March 10, 2019
Two years ago, March 1, was
my first official day of retirement. I
had served in full-time, ordained ministry for over 36 years, including 15
years at my last church, and I decided it was time.
Shortly before that date, a
friend of mine shared a story with me.
It is from the story of Odysseus.
Odysseus is best known as the hero of the Odyssey. This epic describes
his travels and his travails, which last for 10 years, as he tries to return
home after the Trojan War and reassert his place as rightful king of Ithaca.
In the course of his travels,
Odysseus receives a prophecy from Tiresias.
Tiresias tells him that when he arrives back in Ithaca, he should spend
some time cleaning house, that is, getting rid of all the suitors his wife has
had in his absence.
Then, however, he is to take
his oar and walk inland to a place where no one has ever heard of Odysseus, no
one uses salt for any reason, no one has ever seen or heard of oceans. Then he will meet a man who calls his oar a
winnowing shovel. There he is to plant
his oar in the ground, build an altar and sacrifice to Neptune. When he returns
home, he is to sacrifice 100 oxen, one after the other. After that, he will live out his days in
peace.
Retirement was not the
biggest transition I’d ever experienced.
But it did mean that for the first time in almost 60 years – since I
started kindergarten – I would not have to be any special place when I woke up
in the morning. And I would have no
special role by which to understand myself.
It took, first, a kind of
setting my house in order. This did not
involve getting rid of my wife’s suitors, of course, but was a preparation that
involved reorienting myself to home. In
fact, my retirement was easier because, although I wasn’t going to church every
day and preaching every Sunday, much of my life remained the same. I still did yoga; I still taught mindfulness
in state prisons; and I still served as a night chaplain at a local hospital.
Second, there was a reorienting
to my life. I had to decide what was
important and what was not outside the dictates of my professional life. This is the significance of the oar that had
been a tool of Odysseus’ trade, but in the land where he goes it is called a
winnowing shovel. It is something that
helps divide the wheat from the chaff, the essential from the unimportant.
Finally, it took courage to
see myself as someone other than a pastor.
This is the significance of Odysseus’ journey far inland, to a place
where no one had heard of him or had even heard of the sea. He journeyed to a place where all the
accomplishments and accolades of his life meant nothing. When he reached that spot, he was not to flee
in terror. He was, instead, to mark it
as a holy spot.
While Odysseus’ journey was
different from that of Jesus’ journey into the wilderness, I believe that it
carries the same questions: Who are you, really? Whom do you trust? And on what basis will you live your life?
Jesus has just been baptized
in the Jordan River. While he is a
prayer, the heavens open. A dove
descends upon him and a voice declares, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you
I am well pleased.”
Then he was led by the Spirit
into the wilderness. He fasted for 40
days. He was tested for 40 days. But, after 40 days, his testing was not done.
The Tester said to him,
“Jesus, do you really believe that you are the Son of God? If you are, you could easily turn these
stones into loaves of bread. Then you
would know that you weren’t just hearing voices at your baptism. And you’d get a bite to eat, too. God knows you must be hungry. You could feed yourself. You could feed all kinds of people, if only
you turned these stones into loaves of bread.”
It was tempting. Jesus was hungry. Feeding people was a good thing. God doesn’t want people to go hungry. But it was the way Satan had worded the offer
– “If you are the Son of God…” This was
not a question of hunger. This was a
question of trust. And so Jesus, despite
any clear signs, rebuffed Satan’s suggestion with the Word of God. “It is written, ‘We do not live by bread
alone.’” (And we can add the rest of the
verse, “But by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.”)
Then the Tester took Jesus up
on top of a high hill, and in a flash, showed him all the nations of the
civilized world. He said, “Jesus, all of
this belongs to me. I want to give it to
you. And I’ll bet you could do some
pretty fine things with it. You could
stop crime. You could put an end to
injustice. You could make sure that
everyone would get what they needed, whether healing or housing or
happiness. You could even make sure they
all get to church on Sunday. This is all
yours. All you have to do is make me the
boss. Now what do you say?”
It was tempting. Satan was right. There were many good things to be
accomplished. A lot of work needed to be
done. Many people were in need. And Satan was giving Jesus a free hand. Yes, many good things could be done, but not
the one thing that is needed – keeping God his boss. And Jesus answered again from what had been
written thousands of years before him – “Worship the Lord your God and serve
only him.”
Finally, Satan took Jesus to
Jerusalem and put him on the top of the highest point of the temple. He said, “OK, Jesus, you’ve got me
convinced. You are God’s Son. All you need to do is convince other people,
too. I know that, if you throw yourself
down from this temple, you will not even scratch a toe, because the Good Book
says, ‘He will command his angels concerning you to protect you,’ and ‘On their
hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a
stone.’” (Psalm 91)
It was tempting. Wouldn’t that bring lots of people to
God? Wouldn’t that show people that what
God had promised was true? Wouldn’t it
prove to everyone, himself included, that God could be trusted?
But Jesus knew that to ask a
sign from God was to test God. It was in
a way trying to play God for a fool. So,
Jesus answered, “The Good Book also says, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the
test.’”
When Satan had finished these
tests, he went away until it was time for finals.
Two years ago, I
retired. One year ago, Sylvia and I
moved from Wisconsin to Washington. In
fact, a year ago last Tuesday, the moving truck unloaded our stuff.
This was a bigger change for
me than retirement. While a good bit of
my life remained the same after retirement – I kept the same house, the same
friends, and a number of the same activities – when we moved to Mount Vernon,
everything changed. I had no friends,
nothing to do, and my external world – although beautiful in many ways – was
unrecognizable.
My biggest question before we
moved out here was – if I die after we move, who will come to my funeral? I realized that I’d had this image of my
funeral – my friends gathering around my sons and extolling my virtues: Chris
was a great guy; he was such a wonderful pastor; he went into the prisons with
me; I worked with him as a chaplain. But
2000 miles away from Madison, Wisconsin, who would do that?
I now believe that, if I die
in Mount Vernon, there will be some people who will come to my funeral. But the question remains: Who am I,
really? Who do I let tell me who I
am? Is it the accomplishments and
accolades I had accumulated over 36 years?
Are they who I really am? Or,
instead, do I listen to the loving, living voice that says, “You belong to me. You
are mine. And nothing can come between
you and me.”
First Lutheran Church is now
in a transition. You are not retiring
from ministry. You are not pulling up
stakes and moving half-way across the country.
But these same questions are yours: Who are you, really? Whom do you trust? And what direction will you take in the
coming years?
I’m not going to tell you how
to answer those questions. This is,
after all, your test and not mine! My
only advice is: Follow the example of Jesus.
Even in this wilderness of
transition, when so much seems uncertain, so much is up in the air, trust in
the presence of God.
Even when God seems not to be
speaking, when there is no clear sign about what to do or where to go, use
God’s written word as a guide and inspiration.
And – this is the most
difficult – even when you are tempted to cling to anything that promises long
life and success as a congregation, let go and trust in the self-giving,
never-ending love of Jesus.
Because, no matter what test
you face, the power of that love will never fail you!
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