Edwin James Searcy

February 12th, 1954 - July 1st, 2025

How do you begin to write about the man who helped all of us to find the right words?

Ed, Eddie, Ted, Reverend Dr., Papa, Dad, husband and partner, was a storyteller.

He was the one we turned to when school essays needed to be reshaped. He decoded hockey plays and trades, and helped us make sense of the world when the news didn’t. He introduced us to the lyrics of master songwriters - like Paul McCartney, Leonard Cohen, and James Taylor to name a few - finding wisdom and poetry in their words. He wrote sermons and books exploring faith and spirituality, and he was the one we came to when life events needed meaningful interpretation.

As a minister in the United Church, he was a lifelong seeker of truth and a teller of hard, beautiful things. A historian by heart and calling, he believed the past had a voice worth listening to, and he spent his life doing just that: listening, remembering, interpreting, and passing it on.

But he didn’t only listen to the past, he listened openly and deeply to people, all people. Whether working with 2SLGBTQ+ communities, those living on the margins, or anyone whose story had too often been ignored, Ed believed that everyone’s voice held worth and dignity. His ministry and his life were grounded in this radical embrace. He served with conviction and compassion, including through his leadership with the BC Conference in the 1990s: chairing the Land Claims Campaign (1990–1994) and the Indian Residential School Task Force (1995–2000).

He would often tell fond stories of his time as a child in the Okanagan with his parents, Anne and George Searcy, and stories of his adolescence growing up in Burnaby with his sister Kathy, his brother David, and alongside many friends and cousins.

His stories of early adulthood traveling through Europe on his own and of meeting Wendy, falling in love while leading Summer Camps, building cabins and going on adventures, inspired his children and grandchildren to follow their own dreams and passions.

Ed and Wendy raised their family with love, care and support. Dad passed on his skills and knowledge, fearlessly tackling any building project, teaching himself and all of us as he figured it out. Through years of family trips to the Gulf Islands, Naramata and many other places, he taught us to experience the world together, singing camp songs and making up new games to play, rock jumping into cold pacific waters, and carrying us on his shoulders when we were hurt or tired. As his children grew older and a whole clan of grandchildren appeared, Dad became Papa, carrying all of us with his love and support as we tackled new challenges and opportunities, while still singing campfire songs and playing dress up with every kid that came to visit.

In 2011 Ed was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma and Amyloidosis. In retirement, Ed tackled his illness with the support of his family and many exceptional medical caregivers. He was open about his challenges (and there were many), sharing the story of his journey with friends and family as we shared it with him. While dealing with difficult setbacks, isolations, failed treatments, strokes and dementia over the last 14 years, the medical support Ed received allowed him to share a long chapter with his friends and family after his diagnosis.

Ed had 2 wonderful last months celebrating, eating and enjoying time with family and friends when he was well enough to visit. He shared the story of his life, and those who were with him in this time felt touched with how much grace he had in approaching death. Ed passed in the compassionate care of Melville Hospice, surrounded by his loving family, watching hockey playoffs as he could, listening to his favourite tunes, and treasuring their last weeks together.

The stories that Ed Searcy told, and the ones he lived with all of us, have touched so very many people. His passing leaves a hole in our lives but we are all richer for having him in our own stories.

As per Ed’s wishes we will be having a simple private memorial with immediate family to hold him in memory. This will be a circle of 21 where three generations will gather and share in honouring him. There will be the voices of his wife Wendy, his 4 children and their beloved spouses, Matt (Kate), Joel (Melanie), Adrianne (Kevin), and Anneke (Alex), and his 11 grandchildren, Madison, Hannah, Nathaniel, Naomi, Emily, Bennett, Baiet, Jacob, Olen, Noa, and Jovie. In his final days Ed told us how comforted he was picturing the circle of love that would be a simple memorial in our home and in the beauty of the beach he had known since he was a little boy.

Ed touched hundreds of lives and we trust everyone who knew him as extended family, as a community leader, as a neighbour, through church, in friendship, by his writings or in academia will honour this wish and acknowledge his passing simply.

In lieu of donations or flowers you could take a moment to share a story of Ed with someone who would find joy or transformation in it. Speak it aloud, or please consider writing it as a message for others to read here. Our family will be making a book of remembrance from the stories that are received.

