Thank you to everyone who joined us on Saturday for Rod's funeral and burial. We packed 180 of us into Grace, Edgeworth, and we honored him well. Many of you were unable to be with us due to weddings and graduations and a busy holiday weekend. We felt your presence in the Spirit, and it's wonderful that so many happier life milestones accompanied my father's burial.

Below is the text of the eulogy I gave at the funeral service. Several of you asked for it, and I would like it to be part of the record of his singing home.

Do you have pictures or videos of the funeral? Can you send them to me? Our family would love to have them to remember the event by, and I would like to include a few in a final email to you all, along with some other photos from Rod's life.

Thank you all so much for being with us! 🙏

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Eulogy for Rodney Alan Whitacre

Chad Whitacre
May 27, 2023

ON BEHALF OF my mother Margaret, my brother Seth, my wife Jessica, our children Leah, Miriam, Samuel, and Ruth, my aunt and uncle Audrey and Clayton Jacobsen, my parents-in-law Michael and Jayne Lloyd, and our whole family, I'd like to thank you all for being here with us today to give praise and thanks and worship to Almighty God for the life of His servant, Rodney.

Thank you to Father Michael Hustead, Brian Buckley, Earl Johns and all the people of Grace Church for your hard work in organizing today's events, and for all of your love and fellowship over the years. My dad loved you all and enjoyed being with you so much.

Thank you to Bishop David Hicks for being with us, and to all of the bishops and clergy of the Reformed Episcopal Church who have been so supportive. Thank you to Archbishop Robert Duncan for being here with us as well, and representing Bishop Alex Cameron and the Anglican Diocese of Pittsburgh to us.

Thank you to Steve and Peggy Noll and to Molly Henning and to all of the Trinity community who walked in love with my dad, and studied the Gospel of John with my dad, and learned Greek from my dad, and traveled to Greece and Israel with my dad, and prayed contemplatively with my dad, and played ukulele with my dad. He lived a rich and full life together with you, to God's glory.

Thank you to all of you who have walked with us in a special way since Rod left the hospital on March 2 to go singing home to God. Thank you for all of the messages you sent and for all of your love and prayers. My dad expressed multiple times over the past months how appreciative he was for the prayers of God's people. God used your prayers mightily to help Rodney receive His mercy at the end and enter His rest.

Thank you to all of the wonderful nurses and other medical professionals who helped us care for him, and thank you to all of the funeral staff and caterers and others who are helping us today with the services and the reception. Everyone is invited back here to the church this afternoon after the commital, where our family looks forward to greeting you and hearing your own stories about Rod.

NOW, IN THE NAME of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, let us praise famous men, and our fathers that begat us!

Rodney Alan Whitacre was a saint, a spiritual giant. He was not perfect, but he strove against the passions with great might in the desert of his heart for 73 years to be perfect as his heavenly Father is perfect. The desert fathers teach that, “If you are a theologian, you will pray truly. And if you pray truly, you are a theologian.” Rod Whitacre was a theologian in the full sense. He taught and preached the Word of God, particularly the Gospel of John, particularly in the original Greek; and he prayed truly, particularly the Jesus Prayer. Rod was filled with the Grace of the Holy Spirit, and his life bore the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. For those with ears to hear it, Rod's home-going was miraculously guided by God every step of the way, through the prayers of God's people, and, for those who can hear it, through the miraculous intervention of Saint John the Wonderworker, Saint Chad, and Saint Nathaniel. Rod leaves a deep and lasting spiritual legacy that will resound for generations, to God's glory.

The word eulogy of course comes from the Greek, and it means a good word, so allow me to share a good word or two with you from Rod's life story. I have Father Michael's permission to go for about 20 minutes here, so settle in. But first, allow me to frame Rod's story with a little theology—and with a little roots music.

One of the main theological concepts Rod worked with was, “the already and not yet.” What does this mean? This means that we live in a time fundamentally characterized by tension. We live between Christ's first coming in humility, and His second coming in glory. The Kingdom of God is already present in and among us—King Jesus is already on His throne—but we still await the final consummation of all things. We do experience God's love in our daily lives, in our families and churches and with our neighbors, but we also experience lots of pain and trauma and, yes, death.

[At this point, I picked up a ukulele and played along during the next paragraphs.]

In the roots music that Rod loved so much there's a very basic chord progression. I'm sure many of you are familiar, it's called “I-IV-V-I”. The one (I) chord represents stasis or rest. Four (IV) represents movement away from the still center point. Five (V) is the height of tension. Sometimes the tension is amplified with a dominant seventh note, before finally resolving back to the one (I) chord.

How does this apply? One (I)—we're in the Garden of Eden, enjoying unbroken sweet communion with God our creator. Four (IV)—the fall, the crisis, we lose sight, we lose touch, we're cast out, we're lost and wandering and forgetful. Now the five (V) chord—What's this? Something new! An intervention, a breaking in from on high. Incarnation, Crucifixion, Resurrection, Ascension, Session. The tension heightens with the dominant seventh ... and what's it resolve to? One (I)! That's right!

