A Satchel Full of Memories

            Shortly after my grandfather’s death my father came up from the basement and placed an old black satchel on the living room floor between us as we sat on the couch. It had belonged to

his father, my PopPop.  Its leather was cracked and flaking with age, leading me to wonder if this satchel had made the crossing from Sweden to America in 1911.

            Inside the satchel were the memories of three lifetimes.  My grandfather’s memories were known in part from the stories he told.  The rest we could surmise from the contents of the bag:

a Baptismal record, World War I discharge papers, an obituary in Swedish announcing his mother’s funeral. My father’s memories of the man whose effects we examined were more plentiful, like the time PopPop locked a drunken friend in the basement because he didn’t like the way the man had spoken to his wife and daughter, who were guests at my grandmother’s table. Or the time PopPop replaced the grape juice Nana was planning to put in the punch she was going to serve some ladies from church with elderberry wine, making for a lively afternoon!

            My memories were of shorter duration: The sawdust smelling man who lathered up a four-

year-old face and handed me a bladeless razor so I could shave beside him at the soapstone sink in the basement as he cleaned up after a day at work.  Saturday nights passed playing games of “shineese sheckers,” while listening to the console radio across the room as Jack Wyrtzen evangelized from Scroon Lake, New York. The first memory of a grown man bursting into tears when he mentioned his wife’s name one winter Sunday after she died.

            Sorting through the contents of the satchel my father and I found rings of gold once given

and received in token and pledge of love by two young immigrants.  We handled pictures and postcards from people and places we had heard about in stories told at the Sunday dinner table. We wondered at the contents of letters written in a language we could not read.  We felt the coolness of a glass paper-weight from Narragansett Pier, talked of stories attached to a Carpenter’s Union pin, and marveled at the way the monogram had worn smooth on PopPop’s workday pocket watch.

            Buried at the bottom of the satchel among all these things was a little notebook showing the same well-used qualities as the pocket watch and the old, black bag.  Penciled and penned on its pages were dates and names and monetary amounts for each month spanning several years. My father recognized some of the names as belonging to missionary families whose pictures were often taped by the calendar in PopPop’s kitchen.  Some of the entries listed a place name or a project. A dollar here, a dollar there, and five, ten or twenty next to the others.  The giver and the giving unknown except by those who received the gifts.

            What we had unearthed at the bottom of the satchel was a diary of stewardship. A record of giving.  A testimony of love.  One nine-and-a-half fingered carpenter responding to those serving another carpenter with nail-scarred hands.  The little book became a posthumous challenge to those of us in the generations born on this side of the Atlantic.  A life need not wait to be spent in one impressive sum spelled out in a will.  Better to deposit many installments of quiet gratitude, doing a lot with a little over a lifetime, ever responding to the needs of the least, the last, and the lost loved by the Carpenter from Nazareth.

Again and Again and Again – 

A Sermon based on John 21. 1-19 –preached at First Presbyterian Church, Clarks Summit, PA on May 4, 2025

     The death of a friend provided my very own window through which to watch Peter and the other disciples spend their night fishing. Though Peter and Thomas and the others had been assured God raised Jesus to new life, they still had a long way to go toward figuring out what came next for all of them.  While they waited, and as they continued to grieve over the absence of Jesus, they went home and did something familiar together. There is comfort in the company of friends, even if you are sitting in silence on a night which explains why they call it “fishing” and not “catching.”

          Hearing the news of my boyhood friend’s fatal heart attack, I went home. Home to the twin towns whose streets and fields we roamed as kids. Home to the company of friends as we sat together in silence in the familiar setting of a funeral home where some of us had gathered many times over.  Home to be with others with stories to tell of the smiling kid who became a loving husband, a devoted father, a doting grandfather. Tales of the kind of friend who would pop up on Facebook on Palm Sunday night to write: “Hey Jimmy, this is your big week.  I’ll be thinking of you all the way to Easter.”

