Peter liked to
tell the story of the Harvard professor who began a conversation with him by
saying, "Should I die, Dr. Gomes..." Like that professor, I suspect
that Peter never quite believed that someday he would be promoted from the
church on earth to the church in heaven. But that day DID come, and this is our
first reunion without Peter. He shook our hands at the door of Memorial Church
on Freshman Sunday and gave us his blessing when we graduated. Peter held the
position of Plummer Professor of Christian Morals from 1974 until his death two
years ago.
My friendship with Peter was improbable. I was a white kid from rural Alabama; he was black, a Harvard professor, and a Yankee. We WERE both Baptists, although I had never seen a Baptist like Peter. Like so many of you, I met him the first Sunday of freshman year and we were friends for the rest of his life.
We all have our
favorite Gomes' anecdotes. Mine has to do with Peter's visit to my church in
Alabama in 1984. It was (thank God) George Wallace's last term as governor of
Alabama. I wondered how to thank Peter for coming to preach. What do you get a
man who has everything? Well, in this case, it took a special act of the
Alabama legislature.
At the luncheon
after the service, I presented Peter with a beautifully framed and elegant
document declaring him to be an "honorary lieutenant colonel
aide-de-camp" in the Alabama state militia that was signed by Governor
George Corley Wallace. For once Peter was almost speechless. "Well shut my
mouth!" he finally said.
The public Peter
Gomes was larger than life: a peerless preacher, a raconteur without equal, a
shameless namedropper, always delightful company.
But I suspect
that many of you, like I, value even more your acquaintance with the private
Peter Gomes: the many kindnesses, the time he took to return phone calls and
write letters in longhand, the fact that whenever I dropped in on him, he made
the time to talk with me, and that he greeted me as "my dear boy" no
matter how many years it had been since graduation.
It was the
private Peter Gomes, the pastor, to whom I went on a cold, rainy spring
afternoon during sophomore year when I finally realized that I was
gay.
And it was Gomes
the pastor who influenced my decision to enter the ministry, not only because
he did the kinds of things I wanted to do, but even more because he was the
kind of man I wanted to be.
Peter was far
from perfect. He loved good food and drink perhaps a little too well; he
delighted in the company of the well to do and successful; and he loved to
gossip. But perfection is over-rated. Peter's imperfections only made him more
loveable.
Peter loved to
tell the story of going to an elegant event in London. According to him, the
ladies wore tiaras and the gentlemen wore medals. Peter, ever the high church
Baptist, wore a clerical collar. A tiara-ed lady fell into conversation with
him and asked, "My lord, what is your diocese?" Peter explained that
he was the Harvard University chaplain, so she introduced him to her husband as
"the bishop of Harvard."
That's about as
good a description of Peter as I can think of - "the bishop of
Harvard."
When he
announced his retirement, Trevor Potter and I decided that we wanted to
commission a piece of music for the University Choir in his honor, so we set up
a conference call with him to discuss the text and talk about composers. I
asked Peter if he had a composer in mind. "Well, I supposed Elgar is
dead," he said. It was the last conversation I had with him.
I sincerely hope
that he has made Elgar's acquaintance in the heavenly kingdom and that they are
getting along famously. But I have no doubt that when it is Wednesday afternoon
in heaven, the bishop of Harvard is presiding at tea and entertaining the
heavenly host with his stories.
Let us pray:
Support us, O
Lord, all the day long of this troublous life, until the shadows lengthen and
the evening comes, and the fever of life is over, and our work is done. Then,
in thy great mercy, grant us a safe lodging, a holy rest, and peace at the
last. Amen.
Into thy hands, O merciful Lord, we commend
thy servant Peter. Acknowledge, we humbly beseech thee, a sheep of thine own
fold, a lamb of thine own flock, a sinner of thine own redeeming. Receive him
into the arms of thy mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and
into the glorious company of the saints in light. Amen.