But not yet! Already and not yet means we live in that five (V) chord, quite often with a dominant seventh or some other even more discordant note in there. This is our life that we know, the life that Rod finished on Monday. Some of us have faith that the song will resolve in the end. Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again! But for now we each have our own cross to bear.

Rod's approach to living in the already and not yet is summed up in a verse from Psalm 62. My brother Seth had his coworkers at Giant Eagle put it on the cake that we'll enjoy downstairs later today. “For God alone my soul in silence waits.” Rod walked through this life with faith in Christ, leaning particularly on forms of silent prayer rooted in the Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”

Let's spend a few minutes reflecting on Rod's life of faith in the already and not yet.

ROD'S FATHER, Charles Whitacre, was an Iowa farm boy, top of his class, captain of the football team, captain of the basketball team, dreams of becoming a doctor. But he enrolled in the Air Force after Hitler invaded Poland, and on his third bombing run the German boys downed his plane after he bombed them and he finished out the war in one of their camps, and when he reached back home a hero his high school sweetheart had cheated on him and the church rejected them both, so he married a young Amish girl instead and before long he flew Leah Whitacre and their infant son Rodney up to Washington State in a tiny plane with a propellor he made by hand. Charles never went back. His sons never knew their grandfather. Leah took Rod and the twins, Tim and Tom, to a Methodist church, but Charles was done with organized religion and dreams and he lived out his life as a humble house painter on the banks of the Columbia River in a government town a few miles from the Manhattan Project Hanford Site.

For God alone, my soul in silence waits.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

Charles Whitacre's firstborn son Rodney took an interest in religion at a young age. He was as sharp as his dad and didn't have PTSD from the war or a small town church. Charles faithfully drove him to all the bible studies and youth groups, and sat quietly sipping Schlitz in his old painting van outside. He didn't understand his son's interest in religion and scholarship, but he didn't mind it. All he wanted for him was to not end up a painter. Charles and Leah supported Rod selflessly. Tinkering in the garage on one occasion, Rod shared about an evangelist, eagerly hoping it would spark a spiritual conversation. All he got was, “Son, Billy Graham is a rich man.” Over the decades Rod learned to let his dad work out his own salvation with Schlitz and silent, selfless love.

For God alone my soul in silence waits.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

Rod transferred from Whitman College in Washington State (which is where he met Steve Smith, by the way) to Gordon College outside Boston where he met my mother Margaret at Park Street Church. They were married in 1972. He did his graduate work at Gordon-Conwell Seminary (which is where he met Geoff Chapman, by the way). Rod and Margaret moved to England in 1976 for his doctoral work, and that's where my brother Seth and I were born. My brother had seizures when he was young, and my father recalled staying up all night praying the Jesus Prayer and fishing his young son's tongue out of his throat.

For God alone my soul in silence waits.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

Rod moved the family to Sewickley in the summer of 1983. One of my own earliest memories is walking up with my dad and brother from Chestnut Street to knock on the door at 822 Centennial Avenue to meet Steve and Peggy Noll and their five children for the first time. The 1980s were a time of excitement, working together with colleagues like Steve Noll and Steve Smith and Les Fairfield and Mike Henning and Terry Kelshaw and John Rodgers to build a new seminary with a mission under God to bring renewal to the Episcopal Church. My father was ordained to the priesthood in 1987 and served as an assistant, with Rodge Wood at Christ Church, North Hills, with Scott Quinn at Church of the Nativity, and later with John Porter and others here at Grace Church. Teaching was his primary ministry, however, along with scholarship. He taught Greek and New Testament classes to a generation of students at Trinity. Summer Greek was a rite of passage for many. He taught many classes that were open to the public, both at Trinity and at churches in the area, and he continued teaching after his retirement up until the pandemic. Rod published a commentary on the Gospel of John in 1999, and later published several Greek textbooks, including a major Greek grammar just two years ago. But ultimately renewal was not God's plan, and my dad left the Episcopal Church in the late 1990s.

For God alone my soul in silence waits.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

And of course Rod loved playing the ukulele. This interest began with the soundtrack from the movie O Brother, Where Art Thou? and evolved to become an important part of my dad's life. He loved sharing roots music with people, whether at ukulele lunches at Trinity or at Roots Jam here at Grace Church or at home with his grandkids or at bluegrass festivals with Seth. During one of our conversations in the hospital earlier this year, he was reflecting on his life and going over the books he had published. And then he remembered the Roots Jam book, a songbook he lovingly compiled and edited over the past 15 or 20 years that he used for leading sing-a-longs, and he got all choked up, and he said through tears, “Well, I guess I did have an impact. Roots Jam at least seems to really have made some people happy.”

