A Matter of Life and Death

sermon by Torin Eikler
Matthew 22:1-14 Isaiah 25:1-9

Death is a part of life … right? All the organisms on this earth – be they plants or animals (that’s us) or fungi live for a time. Then their bodies wear out, and they simply stop … like a battery that has run down. (That’s how I’ve tried to explain it to my 5-year old at least). It’s normal. It’s expected. It’s the natural order of things … or so I learned in all my biology classes from 3rd grade up through the end of college.

Then, I went to seminary, and I was introduced to Eastern Orthodox theology just enough to threaten that assumption. I’m not going to get into the particulars of the argument – mostly because I didn’t ever really understand it myself. But, the gist of it is that when the scriptures say, “the wages of sin is death,” they mean it literally. In other words, death is absolutely not a natural part of creation, and if things had gone as planned, everyone and everything that had ever been alive would still be alive.

It’s a fantastic idea, and I mean that in both senses - a wonderful thought and a fantasy. I can deal with the idea that all of us and even all living things can exist together in a spirit realm where space and resources are not a concern. But, how on earth could we all fit if we never died? For me, death will always be a part of life. But … that doesn’t mean that death has to limit life.


When screen writer, Will Reiser, was diagnosed with cancer at the age of 25, he was devastasted and, as you might guess, he went into a profound depression. His life was over, and it had only just begun. So many of the things that he had dreamed of doing were still undone, and there was only about a 50/50 chance that he would make it through treatment to do them.

He went ahead with the treatment anyway – what else was there to do. And as he and his friend, Seth, talked about what he was going through, they found themselves retreating to the morbid humor that comes into life at its most absurd. Then, one day Seth made a joke about turning the whole experience into a movie – a comedy. Could it be done, they wondered. Could a young man’s struggle with cancer be treated with humor without demeaning the experience? The two of them took up the challenge though they were still unsure if Will would live to finish the project, and their movie “50/50” was recently released in theaters.

In a conversation on NPR, Joseph Gordon-Levitt – the actor who plays the lead in the film, spoke about the Will Reiser that he learned to know during filming. Throughout his many conversations with Will and Seth (Reiser survived by the way), he heard stories of the time before and the time after. Before his diagnosis, Gordon-Levitt said, Will seemed to a little shallow. He was kind of a whiny, wimpy guy who avoided problems and kind of ran away from difficult situations. But that’s not how I see him now. He is strong and confident, and he’s not at all afraid of the curves life throws him. It’s like before he was sick, he was living in fear of something – maybe of death, and now he’s not afraid anymore. He’s faced death and all those painful and embarrassing things he went through, and now he’s free to live without worrying about them.


There are other stories like that out there. Some of us know people who have lived through cancer and have seen those kinds of transformation ourselves. Sometimes it isn’t cancer that brings people to the point of overcoming the power of death, and sometimes people suffer through horrible things without ever finding the kind of new life that Reiser found. But, one truth that remains is that most of us who haven’t lived through a life and death experience still live with the weight of death sitting on our shoulders.

We get up each morning and get ready for the day, and as soon as we go out the door we start to limit ourselves out of a sense of fear. We go where we need to go and do what we need to do, but we are always on the lookout for threatening people or dangerous environments. We shy away from unfamiliar situations because they might not be safe, and who knows what we miss out on? Who knows what our lives would be like – what fascinating people we might meet, what good we could do in the world, or what new joys we might find – if we were free to live without the threat of pain or sorrow overshadowing our lives?


And yet, that’s the invitation we have received from God through Christ. We have been promised that death has no power over us – that “[God] will swallow up death forever, [and] wipe the tears from all faces.” That doesn’t necessarily mean that death won’t come to our bodies, but it does mean that death and suffering and pain and mourning no longer have the power to interrupt or limit the joy of our living if we don’t give them that power ourselves.

Another fantastic thought… because I know – we all know that it’s not as simple as just deciding to refuse death and suffering their due. At least it doesn’t feel that way … ever. But that is the promise that God has made. The banquet that Christ invites us to enjoy is the feast of freedom and joy laid out for us even in the shadow of our enemies … if we find the way to truly accept.


The parable Martin read us from the gospel of Matthew is full of people who declined the invitation (some even killing the messengers) to the banquet and people who accepted … and one who accepted but was thrown out of the feast for wearing the wrong clothes. Most of us understand instinctively that all that is an allegory – that the story and the people in the story represent something other than themselves. Many scholars connect it with the story of the chosen people who heard prophets call them to live according to God’s plan and still refused the invitation. So, the apostles were sent to others who accepted. But some of them came to God in name only, and they were ultimately thrown out of the party because their lives showed that they had not really accepted the invitation.

