Homily/Eulogy for W. Leslie Pugh’s Memorial Service
February 6, 2017
By Rev. Emily Wright-Magoon
Rev. Les Pugh was the part-time minister at UUMidland from 2003-2005 and was named Emeritus Minister
You can find here the order of service for his Memorial: Memorial ServiceOOSLesPugh.
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Les Pugh lived a life of avid searching, of joyous doubt, of unceasing humor, of holy duty, and of consistent love. ((Four of these five phrases were borrowed from Bob Dean’s condolence note on the Nalley-Pickle & Welch Funeral Home page for Les. As part of his note, Bob said, “Les lived a life of joyous doubt, of avid searching, of unceasing humor, of brave openness and of consistent love.” Thank you, Bob, for this inspiration for this sermon structure. The fifth phrase, “holy duty” came from Les’s own words, quoted later in the sermon.))
I. AVID SEARCHING
Les lived a life of avid searching. He preached his first sermon at age 15, and his life as a minister was marked by endless learning. He was a voracious reader – 50 books each year.
At least 3 decades ago, he began his annual practice of writing a sermon entitled, “My Religion, How it Looks to Me.” Each year he had new formulations – “life passed through the fire of thought,” as Emerson described preaching. In his 80s, Les wrote:
The fact is, I haven’t settled things in my religion. But I plan to! In my early years of preaching, when I was in my late teens, I told myself that in time I would understand the traditions of my church and its holy book. I would figure out the mystery of John’s apocalypse, and know all about the end times. I haven’t yet done that. But I am still working on it. One of the things that happens is that each new discovery brings along new questions. …[Here] I am in my eighties and still learning. I like it that this is true. At least I like it better than closing down my mind, declaring the mission accomplished, and finishing my life in self delusion.((From Les’s “My Religion, How It Looks to Me” – December 2007))
Sometimes, he titled his writings, “Talking to Myself.” Three years after the piece I just quoted he began another reflection with:
No one asked me, but “things” keep turning over in my mind – and in my faith pursuit – that I want to look at on paper. I guess this is another “talking to myself” essay. And we thought I was through with that.((From Les’s “Talking to Myself” – February 2010))
II. JOYOUS DOUBT
Les lived a life of joyous doubt.
Les knew that when it came to theology, or to the workings of the human heart, or to wonder and love, that language does not quite suffice. …That our minds can expand but are yet limited. But this realization did not keep him from searching; it simply gave him a reverence for doubt as the animator of an active faith. He could thus hold competing, contradictory ideas together in a creative tension. He could be a theist and a non-theist at the same time. He could be a Christian and an agnostic.((These statements gathered from talking with him, and from his reflection “Talking to Myself” February 2010, in which he said: “Just now I honor the mystery. It is alright that I don’t know much as to how it happens, what it means, if it will ever be understood, or if life is going anywhere. I do pay attention. Does it seem to you, it does to me, that in some respects: – I am a non-theist. I don’t believe in a personal deity. – I am a theist. I believe the Sacred inhabits and works in all of life. – I am an agnostic. I have no mysterious wisdom, and am cautiously skeptical toward those who claim such. – I am a religious naturalist, holding in balance science and a sense of the holy. – I am a Christian, born and baptized, a member of the tribe. I cherish the stories, seasons, songs, the good book, and the vision of a new heaven and a new earth in the religion of my origin. And I like being in a liberal, inclusive church. Episcopal just now. Sometimes Unitarian. – I am a universalist, holding hands with all religions. – I am awe-full; (in thought of the silent working of good).)) He honored the mystery. And his favorite phrase for the mystery was “the silent working of good.”
In seminary one of his professors offered a definition for God that Les adapted to this more poetic and shorter phrase: “the silent working of good.” Les explained to me once that he had long ago slipped away from any thought of an entity, a God being, and instead thought of:
A process or presence that was mind-boggling, awesome. Maybe not all powerful. Maybe not eternal. But pervasive in all of life here and now, a silent working of good. To this day I am thoughtful and reverent toward that. It is at the heart of my religion.((From Les’s “Talking to Myself about Prayer” – February 2006))
Les worked the phrase into each one of his sermons since the ‘70s. In one of his congregations, the children learned to expect the phrase and would wait attentively until he said it, then turn their attention to their coloring. In one service, he had cunningly saved the phrase for the benediction, but just before he could get there, one of the children protested loudly: “but he didn’t say ‘the silent working of good!!’”
III. UNCEASING HUMOR
Les lived a life of unceasing humor.
I hear that those of you who met Les here in Manor Park, that you, especially, got to witness his sense of humor …And I hear that, like his father Archie Pugh, Les had a funny, corny sense of humor. He was the only one to wear a red nose on Red Nose Day. And every special occasion that invited costumes would find Les and Jettie in costume. Right up to the end, Les was finding humor and joy in life.
IV. HOLY DUTY
Les lived a life of holy duty.
