ALBANY-It has pleased Almighty God to summon from this vale of tears to her eternal home, the soul of Ethel Katherine Dascher Gray, 98, who departed this life on Good Friday, April 3, 2015. Please remember her family in your prayers.
Mrs. Gray, born August 25th, 1916, was the daughter of the late Edmund J. C. Dascher and Minnie Rohloff Dascher, and sister of the late Florence (Babe) Giuliano, Edmund J.C. (Buddy) Dascher, Janet Koehler and Norman Dascher. She was the widow of the late James J. Gray Sr. with whom she enjoyed 70 years of marriage.
Mrs. Gray is survived by four children; Gail Gray Macintosh (David), Joan Gray Polak (John), Timothy (Athena) and the Rt. Rev. Jonathan E. Gray. Her son James predeceased her in 1998. Mrs. Gray is also survived by seven grandchildren, eight great-grandchildren and two great-great-grandchildren.
The family will receive callers from 4 to 7 pm on Wednesday, April 8, 2015 at the Norman E. Dascher Funeral Home, 490 Delaware Avenue in Albany.
Funeral services will be from St. Matthew Lutheran Church, 75 Whitehall Road, Albany at 10 am Thursday, April 9, 2015. Mrs. Gray's son, Bishop Jonathan Gray will be the celebrant.
The interment will be at St. Matthew Cemetery in Glenmont.
In lieu of flowers, the family request donations be made to St. Matthew School, 75 Whitehall Rd, Albany, NY 12209.
"Well done, good and faithful servant, come and share your Master's happiness" -Matthew 25:21
The homily preached at his mother's funeral by Bishop Jonathan Gray:
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable and pleasing in your sight, almighty and everlasting God. Amen
Grace, mercy and peace of God our Father, the love of our lord Jesus Christ, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with all of you.
I have a confession to make to you; that for as many months I knew I would be standing here in this pulpit, for as many months as I had to prepare this homily -I just couldn't bring myself to write my mother's funeral sermon while she was still drawing breath. I couldn't do it, I just could not bring myself to do it. And I think that was because writing my mother's funeral sermon brought the reality of what was imminent crashing down on my head. I couldn't bear the finality of it; the horrible finality of the death of one's parent, of my parent.
But it was only when I sat down to write this homily after my mother had died, did I fully realize and appreciate that there is no 'finality' involved in this at all. Nothing was 'finalized' the night my mother passed away; things were, pure and simply: changed. 'O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? And as I sat, quietly rejoicing in that knowledge that life is changed not ended, the grace and strength and courage and faith that I had prayed for to prepare me for this moment, were renewed, revived and refreshed and reinvigorated. My mother's life did not end on that Good Friday evening: it began, it began in a way that defies any comprehension on our part. Meema's new life in Christ…and we rejoice and are glad in it.
My mother, as many of you know, possessed a faith that was simple yet absolutely bulletproof. It was a simple, almost child-like faith that accepted what was in the bible and what was taught to her in Sunday School, confirmation class, adult bible class -ALL of which were held at St Matthew, without question. With a sure and certain knowledge that almost goes beyond faith. 'It's in the bible; what is there to talk about?' And it was that faith that guided the up bringing of her children: we attended, sometimes begrudgingly, Sunday School every week, confirmation class, everything thing that children need to grow in faith. She inculcated her faith to us by her words and by her deeds. She listened to our prayers when she tucked us in, and she read her bible every single night. I will always remember her , propped up in bed, bible in one hand, Portals of Prayer lying close beside. She did this right up until her eyesight went, then we would read to her. Whatever we learned about faith and goodness and charity we learned largely at my mother's knee.
For both my parents, the most important thing to them was family. I'm not trying to paint my family like the Cleavers or Donna Reed, but family was of prime importance. My mother always had breakfast for us, our lunches packed, the car warmed up. We went to the movies together, to Thacher park together, went on vacations together, went out to dinner together. Nothing would ever interfere with my mother and her family…except perhaps her Thursday morning hair appointment. That was my mother; dedicated to her family and her family here at St. Matthew.
This isn't to attempt to paint my mother as some dour faced 'church lady'. Quite the contrary. She had a very subtle and discreet sense of humor. When my father would tell an off-color joke…as he frequently did, my mother would say "Oh Jimmie!" in mock horror, and then trot off to call Janet or Babe to tell them the latest in my father's repertoire…and then giggle as she got to the punch line.
