Rev. Kikanza has asked that you send her a personal note, or leave a love note for her in the “Sunshine Box” that is in Forbes Hall. Her last Sunday is June 28. It will be a Hymn Sing … Come let us worship together!
We’re all going to miss Kikanza. Each of us in our own way.
I will miss simply knowing she is here, knowing she is around; somehow that knowledge has offered me some peace of mind for our church. Whether she is actually in the building or just a phone call or text or email away, she has brought us a calming presence, one we will find difficult to replace.
As a Black woman she has knowledge and experience that I could not even imagine. For instance, I never knew about the Green Book, a product of segregation that white people would never see or use, but which African Americans knew quite well. It was a book of friendly hospitable families who would put up traveling Black folks, who back then could not get a room in a motel in those “whites only” days. I will miss those sorts of insights in her sermons regarding the Black experience born from her life as a child.
I will miss her plain-spoken manner in her sermons, where she is not afraid of saying something on target but maybe a little in-politic. Interested in getting at the truth, whatever it takes.
Kikanza and I had occasional post-sermon email exchanges, where I might comment on a remark or an idiom she used. Most recently, I loved “a month of Sundays” (reminded me of my own mom). In that same sermon, she asks us to consider “what you see behind your eyes” — hmmm… think about that one for a moment. Likewise, consider how “you can’t see the frame if you are in the picture.” The metaphor is irresistible, present and rich.
Yes, Kikanza, we all will miss these things about you. But we wish you well on your journey of a “month of Sundays,” and hope to see you upon your return. But, to quote you in your farewell sermon, we should not “expect you to return from your journey by the same road on which you embarked.” So, if the universe leads you elsewhere, changes you in some fashion or another, then I say, Bon Voyage and Godspeed. The French say Au Revoir, until we meet again. We at UUSM would like to think of it that way. So, …
Au Revoir, Kikanza.
— Karl Lisovsky