Thanks and Goodbye to Eathen Gum

Transcribed from the sermon preached June 28, 2009

 The Reverend Max Lynn, Pastor

Scripture Readings: Proverbs 11:1-11, Exodus 40:1-16, I Peter 2:1-10

 After high school I got a job working as a custodian at my home church, Claremont Presbyterian.  There were a few lessons I learned on the job that prepared me for my later work as a pastor.  First, as a kid, I was used to coming to church on Sunday morning with everything already set up and clean. Second, as a kid, I witnessed and was taught to give high respect to the pastoral staff and the elders.  They were “set apart” to serve God.  But working for the church I learned a lot had to get done during the week for the church to look good on Sunday, and like the scare crow in the Wizard of Oz I couldn’t help but notice that the staff and members behind the curtain were regular human beings.  They stink and make messes like everyone else.

Still, like good Calvinists, my parents taught me that all work could be service to God.  My grandfather ran the boiler room at the local college in South Dakota, working long hard hours so that his children could get an education.  My mother’s family were farmers in Texas.  Often, when we would complain about cleaning chores or homework, my mom would say, “You think you had it tough. My summer break consisted of picking ten acres of cotton under the sweltering Texas sun.”  She stopped school at sixth grade to work on the farm.  All work is God’s work, she would say.  Be thankful you have the mind and body to do it.  Be thankful you have work.  Be thankful you have clothes on your back and a roof over your head.  Respect everyone. You just might be entertaining angels.

After high school my father joined the military, and like Eathen, trained new recruits.  Later, he went to college on the GI bill, and became a teacher.  His salary didn’t provide enough for a family with six kids, and the pregnant girls my mom kept taking in, so my mom drove a school bus while we were in school.  A bit on the feisty side, mom jumped into the political mix in 1970 campaigning for Myrlie Evers after Medgar had been assassinated. 

At age forty Mom went back to school, got her GED and then went on to get a BA and then her real estate license.  My dad had to do more of the cooking and cleaning.  We kids didn’t like my dad’s cooking, but in retrospect it was good to see my parents change roles a bit, to show that teamwork is important, that each of us is a living stone in a living spiritual house much bigger than ourselves.  

Each of us is unique, with different stories. As Peter writes, in God’s eyes, we are “chosen and precious.”  On the other hand, we have a lot of similarities, and regardless of race, gender or profession, we have come to today on a foundation of hard work and service that future generations would be better to acknowledge.  And the similarities are such, that I must admit that as I set about the task of celebrating Eathen’s 18 years of service as head custodian, I can’t help but feel the task is also about honoring my own parents, honoring so many of you in the pews, honoring the hard work of your generation.

For those of you who know Eathen, you know he is, with Christ as the chief cornerstone, one of the living stones of this foundational, greatest generation, which established the strength of today and the future for our families, our Church and our nation. 

Before accepting this job I spoke to then interim minister Bob Traer about life and issues here at St. John’s.  He mentioned many issues with regard to the building but said, “I trust Eathen, our head custodian. He is a good man.”

My first day six years ago, Eathen gave me a tour of the building, introducing me to childcare, girls school and Monteverde Staff.  He also introduced me to the boilers and light switches, closets and their skeletons.  Eathen was the primary person to introduce me to St. John’s ministries, AA, ACA, MA, OA, etc…

Eathen showed wonderful hospitality to all who came to St. John’s.  The homeless and down and out were served and helped with great love and respect. Elevator, heating, supply guys and the mail man all know Eathen by name and show respect as he showed hospitality. 

He also introduced me to the working of the sanctuary, how things were set up, where things were stored, where supplies were, where the ladders were, how to unlock doors, how to turn on the heater and care of the sanctuary.  We shared that sacred duty given to Moses so many years ago.

All along the way we talked Church.  An elder and patriarch in his own church, Eathen knew the meaning of sanctuary and church, and the care and grace needed in dealing with members and a church budget.  He told me whom I needed to consult with before I made a change in one area or another – Gloria, Stewart, Don Worth, Margo Wonder.  He had faith and family of his own and was politically active too, so we formed a common alliance in doing St. John’s ministry of nurturing family, striving for peace and justice.  We lamented or cheered elections; brothers in mutual fears and hopes for a nation.

