Life and death.

That’s the way we usually look at things, isn’t it?  First you live, then you die.  Life comes first, followed by death.  Your birthday is the starting-point, and your death-day the end-point.  This order makes sense … except when it doesn’t.

Sometimes you have to die before you can live.

A man named Kenny Moore was working for a company called Brooklyn Gas when it faced an enormous challenge.  Deregulation meant that the end was near for old monopolies like Brooklyn Gas, and so the company had to change into a new company called KeySpan.  Kenny Moore knew that this transformation was going to be a shock to his organization, and so he suggested that the company hold an event to help people with this transition.

Kenny recommended that they hold a funeral.

I don’t think it was the gas fumes of Brooklyn Gas that put this idea into Kenny’s head – it was his training as a monk.  For 15 years, he had been part of a strict monastic order in New Jersey, where he ministered to the sick and the poor.  Then, at age 34, Kenny left the order and began to work in human resources at the gas company.

So when the time came for Brooklyn Gas to transform itself in to KeySpan, Kenny was ready to roll.  He booked a conference room for the funeral service, and set it up by putting a funeral urn and two fake tombstones in one corner.  According to Fast Company magazine (February 2004), he wore his priestly stole and played a tape of Gregorian chants.

" Dearly beloved," he said to the 60 or 70 people in attendance, "we are gathered here today to bid a fond farewell to the Brooklyn Union Gas of old."  Then he asked people to write, on index cards, what was over for the company – what was now dead.  People wrote things like "lifetime employment" and "monopoly," and stuffed them in the urn.  Kenny got out some holy water and blessed the urn.

He knew that the company would have to die before it could live.

Then Kenny focused their attention on another corner, one that contained a steamer trunk for the things they needed to carry with them on their journey into new life.  They wrote things like "great people" and "dedication to the community" on index cards and threw them in the trunk.  In wasn’t long before everyone was participating.

After the funeral, the Chief Financial Officer of the company said to him, “Nobody but you could have gotten away with this."  But Kenny didn't feel like it was any big deal. "People are dying to be connected, invited, involved," he explained.  They had to grieve the death of one company before they could celebrate the birth of another.  (Linda Tischler, "Kenny Moore held a funeral and everyone came," Fast Company, February 2004, 30)

The people of Israel were experiencing an equally radical change after being taken into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon.  Their old life was as dead as Brooklyn Gas in a time of deregulation, but there were a good many Israelites who simply didn’t want to let go.  Many of them longed for their former ways, weeping by the rivers of Babylon and wailing the anguished question, “How could we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?” (Psalm 137:1-4).

They wouldn’t release their grip.  Although God had sentenced them to 70 years in exile, they refused to face facts.  Although they wouldn’t admit it, what they really needed to do was book a conference room at the Babylon Best Western Hotel … and hold a funeral service.

This is essentially what the prophet Jeremiah encourages them to do.  In a letter to these homesick exiles, he delivers this word from the Lord: “Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce.  Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease.  But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare” (Jeremiah 29:4-7).

Your old life is dead, says the Lord; your new life is to be found in Babylon.  Deal with it, commands the Lord God, and prepare to settle down for several generations.  The challenge for the Israelites is to find peace in a time of anxiety, and to build homes and farms and families in a strange and foreign land.  Most surprising of all, they are to pray not for the peace of Jerusalem, but for the peace of Babylon, for “in its welfare,” promises God, “you will find your welfare.”

It’s time for the Israelites to hold a funeral service for their homeland, and to toss into the funeral urn the things they have lost.  Into the urn goes “Jerusalem” … “the temple” … “the family homestead.”  These are terrible losses for the Israelites, and it makes perfect sense that they would mourn.  But at the very same time, God is promising them that they do not have to be destroyed by this time of exile.  They can carry a treasure chest with them, and into this chest can go the valuable things they will need for their life in the years to come: “friends and family” … “food and shelter” … “faith in God.”  All of these things are going to be possible for them in the land of Babylon, and God encourages them to carry these blessings with them into the future.

