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"How Far Will You Go?" by Rev. Charles Hoffman

April 28, 2002 Fifth Sunday of Easter
Daniel 3:13-25 Acts 7:54 – 8:1a

Thirty years ago Time magazine called him the most influential living psychiatrist in the United States. He is Harvard educated and unabashedly Christian in his beliefs. His name is Robert Coles.

During the course of his life he has interacted with the finest minds from all walks of life. In the classes he teaches at Harvard there is standing room only. He has written more than sixty books and over a thousand articles. He has been published by the New York Times Book Review, the New England Journal of Medicine, Harper's magazine, the New Republic, and many more literary works.

In 1999 the president bestowed on him the Medal of Freedom, the nation's highest honor for a civilian.

Robert Coles is the man and his list of achievements is staggering. But much, if not most, of what he has learned in his seventy plus years of life has been from children, especially from children of the poor.

Ruby Bridges was one of them. It was during the 1960's when he was working in the south. One day he came upon an elementary school in a genteel section of New Orleans. All the white students were boycotting classes because six-year-old Ruby was being escorted there every day by federal marshals. Ruby was black. Every day Ruby was taken to the vacant school where she would sit alone in her classroom. Every day she had to walk past white people who shouted their insults and even their threats. Coles, the pediatrician psychiatrist, was dumfounded.

What did Ruby do in such a dreadful situation? Her answer was simple: she prayed for herself that she might be strong and brave and she prayed for her enemies. She prayed that God would forgive them. Ruby said, "Jesus prayed that on the cross." It was that simple.

There was another little girl who played a key role in what has been referred to as Robert Coles' "second education." Her name was Tessie. She was one of three other six-year-old girls who were in a situation similar to Ruby's. At one point things were too much for Tessie and she wanted to quit. But her grandmother, who surely must have loved Tessie and agonized over what was happening to her granddaughter, wouldn't let her quit. Basically, she told Tessie that God puts us on earth to help with his world. "You're one of the Lord's people;" she said, "He's put his hand on you. He's given a call to you, a call to service – in His name!" (material on Robert Coles, Ruby, and Tessie is from Philip Yancey in Soul Survivor, pp. 87ff.).

The question is, How far are we willing to go in our life commitments? How far are we willing to go in upholding the things we say we stand for? Do we believe in anything so strongly that we would allow one of our children to face what Tessie and Ruby faced?

From the two scriptures read today we have two examples of uncommon commitment to a cause. The first one comes from the Old Testament book of Daniel. The heroes are three men, three Hebrew friends of Daniel named Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. The protagonist is King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon, where the Hebrew people are being held captive. Like so many of those ancient rulers, Nebuchadnezzar is not the most stable person. He is dangerously unpredictable.

He is also troubled by strange dreams. And after Daniel has interpreted one of those dreams Nebuchadnezzar breaks into a rhapsody about Daniel's God. "Truly," says the king, "your God is God of gods and Lord of kings, and a revealer of mysteries" (Daniel 2:47).

But Nebuchadnezzar doesn't really mean it because the next thing you know he builds a gold plated graven idol and requires everyone to bow and worship it. Those who refuse are threatened with death in the furnace. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego understand this but they also understand what it means to be loyal to a cause.

So they refuse to follow orders. They tell the king that ultimately they don't have to answer to him. They tell him that their God is able to save them from the furnace or anything else to which he might subject them. And just for good measure, they let the king know that even if their God doesn't spare them they will still keep the faith.

Clearly, the three men were willing to die if that's what it meant to remain true to their commitment.

Well, as you know, royalty in those days didn't take kindly to that sort of attitude so Nebuchadnezzar turned up the thermostat and followed through on his threat. But things turn out well for Shadrach and his two friends as they walk through the fire unscathed.

That's the first story. The second is from the book of Acts. This time there's only one hero. Stephan is his name and he made the fatal mistake of telling the truth. He did it in a sermon that he preached. And the irony is that he wasn't supposed to be a preacher. He was supposed to be part of the support staff picking up the loose ends so that others could do the preaching.

But Stephan didn't pay much attention to his job description and instead became an effective and controversial preacher. He told his audience that they were insensitive to the Holy Spirit, stubborn in their ways, and violent toward God's prophets. And when he blamed them for the death of Jesus the enraged audience became a vengeful mob that turned on Stephan and made him the first in a long line of Christian martyrs.

"Lord, do not hold this sin against them:" Stephan's last words. It's the same spirit that we saw in little Ruby Bridges praying for her tormentors at the school in New Orleans. Stephan, like Shadrach, Meshach and Abednago, was willing to lay down his life if that's what it took to fulfill his pledge to the Lord.