Eathen has carried with him a very wise understanding and experience of labor, class, and race matters, holding the trust of three ministers even as he was an advocate and highly respected spokesperson for those he supervised.

One of the curses of our society is the fear of litigation.  The lawyers among us would remind us that litigation is a necessary and helpful piece in the establishment of justice, but the fear often hinders or limits open dialogue and forces employer and employee into adversarial relationship.  But because I knew Eathen understood that progress is based as much on learning and grace as judgment, if I felt confused or if I felt I may have misunderstood a situation, I knew I could go talk to Eathen, and he wouldn’t see my vulnerability as a place to attack but as an opportunity to teach and inform.

Those who know him trust that Eathen never gave consultation in a way that would undermine the position of those he supervised.  We all knew, whatever our position, Eathen would do his best to give gracious and wise counsel.  For a church that strives toward justice, such an advocate for fairness and understanding among its employees is an incredibly valuable gift.

For me this was especially valuable.  For while I have spent most of my life crossing barriers of class, race, and religion, until my work here at St. John’s, it was never as a boss.  And it didn’t help that we were running $100,000 deficit for several years when I came.  I have gained some sympathy for those whose authority includes the responsibility of budget and discipline, and have learned, I imagine with President Obama, that the one who has to tighten things up and cut the budget will take criticism and be considered an SOB no matter what.  In different contexts the labels thrown may vary, but always the privilege and curse of the boss.  But if my years of experience in cross-cultural relationships have taught me anything, it is that if you think you are without fault or have the mission accomplished, you are, quite simply, an idiot. 

For true Christians having the strength and humility to acknowledge less than full knowledge or understanding, the need for listening and the possibility for compromise is not a sign of weakness, not in marriage, not in the work place, not in foreign policy, but by the grace of God, a sign of wisdom and strength. 

But as Eathen was an advocate and counselor he was also a boss, who, over the years, has been called a name or two himself.  Virtually every disciplinary decision I made with Eathen, and he carried most of them out.  And while Eathen disagreed with our decrease in hours, it was he, Nellie and Baron who were primarily responsible for dealing with the adjustments.  Nothing like upping the rent and decreasing the service to raise the level of grumpiness all around!  As the church we thank each of you for your effort in these difficult times, and apologize for ways in which poor management has in any way, contributed to dissatisfaction.

In my fleeting grandiosity, I sympathize with Abe Lincoln who wrote, “I have been driven many times upon my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go.  My own wisdom and that of all about me seemed insufficient for that day.”

If you just so happened to wander into worship today, hoping, perhaps, for a spiritual retreat from the troubles of the mundane world, you may be surprised by this, my feeble dance through the all too worldly relationships of a small Church with a small budget.

I suppose we could have just as easily saved the celebration, gifts and speeches for outside of worship, and spoken this morning of that great God which removes the cares of the world. 

But we worship a God who came into the world and dwelt among us.  This God is sovereign, not just over that which is neatly spiritual, but all of the Church, all of life.  We come and we are grateful for the chance to invite you to celebrate with us, not because we are perfect but because God’s love is.  We seek not to make the case for worship of Eathen or me, or any of the other people who make up this Church, as if anyone would be so foolish, as if your approval were somehow our stairway to heaven, but to lay ourselves before the cross of Jesus and say thank you!  Thank you for life.  Thank you for work.  Thank you for making us a part of this spiritual house. Thank you for the opportunity to be your servants, your priests, offering spiritual sacrifices of our daily lives. Thank you for being there in the past, and remaining with us wherever we go in the future.  Thank you for moving us forward, despite our fear, toward a future of ever greater peace and justice.  Thank you for being the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last.

We are all chosen, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's own people, that we may declare the wonderful deeds of him who called us out of darkness into his marvelous light.

Once we were no people but now you are God's people; once we had not received mercy but now we have received mercy. Thanks be to God.