The Rev. Henry Gerike+

Word reached today that Henry fell asleep in Jesus last night. We became friends when we were both at seminary together. He had in earlier years served as a teacher, and of course, always as a musician, but the Spirit tugged at his heart to follow his father’s path into the Office of the Holy Ministry. I remember in my fourth year right before graduation, he took Cindi and me out to visit his brother-in-law and sister at St. Paul’s, Wood River, and he gave me Neuhaus’ Freedom for Ministry, which truly was the greatest gift that could be given to a man about to embark on his first call. 

When I ended up coming back to Hamel (where I had been fieldworker) as pastor, Henry and I got to work together again on Lutheran Musician Enrichment. I remember he and I had a delightful disagreement at one of the sessions. I wanted the Alleluia sung with zip and joy; Henry insisted that joy could be slow and solemn too. He wasn’t wrong, of course, (but neither was I). The exchange sticks with me because it so characterized the man. He MOVED slowly. He MOVED deliberately. He didn’t gulp, he savored. And this also showed in his tendency to savor music. Whether he was conducting or composing, he most often mirrored that intention to go slow and to milk delight out of every last note and nuance. 

When I started at the IC as Chaplain and Director of Worship, Henry became my unofficial watchdog. He never quite trusted, I don’t think, my lack of musical training, and so he was always there to offer a musician’s perspective on the doing of things. Yes, sometimes he irritated the daylights out of me, but mostly he was invaluable and right. I can’t count the number of times he served us as organist at the IC; he was always ready to lend a hand. And he was inventive! We were to sing LSB 471, “O Sons and Daughters of the King.” He decided it MUST have some percussion. He sent me scurrying down to Missions in the hope of a tambourine. Alas, nothing. Did that stop him? Oh, no. He found some change, put it in the metal pencil holder on the organ, and instructed me in the rhythm I was to rattle it! It sounds crazy, but (as usual) it worked. 

SO if Henry had an idea, well, he knew how to just keep hammering away until you gave in. And you were usually glad in the end that you did. It was really cute. He’d bring the idea up like for the first time and invite your buy-in. Even it you’d said “no” twenty times before. You see, if you didn’t buy-in, he didn’t give up. He’d just wait. And then he’d suggest it anew, and always as a fresh brand new idea. He was giving you ample opportunity to repent of rejecting the idea! That was what it was like to work with him: a man markedly humble, and yet doggedly stubborn about what he thought was best. Thanks be to God that he mostly got his way! He was the guiding spirit of both of the liturgical institutes I was privileged to work on with him. 

When our mutual friend and mentor, Dr. Norman Nagel was incapacitated with a stroke, Henry was such a faithful visitor. He stopped in regularly and read him some Kretzmann, some Lewis, some Luther. Dr. Nagel might nod off, and Henry would pause and wait for him to wake up and then continue. He was a good and faithful friend. 

A few years ago, I got to put together a service of celebration of the music and ministry of our dear Henry. It was held at Village Lutheran Church in Ladue and Jonathan Kohrs served as the organist. It featured much of Henry’s music, and the whole was woven together via a letter that Henry’s sainted father had sent him when he was in college. Pr. Scott Schilbe would read a section from the letter, and I’d comment briefly to connect the words to some piece of Henry’s music. It will always be a highlight of my life being able to participate in that celebration of my dear friend’s music and service. 

I wonder if the dear Lord Jesus had his holy angels sing “Up through Endless Ranks” for Henry as he made his homecoming, to await in the Lord’s presence the great fulfillment of all His promises in the resurrection of the dead and the life everlasting? Thank you, Lord, for the gift of your servant. For his music. For his life and now for his death. Soli Deo Gloria!