There was a man sent from God whose name was John. He came for testimony, to bear witness to the light, that all might believe through him. He was not the light, but came to bear witness to the light. (John 1:6-8)
I want to welcome all of you to Grace Church today as we gather to give God thanks for the rich and full life of Frank Mason. I stand here today at a total disadvantage to most of you. While many of you knew Frank, loved him, studied under him, argued with him, and always stood in great admiration of his work, I never had the pleasure of crossing paths with his considerable personality. So what I hope not to do at this time is intrude on your memories and perceptions of him. Rather, I want to entrust all of your own private recollections and remembrances of Frank Mason to your safe keeping. Your life with him and your love for him are now yours to cherish, to be thankful for, to reflect upon, and to share with each other in the weeks and months ahead.
In the next few minutes, however, I do hope to say some things that may be spiritually helpful for all of us, as well as faithful to the life of Frank Mason. I have two things to say. The first is simply this: Well done, Frank. Well done, good and faithful servant. Frank was a member of Grace Church until about 10 years ago when some troubling leadership transitions caused him to fall away from this particular congregation. I’m told that recently he was ready to return, just as advancing old age was making any trips here too difficult to manage. But even though Frank lost faith for a time in this one household of faith, never did he lose his particular, Christian faith in God that inspired his creativity and shaped his personality. From his early days as a choirboy at the Church of the Intercession way uptown, through the years of nearly no public recognition for his work, Frank fought the good fight of the faith. He knew he’d been given an extraordinary gift, and he knew that the gift was power from God. At a time when serious art and literature sought no longer to promote but to negate the foundations of Christian faith,* Frank held firm to the conviction that the purpose of his art was to bear witness to the light. Indeed, there was a man sent from God whose name was Frank. He came for testimony, to bear witness to the light, that all might believe through him. He was not the light, but came to bear witness to the light.
Frank wasn’t shy about voicing his opinions. A story that his wife Anne told me last week might suffice. Frank once heard a translation of Psalm 23 spoken in the liturgy. His ears expected to hear: Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. Instead, he heard this: Even though I walk through a very dark place, I won’t be afraid. Apparently, Frank went on and on for days about the flat, dull, pedestrian phrase that bore nothing of the brass and stone of eternal art, but only mocked the majesty of the traditional rendering. “A very dark place!” Please. The phrase has no depth, no color, no feeling compared to “the valley of the shadow of death.” “I will fear no evil” is a greater, and a more nuanced thing to say than, “I won’t be afraid.” You won’t be afraid of what, or of whom? How frustrating to soldier on through a world that prefers what is cheap and crude. But Frank never lagged in zeal. When he was just 18 years old, he wrote the poem on the back of your bulletins.
On to the sea,
The roaring, dashing, crashing sea.
Into the sea of life I plunge;
All body, mind, and soul.
Into future destiny I fling my
puny hands.
And with God’s help I hope
and pray
I, too, may make a stand.
And when my time has come
I may look back and say
I plunged into the sea
of life
And emerged victoriously.
Now that Frank’s time has come we can say, without doubt, that he made a stand, that he plunged into the sea of life and emerged victoriously. Well done, Frank. Well done, Christian soldier. Very, very well done.
A moment ago I told you I had two things to say today. If the first is “Well done, Frank,” the second is this: Christ is risen. The reason that we can agree with Frank’s words about emerging victoriously from the sea of life is not because of his great art, not because of the courage of his conviction. Not by our own talent, or strength, or wisdom do any of us take hold of the eternal life to which God calls us. It is a gift. It is because of Easter. Christ is risen. What does Easter mean? Easter is history’s greatest mystery, yet faith’s firmest foothold. It is the word, the message that three days after Jesus died, God breathed life again into his cold, dead body. Easter is the vindication of Jesus, who declared God’s intention to rescue and redeem the whole created order. If God vindicates Jesus, then those who have plunged into the roaring, dashing, crashing waters of baptism with Jesus, belong to him and share in his eternal life. Indeed, we emerge victoriously with Jesus from death to life. So death for Frank, and by God’s grace, for you and me, is not the end of life, but the beginning of larger life in the closer company of God.
There Frank is free to behold, and to praise, and to paint God’s glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father. There he might find Michelangelo, and the two can talk about the Sistine Chapel, and rejoice that in heaven no paintings ever need restoration. There he might share a studio with Rembrandt or da Vinci, and they can all compare brush technique. There he might be surprised even to find Picasso or Pollack. Perhaps both. Stranger things have happened. There eternal art is forever unfolding, full of grace and truth, stronger than brass or stone.
Thanks be to God for Frank Mason, a man sent from God who bore witness to the light. Happy Easter to Frank Mason, who fought the good fight of faith, and now takes hold of the eternal life, which is God’s gift to him.
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*This thought and phrase is based on an essay entitled, “On Erosion,” by Czeslaw Milosz, which appears in Living Philosophies, Clifton Fadiman, editor. Doubleday Books, 1990.
- The Rev. J. Donald Waring, Grace Church in New York June 27, 2009