I believe his sense of duty flowed from his capacity to be moved to reverence. He wrote,
More and more my religion is a response of wonder and joy, and a sense of holy duty, in thought of this place of our living, and the movement of our years, the mystery of it all – the ordering of the seasons, the beauty of growing things, all the creatures of earth and sea and sky, and the evolving sophistication of human creatures, persons that are self aware and intentional, and can create and love, and share hope.((From Les’s “Talking to Myself” – February 2010))
His capacity for reverence led to a sense of duty and compassion to his neighbor, to the orphan and widow, to the stranger, and even to affect systems and policies toward justice and mercy.
His son Victor talks about how formative it was for him as a teenager in the late 60s to have a father who was always a defender of the people who needed it. He stood up for his moral being, Victor says. He never backed down on his core values. Jettie remarks, “His sermons stretched his congregants’ minds whether they wanted them stretched or not.” But he was never offensive – he allowed others room. During the Vietnam draft, when men would come to him for support, he would say, “Now if you wanted to go to Canada, this is how you would do it…”
V. CONSISTENT LOVE
Les lived a life of consistent love.
I asked Victor what it was like to grow up with Les as his dad. Perhaps some of you know the term PK – “preacher’s kid.” Victor didn’t want all those connotations so he came up with a different term: TO – “theologian’s offspring.” Victor says, “it was like a special team we created… So many saw him as a minister, but he was my pops and especially in these last years, he was my buddy, my pal.” Victor remembers baseball games. I also heard about wrestling… Jettie explains: “When he was at home, he’d have to stay dressed up (there was always a meeting coming up, or the possibility of being called away) but all the same he’d wrestle with the boys in his nice clothes.”
Even though Les’s vocation as a minister meant that his family knew that 16 hours out of every 24 were for his congregation (almost an exaggeration, Jettie says!) … when Les was home, he was home: he was present. His family was the focus. Jettie and Les would have their quiet time over breakfast while the kids got ready for school. Then he would eat breakfast with the kids. The Saturday tradition was early morning picnics. Carolyn tells me they’d drive to their special hill and Les would make blueberry pancakes. Carolyn still has that griddle.
And his parishioners surely felt his consistent love as well. I believe he had almost 70 years of ministry! Imagine how many babies dedicated, joyous weddings celebrated, hands held at bedsides, how many burdened hearts eased by his caring words. I know Les treasured each one of his congregations, and his colleagues, and his friends and family members.
And Jettie. They married at 18, 19 – on Les’s 19th birthday (so he wouldn’t forget their anniversary!) They grew up together, cherished one another for over 70 years!
However, you may have heard Jettie say (as a minister’s spouse): “If heaven involves folding chairs and breaking down into small groups, I don’t want to go.”
In one of Les’ later iterations of “My Religion, How It Looks to Me,” he remarked:
Obviously the writing of these sermons has been important to me. [And] I have been encouraged by friends… Not least among such is the person who has heard me preach more than any other, who has made me feel I could do this well, even when I had a bad Sunday, and who offered to be one listening parishioner should there come a time when no else was listening, or when I just didn’t want to talk to anyone else. Her name is Jettie. She is my last parishioner. Probably she could do as well as I in telling about my religion, how it looks to me. ((From Les’s “My Religion, How It Looks to Me” – December 2007))
Each year in his retirement, Les wrote a Christmas sermon to Jettie. He would read it to her during their home Advent service. And he emailed the sermon to anyone who would request it. This past Christmas he wrote,
Almost I have agreed with my life, and choose to let it end when it does that. …It fits what I really think about death. I really think it is an alright and final ending. And I really think that endings are endings. I want to say to myself, and to Jettie whom I cannot imagine not being forever, and sort of pray…
“We are all dying, our lives always moving toward completion. We need to learn to live with death and to understand that death is not the worst of all events…
What we need to fear is not death, but squandering the lives we have been miraculously given.
So let me die smiling, savoring whatever moments and happening are mine. Let me die holding the hand of one I love, and recalling that I tried to love and was loved in return. Let me die remembering that life has been good, and that I did what I could.
For now just remind me that I am dying, so that I can live, savor, and love with all my heart.”
– Unitarian Universalist preacher, Mark Morrison Reed ((From Les’s final “Christmas Sermon to Jettie” – 2016))
I think this was Les’s prayer for us.
I will close with one more quote, this one by Les’s parishioner and friend Tom Parks:
We remember to this day [a particular] sermon topic: how all of us might be born with a built-in sense of obligation to help the world … become more beautiful, more meaningful, more precious than we found it… Part of Les’s message was that one derivation of that word “obligation” had sadly become less-used: the word “obliged.” We might, Les said, consider using it more… “Much obliged,” he said, would be a [good and humble] way to address our life and the forces behind it. “Much obliged.” Well, Les, here we are [years later] and the great loss we feel with your parting is bolstered by your own message that you taught us back then: Much obliged, Les. Much obliged.((From Tom Parks’ condolence note left on Les’s page on the Nalley-Pickle & Welch Funeral Home page. Shared with permission. ))
– Rev. Emily Wright-Magoon