Tuesday, June 29, 2021

Encountering Philip

Ted Ballard

I encountered Philip Drake not the first time I ever came to church at St John’s but the second.

I came for the first time soon after moving to Portsmouth in November 2013. Like many life-long Episcopalians, I arrived with a full set of expectations and prejudices, from what a service should be like, the sermon, the music and so on, down to where to sit in the pews. Among my prejudices was a dislike for the exchange of the Peace in the middle of the service -- I thought it was hokey and dumb.

On my second Sunday, it happened that I sat, uncharacteristically, in the fourth pew left center. When the Peace came, I dutifully greeted the people to my right and my left. And then I turned around to the pew behind, the fifth pew left center. There sat a small, white-haired, elderly man and a younger man next to him.

His greeting of “Peace be with you” was unlike any other -- his open gaze and handshake, his calm, warm, melodious voice, connecting with a complete stranger. In the space of a few seconds it was a benediction given and received.

Such a thing stays with you.

I became a regular in the fourth pew left center, simply to have that brief, intense moment of grace again.

For a long time I didn’t even know his name, he was just the small, white-haired, elderly man I looked forward to greeting on Sunday morning. Eventually I learned their names, Philip and Dan. So then I had a name to go with that special man and the special place he always sat -- I was a Philip groupie. . .

Over the past year and more I worried about Philip and his clearly increasing frailty, worried what the future would bring. Then after his death a few weeks ago, his memorial service painted a vivid story of the life and the man outside that pew, what had made him the giver of grace, given to many and to me.

Thanks for the privilege of encountering Philip Drake.