          So, when I read a commentator suggest that Peter and others had lost faith, I don’t buy it.  The loss of someone you love is not something you get over just because someone reminds you of the promise of resurrection.  The return to familiar places and routines is, in and of itself, part of the healing. Between the moments when your mind goes blank with grief come memory flashes bringing a smile or a tear or a laugh or all three at once.  

We greeted Chris’s children and waited for the funeral to begin. We gathered in a cluster in the hall to hug and swap stories.  Afterward we shared a meal and raised a glass, savoring the stories, knowing the truth that those we love are never completely lost to us if we continue to remember them.

          Give the disciples some credit. They’ve gotten out from behind closed doors where they cowered in fear during what felt like the longest, slowest week of their lives. They were moving on, though to what they were still not sure. Yes, they had felt Jesus breathe the Holy Spirit on them to empower them to do all he taught them to do, but that lacked specificity.  It would take some time between the silences to remind each other of all he had said and all they had seen him do.  It is the kind of thing that takes as long as it takes…and no one can tell you how long that will be.

          For Peter and the others, going back to Galilee was going home, and home is where their first journey with Jesus began.  Home is where Jesus shows up to pull them along for the second time.  Notice the two words with

which today’s reading ends: “Follow Me!”

          That Jesus shows up where disciples live and work and play, is a message not meant just for those in the story. It is directed at us, too, in whatever place is now the home where our heart beats. Some folks spend their lives waiting for Jesus to drop down out of the clouds. But if you read these stories you find he shows up where you’re spending your time, where you live, where you work.

          Jesus shows up when the old timer at work becomes the mentor to the new kid. Love your neighbor plays out as the technicalities of the job are taught along with the way to treat co-workers and customers, and the way to deal with disappointment, and how to be resilient. Jesus shows up when the young folks move into the house next door and the long-time resident listens over the fence to a boatload of frustrations before offering some sage advice. Jesus might show up when a story is read to the little one who has crawled into a lap.

          Theology Professor Lisa Driver provided the inspiration for the title of today’s sermon.  She looked at the last chapter of the Gospel of John and pointed out how today’s passage follows a familiar pattern. She writes: “Repe-tition brings revelation and fellowship not only to the disciples but also to all those ‘who have not seen and yet have come to believe (20:29) in Jesus as Lord.

          “Again, the resurrected Jesus appears.

          Again darkness is barren, while light brings life.

          Again Jesus commands, and the catch is abundant.

          Again Peter charges headlong toward what the Beloved Disciple is first to understand and believe.”[i]

          God repeats the lessons of faith until we get them!

          The again and again and again of God, trying to get through to us, goes way beyond the repetition of the post-resurrection appearances of Jesus to his disciples.  The again and again and again of our gracious God is traced as the end of the Gospel of John ties up threads that have been woven through it from the very beginning.

          Professor Glass explains: “…John 21 functions as a thematic restatement about the path to knowing God through the risen Jesus. Recalling the pattern of creation, light follows darkness, and understanding follows confusion.”[ii] There is a new creation taking place here as Peter is rehabilitated and renewed in his tasks.

          There are promises fulfilled too.  One of the interesting sidelights in the story is the presence of the disciple named Nathanael.  He doesn’t appear in the lists the other gospels provide…but that may be the beauty of it, reminding us that you don’t have to be part of the inner circle to be found faithful or to have the promises of God fulfilled before your eyes all in a days work.

          Back in the first chapter of John, Andrew heard John the Baptist speak of Jesus as “the lamb of God!” He ran and told his brother Simon, “We have found the Messiah.” Andrew brought Simon to meet Jesus. Jesus “looked at him and said, “You are Simon son of John, You are to be called Cephas (which is translated Peter.)” 

          The next day, on his way to Galilee, Jesus finds Philip who went and found Nathanael and said to him, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.” Nate scoffs: “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip persists: “Come and see.” And when he does, Jesus gives a spot on assessment of Nathanael’s character: “Here is an Israelite in whom there is no deceit.”