For God alone my soul in silence waits.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

Rod's parents died in the 1990s of cancer linked to radiation from the Manhattan Project Hanford Site. Leah died first. Rod flew back home to Washington State when it was time, and when he arrived at the hospital he found his father and two younger brothers at her bedside. She died a minute later, waiting only for his arrival to be at peace. With Leah gone, Charles started to die soon after. If you have ears to hear it, my dad miraculously experienced the distinct, audible voice of his father calling to him from his home hospice care in Washington State, asking him to leave Pittsburgh to come and help him. Rod handed off the remaining two weeks of Summer Greek to Ann Castro, and went home. He cared for Charles in the final days of his life. At the end, Rod was singing “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” and Charles was breathing when he started and wasn't when he finished.

For God alone my soul in silence waits.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

When Jessica first came home with me from college, her first encounter with Rod Whitacre was at the breakfast table over a bowl of cereal. The first thing he said to her, his attempt at small talk with his future daughter-in-law, was, “So what do you think it means to be filled with the Holy Spirit?” Rod officiated at our marriage a few years later. Today, we are burying him on our 23rd wedding anniversary.

For God alone my soul in silence waits.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

In college I was taking a summer class, and I got in a car accident on the way to the midterm. I barely avoided a head-on collision with a semi truck on the boulevard down here by the old Sewickley Country Inn. I was shaken up but kept driving, but soon thought better of it and called my parents from a pay phone to come and bring me home. Now, hugging was not my dad's love language. That was gift-giving. My condolences to Amazon.com, because they just lost one of their best customers. My dad bought Seth a new chess set just last week, and we already have about 25 chess sets in the house, right mom? Anyway I love a good hug, and when we got home my dad just hugged me for a long time, and I cried all over him, and that was the safest I've ever felt in the world, and a week ago when he was dying I was sitting with him holding hands and I told him about that time and he smiled and teared up and squeezed my hands and I said, “I love you,” and he said, “I love you, too,” and I said, “I don't know who's holding who right now but this is the safest I've ever felt in the world again.”

When Rod died two days later, his friend Seth was holding one hand and his friend Margie was holding the other, and by that point two hospice nurses had new copies of an IVP commentary on the Gospel of John on their shelves, and one had her first Bible, and at least one had unburdened herself of her life confession to a gentle man of God, and all of them had commented on how grateful and kind he was even to the end. I blessed him one more time in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit with the oil from the shrine of Saint John the Wonderworker we had been using all along, and mom and Seth and Jess and I and the kids sang “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” and other songs, and he was breathing when we started, and he wasn't when we finished. It was holy and beautiful and a fitting end for a faithful servant of God.

For God alone my soul in silence waits.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

ROD'S FAVORITE SPIRITUAL WRITING outside of the Scriptures was the book Wholly for God, a series of extracts from the writings of William Law, edited by Andrew Murray. Once, when I was sitting with him approaching his death, my dad had me read a selection to him. I'd like to read a portion of that to you now. This is under the heading, “The Perfection of the Spirit of Love.”

Oh, sir, would you know the blessing of all blessings? It is the God of love dwelling in your soul, and killing every root of bitterness which is the pain and torment of every earthly, selfish love. For all wants are satisfied, all disorders of nature are removed, no life is any longer a burden, every day is a day of peace, ever thing you meet becomes a help to you, because every thing you see or do is all done in the sweet, gentle element of love.

Leah, Miriam, Samuel, Ruth: Papa Rod loved each of you a whole lot, hashtag hashbrowns. Jessica: Rod loved you, filled with the Holy Spirit. Seth: dad loved you as a friend and brother that you'll be with again soon, singing songs and watching the grass grow. Margaret, Mumsie, honey girl, Margie: Rod was your friend, who loved you faithfully as Christ loves the Church and gave Himself for her, that she might be sanctified and cleansed with the washing of water by the word, that He might present her to Himself a glorious Church, not having spot or wrinkle or any such thing, but that she might be holy and without blemish.

Friends: Rod Whitacre loved us with God's love. He showed us how to live well in the already and not yet, in the age of the five (V) chord, of unresolved tension. Every soul in this sanctuary and beyond carries stories like those I've shared from Rod's life, joys and sorrows, precious and life-giving crosses that God offers each of us to bear for His glory and our salvation.

At this point, we're going to have a time of silent prayer (I think this is what my dad would want). Eulogy means a good word, and there is no better word than the name of Jesus, who is the Wisdom, and Power, and Word of God, and God Almighty. So I'm going to say, “For God alone my soul in silence waits,” and then, if you are able to, I invite you to say the Jesus Prayer together with me, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” Then we'll pray the Jesus Prayer silently for one minute. Then I'll repeat, "For God alone," we'll say the Prayer a final time, and I'll close my remarks.

For God alone my soul in silence waits.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

[silence]

For God alone my soul in silence waits.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

Rodney Alan Whitacre was a saint, a spiritual giant. He was not perfect, but through the mercy and grace of God, he bore his cross well. May we honor him by doing likewise, in full hope of the resurrection, and may his memory be eternal.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. ✚

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