As is true in every transition, the Israelites have to die before they can live.  They have to die to their attachment to the temple in Jerusalem before they can live as God’s faithful people in a strange new land.  And although they have no way of knowing this in Babylon, God is actually preparing them for 2,000 years of life as the Jewish people in cities around the world.  Their time of exile in Babylon turns out to be an excellent training ground for being faithful Jews in Russia and England and the United States.

One of the most difficult challenges we face in the Christian church today is the transition from being an institution … to being a mission movement.  “Most Protestant congregations are stuck in the muck and mire of their institutions,” writes Bill Easum in his book UnFreezing Moves.  Members of these churches define faithfulness as support for their church, and their focus is on programs, structures, budgets, and institutional survival.  More energy goes into maintenance than into ministry and mission, and the result is often a lifeless and boring place.  While we’re not as inwardly-obsessed as some congregations, there are certainly some ways in which we at FPC can break free of our institutional focus.

Maybe we need to schedule a funeral.

If we let our institutional orientations die, we’ll find that our church can discover new life as a mission movement.  Like the Israelites in Babylon, we can experience life and growth and spiritual health in a strange new land, especially if we work hard to make connections with the outside world.  Churches that see themselves as mission movements are in a constant state of innovation, trying new styles of worship and education and fellowship in an ongoing attempt to connect people to God.  They are partnering with groups like 25:40 to provide assistance to African orphans, and they are sending their Midlife Men on a Mission.  These congregations have broken free of their slavery to institutions and, in the words of Bill Easum, are “joining Jesus on the mission field.”  As I have said so many times from this pulpit, we will grow inwardly only if we look outwardly – look outwardly to a world in need of healing and hope.

So, what are we going to be: An institution … or a mission movement?  What are we now, and what do we want to be in the future?  One is going to have to die in order for the other to have a chance at life.

We are living today in a secular culture that feels as strange to us as Babylon did to the Israelites in exile.  But the key to our welfare is not to curse the world around us – instead, it is to “pray to the Lord on its behalf,” for in its welfare we will find our welfare (v. 7).  The time has come for us to put the church as an institution in the funeral urn, and to say good-bye to some of our old ways so that we can be reborn as a mission community.  I want us to take a few minutes now to mourn the passing of an old and dying institution, and to decide what we are going to take with us as we become a mission movement.

On the Communion table in the center of the Sanctuary I have placed a funeral urn and a treasure chest.  The urn is to hold the things we are willing to give up, and the treasure chest is to carry the things we want to take with us.  On this, our funeral day, we are going to bid a fond farewell to an institution that has served us well, but is no longer able to keep us in a vital, active, faithful relationship with God.

Take a moment to think of one thing that is, for you, over and done for the institutional church.  Maybe it’s a certain predictability about how Presbyterians behave … a strong connection to the General Assembly … a particular style of worship … a congregation made up of one race or economic class.  Say goodbye to it, and then mentally place it in the funeral urn.

Now imagine one thing that we should take with us as we join Jesus on the mission field.  Focus on one feature of the life of this congregation that you think we absolutely need to hold onto, one treasure that we should carry with us as we become a mission community.  Maybe it’s a strong outreach emphasis … a vital youth program … quality music … a warm sense of Christian community.  Use your imagination to place that quality into the treasure chest on the Communion table.

We have to die before we can live.  This is the story of Israel, the story of Brooklyn Gas, the story of our crucified and risen Lord.  I want you to remember what you have put in the funeral urn and in the treasure chest today, and then act in ways that are consistent with these decisions.  New life can come only after we say goodbye to the old.

You can’t have one without the other: Funeral urns and treasure chests.  Amen.

Link to Sermon Index page

FPC Home | Welcome | Worship | Christian Ed | Preschool |Music | Mission
Fellowship | Inside FPC | Spiritual Spa | Youth | Committees |Site Map

Fairfax Presbyterian Church - Fairfax, Virginia, 22030-6985
(703) 273-5300 - FAX (703) 591-4246
fpc@fairfaxpresby.com
Contact Web Team with comments and updates.