Remember the People
John 15: 5 – 17

(preached May 26, 2019)

Memorial Day weekend, for many of us in New England, marks the beginning of the summer travel season. Summer travel might mean piling everybody into the car for a visit to Maine or the Cape. It might mean going a little farther away, maybe out West with the family or even to Europe. What kind of travel do you enjoy? Do you like to travel for rest and relaxation, or something more exciting? If excitement is your thing, you’re not alone. People who study trends in travel report that the number of people looking for excitement is on the rise. For some folks, travel is becoming more and more of an adventure.

For example, take a man named Tony McShane. Tony is an attorney in Chicago. When he wanted to escape from his hectic life of career, commuting, and coaching, he headed for the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. But Tony didn’t just drive in his car along the mountain roads. He was part of a team that went way into the woods, off the beaten track, to explore the backcountry. They hiked up the hills and rode down on mountain bikes. They covered nearly 70 miles in just 24 hours of nonstop mountaineering. McShane and his teammates were competing against other teams in the sports craze of adventure racing. He says the racing is a metaphor for his busy life. He says, “You’re exhausted, but you learn how far you can push yourself.”

Other adventure racers go as far away as China, where they travel the Yangtze River by bike and kayak on a course over two hundred miles long. And then there’s the Extreme Challenge Adventure Race across Grand Bahama Island that starts with a one and a half mile swim. For one of the people racing, a woman named Jessica Kolesch, it was the thrill of a lifetime. She loved it, even though she caught a glimpse of shark fins during the swim. She says, “We had long periods [of time] without water and a blinding gale out of nowhere…and you’re asking yourself, ‘How is this fun?’ But a few minutes later, you’re having fun again” (Newsweek, September 3, 2001).

For you and me, racing across a tropical island in a blinding gale may not be our idea of a good time. But extreme adventure sports are very popular these days. Many people seem to long for the special kind of thrill that comes from a physical challenge. Maybe that’s because so many of us work indoors, in offices or classrooms. Our surroundings at work appear safe. Our daily routines are predictable – maybe too predictable to keep us engaged. Or it could be that we’re just working too hard, spending longer hours at work than our parents did.
Sociologists say we’re working longer and harder than ever before.

But when I think about the way people throughout history have worked, I’m not sure I can agree with that statement. When you consider the long, hard days of work in mines, or factories; when you think about the long hard days of work on farms that men and women have sweated through for generations, I question whether we’re working longer and harder than ever before. Still, whatever the reason, a lot of people today want a taste of living on the edge. They want to feel – just for a moment – the rush that comes from winning a race against incredible odds. They want to savor the satisfaction that comes from surviving the rigors of the wilderness.

You won’t find me signing up for any adventure races this summer, but I think I can understand the attraction: wanting, just for a moment, to throw caution to the winds and do something really wild. It’s been said that life isn’t measured by the number of breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away. It’s not hard to understand that desire to experience something wonderfully breath-taking.

But you know it’s kind of funny when you realize that the people on those adventure races, as they got into the car at the beginning of the trip, probably took a minute to fasten their seat belts. Anyway we hope they did. And if the sun was blazing, they probably put on sunblock. They put on insect repellent before they ventured into the woods. And they put on helmets before climbing on their bikes for that fast ride down the mountain.

It may seem odd that people who do risky things like adventure racing would be so careful to protect themselves from other kinds of risks, but it makes sense. There’s a big difference between choosing to take a risk because it’s exciting and fun, and knowingly putting yourself in harm’s way.

This Memorial Day weekend, with veterans’ ceremonies and barbecues and family get-togethers, we remember the people who found themselves in harm’s way. They found themselves in harm’s way – not because they were looking for thrills, but because they answered the call to defend and protect their loved ones and their country. Memorial Day is a day for all of us to reflect on the sacrifice they made; to pause in the midst of our fun and recreation to express our gratitude for their service and their courage. Their service helped create the communities we enjoy today: peaceful communities, with places of worship, places of learning, places just to relax and have a good time. Because of their commitment, you and I can live in community.

In our gospel passage for today, from the gospel of John, Jesus sets forth a vision of community, a compassionate community. He sets forth a way in which all God’s children can live together in peace. Meeting with the disciples on the night before his crucifixion, Jesus gives them a new commandment. He says, “Love one another, as I have loved you.” And he offers a powerful image: members connected with him and one another the way a vine is connected to its branches. The community he’s calling for is strong because it’s connected. The bonds of this community, like the strands of a healthy vine, will be strong enough to endure storms, with violent winds and torrential rain. The bonds will be strong enough to withstand the ravages of drought and disease.

