Week 1.5 of 29: Remembering Butch Redding

I found out last night that Butch Redding, the beloved Parish Manager of First Parish of Arlington, died after of a series of strokes and other complications he had had since February 8.

There’s so much that can be said about him, it’s hard to know where to begin.

When I applied to be the Interim Assistant Minister at First Parish in the Spring of 2002, Butch was one of the staff members I interviewed with. He thought I was too serious, and asked me, “Am I going to be able to make you laugh?” And with that I burst into laughter. That was the first of many, many laughs we shared over the five and a half years we worked together, facing challenges great and small with a sense of humor and of deep appreciation.

What an artist. First Parish of Arlington is full of wildly creative people, and Butch was among the most wildly creative and talented of all. He never ceased to amaze me with the things he created. Whether it was a fabulous costume for an evening soiree, a miniature golden arc of the covenant for the stewardship campaign, a beautiful imitation flaming log for the holiday pageant – it seemed there was little or nothing that he couldn’t bring into existence through his great imagination.

What a leader. For years, Butch has been one of the most active and dedicated lay leaders in the MassBay District of Unitarian Universalist Congregations. At First Parish, he led most of the New UU courses over the past six years, with great heart and warmth. Without a question, there were times when he was prickly – very prickly. He could get very upset with himself and others when things were not going smoothly or as planned. The work inside a congregation as vibrant and energetic as First Parish never ends. Over the years, I saw Butch evolve and grow in his ability to manage himself and his deep emotions when the work was its most demanding.

What a colleague. I gave the sermon the last Sunday in the 2007 calendar year. The title of the sermon was “Practicing Friendship,” and I had made a photocopy of the reading I was to do that morning. Unfortunately, when the time for the reading came, I could not find it among my notes. Butch could see me starting to panic a little bit, and while the congregation sang the song that was switched in place of the reading, he searched the pulpit with me. Then Butch dashed from the sanctuary, through the fellowship hall, back to the Religious Education wing to my office, where he found the book I had taken the reading from and brought it back to the sanctuary, and handed it to me just as the song was ending. I said to the congregation, “What a friend we have in Butch Redding.” They applauded. I caught my breath, and the service went forward. This is a tiny example of one of the countless ways and times Butch intervened and made a difference for the better at the church.

What a minister. Sometimes, when there was some glitch in the operation of the church, I would attempt to frame it in the light of an opportunity for growth, as an occasion to practice forgiveness. Butch would turn to me and say, “That’s why you’re the minister and I’m not!” But the truth of the matter is that he was a kind of minister in the parish. Because of where his office was positioned, he and our Office Assistant, Kim Tracy, were often the front line of pastoral care in the church. Though his own tender heart was often broken by the illnesses and deaths of friends, and the suffering in the wider world, he never failed to let it be broken again when tragedy struck the congregation. He responded with comforting hugs, kind words and healing tears.

He and I certainly had our disagreements, misunderstandings and disappointments with each other over the years. The constants through it all were shared love, respect and esteem.

I saw him the afternoon of my final service at First Parish February 10, and again last Friday before I left for my writing retreat on the Cape. Neither time did he see me – he was in an induced coma and healing, I hoped. Somehow, I sensed that he was in for a very long recovery at best, and that the Butch so many others and I had known and loved was already gone forever.

I’m glad that his beloved friends Millie and Patrick were there to accompany him to the point of his transition.

In the spring of 2003, Butch preached and led a worship service called “Swimming to the Other Side,” based on a song by Pat Humphries, which he led with his resonant tenor voice. Here are the lyrics, which express so much of his spirit:

We are living 'neath the great Big Dipper
We are washed by the very same rain
We are swimming in the stream together
Some in power and some in pain
We can worship this ground we walk on
Cherishing the beings that we live beside
Loving spirits will live forever
We're all swimming to the other side

I am alone, and I am searching
Hungering for answers in my time
I am balanced at the brink of wisdom
I'm impatient to receive a sign
I move forward with my senses open
Imperfection, it be my crime
In humility I will listen
We're all swimming to the other side

On this journey through thoughts and feelings
Binding intuition, my head, my heart
I am gathering the tools together
I'm preparing to do my part
All of those who have come before me
Band together and be my guide
Loving lessons that I will follow
We're all swimming to the other side

When we get there we'll discover
All of the gifts we've been given to share
Have been with us since life's beginning
And we never noticed they were there
We can balance at the brink of wisdom
Never recognizing that we've arrived
Loving spirits will live together
We're all swimming to the other side


What a friend we had in Butch Redding, our beloved one who’s crossed over to the other side. What a friend, indeed.