Celebrating the Life of Harlean Donaldson

Isaiah 25:6-9; Psalm 23; Revelation 21:2-7; John 6:37-40

The Rev'd Cameron Partridge

Saturday, April 18, 2026

https://vimeo.com/1186544471

“I am Resurrection and I am life, says the Lord.” These are the sacred words with which this service opened. They anchor a spoken (or sometimes sung) anthem that brings together phrases from various scriptural sources to convey our proclamation of the Good News of resurrection life. Those particular opening words quote from a moment in a poignant exchange that Jesus has with Martha of Bethany. It is a scene from the story of Lazarus (John 11:1-44) which happened to be a reading in our Sunday morning worship just about one month ago on the fifth Sunday of Lent. Lazarus had died and Jesus had taken his time – too much time for the fear and grief of his friends – responding to this tragedy and coming to their side. Martha, one of Lazarus’ sisters, had met Jesus on the road as he made his way to their home. She had just said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Jesus had replied, “Your brother will rise again.” Martha – I imagine with some exasperation – had said, yes, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.” In response to this reply Jesus says, “I am the resurrection and the life.” I AM the resurrection. Or, alternately translated, “it is I who am.” These I AM phrases in John’s gospel are resounding and expansive: I AM the bread of life; I AM the vine; I AM the gate or door; I AM the light. They evoke the moment on Mount Sinai when God says to Moses, tell them that “I AM” sent you to lead my people out of bondage.

I AM the resurrection. The life. I AM hope in the face of despair. I AM light in the midst of darkness. I AM a pathway forward, making a way where there appears to be no way.

This is the gift of Christian faith: hope in life abundant, life irrepressible, life to bring renewal in the face or the wake of loss. Life to bring possibility and joy, to recreate us. Life to forge connection in community here and now and at the end of all things in God’s nearer presence as all God’s beloveds dance and sing before God’s bountiful table. A table of rich food, of drink, of abounding love for all people, a table that casts away shrouds, that wipes away tears of sorrow and rings in tears of joy.

“Those who have faith in me shall have life, even though they die.” In life and in death we belong to God.

Harlean Donaldson’s life proclaimed this resilient hope, this buoyant faith, this living resurrection. I had the privilege of being Harlean’s pastor since my arrival at St. Aidan’s in 2016. Most of you here knew her much longer than I, and you will hear more about her life from her son Malcolm and from others of you who might like to share vignettes in the reflection space. In various ways and contexts, you walked with Harlean as she walked with you. Harlean was part of the St. Aidan’s community since 1975, after her husband Charles had scouted out the church that was nearer to their home in Noe Valley than the Presbyterian church they had been attending in Marin City. Harlean was a joyous, honest, powerful, accomplished and deeply faithful woman. As I have learned more about her story, I have been struck by how Harlean’s faith was an anchoring pathway that sustained, consoled, and inspired her as she broke trail in her life. At age thirteen she asked her parents if she could be baptized in the Baptist church that she was attending with friends in her hometown of Canton, Ohio. Several years later, after she had received her BS in Dietetics at Ohio State University, Harlean attended a Presbyterian church in Staten Island, New York, forging a new life chapter while she did an internship at the US Public Health Service Hospital, earned a Masters in nutrition at NYU, and ultimately decided to apply to medical school. At this church she met her husband-to-be, Charles, who was also in the process of becoming a physician. Their shared faith sustained them in the face of headwinds, including the racism of the late 50s, 60s and 70s, and inspired them to careers not only in medicine but in service to those most marginalized in our world, whose access to medical care is so often restricted. Harlean and Charles came to California in June 1962, just after their marriage, and made their way into professional, family, and community life here in San Francisco.

In the slide show you’ll see later in this service, this faith is made visible in scenes of family life, in the accomplishment of hard-won professional achievements, and particularly in Harlean and Charles’ life in community here at St. Aidan’s. Here she and Charles also became part of the wider Cursillo Community, whose theme song, if you will, is De Colores, “the colors” of all creation resplendently gathered and transformed in the hands of the God of love. In the slideshow, I love seeing scenes of the 1985 blessing of the entryway to the Eastburn building, dedicated to Charles’ parents. This same building is currently under construction as we build a new kitchen to support our food ministries. Then two years later in 1987 there are photos of Harlean and Charles’ 25th Wedding Anniversary as they renewed their vows here, shepherded by one of my predecessors Jim Jelinek. In 2002 they again renewed their vows in this sacred space, this time led by longtime parishioner Ray Wong, from what the photos show—I am curious to hear more! There is a joy that radiates out from these images, a joy that has emerged through sorrow and loss. I was touched and tickled to learn from Malcolm that Harlean had a particular soft spot for the music of Elvis, especially his recordings of hymns. Our slide show will therefore unfold to two of them: Amazing Grace, followed by an upbeat hymn I had not previously known, Seeing Is Believing.

“Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe,” Jesus says, intriguingly, to Thomas in another scene from the Gospel of John that was assigned for last Sunday, the second Sunday of Eastertide (John 20:27b). It’s one of my favorite scenes. Thomas is struggling to believe that his Lord truly is raised, and when Jesus comes to him and the other disciples gathered in fear in the upper room, he makes himself vulnerable, inviting Thomas to “reach out [his] hand and put it in my side,” to allow himself to trust (John 20:27a). We who knew and loved Harlean have indeed seen God’s good news radiating out from her life. And as people who knew her in various contexts, whether as family, as friends, as colleagues, as comrades in Christian community, we also knew and saw her only in part, as each of us ultimately know one another only in part, no matter how close we may be. “Now I know in part,” Paul wrote to the community in Corinth, “but then,” then as we stand before the table of divine abundance, together with all our loved ones who have come home to the God of all creation, “then I shall know fully, even as I also am fully known” (1 Corinthians 13:12). Truly blessed are we by the faith embodied and proclaimed by the life of Harlean Donaldson. Blessed are we whose eyes are opened afresh by her witness, her wisdom and courage, her charisma and grace, her deep love for and commitment to this beautiful, fragile, struggling world. Thanks be to God for the gift of her life. Amen.