I have been lucky to have a number of great mentors over the course of my life. As I grow older, I’ve watched my mentors age as well. This week, one of those mentors died during surgery at the age of 80.

Rev. Richard S. Parker was my first real mentor in the ministry. I served with him at the Port Washington United Methodist Church right after I graduated college and moved to New York to attend Union Theological Seminary. I remember my first meeting with Dick after I had been hired as the student pastor, in his office at the church, when he looked at me, at 22 years old, and said, “So, you’ll be up for preaching in a couple of weeks.” I freaked out, but sure enough I preached in a few weeks. Dick put an awful lot of trust in me – and gave me the courage to believe that I could be an effective pastor. He saw in me much more than I saw in myself, and he helped me discover my strengths. Though I was enrolled in seminary, I was intending to pursue an academic career. Dick helped me to see parish ministry as a rewarding, important, transformative career. I would not have pursued ordination in the New York Annual Conference had it not been for Dick’s thoughtful shepherding.

Dick also showed me the ropes of the political life of Methodism. He knew the ins and outs of Methodist politics better than almost anyone. He was still going to General Conference as a delegate back in those days, and I think he held a record for the most consecutive General Conferences as a delegate. Not sure – but he would have been in the running. He represented us well – reading ALL the material and advocating for the causes he passionately believed in. The only person I ever met more passionate than him about social justice was perhaps his wife Grace, who was also one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. Her passion for justice lacked some of the intellectual sophistication of Dick’s, and I remember many “discussions” over lunch when Grace would be pressing a point that Dick didn’t buy….but Grace rarely budged. Dick might have thought the issue through carefully, but Grace was committed and writing letters to whoever she thought might read them. They made a powerful couple and loved each other in a way that is rare to see these days.

In later years, when I was pastor at the Washington Square United Methodist Church, Dick again generously provided his guidance and support. He had served at the church just before I arrived in an interim capacity. I invited him to join a “think tank” of leaders who would help me think through the challenges that congregation faced, and Dick provided essential advice and compassionate care for me and the church. As before, I was able to navigate challenging waters in large part because of Dick Parker.

Finding myself in the curious position that I am in now – of re-evaluating my call to ministry and my place in the church – I hope I choose a future that honors the enormous contribution I’ve received from my many mentors. Dick was no romantic. He knew well the frustrations of ministry. He once shared with me a story that I often reflected on during my frustrating moments in the parish: A pastor in a small town drove out to the train tracks every afternoon, just in time to watch the daily train roar down the tracks. Noticing this pattern over a few weeks, one of his parishioners asked him why he went out every afternoon to look at the train. The pastor replied, “I just like to see something move in this town without me having to push it.”

Dick, thanks for that story. Thanks for the many gifts you gave me that are buried in the secret places of my heart. I am so grateful for the blessing you were to me – and even to my family and many of my friends. May God receive you now and place you on an important committee where you can contribute much. Or better yet, may you sail on the seas with the charisma God shared with us for a while.