Rita Marie Lampert
Can you keep a secret? Many pastors, including myself, would much rather preach at a funeral than at a wedding. Why do you suppose this is?
Over the seventeen years that I have served at Our Saviour’s, I estimate that I have preached at more than 150 funerals. I never recycle an old sermon. I want to honor the life of each of the deceased that I’m called to serve one last time.
A month ago today, I officiated at Rita’s funeral. Here is what I had to say.
God writes straight with crooked lines.
I love this proverb.
GOD WRITES STRAIGHT WITH CROOKED LINES.
You won’t find this saying anywhere in the Bible. Where does it come from then? We aren’t exactly sure. Some say it’s an old Spanish proverb. Others contend that it’s Portuguese. It’s been attributed to Saint Teresa of Avila, but this is pure conjecture.
God writes straight with crooked lines.
Maybe it’s just as well that the source of this proverb is unknown. This is very much in keeping with the saying, don’t you think?
God writes straight with crooked lines.
I decided early on that this great proverb would be the sermon title for Rita’s funeral. This was confirmed last Thursday morning when I met with Marilee and Sarah to plan for this occasion. At the end of our meeting Marilee, you had a little chuckle. What a strange coincidence that a good Catholic girl like your mom ended up having her funeral at a Lutheran church.
God has a great sense of humor, and He writes straight with crooked lines.
As I recall, Rita grew up on the North End here in St. Paul. Over the years, she told me the story of attending school at Saint Bernard’s. Decades later, she vividly remembered how some of the nuns who taught there kept discipline in their classroom. Let’s just say that good, old-fashioned, wooden rulers were occasionally employed.
Later, Rita got married. She had a daughter—her only child. Rita’s marriage began to unravel; her husband left her. Just like that, Rita found herself a single mother. The strain took a toll on her.
In 1968, Rita wound up in the psych ward at Miller Hospital. There, she met the love of her life—a fellow patient named Ken. The day he left the hospital, Ken tracked Rita down. When she asked how he found her phone number, Ken joked, “I have connections, you know.” Ken and Rita were married exactly one year later, on February 8, 1969.
Like I’ve been trying to tell you: GOD WRITES STRAIGHT WITH CROOKED LINES.
Is this as true for you as it was for Rita? I know that it has been the case for me.
Ken and Rita were united for almost 40 years until death did them part. They enjoyed a good life together. And then Rita found herself a widow.
She sold her townhome and moved into The Boulders in White Bear Lake. By this time, Rita had become a Lutheran.
How so? It was through a crooked line by the name of Len, her brother-in-law. You see, Len had joined Our Saviour’s years earlier. In time, Rita did too. Life abounds with irony. It turns out that Rita had been none-to-happy when Marilee married a Lutheran. Yet, lo and behold, several decades later, she was willingly sitting in a Protestant pew.
GOD WRITES STRAIGHT WITH CROOKED LINES.
While at The Boulders, Rita ran out of money; a sad fate shared by not a few elderly. Marilee, you had to scramble. You scrambled to find a new home for your mom. Thank God for Maple Hill.
GOD WRITES STRAIGHT WITH CROOKED LINES.
Rita had a real knack for friendship. In my trips to Maple Hill to see her, we rarely sat down alone. There were usually two or three others who joined us. After chatting for a while, and sharing a few laughs, it was time to get down to business. In the library, I shared the Word of God, and we partook of the Lord’s Supper.
This came to an end a few weeks ago. Rita suffered a fall. There was a Sunday trip to the emergency room. A brain bleed was diagnosed. Rita was admitted to the ICU. Marilee, you contacted me. Alaine and I drove down to Region’s. It was hard to see Rita lying there, unresponsive. Alaine and I decided to sing to her. The hymns that I chose were Abide with Me and Jerusalem, My Happy Home, two songs that we are also singing today.
On the following Thursday, Rita was transferred to Our Lady of Peace Hospice here in St. Paul. I was in Iowa, visiting my mother who was in the hospital. Alaine received word that Rita’s end was near. After work, she drove over to Our Lady of Peace. She once again sang Abide with Me and Jerusalem, My Happy Home to Rita. She also personalized Psalm 23 for her, as well. Surrounded by family, Rita took her final breath.
GOD WRITES STRAIGHT WITH CROOKED LINES.
It has long been this way.
Two thousand years ago, the most crooked line was written. What was that day like? The day that He left heaven. Surely the angels were amazed; stunned is probably a better description.
God’s crooked line led Him to a virgin’s womb, and from there to the little town of Bethlehem. After being laid in a manger, He was carried into Egypt and then back to Nazareth. There He stayed in a carpenter’s home for nearly thirty silent years.
From that point on, He was constantly on the move: the Jordan River, at a wedding in Cana, preaching an unforgettable sermon on an unnamed mount, and on a boat in Galilee. Jericho, Nain, and Bethany were crisscrossed, as well.
God writes straight with crooked lines.
in the end, He made His way to Jerusalem, and to the temple, the Mount of Olives, the Garden of Gethsemane, Pilate’s courtyard—each a stopping point along the way. At last, He was led to Calvary and that crooked, rugged cross.
What kind of God, I ask you, dies naked, bleeding on a cursed tree for all the world to see?
What kind of God, I ask you, dies to save the likes of Rita—and you and me?
This should take our breath away. It literally knocked Paul off his feet. Years later, he still marveled at what had taken place: You see, at just the right time, when we were still sinners, Christ died for the ungodly…. But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
The God of the Cross is the GOD WHO WRITES STRAIGHT WITH CROOKED LINES. In the flesh, He dared to declare: Heaven and earth will pass away, but My words will never pass away.
What kind of a man says such a thing? One who dares to promise: Very truly I tell you, whoever hears My word and believes Him who sent Me has eternal life and will not be judged but has crossed over from death to life. Very truly I tell you, a time is coming and has now come when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God and those who hear will live.
His promise extends all the way to Fort Snelling where we will travel this afternoon.
His promise is for Rita, and for all who believe.
OUR GOD WRITES STRAIGHT WITH CROOKED LINES.
I have one more story that I would like to share about Rita.
During her years at The Boulders, I used to drive out to White Bear once a month. She was always dressed up and ready to go. Ready to come here to church—eager our midweek Golden Agers service and a home-cooked meal.
As part of our liturgy, she joined in reciting these ancient words, and making Psalm 71 her prayer:
For You have been my hope, Sovereign Lord, my confidence since my youth.
From birth I have relied on You; You brought me forth from my mother’s womb. I will ever praise You.
Do not cast me away when I am old; do not forsake me when my strength is gone. Even when I am old and gray, do not forsake me, my God, till I declare Your power to the next generation, Your mighty acts to all who are to come.
Your righteousness, God, reaches to the heavens, You who have done great things. Who is like You, God? Though You have made me see troubles, many and bitter, You will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth You will again bring me up. You will increase my honor and comfort me once more. Amen.
For the last six or seven years of her life, I visited Rita at the Maple Hill Senior Living Center. I never had to worry about getting in the building. Rita was always dressed up, waiting at the door to let me in. We would typically make our way to the library, seen above. We almost never met alone. Rita usually had rounded up two or three others to join us; there was one time she had five or six. From that point on, I made sure to bring an extra communion kit with me, just in case.
Rest in peace, Rita.
Judy, I hope to get back out to Maple Hill next month. Let’s leave a chair empty for Rita in her honor.
Very nice! Rest in heavenly peace Rita.