It’s a peaceful community, but it’s not a peace without pain. He knows the painful events that are to come: abandonment by friends, crucifixion, suffering, and death. But these events, as painful as they are, do not destroy the life of a loving community. Even death will not destroy that love. As Jesus says, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”

Bonds of friendship hold together the compassionate community. We see a friendship like that in a relationship that took root in a city neighborhood of Boston some years ago. It began when a man named Robert Chicoski made a remarkable, life-changing decision. Chicoski quit his job as a corporate executive and moved from an affluent town in the suburbs to a very different neighborhood, the Dorchester section of Boston. The reason? Chicoski wanted to help people. He is a recovering alcoholic. After he moved to Dorchester, Cichoski began working with recovering drug addicts and men who have been released from prison.

Soon after he arrived, he learned about a troubled woman who had killed her two children and then been fatally shot by police. The family’s pastor introduced him to them, and Chicoski got to know the family. He got to know the father of the children, Scott Murphy. Cichoski took Murphy to church with him and to his favorite restaurant, famous for its barbecued ribs.

At the time, he had no idea how the friendship between them would grow. He had no idea that the bonds between them would become life-giving in the deepest sense of the word. But two years later, Murphy’s cousin, a man named Ardis Graham, was suffering from kidney failure. He was told that, if he did not find a kidney donor, he would probably die. Everybody in the family had been tested, but ruled out for various health reasons. Friends were also tested to see if they were possible matches; co-workers wrote letters to TV host Oprah Winfrey. Still the search went on.

Then one day Chicoski got an email from the family’s pastor, asking for prayers and saying that if the man did not get a kidney he would die. He decided to get tested, and found he was a perfect match. He volunteered to be the kidney donor. The two men had surgery and Graham was given a good chance of returning to good health (Boston Globe, May 15, 2005, p.B1). The bonds that connect Chicoski to that family are bonds of deep compassion, life-giving bonds that connect them: not just for the good times, but for whatever life might throw their way.

As Jesus say with the disciples that evening, on the night that was to hold so much suffering, many unanswered questions hung in the air. But there was no question about the role the disciples were to play in the days ahead. There was no question about the role the disciples were to play, that would so powerfully portray God’s saving love. They were to be a loving community. Even if it came to laying down their lives for one another, they were to abide in love. They were to remember the people, the children of God with whom they were to live together in peace, the people with whom they were to be as closely connected as branches on a vine.

Like them, you and I are called to be connected to one another in love. It’s not a call to a superficial friendliness. It’s not a call to friendship only for the good times. We’re called to form deep bonds with one another. It will not always be easy to maintain those bonds. Conflicts will arise. Differences and disagreements will disturb us. Still, we are called to love one another: not just for the feel-good times, but for the times that try our souls. We are called to love one another as Christ loves us.

On a Memorial Day many years ago, a bishop named G. Bromley Oxnam was asked to give the annual address at the National Monument at Gettysburg. Like most of the others who had spoken there, the bishop felt the need to conclude his speech by reciting Lincoln’s famous Gettysburg address. After he finished, he thought everything had gone fine. But his sense of satisfaction quickly evaporated when an elderly gentleman approached him and said, “Son, you made an awful mess of Mr. Lincoln’s speech.”
“What do you mean?” the bishop asked. “I didn’t miss a word of it. Look, here are my notes.”
The old man showed no interest in the bishop’s papers. He replied, “Oh, I don’t need your notes. I know it by heart. You see, I heard that address the first time around.”
By now, it was dawning on the bishop that this man had actually been present when Lincoln first delivered his speech. He asked the man how his address had differed from the president’s. The old-timer explained it this way, “Abe put his hands over the people like a benediction, and he said, ‘That the government of the people, and by the people, and for the people, should not perish from the earth.’ You got the words right, son, but you missed the message. You emphasized government; Lincoln talked about people.”

On this Memorial Day, this time set apart for remembrance, may you and I remember the people. May we remember with gratitude the people who made sacrifices so that we might gather here, to worship the God who calls us to loving community. May our love for our country be strong, but may it never eclipse our love for God and our love for one another. May we always be guided by the love we know in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. In the days ahead, as we move from remembrance into the future, may we make that love known with willing hands and joyful hearts.
Rev. Elva Merry Pawle Sixth Sunday of Easter