Dear friends, family members, colleagues,

Thank you for attending the Celebration of Life service for David on December 12, 2020. As promised, here is the YouTube link to the service:

https://youtu.be/mlvB2q0u20g

Out of an abundance of caution, we chose a non-public setting for the video on YouTube. Only those who have the above link can access it. So if you know of anyone who wants to view the service, feel free to forward them this link so they can do so.

John S. Parke (son)

In memoriam: David Boynton Parke by George Kimmich Beach

I am honored to speak in commemoration of David Boynton Parke. David was a close friend and a deeply respected colleague. His sermon given in November 2018 (it may have been his last) began: “My career in ministry began at my birth.” He loved his calling. Its wide-ranging demands he saw as great opportunities. And he loved that his ministry was rooted in his maternal Boynton ancestry.

A central link in our friendship was James Luther Adams, a teacher of theology and social ethics, and a mentor in ministry to both of us. During his retirement, David became a member of the Board and Secretary of the James Luther Adams Foundation. When I joined the Board a few years later, I was delighted that David would be there too.

Let me reveal a fact that is hardly known outside the small circle of the JLA Foundation Board: when Stephen Mott retired as President after many years, we promptly elected the outstanding member among us to the office: David Parke! He was personally delighted, and had a vision for us. But then, a reality check. How was someone who eschewed email (as Thoreau would say, “improved means to unimproved ends”) and disdained the word- processer itself (you are perhaps familiar with his elegant, handwritten script)—how is such a leader to communicate with untold numbers of others? So within a week of his election as President, he called Stephen to inform him that he could not, would not, assume the duties of the office. He was not asking; he was announcing his decision. I was so disappointed! Then, once the dust settled, they elected me as President in his stead. For two years thereafter, I had David’s keen good judgment and companionship on the Board. Until suddenly, sadly, it came to an end. Lines from John Holmes come to mind: “Death this year has taken men/whose kind we shall not see again. . . .”

David was a writer and an editor of precision: he insisted on the right word in any communication. He had read and reflected in depth; he knew what he thought; he spoke what he knew forthrightly. His religious faith and his moral commitments informed his life and all his labors. David was a scholar of religious history. He concluded his annotated anthology, The Epic of Unitarianism, with James Luther Adams, seen as the harbinger of a viable future for liberal religion. Just this is what we fervently agreed upon! In 1975 David took the bold step of founding Kairos, an independent journal. It embodied what Dr. Adams had taught us: an authentic religion must be a self-critical religion, not an echo- chamber of officially approved thought.

David’s statement of its “purpose and mission” reflected the guiding commitments of his entire ministry. He said: “Kairos (Greek, ‘the right time’) seeks to interpret personal and historical experience, to elicit decision, to touch deep springs, to plow new ground, to hasten the Kingdom.”

This was a man of deep personal feeling and care for others, as all who knew him attest. In a 1981 essay he tells us: “Most mornings at 5:45 when my alarm clock sounds, I rise quickly, put sleep behind me, and commit myself to a few minutes of private devotion. In my solitude I call to mind my children, my granddaughter, my wife, my parents, my brothers, my co-workers, my friends near and far, and all persons who suffer diminishment in mind, body, or estate. It is affecting, alone in the darkness, to feel the presence of those I love. However widely separated, we are reunited at least once each day in the fellowship of memory and hope.”

Dear David, remembering you, as we do together this day, we thank you, not only for the many gifts you have given us, but more, for being you. Indeed, however widely you and we have been separated, this day we are reunited—a fellowship and a family of good memory and strong hope.

                              *************

David Parke Memorial by Barbara Beach

I remember David’s first visit to us in Madison. He responded to our invitation by phone with the exact arrival time—6:25 pm. David was never a victim of ambiguity.

After 12 hours of uninterrupted train reading, he bounded off the train, smile broader than the steps he took to reach the passenger exit. The tallest man in a crowd of 6.

Our conversation began with his story: when he went to Boston’s South Station to get his ticket, the ticket master leaned toward him, admitting, “I’ve been with this railroad over 40 years. And this is the first ticket I have ever written to CULPEPER!”

I am grateful for each of the trips David made to our place in Virginia. Grateful, too, for the pleasure of knowing him in friendship and affection, which grew during each of these weekend visits. It was a special treat that daughter Alison accompanied him on their most recent visits.

David was a spirited and forthright friend, and the owner of a brain with no off-button. As a woman in my mid-80s, I regard friendship as a gift, and a friendship that begins at my age is a grace-filled gift.

David and Kim had known each other since American Unitarian Youth days, continuing through ministry and the James Luther Adams Foundation. David and I recently saw that we shared two different passions—Czechoslovakia and good food.

As a young man, David was an AUY work-camp volunteer in Czechoslovakia after World War II. He told me of a dear friend he made there with whom he wished to reconnect. I was struck by his yearning and wanted to help. I tried my connections in the Czech Republic, but we failed. I was—and am still—very sorry.

I have Czech ancestry and grew up in Cleveland’s Slavic Village. David knew that I had also volunteered for 7 years to confirm that the Prague Unitarian church on Karlovy Street, its properties, and its budget should be controlled by its congregation. Thus, I wrote many letters and traveled 8 times to meet with Prague church leaders and Czech government officials—taking several trips with the Michigan-based grandson of Norbert Capek, Prague Unitarian’s founding minister.

For David, volunteering was not enough. He read voluminously through Czech history, politics, religion, and culture. Recently downsizing, he gifted me with his Czech library— three large boxes of books. With penciled questions, notations, and critiques, I see him in every page I read.

And I remember candlelight dinners: David, Kim, and I dined together in the spirit of “no topic is off the table,” so the table was always full. We valued eye contact and unpredictable conversation; we celebrated his wit. He taught me that breaking bread together is always a communion.

Today, I celebrate our friendship. David took time seriously and gave me the pleasure of sharing what that meant—from Czechoslovakia to roast pork and dumplings. His personal interest and warmth touched me. He taught me that late-age friendship is not only a gift, but also a gift of grace.

We join you in honoring David Parke’s extraordinary life. I miss his bright mind, his accepting friendship, his presence at our dinner table.

He remains with us in sacred memory, as I know he does for all of us—dear family, friends, and colleagues. He has blessed us all.