In memory of Cleo Baker

The Rev. Dr. Barbara Cathey, D.Min., and Rev. Kristin Hutson, M.Div., J.D., share words of celebration at Cleo’s retirement Liturgy. Photo: Gerald Farinas.

This week, I remember Cleo Baker—a proud Black Chicagoan whose heart beat in rhythm with the spirit of this city, whose mind found joy in books and art, and whose soul soared in the driver’s seat of a convertible coasting along Lake Shore Drive, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and a Panama hat.

More than his unique flair and style, and a wholly unique laugh you could hear from the front steps and along Bryn Mawr Avenue, Cleo was a community leader.

As building manager of Edgewater Presbyterian Church, he wasn’t just a caretaker of bricks and mortar—he was a builder of community, a keeper of welcome, and a steady, joyful presence for all who crossed the threshold.

For over 30 years, he did that.

Sure, he broke some rules, guided by the virtue of unconditional welcome—which some of us were uncomfortable with. But he aimed to pull people together and wanted people to enjoy each others’ company.

A great example of that was his hosting of Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners with neighborhood folks who had nowhere else to go—and he did it for years right under our noses.

No explanations needed.

Someone had to do it.

“You bring something, I bring something, they bring something. We all get fed,” he explained to me.

That’s how he ministered—as a member of the congregation and as a deacon.

In the words of Paul, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” (2 Timothy 4:7).

Cleo lived his life with purpose and grace, never wavering in his commitment to serve and uplift those around him.

He shone brightly, just as Jesus taught: “Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven” (Matthew 5:16).

And shine he did—through laughter, acts of kindness, a warm greeting, or a simple moment of presence.

Cleo embodied justice, mercy, and humility.

“What does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8).

Whether in the church building, out in the neighborhood, or from his beloved house on the South Side, he moved through life with a quiet dignity and a deep, abiding love.

He left a legacy of love and loyalty: “Let love and faithfulness never leave you… Then you will win favor and a good name in the sight of God and man” (Proverbs 3:3–4).

And Cleo’s name—his memory—will surely remain in hearts, full of favor.

Now, we trust he is welcomed into eternal rest.

“In my Father’s house are many mansions… I go to prepare a place for you” (John 14:2–3).

Surely there, too, Cleo is tending to something beautiful.

Rest well, Cleo.

You were a light in this world—and your glow remains with us still.