My dear friend Roger Hall died a few days ago. He and his beloved Katrina (Kate to the uninformed) accompanied me to many a wonderful movie and shared many a lamb chop and Sunday potato during my sojourn in Philadelphia and and in the years since I left. We also shared many laughs, at least as long as Roger could laugh.
I wish I had a picture of Roger to post on this site. You'll have to rely on my internal camera, instead, although I'm sure it's tinted with the affection and delight I always felt when I was with Roger.
Roger had beautiful hair and a wonderful speaking voice. It's good that he did, because it put him on the right track with all the performing folks he encountered during his time among us. Roger was every bit as dramatic as any of them. And he used that drama to tell wonderful stories -- sometimes more than once (Did I ever tell you about Birch Mayo?).
Roger worked hard on his faith, although it didn't come naturally to him. He could read a passage from scripture so beautifully one minute and be snoozing during the sermon almost without missing a beat. He once told me that he understood about God and he was catching on about Jesus, but the Holy Spirit eluded him. I don't think it eluded him at all. I think the holy spirit filled him and poured out of him and was shared with each of us every time we heard him laugh or tell a story or wax eloquent about a piece of music.
Roger taught us all something about faith. If you can explain it, it's not faith. And it is the most faithful among us who keep trying to understand when all explanations are beyond us.
I'll miss Roger, but I know more about God's grace because I've known him.
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