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Note: 40e-g10Le7 Jonathan10 Hollingsworth Leggett born April 4, 1963 in Pittsburgh, PA
died February 19, 1981 in Washington, PA, buried in North Cemetery, Butler, PA
His first home was at 2405 Clearview Drive, Glenshaw, Penna. (Shaler Township) He attended R.C. Rogers Elementary School through the third grade. When the family moved to 897 East Beau Street, Washington, Penna. in 1974, he transferred to Windsor Elementary School. He then completed three years at Trinity Middle School and was more than halfway through his sophomore year at Trinity High School, when, attempting to catch his school bus on a rainy February afternoon, he slipped beneath its rear wheels and was killed instantly.
Like his older siblings, Jonathan was talented in art and music. Like them, he studied piano in Washington with Addison Jones and Patricia Caldwell, and sang with church and school choirs. However, his musical interests soon gave way to a passion for soccer. In middle school, he participated in a youth soccer program. In high school, he joined the soccer team and lettered on defense in his sophomore year.
Jonathan's funeral was conducted by Episcopal Bishop Robert Appleyard of Pittsburgh. His ashes were interred in North Cemetery, Butler, Penna., with his grandparents, Milton William Leggett and Lucile McKee (Showalter) Leggett.
A memorial soccer scholarship was established in his honor at Trinity High School, in order to assist a member of the soccer team to attend soccer camp during the summer. This award is presented each year to a sophomore member of the team who has shown greatest improvement over the year.
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The Choir sings:
THE SENTENCES
I AM the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.
St John 11: 25, 26
I KNOW that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: and though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God; whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another.
Job 19: 25-27
WE brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we shall carry nothing out. The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.
William Croft (1678-1727)
Organist of Westminster Abbey 1708-27 I Timothy 6: 7; Job 1: 21
The Choir sings:
THOU knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts; shut not thy merciful ears unto our prayer; but spare us, Lord most holy, O God most mighty, O holy and most merciful Saviour, thou most worthy Judge eternal. Suffer us not, at our last hour, for any pains of death, to fall from thee. Amen.
Henry Purcell (1659-95)
Organist of Westminster Abbey 1679-95 Book of Common Prayer
I HEARD a voice from heaven, saying unto me, "Write, From henceforth blessed are the dead which die in the Lord: even so saith the Spirit; for they rest from their labours."
William Croft Revelation 14: 13
Hymns:
Let saints on earth in concert sing
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Let saints on earth in concert sing
with those who work is done;
for all the servants of our King
in heaven and earth are one.
One family, we dwell in him,
one Church, above, beneath,
though now divided by the stream,
the narrow stream of death.
One army of the living God,
to his command we bow;
part of the host have crossed the flood,
and part are crossing now.
E'en now to their eternal home
there pass some spirits blest;
while others to the margin come,
waiting their call to rest.
Jesus, be thou our constant Guide;
then, when the word is given,
bid Jordan's narrow stream divide,
and bring us safe to heaven.
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Words: Charles Wesley, 1759
Music: Dundee
Meter: CM
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O God, our help in ages past
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O God, our help in ages past,
our hope for years to come,
our shelter from the stormy blast,
and our eternal home:
Under the shadow of thy throne,
thy saints have dwelt secure;
sufficient is thine arm alone,
and our defense is sure.
Before the hills in order stood,
or earth received her frame,
from everlasting thou art God,
to endless years the same.
A thousand ages in thy sight
are like an evening gone;
short as the watch that ends the night
before the rising sun.
Time, like an ever-rolling stream,
bears all its sons away;
they fly, forgotten, as a dream
dies at the opening day.
O God, our help in ages past,
our hope for years to come,
be thou our guide while troubles last,
and our eternal home!
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Words: Isaac Watts, 1719
Music: St. Anne
Meter: CM
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O food of men wayfaring
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O Food of men wayfaring,
the bread of angels sharing,
O Manna from on high!
We hunger; Lord, supply us,
nor thy delights deny us,
whose hearts to thee draw nigh.