By the way, my parents would have marked their 70th wedding anniversary in May of the year my father died. 70 years!
For better or worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health. 70 years. I, as one of their children, am extremely proud of that fact, I am awed and humbled by that fact. A couple does not achieve a milestone like that without sacrifice and work and, most of all, deep and abiding love and respect for one another. I'm sure I don't need to tell you how grateful and indebted my brother, sisters and I are to our parents for that demonstrated commitment, and that we could be the beneficiaries of that kind of commitment.
I would like to leave you today with a prayer I found in in my mother's handwriting, as I was going through her things. It goes like this:
'Bless our going out we pray
Bless our entrance in like measure.
Bless our bread O Lord each day
Bless our toil, our rest, our pleasure.
Bless us when we reach death's portal
Bless us then with life immortal. Amen'
We, of course, are going to miss Meema; her smile, her tenderness, her advice, her presence; but we also rejoice in God's will and His mercy. We had her almost 100 years: God has been very good to all of us.
"Well done, good and faithful servant; come share in your Master's joy"
And may the peace of Christ, which passes all human understand, be in your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen
Mrs. Gray, born August 25th, 1916, was the daughter of the late Edmund J. C. Dascher and Minnie Rohloff Dascher, and sister of the late Florence (Babe) Giuliano, Edmund J.C. (Buddy) Dascher, Janet Koehler and Norman Dascher. She was the widow of the late James J. Gray Sr. with whom she enjoyed 70 years of marriage.
Mrs. Gray is survived by four children; Gail Gray Macintosh (David), Joan Gray Polak (John), Timothy (Athena) and the Rt. Rev. Jonathan E. Gray. Her son James predeceased her in 1998. Mrs. Gray is also survived by seven grandchildren, eight great-grandchildren and two great-great-grandchildren.
The family will receive callers from 4 to 7 pm on Wednesday, April 8, 2015 at the Norman E. Dascher Funeral Home, 490 Delaware Avenue in Albany.
Funeral services will be from St. Matthew Lutheran Church, 75 Whitehall Road, Albany at 10 am Thursday, April 9, 2015. Mrs. Gray's son, Bishop Jonathan Gray will be the celebrant.
The interment will be at St. Matthew Cemetery in Glenmont.
In lieu of flowers, the family request donations be made to St. Matthew School, 75 Whitehall Rd, Albany, NY 12209.
"Well done, good and faithful servant, come and share your Master's happiness" -Matthew 25:21
The homily preached at his mother's funeral by Bishop Jonathan Gray:
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable and pleasing in your sight, almighty and everlasting God. Amen
Grace, mercy and peace of God our Father, the love of our lord Jesus Christ, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with all of you.
I have a confession to make to you; that for as many months I knew I would be standing here in this pulpit, for as many months as I had to prepare this homily -I just couldn't bring myself to write my mother's funeral sermon while she was still drawing breath. I couldn't do it, I just could not bring myself to do it. And I think that was because writing my mother's funeral sermon brought the reality of what was imminent crashing down on my head. I couldn't bear the finality of it; the horrible finality of the death of one's parent, of my parent.
But it was only when I sat down to write this homily after my mother had died, did I fully realize and appreciate that there is no 'finality' involved in this at all. Nothing was 'finalized' the night my mother passed away; things were, pure and simply: changed. 'O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? And as I sat, quietly rejoicing in that knowledge that life is changed not ended, the grace and strength and courage and faith that I had prayed for to prepare me for this moment, were renewed, revived and refreshed and reinvigorated. My mother's life did not end on that Good Friday evening: it began, it began in a way that defies any comprehension on our part. Meema's new life in Christ…and we rejoice and are glad in it.
My mother, as many of you know, possessed a faith that was simple yet absolutely bulletproof. It was a simple, almost child-like faith that accepted what was in the bible and what was taught to her in Sunday School, confirmation class, adult bible class -ALL of which were held at St Matthew, without question. With a sure and certain knowledge that almost goes beyond faith. 'It's in the bible; what is there to talk about?' And it was that faith that guided the up bringing of her children: we attended, sometimes begrudgingly, Sunday School every week, confirmation class, everything thing that children need to grow in faith. She inculcated her faith to us by her words and by her deeds. She listened to our prayers when she tucked us in, and she read her bible every single night. I will always remember her , propped up in bed, bible in one hand, Portals of Prayer lying close beside. She did this right up until her eyesight went, then we would read to her. Whatever we learned about faith and goodness and charity we learned largely at my mother's knee.