In the end, stories are how we make sense of life, how we remember, how we grieve, and how we grow together.

A STORY - Dancing with Illness

Ed was quick to say he was not “battling” cancer nor putting up a “good fight”. He told many people about his health issues. It was not meant to teach, it was simply incredibly cathartic and healing for him when he told his story but many people felt there was a lot to be learned by his attitude.

As a non-fighter Ed, learned to appreciate that he was dancing with each and every health hit that came his way. For the most part it was a long slow dance and he could catch his breath … and then he couldn't.

Accepting the Cancer dance card.

Ed was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma and Amyloidosis in 2011. In this story we say a thank you to his hematologist Dr. Ramadan who in his diligence and wisdom treated Dad with gentle words and exceptional medical care. There were rocky times at first: A stem cell transplant that did not work, a nasty life threatening reaction to one of the therapies and the emotional roller coaster that comes with high doses of steroids, but for the most part he was pain free and able to put significant energy into his days at home and his work in ministry. Fourteen years of monthly lab tests kept him attuned to the wonderful stability that scientific research had provided. That was a longer dance than expected. He lived long enough to “die of something else” which is the goal of current treatments for chronic multiple myeloma.

House arrest.

As years went on and during many periods of high risk or sudden illness there were months and even years at a time when Mom was his "cell mate” as Ed isolated at home. Vaccine effectiveness could not be counted on with his immune disorder. Two bouts of pneumonia requiring ICU treatment confirmed that. Isolating or living with great caution was already in place for him prior to Covid. Covid came and went but the risk of any illness and his need for isolation carried on. There were many times when little faces would just press against the glass panes of the back door to say hi to Papa. Joyful moments. It was the family’s responsibility to keep Dad alive. There were diseases that were guaranteed to kill him and Covid was just one of those. The Dr. knew. He knew.

A 50/50 loss.

In 2020 there was the stroke that left Ed with blindness in the right visual hemisphere of both eyes. Mom found a private optical therapist who assisted him to functionally read again. He worked hard at eye exercises with the hope he would regain some vision. It did not happen. With hard work learning new techniques printed sentences ceased jumping on the page in front of him. He was able to enjoy his scholarly tomes once again. With a bit of humour he insisted there were some pretty poor writers in the world until he realized that the right side of every sentence was missing to him in his blindness. No longer independent he grieved the loss of his ability to drive.

Lost in space.

Ed was preliminarily diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Dementia in late 2022 although there were signs beforehand - especially at times when he was ill. He had significant loss in finding his way, with activities of daily life and in his ability to process and problem solve. Remarkably he could still converse energetically about all his favourite topics including sports, theology, and history. This disease was the most devastating and emotionally exhausting of all health events for Ed. Confused with being able to find his way to the kitchen or bedroom or the back door in the house was traumatic. Brain glitches were traumatic. There was changing brain chemistry that caused anxiety and depression and a grand mal seizure. The fear of losing his ability to recognize those he loved was intense. It ruined his intact sense of self and he and his family were so sad. He grieved deeply. This was a time of many small deaths from dementia including forgetting some of the techniques he had learned to keep him safe and active with limited vision. He was failing and falling. He required some special care and we have such gratitude for his geriatrician Dr Thornton at Peace Arch Hospital who treated him with compassion and great respect. She skillfully grounded him once again and lifted much of his anxiety and depression with her expertise. It was during this time when his spirit was so low that weekly zoom calls with his “amigos” (Doug, Foster and Keith) provided great solace and we are grateful to them.

Another new dance partner.

In January 2025 worsening lab results prompted the hematologist to take him off his chemo drugs to see if he needed a change. There was no improvement. A bone marrow biopsy in late March confirmed a new disease - incurable Acute Myeloid Leukaemia. His care was transferred from Dr. Ramadan in Vancouver to be closer to possible daily chemotherapy at Surrey Memorial Ed grieved with his goodbye to Dr. Ramadan. As it turned out the choice was for palliation not more chemo. In discussion with family he decided to ditch the facemasks, ditch isolation and fully embrace our family times together for the rest of his life. Dad had two months of hugging, playing, celebrating and eating with family at home. During that time he visited with old friends until nausea and profound fatigue set in. On good days he would toss the ball for Morley which she loved. He sat for hours in the garden soaking up the sun. As he weakened Morley would rest with him.

