Legacies of Faith - Remembering Chip Thullbery

First Sunday in Lent

Rev. Marion Thullbery

March 9, 2025

In the spring of 1983 in the northeast, I had not seen the sun since the previous perhaps November. I was in my second year of seminary and my spirit, in my Florida born and raised self, was sagging. One of my apartment mates pulled out some acrylic paints she dabbled with from time to time.         

          “Let's paint something!” she said. Though I had no eye to see things and re-create them in an artistic way, I joined in for fun. In a bit of nostalgia, I painted the back deck of my mom and dad's home, which later became Chip's home, (on Campbell Ave) from the perspective of one sitting in the back room and looking out over the deck and back yard.

          It turned out to be, for me, a better-than-usual recreation of the deck and its railing plus a palm tree coming up from the yard, and what was meant to be an avocado tree. Again for fun I sent it to mom. Being a mom she actually put a frame around it and hung it up. I returned home that summer to no end of teasing from my two younger brothers, Rob and John. Chip didn't actually tease me. That wasn't his way. But he did raise his eyebrows to the ceiling and give a little shake of his head. Perhaps some of you remember that characteristic Chip gesture.

After almost 20 years of teasing, both from my brothers and, once they were born and grown enough, from my nieces and nephews, the family was gathered around Chip's table. We’d just finished the Thanksgiving meal. I had gotten up to help Chip clear the plates and serve the dessert he had prepared for us while the others remained at the table chatting. After one moment of silence, Rob, who was looking out at the back deck and yard said “Marion, I’m just noticing that the avocado tree is grown quite a lot since you painted it.” We all laughed out loud. Then one nephew wondered who would get to end up with the painting, and how much conflict he and his sister and two cousins might have about it. People laughed again.

          And then Rob said “I guess what makes a work of art great is how much it's enjoyed over the years. And we've had a lot of enjoyment from Marion's painting.” I stood back in the kitchen stunned at Rob’s words. I suddenly felt completely removed from the scene, as if I'd already left this earth, and I was watching a little piece of my legacy being lived in story and laughter. It delighted me.

          Legacy is why we're here today, at a variety of levels. In our first reading we heard about the huge value of legacy. Don’t forget to tell the story of faith. A wandering Aramean was my ancestor. Tell those stories. You and I are here today because of legacies passed along to us, we're here because someone remembered how important it is to tell the stories.

          A central story for today is the legacy of Chip Thullbery.

          Chip received a host of legacies—his grandparents helped found this church; his /our mom served for many years as choir director, creating beautiful music for a flow of liturgy to engage our hearts and nurture our faith; our dad served as a regular usher, breakfast cook, as one who drove through the Milicevic’s land, to find and cut down the church’s Christmas tree. Dad also served as vestry member and Senior warden.

          Chip embraced his legacy, of history, of family examples set for him, of stories told, his legacy of faith….and he ran with it. In the way described in our Epistle, he opened his heart to his faith, integrated it, integrated the value of generosity described in that lesson today as part of God’s nature.

          After college and law school, Chip returned home to work as a prosecuting attorney for the state in Polk County. He also returned to his beloved Good Shepherd.

          Back in the day, Chip provided oversight for the acolytes at Good Shepherd for some fifteen or twenty years.

          He also often helped to lead the Christmas pageant, sometimes from back in the wings…. helper and consultant for the person in charge.

          Within a year or two of returning from law school Chip attended Cursillo. While always a person of faith, Cursillo helped him have a deeper sense of the meaning of faith and community. He felt encouraged to intentionally seek opportunities for ministry and service.           He helped establish the Kairos prison ministry in the Central Florida area. I remember him returning from one weekend in which he’d participated, and telling a story of one inmate saying to him, “I sure never thought I’d ever hug a prosecuting attorney!” When I visited here three weeks ago, I loved hearing that the legacy of his Kairos ministry continues to live though others of you at Good Shepherd.

          Back in the day, and until the end of his life, Chip served on the vestry…. and repeatedly over the years, as Senior Warden, including helping to call a certain rector to the church.

          And one other thing…today we are celebrating a most specific part of Chip’s legacy, his gift in the preparation and presentation of food.

          When Chip was two years old he showed an inordinate interest in his grandmother's cooking, my mom's Mom who we all called Dō. Standing by her one day at age 2, Chip made Jell-O. He loved cooking ever since.

          When Chip was in high school, the EYC, which at that time stood for Episcopal young churchman—happily that designation has changed—the youth raised money by cooking breakfast for the people who had attended the eight o'clock service. I believe that tradition still goes on, though I don't know if the youth still do the cooking. People were always happy to see the weeks when either Chip or my dad were in the kitchen, because they knew the breakfast would be especially good that day.

          When Chip went off to college in 1970, in a letter back to the family in November of that first year away, he reminded my mom that it was time to order the Christmas roast for the family dinner from McAllister's grocery out in Babson Park. He then, lover of administration that he was, listed off all the stages of planning for the Christmas pageant, who’d be best to ask as the leader that year, who’d be playing the different main parts, and other aspects of preparation. And of course, suggested the menu for the church Christmas dinner. I still have that letter.

          I gotta tell you, it wasn’t easy being Chip’s younger sister. Once when I was maybe seven and Chip was nine, we entered a family friend’s home. When Chip walked in, I heard her say, Chip’s going to do well in life. As I stepped in after him she added, “I don't know what's going to happen to Marion.”

          Chip excelled in his academic courses. Two years later I astonished my teachers by how well I failed to live up to the expectations he created.

          And as you know, Chip was an amazing cook. One time I was to be babysitter to my younger brothers and cook sausage links for part of their supper as instructed by Mom, Dad, and Chip. I still get teased about the carbon sticks I served to them that night. But … and … this sermon would be a lot longer if I told all the stories of how much Chip helped me and supported me in life.       So let’s return to food.  Along with Jello at 2 and church breakfasts as a youth, during his years at Washington and Lee, he quickly established himself as a cook. I really wanna say chef. Chip cooked for a group of his law school peers during their years of study. I have a picture of them around the table, eating his food, and a couple of legal pads full of lists of his menu plans for dinner each night. When a US presidential hopeful was coming to speak in the area of Chip’s University, the administration called him in to, once vetted by the FBI, be the chef for the candidate during his time in the area.

          He helped my parents cook the holiday meals and after we lost them, he himself cooked those meals over the years. Any time I visited, he prepared delicious meals of recipes he knew I especially enjoyed.

          Here at the church, he teamed up with some of you and others who have gone before us to provide over the years and decades amazing community holiday and other special meals. And like Jesus in the desert who did not make bread only for himself or seek glory in any other way, Chip did not seek accolades for his cooking. He simply loved to express himself in this way. He loved to offer his time and energy in cooking on behalf of others so they might enjoy well-cooked, delicious food.

          Chip loved Good Shepherd. You who knew him here were his family.  Here he felt encouraged by you to live out the legacy of his faith in many different ways of service. He cared for Dad and then Mom at the end of their lives. He lived out the spirit of the law at his work, often helping people he’d known in high school when they got into trouble. When he began to run and train for marathons he used that experience to tell of his legacy of faith as he lived it out. Perhaps some of you have read his essay “Twelve Hymns for a Marathon.” He provided all of these things and more because of his assurance in the central amazing legacy of God’s Presence and love in his life.

          When I heard that the church planned to use Chip’s financial legacy to remodel the kitchen here, I couldn’t hold back my tears. I can’t think of anything that could have been more appropriate nor pleased Chip more.

          Thank you, Good Shepherd, for remembering this man, my brother, who lived into the powerful legacy of faith that was nurtured and supported in this place and in this community.