.’ This meditation can be watched at any time by clicking here.

If we were prisoners incarcerated for a punishable deed, we would likely be marking each day awaiting return to home or to normalcy. When I think about what it might be like to be in jail, I think to myself, “well, that’s not so bad.”  I would read books, meditate, pray, draw, etc.

The truth is that we are now in a kind of incarceration. So, I ask myself, why am I not calmly counting days reading, praying etc.?  The truth is when we are ‘counting days’, we often get caught in focusing on getting back to normal life… to home… to whatever we ‘used to do’.

One of the hardest tasks of Christian life is to recognize the presence of God in our lives, in our homes, and in our hearts.  The Holy Spirit lives in and around us, not out there in the future.  Today our physical situation (except for those essential workers who are incredibly busy and stressed) is one of ‘stasis’ – static – the same day after day.

Looking to the future is natural. We want things to return to normal. Yet while thinking ahead is good, it is also not very satisfying.  So, we are waiting for a return to normal. While waiting, however, we are missing the present.

We find God in the PRESENT. The Holy Spirit does not come as a future but as a present reality.  Our task as Christians is to focus on what is here and now. What are we waiting for? The answer is that life is happening now.  Right here, inside our hearts and minds — inside our houses and our families and our solitude.

So, instead of counting down, we are called to count up!  Let us count up our blessings, count up our family and friends and count on the Spirit that remains with us, faithfully through all that is happening now.

We can be ready by counting up— ready for the new “opening.”  The opening of our communities and also the opening of ourselves to the presence of God in the world.

The new re-opening means moving together in lock step with the God who is here now sustaining us.

Peace,

The Rev. Joyce Caggiano

Join Bishop Curry each week to cultivate a ‘habit of grace.’ A new meditation will be posted on Mondays through May. These meditations can be watched at any time by clicking here.

The Boston was to have happened on Monday. It did not. And yes, this quarantine is like a marathon and we have come to the part that in Boston we call Heartbreak Hill —or is it Heart Brake Hill?

No museums are open, nor any playgrounds where out-of-school children can play. No theaters, restaurants or other entertainments are available to us.

For me, the most difficult thing is I can’t walk the beaches on brisk spring days when flowers are in bloom and summer is just ahead.

So, here we are, running through an unwanted, least expected time of stress. This feels a lot like a marathon, and we are reaching the end of tolerance.

Who would have thought a year ago that schools and workplaces would be closed for months or that 25 million Americans would be filing for unemployment? We could not have imagined sheltering at home to stop the spread of a deadly disease. But that is what we are facing, and it is a heart break.

Some of us are fed up and asking why? Some of us are asking, what can I do? So here is some help with that.

Try taking a “heart brake.”

Take this time to do for yourself things you have never had time for or dared to do:

• Sleep when you need to
• Read the books you have stored on your shelf
• Send or leave a friend a gift of flowers, masks, or just a written note (Many of our elderly are shut in and do not even have access to internet. Some do not have TVs)

It is a time for us to look outward and to become the bearers of God’s good news through our actions.

I have no doubt that God is with us in this pandemic, asking us to rethink what is and who are important to us. We might face our limitations and maybe even dare to do something we have never done before. Paint a picture. Cook a gourmet meal. Give to someone in need. Take stock of those we have harmed or disliked. Re-assess the issues.

Pray, think, sing! Dance like no one is watching. As I sit here in my dining room, I can hear the someone singing on my street, “When the Saints go marching in!”

Be joyful my friends. We are living in history. What we do today is a measure of our substance. And yes, God is there cheering us on.

Be well, this “heartbreak” can be fixed, and this ‘brake’ is ours for the making of a blessing.

God Bless you all,

The Rev. Joyce Caggiano

I’m writing this because as Christians and citizens it is important that we recognize that the “new normal” everyone is talking about is real.  We are facing a subtle but real change in our lives as social beings.

We live in a new volatile world at this moment in time.  It reminds me of the fears that must have been experienced during WWII.  The Japanese Americans were put in camps out of fear that they were our enemy.  Men who were rejected by the Armed Services were ostracized.  People who had access to desired resources became special. Befriending the right people might get you the things you needed or wanted.

Today we are living in a different world than any of us have ever known.  For example, I am home schooling my grandchildren.  The first week was frustrating. Not enough bandwidth on the internet. The second week was better.  The third week was miserable.  The fourth week we have settled in to OUR new normal.

Many people, including myself, are making masks so that people can protect themselves from an invisible enemy that seems to be winning this war.  I am also sewing medical gowns for my daughter’s nursing home staff.  Why?  Because there is a scarcity and inadequacy of vitally necessary equipment.  Something none of us could have imagined only months ago.

A few days ago, I went to my favorite local discount fabric store to buy fabric for the medical gowns.  The owner of the store (whom I’d never met before) gave me 50 yards of nylon waterproof fabric for $2 per yard. That made 25 gowns.  Yesterday I went back to purchase the last of his supply.

But this time the owner wasn’t there.  When I placed my bolt of fabric on the counter, I asked if I could receive the discounted price.  (Full price was $2.99 per yard). The clerk looked at me suspiciously and refused to give me the discount. She told me I could wait for the owner if I wanted.  I couldn’t. Then she looked at me with a subtle kind of fear and told me to step back away from her. There was a very large counter between us at least five feet wide.  I stepped back and paid the full price for the same fabric. I left feeling sadness and frustration.

Are we afraid of one another now more than before? Have you noticed that people who are carefully “social distancing” are sometimes actually unfriendly? Are we more suspicious of one another? Is this the new social order? When we are hoarding, it means taking more than we need and the result is that others don’t have enough. Is this what we WANT?

Living as a community is more important than ever. As a parish community this pandemic makes our work critical to the health of our world.  The only way through this pandemic is to hold tight to the things that matter.  Not physical things but the things that make our lives rich with joy and peace and generosity.  Our faith in a God that loves us through the most difficult circumstances.  A God that never leaves us.  Emmanuel Church is like many Christian communities today, struggling to make our way back to normal.  But normal today is new and different.  The “different” needs to shape us into better people, the way that Jesus taught us.  The WAY that makes us children of the light, bearers of love and compassion.  The WAY of the Lord, the one who will carry us into life again and again and again.

I miss you all and pray for you.  Be well, be safe, be generous, patient and compassionate.  Our faithfulness will bring us into the “new normal” full of the glories of God.

Peace to you, my friends,

The Rev. Joyce Caggiano