We give thanks to Dr. King and Dr. O’Brien, Ed’s GPs, who supported his care before this story began and ever after. We also give thanks to little Morley.

A few more steps.

Ed was now at greater peace and surrounded by deep love at home. When the time came for two people to transfer him and care for his physical needs he went into Melville Hospice. He was greeted at the door by his new nurses. He loved the reception and immediately felt safe in their care. They remarked many times on his peaceful acceptance of the move into hospice. No fight … just another bit of choreography to learn.

He joked one day that, “hospice is a real life saver”.

Before he lost his ability to speak Dad said every day he was so thankful for his family who were by his side. When he could no longer speak or see he acknowledged he could hear us. We were with him every minute of the day in his final days - he heard a thousand I love you’s backed up by his carefully curated playlist. Those songs are now memory making for us.

The entire Melville team was incredibly compassionate and we honour their dedication to end of life care. He was known to them as “Pastor Ed” but it was their ministrations that healed so much of his final days. He was, and we are, so grateful.

Our Ed, our Dad, our Papa died early on July 1st tucked under a red blanket for Canada Day.

We trust he is resting in the mystery that was his understanding of a new life.

We give thanks to those of you who have eased the load for Ed and for all of our family. You continue to be so dear to us.

Tributes

Nicole F Zickler
October 11th, 2025

What a beautiful tribute to an exceptional person. These goodbyes are always bittersweet—filled with both the ache of loss and the deep gratitude for a life so well-lived. My heart swells with memories of Ed and the whole Searcy family. I can hardly believe there are now eleven grandchildren!

I was lucky to know Ed when he became the minister and youth group leader at Crescent United during my teenage years. I have many fond memories—trips to Naramata, overnights in the church basement, and Sunday sermons that somehow spoke directly to us self-absorbed youths. Ed had the kindest eyes and a gentle, curious presence that instantly put people at ease. In his company, I felt both safe and truly seen.

I’ll never forget one youth group outing when Ed planned to take us to a movie. Somewhere along the way, we convinced him to change course and see The Breakfast Club instead. He actually pulled over at a pay phone so we could call our parents for permission—and then off we went. Seeing that iconic film with my youth group was unforgettable.

Years later, Ed and Sally—a fellow minister—attended our wedding, guiding Paul and me as we shaped a ceremony that reflected who we were. I was young and intimidated by the whole process, but with their gentle wisdom and steady encouragement, we created something deeply authentic and meaningful. I remain grateful for that gift more than thirty years later.

After such a long illness, I’m thankful that Ed is now free from suffering, that he enjoyed moments of peace and family connection in his final chapter, and that he was surrounded by so much love. Always a teacher, he seemed to leave this world as he lived in it—with grace, humility, and a quiet lesson in how to surrender when the time comes.

From the Zickler family, I’m sending all my love to Wendy and the entire Searcy family. May you hold each other close during this tender time.

xoxo,
Nicki

Nicole F Zickler
October 9th, 2025

Diana Gibson
September 20th, 2025

I knew Ed while we were at Columbia working on our doctorate of ministry together and studying with Walter Brueggemann. Ed was the delight of our class, and to be honest, I'm pretty sure he was Brueggemann's favorite. Ed's presence and spirit were honest, fresh, kind, insightful. He was smart and funny and authentic.

We have not kept in touch but I looked him up this summer after Walter died, which I see was shortly before Ed died.

Many, many thanks to you all - his family - for sharing such warm and powerful stories.

Ed Searcy: Presente!

Michelle Hogman
August 5th, 2025

In his lifetime, Ed has been a continual witness to Jesus Christ and the way of life he encourages. Many many people have been the recipient of Ed’s deep wisdom. I have a few short memories of him, such as his transfer to the conference of Manitoba and Northwestern Ontario. I also recall his early participation in Touchstone, a volunteer led journal. Finally, I recall him as a young dad when his family, and also our young family went to Naramata, in British Columbia. Ed’s death is a great loss, but his life has been a true blessing for so many.

