“I just wanted to be there with God and hang out.” That is what Rev. Bill Anthony says of his recent drop-in visit to a church in the late morning of a warm summer day. As it turned out, he stayed sitting there for two hours, praying and just being there in the presence of God.
He finds similar spiritual relish in his frequent visits to a nearby monastery. The aspirations of the monks in that place inspire him. “Their aims are so noble,” is the way he puts it.
In retirement, this 93-year-old Episcopal priest continues a vibrant spiritual life, both in the quiet of contemplation and in reaching out to others. Though he loves being “quiet with God,” he leaves the door of his studio apartment open so that people can confer with him.
Hospitality of all sorts counts as one of Rev. Anthony’s prime values. To underline that, he readily quotes the New Testament line: “Some have entertained angels unaware.” To him, the love of God and neighbor are tied together. “The same God that taught me to love Him,” he says, “taught me to love him and her.”
When he talks about spirituality, “Rev,” as many members of his assisted living community call him, glows. His face reflects outward what seems an inner light flowing from his union with God.
About that ongoing dialogue, Bill likes to repeat words from one of the prayers used in the Episcopal liturgy: “In quietness and confidence will be our strength.” Though he likes to repeat words like these when he visits church, he also feels content to forego formal prayer, and sometimes just to look at the altar and think about the Eucharist.
Sometimes this man of faith philosophizes about evil. “There is no sense to evil,” he believes. “It’s anti-reasonable; it has no standing in itself.” He takes note of the adversary, however, Satan who wars against God but ultimately faces defeat. Bill’s confidence in God is unshaken by the power of evil in the world.
For him, God is the real thing. “God created us to play with Him, to dance with Him, as well as to get His help,” Bill believes. “The real thing is exciting but we’ve been inoculated against the real thing.”
“He’s nuts about us,” Bill says of God’s love. Carrying that love to others is our main purpose in life, he is convinced. He admires doctors, journalists, and other brave men and women who travel to dangerous parts of the world to serve others. Whether or not they know it, they are glorifying God in their courage and devotion toward people in need.
Integrity like theirs is in short supply, however. “Integrity is very important to me,” Bill asserts. “That’s the thing that’s missing in Washington.”
Even those who achieve a certain level of integrity, however, cannot be certain of results, Bill acknowledges. “The results I leave in God’s hands,” he says. Going further, he claims that we are too result-oriented. “You’re not going to see results; our job is not to harvest but the tilling of the ground.”
If he walks out of step with the times, that does not bother Bill Anthony. Playfully, he calls himself a pterodactyl, a dinosaur who continues to cherish the values that he learned in his classical education and from the theology that guides his life.
Not does he fear death. Asked how he feels about that inevitable event, so daunting to most people, this aged man answers: “I can’t wait.”
His dear wife, an artist whose paintings adorn the walls of his apartment, died several years ago. Appropriately enough, given what she meant to him, her name was Grace. They both made the decision to let her die rather than go through further painful and unavailing surgery.
Bill recounts something extraordinary that happened after her death. “Six months later,” he says, “my wife came to see me in a night vision.” In his sleep, he heard her telling him: “Everything is marvelous, everything is heavenly.”
This genial and loving man finds joy in having four adult children, along with five grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren. For them, he wishes that they all may come to find delight in God’s love, a delight that he wants everyone to experience.
Richard Griffin