It is not often that the late, great catcher for the New York Yankees is a spiritual master, but Yogi Berra was a great one . . . at least for me. Some of Yogi’s greatest wisdom:
“You can observe a lot by just watching.”
“Love is the most important thing in the world,
but baseball is pretty good, too.”
There’s some pretty good wisdom in those quotes. Though he butchered the English language, he made some pretty good points for all of us to think about.
This is the last sermon that I will share with all of you at Joliet Christian Church. It might seem strange that I begin with witticisms from an old baseball player. Yet . . . he says what needs to be said. For example, he said this: “It ain’t over till it’s over.”
And so here we are. At the finish line of my being the pastor of Joliet Christian Church—fifteen years almost to the day . . . it is over . . . or is it? Another famous quote of Yogi Berra was: “When you come to a fork in the road, take it.”
Of course, if you know your Robert Frost, you’ll know that Yogi is referring to that famous poem, The Road Less Traveled. The poem is about a traveler who comes upon a fork in the road. On one side is the well-worn road traveled by many; the other is a road that few travel and it is in great disrepair—weeds and growth obscuring the road. There the traveler must decide—which way to go. The way that everyone goes . . . down the well-worn road, or the road that is in disarray and less traveled. In the end the traveler chooses the “road less traveled”. Frost writes:
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
I guess he never pictured it like Yogi. Yogi says pick it up!
And so, I did on my spiritual journey many years ago. I picked up the fork and it has made all of the difference.
Ministry came as an afterthought for me. In elementary school I was assigned the task of writing about three things I would want to be when I grew up. The first two were easy . . . an officer in the Air Force to follow in my father’s footsteps, and a schoolteacher. A teacher who worked with students who had disabilities primarily because of two of my siblings having disabilities.
As I said, the first two were easy. That third one was difficult. I wracked my mind for hours trying to figure out something I would want to be when I grew up. Finally, my mother suggested that I put down the first thing that came to mind. Well, I don’t know where my 11-year-old brain was when “minister” popped up, but that is what I put down for the teacher. Imagine her surprise when she saw that! If she could see me now at the end of 43 years of being a minister. I was far from ministerial material then and some would even say now.
I picked up that fork. In fact it was during my senior year of college as I was finishing up my bachelor’s degree in Speech Pathology and being a fairly typical 20-something year old male enjoying college life . . . maybe a little too much. That was the year that the minister of my home church encouraged me to apply for seminary. All my friends and family thought I was crazy . . . me, a minister!
They probably weren’t as surprised as I was then three years later I graduated seminary and was ordained into the ministry earning the right and privilege of being addressed as a “reverend”. Newly ordained the road towards ministry laid before me. Once again there was a fork in the road. I picked it up. Me, the irreverent reverend!
Since then, I have served churches of all sizes, temperaments, and theologies—seven congregations ranging in size of 150 on Sunday morning to around 20. In that time Dana and I have served congregations we have had four children and raised them to be good people, seen some of them get married, and been blessed with a bunch of wonderful, beautiful grandchildren. It has been an adventure . . . a trip, or as the Grateful Dead sang: “What a long, strange trip its been.” All because I picked up that fork!
Now on the brink of retirement—with growing and perfecting 20/20 hindsight—I can assuredly say that I am humbled and grateful for it all. To those who are here and to those before you, I say, thank you!
The Beatles called it a “long and winding road.” The Grateful Dead called it “a long, strange trip.” Robert Frost alluded to it as a choice between two roads. And Yogi Berra said, “take it”. The writer of Ecclesiastes—our reading for this morning—would say, “So it is . . . a time for everything.” They would all be right.
The story of Ecclesiastes is about a person seeking the great truth about life—what makes life worth living. The person seeks answers like we all do—is it in great wealth and all that wealth can provide—the good times of wine, women, and song? Maybe it is in education—learning all there is to learn—becoming wise. Maybe it is family, children, and all the trappings of domestic life? Maybe. But as fun as it was the person did not find what he was looking for.
No, it was only when he turned to God that he found satisfaction. Turned to that relationship—that intimate relationship with God—that he found what he was looking for. That relationship is grounded in love. Love for God. Love for one another. That is the goal of life. That is what defines a person. That is the gain from the toil of life. This is what Jesus preached over and over—love God—love one another. There is no greater goal than this for one’s life.