Jordan parrish
August 3rd, 2025

A truly wonderful man and human being. He always made our family feel so welcome into his home. He had a warm caring heart and I hope we meet again.

David Spence
August 1st, 2025

Speaking of "dance"......I am reminded of the phrase ---
"Dance in the darkness, slow be the pace,
Surrender to the rhythm of redeeming grace."

The Holy Trinity and the Sacred Quaternity abide and abound

MAY THE FOREST BE WITH YOU
Tree-Fully
DAS

Martin S. Cohen
July 31st, 2025

Here and there in the biographies and tributes to Ed that have been published since his passing, there have been a few mysterious references to Ed having had a rabbi among his friends. I am that person, and I write to today to pay tribute to someone whom I met in the context of terribleness and who remained a true friend from that day in 1987 until death finally did us part.

We moved to B.C. in 1986 when I assumed the pulpit of the Beth Tikvah Congregation in Richmond. My wife grew up in Toronto, but I was new to Canada in those days. And I liked it from the moment we arrived. Or I did until I came to work one Sunday morning and found our synagogue befouled with giant red swastikas and slogans too vile for me to type out even now after all these years. The RCMP seemed inclined to take this as mere mischief rather than as a serious threat. And, with that, nothing seemed to me as it had only a few days earlier. I was heartsick and confused, and entirely uncertain if we had made the right decision in coming to B.C., to Canada. And into all that stepped Ed Searcy. He phoned me a day or two later—we hadn’t ever met, so this was out of the blue—and he invited me for a coffee. He assured me Canadians were, for the vast most part, tolerant, kind, and decent. He reached out to me in unearned collegiality , told me that if I needed a friend he would like to be that person, and basically invited me into his life. I accepted. And I never left.

Throughout the years, Ed and I remained in each other’s orbit. He brought me into the VST community; I got us both a great gig in Little Switzerland, North Carolina, where we team-taught a week-long seminar on Paul of Tarsus and his Jewishness and Judaism to a summer convention of rabbis and ministers.

When Ed became ill, I began to add his name to the list of people for whose restored good health our congregation prays every Shabbat morning. I kept this up, both in New York and in Jerusalem (where we now live for half the year), to the extent that when I was absent on Saturday in Jerusalem because we had to be elsewhere, the congregation added his name anyway—without anyone actually knowing who he was. After hearing his name read out at home in New York for well over a decade, everyone noticed in July when it was suddenly gone from the list. I told them what had happened, then asked them to pray now instead that he rest in peace and that his memory be a blessing for us all.

So that is my final thought. Ed was a source of great inspiration and ongoing blessing in my life. My hope is that all of us who feel just that way become and remain finer people because of our memories of Ed. The Hebrew from Proverbs 10:7 is zeikher tzaddik li-v’rachah (“the memory of a righteous soul is a blessing”). And that thought provides the context in which I choose to remember my friend of all these many years, Edwin James Searcy: as a presence even in absence, and as a source of blessing for all those in the land of the living who hold his memory dear.

Keith Howard
July 30th, 2025

What do I say about the loss of a friend of 50 years?

Particular events, usually unexpected, spark memories and grief.

Glancing at a bookshelf opens the sluice gate to a current of sadness. Seeing a jar of organic apple juice evokes a recollection of a lunch meeting where Ed proudly produced a jar of homegrown apple juice made with Wendy.

Grief, like memory, has no built-in hierarchy. My memories are unstructured and uncatalogued. I have no response to the query: "What is the most important thing you remember about Ed?" Break off a memory like a piece of bread, a taste but not the whole.

Loss and relief can co-exist. I miss Ed, and I am glad that he has died.

The final diagnosis of Acute Myeloid Leukaemia freed him from his greatest fear, being locked in the dungeon of dementia, unable to recognize his beloved family and friends, and estranged from cherished memories.

In life, death, and life before death, Ed sought to understand his time within the framework of the Grand Narrative of the Judaeo-Christian story and, particularly, within the narrative of Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter Sunday.

The weekly conversations with Doug, Foster, Ed and me often teased out themes of abandonment, suffering, the place of the righteous on the cross, and Gethsemane's terrible loneliness. Grace and gratitude arose as recurring themes. Platitudes, however well-intentioned, were not allowed. We loved him too deeply to tolerate their presence.

