Oak Chapel United Methodist Church

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A Papal death-watch has some fascinating side-effects. For a few days, at least, the eyes of all the world turn and look intently at an very ancient, and very odd, realm – a realm that’s been there all along (of course) but one that, in normal times, most of us modern sophisticates nervously ignore – as we might ignore a doddering old uncle who lives in the attic.
The fact that the Vatican is a separate, sovereign state is symbolic of the fact that it is also separate morally and spiritually. It doesn’t live by the same rules as the rest of the world. It marches to its own drummer. It is a world governed by men, and men only -- men who have taken lifetime vows to remain celibate and poor. How archaic! How odd to the modern eye! It is in many respects a monarchy. It certainly is not a democracy, and has never pretended to be. It conducts its most important business, like selecting a new Pope, behind closed doors. No sunshine laws apply. It doesn’t cater to the media. Matt Lauer, jumping the gun this week, asked one Catholic spokesman how an ambitious cardinal, who wanted to be Pope, might campaign for the job. “We’re not electing a president,” the man replied. “Were choosing an Apostle. We hope and believe that the Holy Spirit will work within the conclave. Besides,” the man went on, “most cardinals don’t want this job. There are real physical dangers, as this Pope knows only too well. There’s controversy every day, everywhere. There’s no retirement age. You have to go on until you drop. In fact,” he said, “I think, if anyone would appear to want the job he would immediately be considered unworthy of it.” A different world.
But we know that there are values here, and continuity with the past, and a sense of discipline and sacrifice and moral courage we don’t often find in the secular world, where most of us live most of the time. So we look on with admiration, and with some nostalgia, at these proceedings, as we might look at a Norman Rockwell painting. Dreaming of a world that once was.
There are a billion Roman Catholics in the world, and another billion Christians who are not – mostly Protestant and Orthodox. And all of us (with many non-Christians) admired this man. When he played such a critical and courageous role in the fall of Communism. Who will ever forget the outdoor mass he conducted in Warsaw, soon after being elected the first Polish Pope, and a million Poles attended, and the Communist officials had to stand by and watch helplessly. Or who will forget when he went to that Roman prison and publicly forgave the man who shot him. No one could look away. Time Magazine put a photograph of that famous handshake on its front page. Or his humanity and his humility. When he cuddled the little Aids babies in San Francisco, at a time when no one knew how contagious Aids might be. When he was visiting a children’s hospital and a very sick little girl said, “Bless me, Father,” and he leaned over and whispered something in her ear. One reporter, standing near the bed, heard what he said: “You bless me.” He was a man for all Christians, indeed for all people.
One of the first things Jesus said to his disciples after his resurrection was, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” Jesus never said that all the world should go to church. He said the church should go to all the world – a diametrically opposing view! John Paul had a wonderful sense of being sent – and going, and giving. The Vatican was never an enclave for him, but more like a launching pad. He reached out to the third world. He reached out to young people. He reached out to the Jews. He was fluent in six languages, and could communicate, to some extent, in twenty-six. (That is a great reaching out – to learn other peoples’ languages.) He put himself on the line, reaching out to dictators and to others who were not living as he knew God would have them live. Because a really Good Shepherd does not wait for a lost sheep to find its way back, but goes out and finds it. And a true Father does not wait passively for his prodigal son to return, but stands on the road and watches for him day and night. And a poor woman does not say of her lost coin, “O, it’ll show up some day,” but searches for it diligently. That is what God does, thank God. And as God has done for us, we must do for others. We must be willing to be sent, to go out, to meet people where they are, to put ourselves on the line. John Paul did all that, representing not only Roman Catholics but Christians everywhere.
There is something in us that likes to scold and say “no.” It is devastating to faith. Some of the messages that appear on church signs, for example, are absolutely appalling. My favorite was on a sign in a little town on my way home. It said, “God knows you’re speeding.” That surely is designed to attract people to the faith! Sanctimony, and religion by rules, come easy to us. “Could you marry us at the country club?” “No, marriages have to be done in church (where there is an organ)!” (We need to get out to the country clubs.) Can we use a room in your church for a birthday party? No, you’re not a member. And, besides, you’ll probably leave a mess! (We must open our doors and reach out.) The church must be an island of love in a world of judgement. Let it be Oak Chapel’s prayer: “Lord, send us the people nobody else wants.” If we pray that prayer it will come true, and we will be amazed – as we have already been amazed – at what God can do with all the wrong people.
All over the world this morning Christians are doing what we are about to do, and most are thinking of this great man we have lost. There are differences in the way we feel, of course. We did not always agree with him, as he did not always agree even with his own flock. But he taught us that love of humanity, and reaching out to those in need, supercedes all that. We begin with the words he began with thousands of times: “The Lord be with you. And also with you. Lift up your hearts. We lift them up unto the Lord.”