Looking back, I know that the writer of Ecclesiastes is right. Life is a long and winding road . . . a long, strange trip . . . filled with all sorts of forks . . . and if we are going to truly live it to its fullest, we have to pick up the fork.
So, what have I learned after 43 years of ministry? What stories could I share that will impart all the wisdom I have accumulated?
Is it the time I dropped a man in the baptistry, nearly drowning him as he panic, flailing away, while I declared him baptized in the “name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit”?
Is it the time that the elderly church organist fell asleep while I was preaching, hitting her head on the keyboard making the pipes of the organ squawk?
Maybe it was the time I did a children’s sermon and one little tyke decided to share that his father had stayed home that morning to drink beer and watch football much to the embarrassment of his mother.
Possibly it was the time I told a joke during the sermon and ten minutes later a member of the choir started laughing, interrupting the sermon, because he finally understood the joke.
Could it be the funeral procession that got lost going to the cemetery, drove all around the town in a long line, and finally having to pull into a gas station to get directions. And yes, the funeral director was a male. Or the time I accidentally locked the hearse at the cemetery before we had gotten the coffin out for the graveside service. Someone had to drive back to town to get the keys. I was never allowed to touch anything in the hearse again.
Maybe the time when one of the ladies of the Christian Women’s Fellowship approached me at a funeral dinner to let me know that the “barn door” was open. Then she left me wondering if I had done the whole funeral with my pants zipper down. It did feel breezy and might explain why the congregation was smiling throughout the service.
Needless to say, there was much I learned on my ministerial journey. Some was painful. Some eye-opening. Sone quite humorous. All of it lessons. Central to it all was the same fundamental foundation of faith—relationships built on love. Love of God. Love of others.
Constantly through my journey of ministry I was and will continue to be reminded of this fundamental truth. It is relationships that matter . . . relationships that gets the job done. This is a fundamental truth we have known since kindergarten . . . at least according to Unitarian minister and author Robert Fulghum. Fulghum writes: “When you go out into the world, watch for traffic, hold hands, and stick together.”
“Hold hands and stick together.”
It all comes down to relationships—with God and others. That is the great truth I have learned from 43 years of ministry. Love. Loving God. Loving others. This is the greatest commandment according to Jesus. It all boils down to that. He spent his lifetime preaching, teaching, and living that truth to show us the way.
In some shape or form we have all spent our lifetimes searching for that which is the truth of what it means to live. We are no different than the writer of Ecclesiastes. And like the writer, the older we get, the clearer that truth and meaning is revealed to us. In time it all comes down to love.
That’s the big secret. Known, but unknown to all of us. The life and purpose of a Christian . . . of a follower of Jesus . . . is to love. Plain and simple. Everything we do . . . everything that we say . . . is to be based on love. Love is the key. It is the key to the Kingdom of God. Jesus told us this. Jesus showed us this.
Unfortunately, we live in a world that does not love itself. Just look at it. Does this world look as if it loves . . . loves itself . . . loves others? We have a long way to go. A long and winding road . . . a long, strange trip. But there is a fork in the road.
The choice is ours.
I would urge us all to pick up the fork. Choose the way of love, for it is truly the only way. Start with yourself—love yourself. If you cannot love yourself, you can never love another. Love God. Work on that relationship. Love others because you are loved. Love will change us. Love will change the world. You do realize that our sacred book, the Bible, is a love story. Thus, our lives should be too.
So that’s it. Those are the great truths I have to share. Though I am retiring from the active ministry, my journey does not end here. No, the journey continues down that winding road. It continues to the day I die. It does for all of us. Thus, it is that I will continue to strive to love as Jesus loved. I will pick up the forks I come upon on my journey. And I urge you to also do so. Don’t be afraid to love and go forth into the world looking both ways, holding hands, and sticking together.
As Bob Hope used to sing at the end of his shows: “Thanks for the memories. Awfully glad I met you. Cheerio and toodle-oo. Thank you. Thank you so much.” As the writer of Ecclesiastes writes:
There is a time for everything,
And a season for everything . . .
I know that everything God does will endure forever,
Nothing can be added to it and nothing taken away from it.
God does it so people will fear him.
Love.
The journey continues . . . may we all embrace it. Thank you all for the love and support, the good and the bad, the happy and the sad. Thank you for 15 years . . . it has made a difference. Blessings to all. Amen.