O stream of love past telling,
O purest fountain, welling
from out the Savior's side!
We faint with thirst; revive us,
of thine abundance give us,
and all we need provide.
O Jesus, by thee bidden,
we here adore thee, hidden
'neath forms of bread and wine.
Grant when the veil is riven,
we may behold, in heaven,
thy countenance divine.
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Words: Latin, ca. 1661;
trans. Athelstan Riley, 1906
Music: O Esca Viatorum
Meter: 776 D
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My song is love unknown
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My song is love unknown,
my Savior's love to me,
love to the loveless shown
that they might lovely be.
O who am I
that for my sake
my Lord should take
frail flesh and die?
He came from his blest throne
salvation to bestow,
but men made strange, and none
the longed-for Christ would know.
But O my friend,
my friend indeed,
who at my need,
his life did spend.
Sometimes they strew his way,
and his strong praises sing,
resounding all the day
hosannas to their King.
Then "Crucify!"
is all their breath,
and for his death
they thirst and cry.
Why, what hath my Lord done?
What makes this rage and spite?
He made the lame to run,
he gave the blind their sight.
Sweet injuries!
Yet they at these
themselves displease,
and 'gainst him rise.
They rise, and needs will have
my dear Lord made away;
a murderer they save,
the Prince of Life they slay.
Yet steadfast he
to suffering goes,
that he his foes
from thence might free.
Here might I stay and sing,
no story so divine:
never was love, dear King,
never was grief like thine.
This is my friend,
in whose sweet praise
I all my days
could gladly spend.
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Words: Samuel Crossman (1624-1683), 1664
MIDI: Love Unknown (John Ireland, 1879-1962)
Meter: 66 66 44 44
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Hail to the Lord who comes
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Hail to the Lord who comes,
comes to his temple gate!
Not with his angel host,
not in his kingly state;
no shouts proclaim him nigh,
no crowds his coming wait;
but, borne upon the throne
of Mary's gentle breast,
watched by her duteous love,
in her fond arms at rest;
thus to his Father's house
he comes, the heav'nly Guest.
There Joseph at her side
in reverent wonder stands,
and, filled with holy joy,
old Simeon in his hands
takes up the promised Child,
the glory of all lands.
Hail to the great First-born
whose ransom-price they pay!
The Son before all worlds,
the Child of man today,
that he might ransom us
who still in bondage lay.
O Light of all the earth,
thy children wait for thee!
come to thy temples here,
that we, from sin set free,
before thy Father's face
may all presented be!
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Words: John Ellerton, 1880
Music: Old 120th, St. Veronica
Meter: 66 66 66
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God moves in a mysterious way
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God moves in a mysterious way
his wonders to perform:
he plants his footsteps in the sea,
and rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines,
with never-failing skill,
he treasures up his bright designs,
and works his sovereign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
the clouds ye so much dread
are big with mercy, and shall break
in blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
but trust him for his grace;
behind a frowning providence
he hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
unfolding every hour:
the bud may have a bitter taste,
but sweet will be the flower.
Blind unbelief is sure to err,
and scan his work in vain;
God is his own interpreter,
and he will make it plain.
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Words: William Cowper, 1774
Music: London New
Meter: CM
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For all the saints who from their labors rest
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For all the saints, who from their labors rest,
who thee by faith before the world confessed,
thy Name, O Jesus, be forever blessed.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
Thou wast their Rock, their Fortress and their Might;
thou, Lord, their Captain in the well fought fight;
thou, in the darkness drear, their one true Light.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
For the apostles' glorious company,
who bearing forth the cross o'er land and sea,
shook all the mighty world, we sing to Thee:
Alleluia, Alleluia!
