Fifteenth Pentecost

             September 09, 2007

     The Episcopal priest and the Baptist minister had served in the same small town for many years.  They had become good friends and always met on Monday morning for coffee, conversation, and a leisurely drive through the country.  That was how they came upon the problem.  So, they quickly made a sign and pounded it into the ground beside the road.  The sign read, “The End is Near!  Turn yourself around now before it’s too late.”

     A car full of teenagers, on their way to school, slowed to read the sign and one of them yelled, “The end sure looks like it’s near for you two old geezers.”  And off they sped.

     From around the curve the priest and pastor heard the screeching of tires and a big splash.

     The pastor turned to the priest and asked, “Do you think the sign should just say, ‘Bridge Out!’”  Around the curve they went to literally throw out the lifeline, as they had figuratively done many times before.

      I don’t know if I’ve ever shared the story about Mr. Puckett with you?  If so, please indulge a forgetful preacher.  I met Mr. Puckett while doing my clinical training at St. Elizabeth’s Hospital in Washington, DC.  At that time St. E’s was the largest federal hospital in the country for those with various mental challenges.  Mr. Puckett had been a resident there for most of his adult life and he was in his sixties when I met him.  He was not well; suffering from advanced COPD.  I visited with him almost every day.  One day the supervising chaplain informed me that doctors had told him that Mr. Puckett had been given less than a month to live.  Chaplain Jacobs wanted me to go with him to tell Mr. Puckett the news.

     I don’t remember about the pleasantries exchanged or much of the conversation leading up to telling Mr. Puckett what the doctors had said about his condition.  Chaplain Jacobs inquired about notifying any family.  I knew he had none, but didn’t say anything.  He was then asked something about burial and indicated the cemetery on the grounds was good enough.  I then spoke up and said, “Mr. Puckett, I’m so very sorry that you’ve received this shocking news.”  Mr. Puckett looked at me, a gentle smile creased his face, and he said, “Oh, chaplain, don’t you feel sorry for me.  I’ll be so happy to finally get out of this place.”  It was a lesson I have carried with me for more than thirty years.

     I believe with all my heart that this physical world, in which we live and move for varying lengths of time, is not our final home.  And I believe there is randomness to God’s creation that may at times find us in a place worse than death. 

     The Gospel for this Sunday is about a large crowd traveling with a rabbi named Jesus.  He is on his way to Jerusalem and he knows deep down in his spirit that he might not come out of that city alive.  His death might not be so much a random act, as it is a part of God’s plan of redemption.  The weight of such obedience is excruciatingly heavy.  He knows what this is about to cost him; seeing the large crowd, he turns to inform them what following him will cost each one of them.  It almost sounds harsh, austere, and unforgiving.  “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.” 

     He knows he is on his way to the cross.  The disciples, many others close to him, and a much larger group following from a distance, were convinced he was on his way to set up an empire.  In as vivid a way as possible he informs them that anyone who chose to follow him was not on the road to worldly power, prestige, and influence, but had to be willing to sacrifice the relationships held most precious in this life and be willing to undergo suffering that would be similar to the agony of a man dying on a cross. 

     These times of sharing along the road to Jerusalem are sometimes part of what are called the “hard sayings of Jesus.”  In the Aramaic it was very often a part of the language to make something as vivid as the human mind could make it.  Translating words into English, without the attending thought and intent, very often can cause a rift.  We are not to interpret these sayings in a literal fashion.  What Jesus intends for the crowd to hear, for us to hear, is that no love in this life can come before our love of him.  He is saying that playing it safe means we lose.  If our approach to life is to find security, ease, and comfort, if we seek isolation or insulation from the randomness of creation, and if every decision is made by the standards set by the world, we run the risk of losing all that make life worthwhile.  Life can become a selfish endeavor when it might be invested in service.  Life can be strictly earthbound when it could be lived reaching for the stars.

     We have been created in the image of God who did not put safety first but love first.  So must we.  Putting love first means bending over and voluntarily picking up a cross and following this one called Jesus the Christ.

     This teaching also reminds us that risking all for Jesus the Christ means life.  History is filled with example after example that the greatest contributions to the advancement of God’s kingdom on earth have been made by those who took the greatest risks.  Discipleship in this modern world very often means we take the side of the underdog and stand up for those whose voices have been silenced by abuse, torture, discrimination, and neglect.  We join with all those who believe there is something God-given in the human spirit that will not rest until full humanity is granted and citizenship comes from being human and not from what that human looks like.  The life that is free from risk is the life that is dead.  Saddest of all, we live in a culture that calls such a life “good.”

     We are reminded in some of the hard sayings of Rabbi Jesus that we will leave it all behind.  It is quite possible for a person to gain all the things on which they have set their heart and then awaken one day to find that they have missed the most important things of all.  We know intellectually, but do not truly believe that the things of this world cannot mend a broken heart or cheer a lonely soul. 

     It is possible for a person to try to give their money for the work of Jesus the Christ in this world and withhold their life.  It is possible to give lip service to the cause of Christ and withhold any direct involvement in the mission that must be done.  It remains one of the great handicaps of the church that far too many who claim membership in it are distant followers and not committed disciples. 

     We are reminded again today that God in Christ will only accept the one acceptable gift…our whole life!  There is no substitute for that.  Nothing less will do because nothing less will be accepted.

     I know that this may sound harsh.  I hope you will remember that this not something thought up by a forgetful preacher.  Jesus is the one who authored these sayings.  He did so to remind his followers, then and now, that playing it safe means we lose, risking all for his sake and for the sake of the Gospel means life, and in leaving it all behind we are made ready for entrance in God’s Kingdom.  So, the “end is near.”  This is not our final home.  Any bridge we may build will ultimately be insufficient.  We have access, through faith, to the true bridge-builder and gate.  Over him and through him we walk to our final home.  Amen.   

                                                          ~The Rev. G. Thomas Mustard