October 1997

A Farewell

by The Reverend Ted Karpf

The Reverend Ted KarpfFrom the first meeting in San Francisco in the days before Lent in 1988 until today, I have been part of the National Episcopal AIDS Coalition. As I look back over the near decade of what this network has been about, it dawns on me that NEAC has been unusually blessed by all who want to be part of it and all who care deeply about people fighting for their lives. For this, I am grateful and proud to have been part of its life, and to have been part of it in so many ways: as a founder, board member, volunteer, conference organizer, advocate, and staff.

NEAC though is more. I am still reminded of a man who, a decade and half ago asked the question that would change my life, “May I die in your Church?” The answer to that question was clear to me from the beginning. What none of us in that community expected, but prayed for, is that “he came to believe in life” … and what the Church, as a household of faith, could be for him and those who would follow as they made their journeys into eternity.

How many times have we prayed for a cure? How often have we earnestly hoped for a treatment that would minimize the pain and indignity of death? How many times have we prayed for just a little more time for our loved ones to find the meaning of their lives? And now, that day is beginning to dawn after the darkness of so many years and so many failures and losses. We hardly know what to do. This is the beginning of what we have worked for. But there is still so much more to do.

The treatments are not the whole answer for anyone. They are avenues of less illness and hold the possibility of more wellness. But they do not work for everyone. And not everyone has the opportunity or the resources to find out about them. They are not the cure. They are ineffective in terms of preventing the spread of the virus. But they offer hope for many. We are still shell-shocked that our prayers have begun to be answered with life that is better, leaving the virus less powerful than it was before.

From the “old days” we learned that hope, however, is not necessarily found in treatments. Hope is in the lives of many who came to find their meaning and value in the face of death. In many respects, hope is found in those who choose life and live, right to the end. As friends, lovers, and loved ones, we have embarked on the journey to wholeness, and we have found life to be full, rich and alive with possibility. We have thanked God for the chance to merely be present and to stand in the breach with those who have suffered and yet have taught us something about living and dying.

Perhaps what has made AIDS so compelling is that each us has had to deal with the hardest issues, concerns, values, and commitments of our lives, and there in that place have come to know the creator/sustainer/redeemer of all life as good, loving and accepting—accepting of a great deal more than any one of us could imagine.

I know that this is why I stayed so long in AIDS ministry. I found life. I found it good. And I found that God would not let me go until I was finished. That time is now. Over time, I have come to see that God is calling me into a new wilderness—this unexplored land of my life—and that I am to venture out in faith to new venues. I have always been restless, but I have always known that a day would come to step aside and support those who come after me to do the work. As many of you know, there is no way I can leave AIDS, I live with it at home every day. But I do know that this is an invitation to me to a new place in which to enact my vocation. So it is time to leave the leadership of this network of love, support and acceptance.

Likewise, NEAC is being called out, too. I am the last of the founders and the last of the history of beginnings. Those who come after are about today and tomorrow of NEAC. This is good and is as it should be.

To each one of you, thank you for your witness. Thank you for your love. Thank you for standing in the breach for so many. Your trust and respect and compassion are for me icons of hope. I show them to all who would see what God can do and is doing through so many in our Church. I show them to the world still looking for hope. And I will continue to do so.

May the God of hope continue to call each of us out to that place where the world’s need and our gladness meet. And there refine our lives to being those of “perfect service.” Thank you for letting me serve you and the God of my understanding through this ministry. We must never forget that we are here—in this ministry in the midst of AIDS—for those who cannot be, and those who will not be. We are the voices of those who cannot be heard or will not speak anymore. We are the hands of those who want to touch, but cannot touch today. We are the presence of the incarnate one to a people in need of such presence.

God Bless each of you in your calling.

Faithfully yours in Christ,

Ted+