Talking about the realities of life and the Gospel requires honesty, authenticity, and courage. Among our tears and laughter, those gifts would break through the door of the spiritual Upper Room, to which sadness, despair, and denial tempted us to retreat.

It remains a privilege to be Ed's friend.

Go with God, for God goes with you, my friend.

Doug Goodwin
July 30th, 2025

I first saw Ed in a course on the Bible, probably one on St. Paul. He was carrying his infant son, Matthew, in a snuggly on his chest. Accompanied by theological discourse and the cries of a baby, we became friends and bonded. For the next 47 years our friendship continued to revolve around theology/Bible/church and family... and, to a much lesser degree, hockey smarts, where I was a decidedly a much inferior partner.

We were friends, but I think I can say fairly objectively that in the church world Ed was a truly remarkable person. He inspired, challenged and taught many through his sermons, articulate prayers, numerous writings and incalculable conversations. Honouring the tradition, he always made it sound new and personal. By eschewing the drive for relevance, he was truly relevant.

In an earlier tribute, Peter Jones noted that a good friend's "Spirit [is] in you and they will always be with you." I thought I was the only one discovering that since Ed's death; clearly not. Far more than absence, I am experiencing surprising and welcome presence.

“Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?”
Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Vicki Oates
July 30th, 2025

I was Ed and Wendy's cleaning lady for a number of years,until covid came.Ed and I shared a love of music,and gardening.We had long chats about both things.Like me,he had no intention of becoming a gardener.It's a lot of work,and there is much learning to be done if you want to be any good at it.But Wendy DID want a garden.Also,Ed liked eating the fresh produce.So,he reluctantly became a gardener,and grew to love it.He also adored Morley.I had been hoping for them to get another dog after the passing of their previous dog,Micah,so I was delighted to meet her.When she sometimes got in my way,he looked at me and said "You wanted a dog!".And yes,he loved his history.He and I sometimes talked about the Bible...not in the religious sense,but as a document that described how life was in those times,and how that document shaped a lot of the way we live today.It was fascinating.He could be very matter of fact with things.When he was diagnosed with cancer,he calmly told me that he was going to reach 70,but not 80.When I asked him how he felt about that,he just smiled and said that many people don't get to have THAT much time,and that he was very lucky to have his family and friends,and he thought that the time he had would be good.My heart goes out to his family and friends...they are missing a wonderful person.

Eric Child
July 30th, 2025

A person of love and leadership, the Child family was only made better by this wonderful man

An inspiration to those that knew him at Crescent United. His teachings live on in legacy

Gen
July 30th, 2025

From what I remember he was a funny, fun, nice guy that seemed to be good w children, (my new son, Corbin,) to whom he was a great uncle. 18 yrs ago..
So sorry for your loss, fam.
Despite being Ill he survived a long time. Kinda like my dad, 13 yrs on dialysis. They wanted to live not only for themselves, for us. 😢 I will inform t if he does not k alr.

Peter Jones
July 30th, 2025

What can I say? How do you honour a good friend?

I knew Ed for over 40 years, and like many, I feel blessed by our friendship. I would not be who I am today if I had not met Ed. And I am grateful for how he changed and inspired me.

Ed’s death has made me reflect on the many facets of friendship and how they feed us. There are those bonds that are created through shared experiences, such as playing touch football with our kids, which create a foundation for mutual trust and personal sharing.

And you know that these bonds endure when after years of drifting apart you reconnect and your conversations quickly return to what is truly on your heart. I always appreciated the opportunity to ponder with Ed the nature of God, who Jesus is, and whether Easter should be a verb. It always felt like mutual exploration of awe and wonder.

And perhaps it requires the passage of time, but I have come to appreciate the value of being a witness to one another. It is a precious gift. Over the past few years during walks along the beach it was a time to listen and be present; to hear joys and sorrow. When nothing needs to be said in reply. Those are sacred moments when we bear witness to our humanity and the Mystery we share.

Someone recently told me that when a good friend dies you should think about how your life has been changed by having met them, focus on how they made you a better person, and realize that is their Spirit in you and they will always be with you.

With deep gratitude for our friendship,

Peter

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