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On Tuesday March 17th, 2026, many of us gathered to celebrate the life and ministry of Jack Roberts at St. Margaret's-in-the-Pines in Scarborough.  At the beginning of the service the following remembrance, written by Lucy E. M. Black, was read by the Rev. Andrew Kaye.  We share it here with our own community as we continue to hold Mary, Jack's wife, and his sons, Chris and Jeff, in our prayers.

My husband Michael and I first met Jack Roberts approximately twenty years ago, when he was serving as interim Priest at St. John’s Blackstock. He had only been with us for one Sunday when he announced that he was going to make parish visits. He phoned mid-week and arranged to see us at our home on the weekend. What we both remember most about that first time together was that he never once mentioned anything to do with religion or church. Instead, it became clear that he wanted to get to know who we were as people, what our interests and passions were and how he could support us. I can picture him still, stretched out comfortably in our parlour, taking in everything around him, chuckling at small remarks that amused him, and opening the door to a loving relationship.

Jack’s wife Mary was the love of his life, and he was so proud of her and her beautiful singing voice. I often sat with Mary at St. John’s, and she would whisper an ongoing critique of Jack’s voice when he sang the liturgy, sometimes clawing at my arm when he was particularly discordant. After service, she would remonstrate with him about his tone or pitch, and he would shrug his shoulders and chuckle good-naturedly. On one particular Sunday, Mary and I watched closely while the knot on his cincture loosened and began to slip down. As usual, he had robed hurriedly while speaking to someone and hadn’t fastened it properly. Mary and I giggled watching his Alb slowly billow out while he preached. When he finished his sermon, Jack bent down, picked up the cincture unself-consciously and grinned in our direction.

And Jack could preach. Rarely referencing his notes, Jack’s sermons were always biblically grounded and rooted in practical and timely contexts. As well as a funny anecdote or story, the subject was always moving, inspirational and, very important, never too long. Jack viewed coffee hour as being as precious as any other aspect of our worship and made sure to talk to everyone, including those of us working in the kitchen. He happily picked up a tea towel to help dry dishes, all while chatting with those around him.

One of the many things I valued about Jack’s approach to faith was his belief in the importance of seeing God in the everyday and ordinary, as well as in loving people in practical ways. His pastoral care ministry, long after his second or third retirement, demonstrated a true servant’s heart... I can think of several examples when he mediated for families in crisis and stepped beyond the role of Priest in order to bring difficult situations to a resolution.

Despite his most recent role as a full-time caregiver for Mary, something he embraced with love and grace, he also maintained a phone list and visitation schedule. Hecontinued to minister to shut-ins, those who were ill, and many members of the St. John’s parish who were no longer attached to a church. There are others who can speak to Jack’s many years of service in other communities and other churches. And those who know the deep love and pride he had for his two boys. Still others who will miss his summer ministry up north and who knew how much he
enjoyed golfing and the family cottage.

But I believe that all of us here today are present because Jack touched our hearts in an
unforgettable way.  So it is with thanksgiving that I remember Jack’s love and devotion to his Lord and Saviour and to all those he served with such dedication.

Thanks be to God.