For the Evangelists, by whose blest word,
like fourfold streams, the garden of the Lord,
is fair and fruitful, be thy Name adored.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
For Martyrs, who with rapture kindled eye,
saw the bright crown descending from the sky,
and seeing, grasped it, thee we glorify.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
O may thy soldiers, faithful, true, and bold,
fight as the saints who nobly fought of old,
and win, with them the victor's crown of gold.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
O blest communion, fellowship divine!
we feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
all are one in thee, for all are thine.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,
steals on the ear the distant triumph song,
and hearts are brave, again, and arms are strong.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
The golden evening brightens in the west;
soon, soon to faithful warriors comes their rest;
sweet is the calm of paradise the blessed.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
But lo! there breaks a yet more glorious day;
the saints triumphant rise in bright array;
the King of glory passes on his way.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
From earth's wide bounds, from ocean's farthest coast,
through gates of pearl streams in the countless host,
and singing to Father, Son and Holy Ghost:
Alleluia, Alleluia!
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Words: William Walsham How, 1864
Music: Sine nomine
Meter: 10 10 10 4 4
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The Living Church 11 April 1982
How Many Children Do You Have?
By ELLIN R. LEGGETT
For some time after that dreary February afternoon when our lives were instantly and permanently sheared in half by a single phone call…our bright, handsome, popular son Jonathan, age 15 crushed to death beneath the wheels of the bus that had carried him safely to and from school for the past seven years…for some time, we were surrounded by love and concern expressed intangible, practical ways as we tried to adjust to the first break in our closely-knit family circle of five.
But no one had prepared us. No one had warned us of the pain and confusion we would experience when faced with a simple question: “How many children do you have?”
For us this trauma was mercifully postponed. In this small city, our tragedy and the ensuing investigation were front page news. While we sometimes longed to grieve in private, notoriety brought us comforting letters from other bereaved parents, many of them strangers, with whom we formed an invisible community of suffering that in some way eased our individual pain. For a time it seemed as though there couldn’t be anyone within several counties who didn’t know our story.
But it was bound to happen when we met new people. The quick introductions, the polite smiles,the exchange of pleasantries…and then: “How many children do you have?” At first, I was caught off guard; it seemed easiest to answer, “Two.” In a rush of grief and guilt, I realized I had disowned my youngest child. The sense of loss was excruciating.
How had I fallen into this trap? Experts in grief counseling tell us that it is vital for any bereaved person to talk of the one who has died. But in our death-denying culture, we who mourn are often met by a conspiracy of silence. Sometimes it stems from a sincere, if misguided, desire of others to spare us further pain. More often,unfortunately, it arises from selfishness and fear. The result is the same: the dead are not fit subjects for polite conversation. (If we need to talk, we may have to pay a professional to listen to us!) Thus we deny not only death, but life as well. Our loved one becomes a non-person; this is the ultimate bereavement.
I had politely acquiesced in this “silent treatment,”assuming that my mention of death would cause embarrassment to the person I had just met. And, by doing so, I had revealed a large gap between my faith and my practice, a gap shared by all too many Christians, clergy and lay persons alike. In this regard, as in so much else, we have conformed to the world.
Regularly we Christians affirm our belief in “the communion of saints, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.” And Saint Paul tells us that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. (Indeed, the funeral service for our son was like a huge victory celebration, full of affirmation and hope.) We say this—on and on, day after day, year after year. Well, is it true or isn’t it?
You never know how strong a rope is until you have to hang by it—and this aspect of my faith had lain coiled up like that rope for many years. I never really needed it before. Now, having tested it, I find it is more than strong enough.
We have decided to be true to our beliefs, to witness Jonathan’s continued reality. If it makes people uncomfortable to hear that we have a son in heaven (or with the Lord,or however we want to word it), that’s their problem, no longer ours.
We are and always will be a family of five. The break in the circle will be mended;indeed it is mended each time we gather with “all the company of heaven” at the communion table. True, we grieve because we will never again experience Jonathan’s physical presence, and our lives are poorer for his absence. Death is very real. But so is Resurrection.
How many children do we have? The same number we’ve always had—thanks be to God!
Ellin Leggett is a homemaker who lives in Washington, Pa., where her husband John is rector of Trinity Church on the edge of the Washington and Jefferson College campus. The Leggetts’ three children are David, 21; Martha 19; and Jonathan, who inspired this article.
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