THE PURPOSE OF LIFE [W, 3-19-25]

BEYOND WINTER: The Irrelevant Musings of An Old Man—THE PURPOSE OF LIFE [W, 3-19-25]

 

You’d hope that in 60 years of preaching, there would be more than two people who said they listened to a sermon. But I can think of only two.

There was a preface, however, to their listening. “I hear a lot of sermons, and they’re all the same, so I don’t bother to listen, but today…” One was a funeral director. One was a trumpet player.

A funeral director not listening is understandable. I mean, they really do hear the same sermon over and over. And this particular funeral director was no fan of mine. I’ll call him Gene.* When we were together, he was pleasant enough, and collegial. But I was told by many people that he said unkind things about me when I was not present. To make it even trickier, he had an important official position in my church. [1]

So I was a bit wary when he called me aside after the funeral for Chad.* [I talked about Chad last time.]

Chad was one of those young adults who just has trouble getting their ducks in a row. The frontal lobe of the brain is the last part of the brain to develop. It is not really fully developed until about age 25. Unfortunately, that’s the part of the brain that is most important for decision making. So, a lot of teens and young adults look like adults, but their brains simply aren’t able to make adult decisions yet.

So, Chad had made some bad decisions. Consequently, he was in the county jail. It was not a capital offense. I can’t remember now for sure, but I think he had stolen something fairly minor—not a car or credit card. Enough, though, to land him in the jail, as one of a line of minor missteps. He knew he was doing wrong. He didn’t think he could stop. So he made a bad decision, “a lasting solution to a temporary problem,” as we say about suicide. He hanged himself in the county jail, at the age of 20.  

One thing I felt I had to do when preaching a funeral sermon was be honest. People can’t grieve well if we gloss over the realities of a death. I preached a lot of difficult funerals, the results of murder and suicide and war and accident. I tried to take on directly the feelings and questions that the mourners had, including the ones they dared not voice. I did that with Chuck*, his life and his death. [I talked about him in the column for 3-15-25.]

It was after that one that Gene said, “During the sermon at a funeral, I work in my office. I have the sound system on, so that I know when the preacher’s voice stops, and I need to come back in, but I just do desk work. Today, though, I sat there at my desk, and I listened.” It was as close to a compliment as he could give me.

The trumpet player was in the Barbary Coast Dixieland Jazz Band, based in St. Paul. They’ve now retired, but in their 52 years, they played for more than 2000 worship services. One of those was in the UMC in Clear Lake, Iowa, when the pastor had to be gone and asked me to fill in. I tried out for the first time my translation of John 10:10 as Jesus said, “I’m here; let’s party.” “What Jesus is saying,” I said, “Is that the purpose of life is to have a good time.” The trumpet player told me after the service, “We’ve done so many of these, and the sermon is always the same, so I never listen. But, today I did. I really like that translation!”

John Robert McFarland

Not his real name*

1] I learned years later that before I arrived, he had been told that I had made a particular demand that I had not made at all. I didn’t even know about it. But another person wanted something done and thought it would be more likely to happen if the new preacher had “requested” it. Gene, though, never knew, and I didn’t, either, so I had no chance to correct his misinformation.