Like Jesus, Bil Gangl worked with wood. He worked with many different materials, but liked wood the best because of its warmth and because every piece is unique. He would sit with each piece of wood, think about its possibilities, and then form it into something beautiful. 

 

Bil worked on just about everything in this church. He could often be found under a pew, repairing it and trying to make it more secure. He also created two very important features for this church – one of the stations of the cross lining the church walls and a children’s altar. 

 

When Bil volunteered to participate in a congregation-wide project to portray the final days and moments of Jesus’ life, he chose the eleventh station: Jesus is nailed to the cross. Bil’s version has the wood of the cross protruding out toward the viewer, with a rough nail in it. Listen to the reflection Bil provided for a Stations of the Cross worship booklet. He wrote, “I started with a piece of white oak that I had been saving for quite some time. It was not a particularly good piece of lumber, but for some reason I kept it – knowing someday I could build something important from it. On the second pass of the table saw through the board, a portion of it shattered and kicked back driving the jagged point of the broken board into the palm of my hand – a poignant reminder of the tale I was trying to tell.”

 

Little did Bil know that he, like Jesus, would soon walk his own way of the cross. When that time came he journeyed toward death in ways that spoke volumes about the person he was – the person God created him to be. In death as in life, Bil always lived fully and consistently. He never stopped finding things to live or be grateful for, thinking about others, or being able to find the humorous in what to others would be demoralizing and difficult circumstances. All of us who were privileged to receive his emails, written in collaboration with his loving wife Megan, were amazed by Bil’s ability to see the funny side of things.

 

For instance, a couple of emails titled “the advantages of chemo” laid out some of the benefits: you could be Mr. Clean for Halloween, you would learn how much people including your sixth grade students loved you, you would become more understanding of the opposite sex. When, for instance, he told a female colleague that his doctor had put him on a four week schedule resulting in one week of feeling out of sorts, bloated, dizzy and sick to his stomach followed by a week of recovery and then two pretty good weeks in a row she replied, “Oh My God Bil, they’ve changed you into a woman!” A reflection on his experience of radiation therapy was called “a radiant adventure,” and his first overnight stay in the hospital was described in an email titled “there must be fifty ways to see your doctor.”

 

When Bil made the difficult decision not to go back to work in September 2009, a wrenching decision for someone whose work with students was clearly a calling, he wrote, “a couple of weeks back I tried to turn in my body on a “cash for clunkers” deal but they weren’t buying it. I was told that my mileage wasn’t high enough and I’m way too energy efficient. Oh well.” 

 

Bil loved humor, he cherished his wife Megan and children Leah and Joe, he treated others with dignity, he was emotionally available, he looked for God and the best in every situation, he always strove to better himself and others, he was thoughtful, and he was clever.   

 

Bil could make or fix anything. When he and Megan were married he bought a truck, welded a chimney into its roof, fit it with two couches, made a hole in the floor and used it as an ice fishing vehicle. When he and Megan were dating, Megan liked the fact that Bil had a fan clipped to the rear view mirror of his VW bug to defrost the windshield. She thought to herself, “I like this guy. He’s creative and comes up with solutions to problems.” 

 

Bil’s desire to make things better, to mould pieces of wood into beautiful objects,  also applied to people. Everyone around him was a better person because of Bil – his family, his friends, his students, the runners he worked with as a track coach, his fellow parishioners at St. Matthew’s Episcopal Church. Mahtomedi High School junior Jackie Destache noted that Bil took time to get to know every athlete. “He is very passionate at what he does,” she said. “When you have a coach like Mr. Gangl you are not only running for the team, you are also running for him. He’s very inspiring. He’s teaching us to live every day to the fullest. He has never given up.” His family reflected that Bil always thought that others were there so that he could help them. Not only did Bil “fight the good fight” and “finish the race,” mentioned by St. Paul in today’s reading from 2^nd Timothy, he helped others run the good race as well.

 

Leah remembers that even when she was a child she, “felt his love for my mom.” Even though their anniversary was on August 18, Bil and Megan decided that every 18^th of every month was their anniversary. In their first home Bil built an intercom system so that they could speak to each other on opposite ends of the house. During Bil’s chemotherapy, when the only thing he could keep down was hardboiled eggs, Megan made him lots of eggs, each containing an inspiring message. Their love and excellent communication continued through Bil’s illness and sustained them through many tough days.

 

Bil’s favorite room in the house was his shop, located in the garage. He called the shop his “art gallery,” and in it were not only his tools and creations but also family pictures and school awards. Two weeks prior to Christmas Bil disappeared into his shop to make gifts. Joe and Leah remember his making an airplane, a miniature kitchen set, and a musical stand – among other beautifully crafted objects. He also made the gorgeous wood panels and cabinets in his home. Bil’s family described his shop as a sanctuary. As Joe reflected, “he was able to dedicate himself to his family and friends because every night he had two hours to himself in his shop.” 

 

As Bil’s cancer progressed so did his chemotherapy. He set many goals and made all but one. He was able to travel domestically and internationally and to ride motorbikes and bicycles with Megan and other friends. He made Leah and Jim’s wedding. When the going got rough, God carried Bil through his devoted family and all your prayers, cards and other gestures of support. God was present in so many ways. As our reading from Isaiah reminded us, “when you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you . . . you are precious in my sight and honored, and I love you.”

 

When Bil and Megan arrived at St. Matthew’s in 1981 there was only one child. Today we are at least ¼ children under age 12, and their joyful noises ring throughout our main Sunday service. It is fitting that the children’s altar is one of Bil’s gifts and legacies to us. For Bil devoted his life to teaching and loving children. At the table Bil created, children regularly gather around to be fed the bread and wine that sustained Bil through his life and that will sustain them through the days and years ahead, come what may. Nearly a year ago Bil wrote, “I feel the grace of God every day . . . it is realized in the wonderful gifts of love I receive from all of you. You have cheered me up, made me dinner, shoveled my driveway, prayed and prayed and PRAYED for me. . . you’ve made me the richest man in the world.” Our lives and the lives of our world are so much richer for having known Bil.