For both my parents, the most important thing to them was family. I'm not trying to paint my family like the Cleavers or Donna Reed, but family was of prime importance. My mother always had breakfast for us, our lunches packed, the car warmed up. We went to the movies together, to Thacher park together, went on vacations together, went out to dinner together. Nothing would ever interfere with my mother and her family…except perhaps her Thursday morning hair appointment. That was my mother; dedicated to her family and her family here at St. Matthew.
This isn't to attempt to paint my mother as some dour faced 'church lady'. Quite the contrary. She had a very subtle and discreet sense of humor. When my father would tell an off-color joke…as he frequently did, my mother would say "Oh Jimmie!" in mock horror, and then trot off to call Janet or Babe to tell them the latest in my father's repertoire…and then giggle as she got to the punch line.
By the way, my parents would have marked their 70th wedding anniversary in May of the year my father died. 70 years!
For better or worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health. 70 years. I, as one of their children, am extremely proud of that fact, I am awed and humbled by that fact. A couple does not achieve a milestone like that without sacrifice and work and, most of all, deep and abiding love and respect for one another. I'm sure I don't need to tell you how grateful and indebted my brother, sisters and I are to our parents for that demonstrated commitment, and that we could be the beneficiaries of that kind of commitment.
I would like to leave you today with a prayer I found in in my mother's handwriting, as I was going through her things. It goes like this:
'Bless our going out we pray
Bless our entrance in like measure.
Bless our bread O Lord each day
Bless our toil, our rest, our pleasure.
Bless us when we reach death's portal
Bless us then with life immortal. Amen'
We, of course, are going to miss Meema; her smile, her tenderness, her advice, her presence; but we also rejoice in God's will and His mercy. We had her almost 100 years: God has been very good to all of us.
"Well done, good and faithful servant; come share in your Master's joy"
And may the peace of Christ, which passes all human understand, be in your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen
ALBANY-It has pleased Almighty God to summon from this vale of tears to her eternal home, the soul of Ethel Katherine Dascher Gray, 98, who departed this life on Good Friday, April 3, 2015. Please remember her family in your prayers.
Mrs. Gray, born August 25th, 1916, was the daughter of the late Edmund J. C. Dascher and Minnie Rohloff Dascher, and sister of the late Florence (Babe) Giuliano, Edmund J.C. (Buddy) Dascher, Janet Koehler and Norman Dascher. She was the widow of the late James J. Gray Sr. with whom she enjoyed 70 years of marriage.
Mrs. Gray is survived by four children; Gail Gray Macintosh (David), Joan Gray Polak (John), Timothy (Athena) and the Rt. Rev. Jonathan E. Gray. Her son James predeceased her in 1998. Mrs. Gray is also survived by seven grandchildren, eight great-grandchildren and two great-great-grandchildren.
The family will receive callers from 4 to 7 pm on Wednesday, April 8, 2015 at the Norman E. Dascher Funeral Home, 490 Delaware Avenue in Albany.
Funeral services will be from St. Matthew Lutheran Church, 75 Whitehall Road, Albany at 10 am Thursday, April 9, 2015. Mrs. Gray's son, Bishop Jonathan Gray will be the celebrant.
The interment will be at St. Matthew Cemetery in Glenmont.
In lieu of flowers, the family request donations be made to St. Matthew School, 75 Whitehall Rd, Albany, NY 12209.
"Well done, good and faithful servant, come and share your Master's happiness" -Matthew 25:21
The homily preached at his mother's funeral by Bishop Jonathan Gray:
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable and pleasing in your sight, almighty and everlasting God. Amen
Grace, mercy and peace of God our Father, the love of our lord Jesus Christ, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with all of you.
I have a confession to make to you; that for as many months I knew I would be standing here in this pulpit, for as many months as I had to prepare this homily -I just couldn't bring myself to write my mother's funeral sermon while she was still drawing breath. I couldn't do it, I just could not bring myself to do it. And I think that was because writing my mother's funeral sermon brought the reality of what was imminent crashing down on my head. I couldn't bear the finality of it; the horrible finality of the death of one's parent, of my parent.
