Help Us Live as Those Who Are Prepared to Die

A colleague shared her CaringBridge site a week and a half ago, and her photo drew me in. There she was, a woman who appeared to be about ten years younger than me, smiling with her four-year-old twins, another child and an adoring husband. I clicked on the link and learned she was a Lutheran pastor in Minnesota who was recovering from a routine procedure when she fainted on August 26. After being rushed to the hospital, it was discovered she had a major blockage to her heart and then a brain bleed. I've returned to her site many days this week, joining the multitude of parishioners and other people who prayed whenever their breath was no longer being held. There were two posts on Thursday. One celebrated the power of a medical team and success on a heart bypass machine. The other reported she had died at 11pm on Thursday night, a beloved child of God. 

I didn't know her. But I cannot stop thinking about her--this clearly gifted pastor and doting mother of three young children who was carrying on with life as usual only to tragically die before her twins start kindergarten. 

I wonder if she was prepared to die.

More importantly, I wonder if we--you and I--are prepared to die.

Our nation's attention was captured last weekend as two powerful lives were celebrated. Aretha Franklin was the Queen of Soul, one whose music made our hips sway and our souls ignite. Her funeral was over eight hours long. And while some people are still talking about some of the musical performances, most people are talking about their disappointment with the pastor's homily or the placement of another pastor's hand. It's now reported that Franklin died without a will. She made no plans for how her life could continue to live through her $80 million estate, leaving her heirs headaches and possibly heartaches.

On Saturday morning, the television cameras took us to the National Cathedral where we watched the most beautiful display of bipartisanship since Justice Anthony Kennedy was confirmed unanimously. Senator John McCain left a final letter which was read in advance of his service. He selected the song, "Danny Boy." He named the men who would accompany his casket. And, he called two Presidents--one Democrat and one Republican--long before he took his final breath to ask if they would honor him by speaking at his funeral. I watched the entire thing before asking God for some of Meghan McCain's prophetic courage.

Senator McCain was prepared to die while one is left to wonder if the Queen of Soul imagined she could live forever as she put off incredibly important details.

What about us?

Have you confronted the fact that death is one of the few guarantees in life with the other being taxes?

Do you have a plan for how your life can continue to live beyond your death?

Two former members of our church have powerfully demonstrated how one's life can continue to live through how they planned for their assets to be distributed. I never met one of them as she died several years before I became the pastor at Mount Vernon Place. But every December our church receives a check from her family foundation in the range of $18,000 to $22,000 depending upon the market performance. The check is accompanied by a letter from the chair of their family foundation that informs the church how a similar check will continue to come until all assets are depleted. I don't know how much this woman gave to the church when she was living, but I suspect this allocation has more than continued her tithes and offerings. The check is an extraordinary gift that makes a profound difference in our church's ministries every single year.

A man named Howard taught me the most about how one's generosity enables one to continue to live long after they die. In his last year of life, his sons worked with me to create a paid internship at MVP. Every three years, I have the joy of selecting an incoming student at Wesley Theological Seminary to serve at our church during their time in seminary. We call the student the "Howard Martin Ministry Intern." His name is in our bulletin every single week. He's now played a role in forming and shaping a handful of students who are serving the church in different ways. It was Howard's example that motivated Craig and me to make plans to create a similar scholarship at my seminary upon our deaths. I want my life to keep living--to keep making a difference--to play a role in someone's transformation--even after I die. 

(Howard is second from the left. This pic is the weekly Bible study in 2006. How things have changed!)

What about you? How will your life continue to live?

And what about your funeral? I want my seminary friend Manisha to preside at my service and my dear clergy colleague Alisa to preach. I long for people to sing "Blessed Assurance" and "Great is Thy Faithfulness" with gusto. I would love for people to feast at a table prepared for all. My service can be at whatever church I'm serving or the one where I am connected at the time. And, I'd be more than okay for my body to be interred at the natural burial sites at Holy Cross Abbey where I have retreated annually for more than 15 years. 