Books of sermons have been written on that poor soul who showed up to the party in the wrong clothes. They typically go something like:
Woe to those who have rejected the salvation of Christ for they will be destroyed. But it will be worse for those who pledge themselves to Jesus with their words but not in their hearts. On the day of judgment, they will be cast out into eternal suffering. Guard against that sin and keep your hearts pure, and you will be counted among the faithful who have truly accepted Jesus as their Lord and Savior and you will have a place at the King’s banquet in heaven.


Imagine an active member of some congregation – a grandmother – has just heard that sermon. The judgment she hears so loud and clear brings tears to her eyes. She has a son who was baptized as a youth and is now a self-proclaimed atheist. Her granddaughter has yet to be baptized. The wonderful woman who lives next to her and has been a good friend as they age together is Jewish. And her doctor – who may be the best listener she has ever known – is a practicing Hindu. She may on the list of heavenly guests, but all of these people – so many people she loves – are going to hell. How can she be happy in heaven without them?

As the service works towards its close she drifts in and out, thinking about her friends and, especially her granddaughter. She wonders if she could save them. She reaches back to remember when she accepted the invitation, and she can’t remember what moved her all those years ago. She does remember, though, the many recommitment services she has attended where she pledged to imitate Christ, and she wonders to herself as she stands for the closing hymn: “What would Jesus do if it was his friend, his doctor, his grandchild (or maybe his mother)?”

What would Jesus do?

I don’t know, and neither does that grandmother. But she remembers the way that Christ suffered and died for those he loved. And she decides in that moment that she would gladly give up her own life – be it this life or the next – so that her granddaughter would find a place in heaven. And, she thinks, for her son as well. And for her neighbor or even her doctor if it came to that.

I think that earnest grandmother has understood this parable better than many of us do most of the time. I don’t think that it’s all about the final judgment day and who has accepted claimed Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. There very well may that kind of a judgment day coming, but I have trouble picturing a merciful God and the loving Christ who died to save all people throwing people into enteral grief and darkness because they have don’t have the right clothing or because they have not said the right words. I believe that, ultimately, all humanity and all creation will be reconciled with God. But, there is still a salvation that can be ours now and here, not just in the great by and by.

I think that’s what Isaiah speaks so eloquently about. That’s the banquet we have been invited to. And that’s the invitation that both Will Reiser and our faithful sister have accepted. They have found joy and hope in the midst of the shadow of death. They have discovered, as the Apostle Paul puts it, that death no longer has any sting for those who put on Christ. Death has no power to weigh down our spirits or to limit our lives if have already chosen to serve God … to follow the path laid out for us by Christ … the path that leads to the banquet table of the Son.

Much has been made this week of the death of Steve Jobs who touched the lives of people all over the world in both profound and shallow ways. Toward the end of his life, as he struggled with pancreatic cancer, he spoke to a group of students at their graduation and he said:

When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything - all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

That’s a profound statement. It puts a practical twist on the “live each day as if it’s your last” platitude that we hear so often. Yet it is still not very far from something you might find in a self-help book.

Reverend Fred Shuttlesworth – a leader of the Civil Right Movement – also passed away this week with much less notice. He was remembered for inspiring the marchers in Birmingham even after receiving several severe beatings and being imprisoned. In one letter to those who accused him of being a rabble-rousing outsider he wrote:

I am in Birmingham because injustice is here. Just as the prophets of the eighth century B.C. left their villages and carried their "thus saith the Lord" far beyond the boundaries of their home towns: and just as the Apostle Paul left his village of Tarsus and carried the gospel of Jesus Christ to the far corners of the Greco-Roman world, so am I compelled to carry the gospel of freedom far beyond my own hometown.

Another profound thought – one that is inspiring in the power of its commitment – a power that sustained and strengthened Rev. Shuttlesworth through the pain, suffering, and fear of his experiences in Birmingham.


If we put those two thoughts together, we might come up with our own way to sum up what Paul was trying to say in his letters. We might say each morning, “Today I am a follower of Christ. Whatever I am asked to do, I will do with joy. Wherever I am asked to go, I will go without fear. For I belong to Christ and death has no power over me.”

And I think we’d be amazed at what our lives would look like if said that … and really meant it.