But it was only when I sat down to write this homily after my mother had died, did I fully realize and appreciate that there is no 'finality' involved in this at all. Nothing was 'finalized' the night my mother passed away; things were, pure and simply: changed. 'O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? And as I sat, quietly rejoicing in that knowledge that life is changed not ended, the grace and strength and courage and faith that I had prayed for to prepare me for this moment, were renewed, revived and refreshed and reinvigorated. My mother's life did not end on that Good Friday evening: it began, it began in a way that defies any comprehension on our part. Meema's new life in Christ…and we rejoice and are glad in it.
My mother, as many of you know, possessed a faith that was simple yet absolutely bulletproof. It was a simple, almost child-like faith that accepted what was in the bible and what was taught to her in Sunday School, confirmation class, adult bible class -ALL of which were held at St Matthew, without question. With a sure and certain knowledge that almost goes beyond faith. 'It's in the bible; what is there to talk about?' And it was that faith that guided the up bringing of her children: we attended, sometimes begrudgingly, Sunday School every week, confirmation class, everything thing that children need to grow in faith. She inculcated her faith to us by her words and by her deeds. She listened to our prayers when she tucked us in, and she read her bible every single night. I will always remember her , propped up in bed, bible in one hand, Portals of Prayer lying close beside. She did this right up until her eyesight went, then we would read to her. Whatever we learned about faith and goodness and charity we learned largely at my mother's knee.
For both my parents, the most important thing to them was family. I'm not trying to paint my family like the Cleavers or Donna Reed, but family was of prime importance. My mother always had breakfast for us, our lunches packed, the car warmed up. We went to the movies together, to Thacher park together, went on vacations together, went out to dinner together. Nothing would ever interfere with my mother and her family…except perhaps her Thursday morning hair appointment. That was my mother; dedicated to her family and her family here at St. Matthew.
This isn't to attempt to paint my mother as some dour faced 'church lady'. Quite the contrary. She had a very subtle and discreet sense of humor. When my father would tell an off-color joke…as he frequently did, my mother would say "Oh Jimmie!" in mock horror, and then trot off to call Janet or Babe to tell them the latest in my father's repertoire…and then giggle as she got to the punch line.
By the way, my parents would have marked their 70th wedding anniversary in May of the year my father died. 70 years!
For better or worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health. 70 years. I, as one of their children, am extremely proud of that fact, I am awed and humbled by that fact. A couple does not achieve a milestone like that without sacrifice and work and, most of all, deep and abiding love and respect for one another. I'm sure I don't need to tell you how grateful and indebted my brother, sisters and I are to our parents for that demonstrated commitment, and that we could be the beneficiaries of that kind of commitment.
I would like to leave you today with a prayer I found in in my mother's handwriting, as I was going through her things. It goes like this:
'Bless our going out we pray
Bless our entrance in like measure.
Bless our bread O Lord each day
Bless our toil, our rest, our pleasure.
Bless us when we reach death's portal
Bless us then with life immortal. Amen'
We, of course, are going to miss Meema; her smile, her tenderness, her advice, her presence; but we also rejoice in God's will and His mercy. We had her almost 100 years: God has been very good to all of us.
"Well done, good and faithful servant; come share in your Master's joy"
And may the peace of Christ, which passes all human understand, be in your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen
Mrs. Gray, born August 25th, 1916, was the daughter of the late Edmund J. C. Dascher and Minnie Rohloff Dascher, and sister of the late Florence (Babe) Giuliano, Edmund J.C. (Buddy) Dascher, Janet Koehler and Norman Dascher. She was the widow of the late James J. Gray Sr. with whom she enjoyed 70 years of marriage.
Mrs. Gray is survived by four children; Gail Gray Macintosh (David), Joan Gray Polak (John), Timothy (Athena) and the Rt. Rev. Jonathan E. Gray. Her son James predeceased her in 1998. Mrs. Gray is also survived by seven grandchildren, eight great-grandchildren and two great-great-grandchildren.
The family will receive callers from 4 to 7 pm on Wednesday, April 8, 2015 at the Norman E. Dascher Funeral Home, 490 Delaware Avenue in Albany.