Now I must say that I'm glad the lectionary committee put these two stories together for this fifth Sunday of Easter. Because, while there are similarities in the two episodes, there is also a fundamental difference in the outcome. And I think that's important.

As to the similarities, there is the same kind of total commitment in each case – a willingness to accept death itself if that's what it takes. There is also a sense of Divine Presence in each case. King Nebuchadnezzar himself wondered about it. He said, "I thought we put three men into the furnace. How come I see four?" He said that the appearance of the fourth man was "like a son of the gods." Stephan had a similar experience of presence. As his own death neared it is said that he "gazed into heaven" and he said, "Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of man standing at the right hand of God."

Those are the similarities, but there's one great big difference: Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego lived; Stephan died.

You can mark it down. Doing the right thing doesn't mean that everything turns out right. Doing the right thing doesn't come with any guarantees of reward, at least not in this life. People who honor their pledge of loyalty to the Lord sometimes pay for it with their lives both then and now.

Nate Saint was a missionary who was martyred in the jungles of Ecuador back in the 1950s. Near the end of his life he wrote these words: he said, "He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose." I'll never forget the impact of those words when I first read them as a young Christian. I couldn't imagine such commitment.

What if the Lord called me to be a missionary in some dangerous part of the globe? That was my worst fear.I wondered if my own promise of loyalty to the Lord would ever call for such a sacrifice. And if so, would I be able to give it. It was unsettling.

But you know what? I don't worry about that anymore. In fact, I haven't worried about that for many years, because I don't think that's the issue. At least it isn't for me and it isn't for most of the people I know. The question isn't whether or not I'm willing to die for my faith but whether or not I'm willing to live for it.

That's the real test: are you willing to live for God? We come to church and promise the moon and then go out to live as though we only meant it for that one hour of the week.

Over the years I've been saddened many times over the deaths of parishioners. And more so when someone for whom I thought the faith was a vital life force but when it's time for the eulogy not a word is said about their relationship to the church or to God. What happened? Willing to die but not to live, I suppose.

I guess this morning I'm more concerned about what we are ready to give ourselves to while we still have energy to do it. In fact, I have a strong hunch that if we do that then the dying will take care of itself.

But there are other relationships, other commitments, other covenants and promises that need to be addressed as well. What about our attitude toward the nation? Has it ever occurred to you how inconsistent it is for someone to risk death in defense of the country, usually in some faraway place, and then come home to pollute the land, cheat on income taxes, and fail to get involved in the democratic process?

And what about marriage and family relationships? When a woman and man get married they promise "to love and to cherish, till death us do part." It isn't a promise merely to stay together until one of them dies. Lots of couples stay together long after they've ceased loving and cherishing each other. But that's not keeping the promise.

There's a lot of give and take in a marriage but it was never intended to be a marathon test of perseverance. It's not a promise to tolerate and endure, till death us do part. If you want your marriage to succeed then you have to invest in it; you have to live for it.

All kinds of men make the boast that they would defend their families to the death. In the meantime their families are dying from a lack of love and attention. I don't think many women or many children wake up in our neighborhood wondering if the old man is up for the challenge of defending them today. But too many women and children wake up wondering if there will be any signs of love evident from that quarter.

It isn't always easy; it's often difficult. And there's no hard and fast rule as to how the script will end. Remember that Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego did the right thing and lived. Stephan did the right thing and died. Don't ask me to explain it; I just report it.

Here's a story. An older man and a younger woman met in the refectory at Princeton University. He was a visiting professor, a Protestant minister; she was a graduate student, a Roman Catholic nun. They talked. She said that she had been a buyer for Macy's in New York. She was well situated and successful. In fact, she was engaged to be married.

"What happened?"

"I broke it off. About two months before the wedding date."

"How come?"

"I had thought and prayed about it over and over. Finally, I called him and he came over to my apartment. I gave him back the ring. He didn't understand. He just took the ring and left."

"What else?"

"Well, one day I saw him again. It was on the New York subway. The seats on the subway were all taken so I was standing, holding the strap. I was wearing my nun's habit and suddenly I realized that we were facing each other. He was standing right in front of me, face to face."

"And?"

"I said 'hello' and he said 'hello' and we both cried and said goodbye again."

"What does it feel like now?"

"It hurts. It hurts very much."

You see, the thing that feels good is often not the right thing. Oftentimes the right thing will pain you to tears.*

Let us pray: Dear God, help us to be the masters of ourselves, of our emotions, of our dreams, of our promises so that we might be servants of others. Amen.

*The story was adapted from Fred B. Craddock in Craddock Stories, p.90