Sermon Text: Old ManI was very sorry I asked.
A couple weeks ago, I was hanging out with my cousin. She’s married, but her maiden name was Giroux. And she’s done some genealogical work on our family. So I asked her the meaning of the French name “Giroux.” Her husband decided to google it. I’m sorry I asked. It turns out my last name means “old man.” Giroux means “old man.” Not exactly what I was hoping! Now, I have observed a strong tendency in myself and pretty much everyone else. We all know — we really know — that everyone gets old, and everyone dies. We know this. But at the same time, we all really believe something opposite. Although we know that everyone ages and dies, we are surprised when it happens to us. It’s like I believe an exception will be made in my case. You can deny this, but I know I’m right. I hear myself and other people talking about being surprised at how fast time goes, or how fast kids grow up, or that we are not as energetic as we used to be, or that we look in the mirror and see our mom or dad. It’s all part of the same thing. I know — I know — everyone gets older, and everyone dies. But I think an exception will be made in my case. This is part of the human condition. I do believe that some of this is due to the longer life spans we now enjoy. Health knowledge and medical care over the past couple hundred years have resulted in hugely longer life expectations for many human beings. Very old age was very unusual in ancient times, or even more recent times — say, in the 1700s. Jesus died when he was about 30, and we think of him as dying so young. But he was at least middle-aged in his place and time, when most people did not live to be 30. Our current situation is unprecedented in human history. Many of us can expect to live comfortably into our 80’s, 90’s, and beyond. And yet — no exceptions will be made. We know — we know — that we will get older and eventually die. That makes life bittersweet. It is also confusing. In my head, I’m still a young guy. In my head, that is. My body tells me something different. But you know, I believe all of us keep within our hearts all of the selves we have been. The little boy I once was is still inside me. The teenager I once was is still in here somewhere. The young man I once was is still part of me. That, too, is the human condition. That, too, is bittersweet. And here’s something else to remember. When someone I know and love who is, say, over 90 years old, and he or she tells me they don’t know why they are still here, and they would just as soon fall asleep and not wake up, I don’t think they are suicidal or in despair. I think what they are really telling me is this: Life is hard. It’s a challenge to be this old. It’s work to get though a day at my age. And I try to understand and have a little more compassion. As I said, my last name, “Giroux,” means “old man.” And my career has been that of an Episcopal priest. That word priest is derived from the NT Greek word “presbyter.” In fact, the Prayer Book sometimes calls someone like me a presbyter. The word presbyter means elder, or old one. So if a Giroux is a priest, he is actually Old Man Old Man! And yet I will tell you that my work is a real privilege. One of its joys is that I’m allowed to be part of people’s lives at all stages — birth, childhood, young adulthood, middle age, old age, and even death itself. I am constantly reminded of the human condition, and if I’m paying attention, it always reminds me to be more compassionate. We’re all in the same boat. Over the years, I’ve learned a great deal from many, many teachers. One of them is Joseph Campbell. He was a great student and teacher of the mythologies of the world. His studies gave him a deep understanding of the human condition in cultures from all around the world. He once said that if he had to sum up all he’s learned, he would say this: “Make your heartbeat match the beat of the universe. Match your nature with nature. Say ‘yes’ to the whole thing, even your own extinction. That is joyful participation in the sorrows of the world, my little theme song.” Jesus put it even more succinctly in the prayer he taught us to say: “Thy will be done.” No exceptions will be made — we all live, and age, and die. That’s what it is to be human. What’s the point of complaining about it? I say “Thy will be done” — I say “Yes.” Another great teacher was a 20th century theologian named Karl Barth. He wrote such big books that if you put them in a stack, they probably weigh more than I do. This great Christian thinker was once asked, “What is the most profound theological teaching you’ve ever heard?” He thought for a moment and said, “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.” So let me remind you of that most profound theological statement by singing it to you right now. And I have a second verse, which underlines what I’m trying to say to you today. Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to him belong; they are weak, but he is strong. Yes, Jesus loves me; yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me; the Bible tells me so. Jesus loves me, this I know, when my hair gets white as snow. When my eyesight gets quite dim, still I always trust in him. Yes, Jesus loves me; yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me; the Bible tells me so. And you, too. That’s what Old Man Old Man says! |
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10/22/2019
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