Fr. Donie sings: 

Thank you.

It assaulted her senses with an intoxicating beauty, this place of no limitations or no boundaries. The drama of the sprawling landscape with its untamed and breathless scenery. Its raw humanity and its unbridled passion and freedom leaped into her soul. Yes, the film, “Out of Africa”; and I hope that you recognized its theme song that we just have sung and played together. I’m sure other people have sung it much better. Let the rest of the world go by. She witnessed its enchanting beauty behind the backdrop of a highly charged love story. Karen Blixen, the author of the autobiography, "Out of Africa," and indeed the film of “Out of Africa,” it sold Kenya to the world. Its raw beauty and, indeed, the beauty of its people. Karen Blixen fell in love with Africa and Africa fell in love with her. She allowed it to seduce her and to bleed into her very soul. Its terrible beauty, haunting and barren environment, its exotic explosive color seduced her deeply. However, it was the people who she was taken by. She loved their lived look faces. There were no makeovers or whatever they call it now in the celebrity world. What you see is what you get. Their depth of character, their charm, their warm hospitality, it exhausted the meaning of invitation and hospitality.

Karen Blixen was a pioneer, a woman ahead of her time, a strong woman in a man’s world, because indeed Africa is a man’s world. But she was a woman like many strong women. She had vision and she had hope. She acquired land close to Nairobi, the capital city of Kenya, and she had to make long, lengthy negotiations with the elders of the village. And a woman never goes to the wisdom figure of a village. It’s always a man. But she broke cultural norms. She was indeed a pioneer of her day. She maintained her coffee plantations near Nairobi, until sadly, the plantations failed and she had to return to her native Denmark. Today, my friends, she was loved so much by the Kenyan people that there is a town called “Karen,” just ten minutes from the city of Nairobi. She may be gone, but her spirit is highly respected in Kenya and, indeed, in Africa. And they say she was a woman, as they call it in Kenya, a “momma” ahead of her time. She persevered, broke cultural norms, providing work and care for the people of Kenya. She provided two things, and these two things the gospel speaks about today, nourishment and possibility. Nourishment and possibility.

Over the last seven weeks I’ve been here, I’ve asked you, “Have you been to Africa?” I meet many people during the week here and during Sundays and usually the response is, “No, not yet.” But my friends, you have. You have been there, and you still continue to be in Africa. You exist and live in Kenya. Not too long ago, in fact, just two years ago, I made an inquiry in this parish about help for Kenya. And I didn’t know the parish, in fact I didn’t know your pastor, Father Brian Joyce. But the response was overwhelming. I didn’t have transport in Kenya. You provided it. And again your compassion, your care, your generosity just spilled over.

I had enough money to rebuild a primary school, a school which has over 400 children. And almost 200 of them are orphans, whose parents have died from HIV. We also were able to set up a feeding program, it still continues, and will continue all because of you. So, like the gospel today, like Karen Blixen, you provided nourishment, continue to do so, and possibility. You have given the children a chance of a better life, through education. But the important thing is you showed you care. And will you be remembered? Yes. In the flash of a smile, you are remembered. In the schoolyard, the fun and the play, you are remembered. In the midst of laughter, you are remembered. In the color blue, the color of their uniforms that we bought for them, you are remembered. When gratitude is spoken about, you are remembered. 

And not only are you a generous and warm people, highly charming, (You are!) you tempted me deeply to do what? To stay with you. The seven weeks have been seven wonderful weeks of connection, of friendship, of invitation. You are a parish of invitation, and that is the highest compliment that can be paid to you. You taught my heart and you moved me and you energized me. You welcomed me beyond the meaning of welcome. I found a homecoming in Christ the King. I felt at home. But my friends, there is a season for everything, a time for everything, a time to scatter, and a time to gather. And scatter I must, say farewell, and leave for another continent. But I go full to the brim with delight and gratitude. I go on mission by you. In fact, I stand on your shoulders. And the vision is clearer and more beautiful. Your sacramental presence has been a harvest of nourishment and possibility for me. In fact, I have scribbled your scriptures into my life. I go to witness, to respond to the needs of another continent, to share their helplessness, carefully harvesting the bits and pieces of today’s hope to make tomorrow’s living a better possibility. In this parish, I’ve glimpsed the goodness that God pours into men and women, to young adults, and, indeed, to the children.

I go lifted, higher in courage, and higher in strength because of you. And I know you will be the hand of comfort on my shoulder when I get overwhelmed with the needs of a developing country, and, indeed, sometimes I do. It can be weary, it can be sad, sometimes one feels powerless. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart for what you’ve done for me and the Kenyan people. And I know I could mention lots of names to say thank you to, to show my gratitude, but I know from my experience that that is a dangerous thing to do because you miss out on somebody. But I mention one person. Lately he’s known as “the man with the Shingles.” But to me, he’s one of the finest men, one of the finest pastors that I have encountered yet in my life. And why? Because he’s a man of the heart. And you know that, I’m talking about your pastor, Father Brian Joyce. He’s indeed a wonderful pastor, a wonderful human being, and, thank God, a good friend of mine. And to you, what can I say, what can I pray, but blessings all over you. 

Fr. Donie sings:
May the road rise with you,
May the wind be always at your back,
The sun shine warm upon your face,
And ‘till we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of his hand. 
Amen. 

rpb