I don't know when the time will come. But I long to live as one who is prepared to die--by maximizing every single day, always seeking to faithfully follow God's call on my life, embodying generosity as a spiritual discipline, trying to be more patient, and allowing my light to shine--the light of Christ--wherever I am. 

What about you?

Rediscovering the Hunger of America

I spent the summer pondering hunger. The Revised Common Lectionary assigned passages from John 6 several weeks in a row. It's a chapter that begins with Jesus transforming a young boy's five barley loaves and two fish into enough food to feed 5000 people. The chapter continues with Jesus referring to himself as the "bread of life" before promising that all who come to him will never be hungry. 

I love Jesus. I've sought to give my life to him through faithful service to the church. But I still hunger...a lot. I hunger for things whether it's the new iPad purchased yesterday or the great fall dress hanging in my closet. I hunger for success and for the voice that sometimes says "you're not good enough" to be silenced. I hunger for community and connection.

What about you? 

For what do you hunger? 

It's the very question I have asked many people this summer, both in the congregation I serve as well as one where I had the privilege of guest preaching. But preaching does not afford space for people to respond. While I have a sense of what people hunger for in my congregation, I don't know everyone's answer. And yet, I am convinced that a portion of America's hunger was uncovered this week.

Thousands of people lined up outside the Capitol building yesterday, battling sizzling heat to wait their turn to pay their respects to Senator John McCain. One person was quoted on the radio saying, "I'm an atheist but I found myself praying in the Capitol rotunda." Still others lined up today outside the Vietnam War Memorial while others waited along Wisconsin Avenue for a glimpse of the hearse carrying his flag-covered coffin. Three former Presidents and three former Vice-Presidents attended the funeral along with a few notables from Hollywood. Thousands of people traded the typical Saturday morning routine for time in front of the television, savoring every word spoken by his prophetic, truth-telling daughter, Meghan, Presidents Obama and Bush, and a dear friend from the Senate. News reporters were heard saying they have not seen anything like it since Robert Kennedy was assassinated 50 years ago. 

What is it about Senator McCain's death that has touched the hearts of ordinary Americans so deeply? Why were people crying as they watched his family enter the National Cathedral or listen to the words spoken or sung?

Senator McCain's death--and more importantly, the way he lived his life--gave me a better answer to the question "What are you hungry for?" than I have had in a long time. I suspect the same might be true for you and thousands of others in our nation.

I'm hungry for people who don't see leadership as a platform that magnifies their needs and desires but rather one that might reveal how there are some things in life that are worth risking everything for.

I'm hungry for a city filled with communities and even congregations that are not separated by aisles but rather united by a deep willingness to see how we are all on the same team.

I'm longing for elected leaders to embody what President Obama described as principles that transcend politics, and values that transcend party. 

I want to live in a nation where people are quick to defend the content of one's character instead of using cheap shots formed through 140 characters on Twitter. 

I'm hungry for children in our nation to grow up with examples of leaders who understand how the power entrusted to them through an election is a sacred trust that demands honesty, humility and sacrifice.

I didn't realize how hungry I was until half past noon today as the casket was loaded into the hearse outside the Cathedral. But now that I've felt this hunger in the pit of my stomach, I'm convinced I cannot ignore it. 

I want to do everything I can to continue to help people hear and respond to a call to public service. I want to do everything I can to ensure people who understand the power of sacrifice, duty and honor run and are elected for office--whatever the office might be. I want to demand something different than the example coming from the most notable person not invited to the funeral today. And, I want to pay attention--close attention--to God's call on my own life. I've long known what an extraordinary privilege it is to serve in Washington. Today that privilege feels even more precious.

Thank you, God, for John McCain. May he rest in peace and rise in glory. And may you use this week to inspire a new generation of public servants to lead in ways that unite all who are divided, silence those who rule by fear, and help us see how we really are all on the same team. Amen.