Funeral services will be from St. Matthew Lutheran Church, 75 Whitehall Road, Albany at 10 am Thursday, April 9, 2015. Mrs. Gray's son, Bishop Jonathan Gray will be the celebrant.
The interment will be at St. Matthew Cemetery in Glenmont.
In lieu of flowers, the family request donations be made to St. Matthew School, 75 Whitehall Rd, Albany, NY 12209.
"Well done, good and faithful servant, come and share your Master's happiness" -Matthew 25:21
The homily preached at his mother's funeral by Bishop Jonathan Gray:
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable and pleasing in your sight, almighty and everlasting God. Amen
Grace, mercy and peace of God our Father, the love of our lord Jesus Christ, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with all of you.
I have a confession to make to you; that for as many months I knew I would be standing here in this pulpit, for as many months as I had to prepare this homily -I just couldn't bring myself to write my mother's funeral sermon while she was still drawing breath. I couldn't do it, I just could not bring myself to do it. And I think that was because writing my mother's funeral sermon brought the reality of what was imminent crashing down on my head. I couldn't bear the finality of it; the horrible finality of the death of one's parent, of my parent.
But it was only when I sat down to write this homily after my mother had died, did I fully realize and appreciate that there is no 'finality' involved in this at all. Nothing was 'finalized' the night my mother passed away; things were, pure and simply: changed. 'O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? And as I sat, quietly rejoicing in that knowledge that life is changed not ended, the grace and strength and courage and faith that I had prayed for to prepare me for this moment, were renewed, revived and refreshed and reinvigorated. My mother's life did not end on that Good Friday evening: it began, it began in a way that defies any comprehension on our part. Meema's new life in Christ…and we rejoice and are glad in it.
My mother, as many of you know, possessed a faith that was simple yet absolutely bulletproof. It was a simple, almost child-like faith that accepted what was in the bible and what was taught to her in Sunday School, confirmation class, adult bible class -ALL of which were held at St Matthew, without question. With a sure and certain knowledge that almost goes beyond faith. 'It's in the bible; what is there to talk about?' And it was that faith that guided the up bringing of her children: we attended, sometimes begrudgingly, Sunday School every week, confirmation class, everything thing that children need to grow in faith. She inculcated her faith to us by her words and by her deeds. She listened to our prayers when she tucked us in, and she read her bible every single night. I will always remember her , propped up in bed, bible in one hand, Portals of Prayer lying close beside. She did this right up until her eyesight went, then we would read to her. Whatever we learned about faith and goodness and charity we learned largely at my mother's knee.
For both my parents, the most important thing to them was family. I'm not trying to paint my family like the Cleavers or Donna Reed, but family was of prime importance. My mother always had breakfast for us, our lunches packed, the car warmed up. We went to the movies together, to Thacher park together, went on vacations together, went out to dinner together. Nothing would ever interfere with my mother and her family…except perhaps her Thursday morning hair appointment. That was my mother; dedicated to her family and her family here at St. Matthew.
This isn't to attempt to paint my mother as some dour faced 'church lady'. Quite the contrary. She had a very subtle and discreet sense of humor. When my father would tell an off-color joke…as he frequently did, my mother would say "Oh Jimmie!" in mock horror, and then trot off to call Janet or Babe to tell them the latest in my father's repertoire…and then giggle as she got to the punch line.
By the way, my parents would have marked their 70th wedding anniversary in May of the year my father died. 70 years!
For better or worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health. 70 years. I, as one of their children, am extremely proud of that fact, I am awed and humbled by that fact. A couple does not achieve a milestone like that without sacrifice and work and, most of all, deep and abiding love and respect for one another. I'm sure I don't need to tell you how grateful and indebted my brother, sisters and I are to our parents for that demonstrated commitment, and that we could be the beneficiaries of that kind of commitment.
I would like to leave you today with a prayer I found in in my mother's handwriting, as I was going through her things. It goes like this:
'Bless our going out we pray
Bless our entrance in like measure.
Bless our bread O Lord each day
Bless our toil, our rest, our pleasure.
Bless us when we reach death's portal
Bless us then with life immortal. Amen'
We, of course, are going to miss Meema; her smile, her tenderness, her advice, her presence; but we also rejoice in God's will and His mercy. We had her almost 100 years: God has been very good to all of us.
"Well done, good and faithful servant; come share in your Master's joy"
And may the peace of Christ, which passes all human understand, be in your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen
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