In a few moments, I’ll invite Nico’s niece Carola, and his friends Christopher and Robert to share some of their own reflections about Nico. Then, after the service, over some light food, we’ll all have a chance to share our own reflections.
For now, I want to say a word about the big house, the mansion mentioned in this gospel reading.
Notice there’s no mention in this text of heaven. It's not about a mansion in the sky. Jesus is not speaking about what happens after you die, but rather about this world becoming transformed into the dwelling place of God, a magnificent temple of great beauty, a sacred space. Or to use the image in this passage, all creation being being transformed into a huge mansion in which God dwells, and--follow me with this metaphor--you and me being transformed into rooms in this great mansion, each of us a dwelling place of God, a part of a temple magnificent and beautiful and sacred.
Transformation, a metamorphosis: like winter into spring, like a caterpillar into a magnificent butterfly. This is what this gospel text is about.
This great transformation is taking place all around us at every moment. And when it is finished, well, here is how our spiritual ancestors described what it will be like: "Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”
This great transformation, a sight to behold, doesn't come easy, doesn’t come without struggle and tears and darkness and pain. Sometimes we can become so overwhelmed by the darkness that we lose sight of the magnificent creatures we are and the great transformation going on all around us and within us. This is why we rely on the scriptures and teachings of our spiritual ancestors to remind us--so we don't forget, so we don't lose faith. This is why God gives us each other, to help each other on our way home.
And this is why God sometimes gives us someone like Nico, a more than usually colorful reminder of this great work, this metamorphosis happening all around us, happening inside each of us.
Nico knew all about transformation into a new creation, about metamorphosis.
I’m not just referring to the metamorphosis that came each day with his donning of bling and, during Lent, the purple-sequined blouse he like to wear to church. These are, to be sure, wonderful reminders of this greater story of transformation. But there was more.
Nico used to laugh when he'd tell us that, when he and his siblings were little and their mother was introducing them to strangers, when she came to Nico she’d sometimes say, “...and this is my son Nico...and, well, this one’s a little different.”
Nico knew from early on that he was different, and it was his willingness to step into that difference, with all its fabulousness and bling, that transformed what might have been a caterpillar into a magnificent butterfly.
Later there was a still more profound transformation in Nico. After dark years of losing everything to alcohol, of being ashamed and disappointed in himself, forgetting the butterfly he was--after those dark years came another transformation, finding himself again, remembering who he was, transforming yet again, this time far more beautifully and profoundly than ever before.
Becoming sober, and, in the process, not forgetting what he’d been through and learned along the way in those hard years on the streets. Becoming this time a man of compassion and great wisdom.
He was still Nico, of course--with all the rings and bracelets, the same sense of irony and sarcasm, the same dirty mind, the same mischievous sparkle in his eyes. But all of that was now part of a larger fabric: a spiritual depth, a compassionate and generous spirit, a genuine kindness and concern. We’ve all experienced this from him in a variety of ways, and I hope we’ll share these and other stories of Nico later this afternoon.
But for now, let me invite you to quietly pause for a few moments. If Jesus has it right, then you and I, along with God, are caught up in a vast and wonderful story about transforming all creation and ourselves into dwelling places of God, temples beautiful, magnificent, sacred.
But in this moment, may we pause to savor this one particular, remarkable episode in that greater story, resting for a moment in sheer amazement not just that our beloved Nico has been so fabulous, but that he has also been for us, what we are each called to become for each other: nothing less than the very dwelling place of God.
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