          Having been so thoroughly known by this man he has just met, Nathanael proclaims: “Rabbi, you are the Son of God!  You are the King of Israel.”  Before the encounter ends, Jesus promises Nathanael: “You will see greater things than these.”

          Now here he is in the boat when Jesus calls from shore and tells the weary fishermen to cast the net on the right side of the boat. With the net suddenly strained by the load of fish it captured, with the Beloved Disciple calling out “It is the Lord,” with a breakfast of fish and bread already waiting for them on the beach, Nathanael sees greater things brought about by the presence of Jesus!

          The scene on the beach is tied to something else that happened before. Louise Lawson Johnson points us to a map. She notes: “A major theme is suggested by the geo-graphical location of this post-resurrection appearance by the Sea of Tiberias. Surely we are meant to associate this miracle with the one in John 6 where Jesus fed the five thousand by the Sea of Tiberias. The sub-stance of that meal was also bread and fish, and though the boy’s five barley loaves and two fish were not sufficient to feed the crowd, the disciples dis-covered that Jesus can trans-form insufficiency into abundance. Likewise we see that Jesus turns the disciples’ insufficient (make that, non-existent) catch into an abundant one”[iii]

          In the sweep of the Gospel of John, Gail O’Day finds another instance of “there Jesus goes again!” She links this miracle of abundance on the last pages of the Gospel with the first miracle story at its beginning, when Jesus turned

the water into wine at a wedding in Cana of Galilee. On that occasion, while the guests were apparently oblivious to a crisis averted by a miracle, his new-found followers saw what happened. The last line of that story says: “and his disciples believed in him.”  The miracle at the wedding had a purpose larger than keeping the party going. The miracle on the Sea of Tiberias did too. Professor O’Day explains: “first and last revelatory acts in the Gospel narrative are both miracles of abundance in Galilee.”[iv] Their purpose was to inspire belief, to give faith a boost.

          All three of these miracle stories find Jesus providing more than enough. They underscore the belief that God will always provide enough.  You can’t talk about God providing enough without remembering the wilderness wanderings of the Hebrew children released from slavery in Egypt…where the manna came as a daily gift…and enough had to be enough.

          To trust God will send enough is the inspiration that leads us to bring bags of food to be handed out on a Saturday morning in Scranton…to fill boxes of groceries at the CEO warehouse, or stand shoulder to shoulder downstairs slapping sandwiches together for hungry teens. When the disciples hit the beach and found fish and bread already on the fire they were invited to add to it from their catch. It is an invitation for us to do the same and become part-ners in the work of God.

          The story of that breakfast around a charcoal fire has surfaced another “again” to contemplate.  Peter finds himself beside a charcoal fire, again. The last time he was at fireside was on the night Jesus was arrested.  Peter warmed himself by that fire, and when those around it mentioned three times that he looked a lot like the fellows who followed the man who was on trial inside, he vehemently denied it.

          Being around a fire again, the smell of it triggering unpleasant memories, leads to a much, much bigger again for Peter. After breakfast, Jesus and Peter have a conversation. With those nearby finishing their breakfast, we are privileged to overhear it.  Peter’s three-fold denial of Jesus on that dark, dark night are replaced by a thrice repeated interrogation by Jesus in the light of day, and by three challenges to serve.

          Notice how it begins. Jesus doesn’t call the fisherman by his nickname, Peter. Instead he addresses him the same way he did when first they met: “Simon Son of John,” which someone at our Men’s Breakfast the other morning pointed out was his legal name. Beyond that recall a time as a child when someone wanted to get your full attention. I read somewhere recently that “the sole purpose of a child’s middle name is so they will know when they are really in trouble.”

          When Jesus looks at him and calls Simon Son of John, we’re watching as their relationship is healed. They’re starting over.

          “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?”

The question is addressed to a man who in the Upper Room had made the claim that he would stand with Jesus to the death, saying “I will lay down my life for you.”  But he had not.  Now he’s given another chance as he answers:

          “Lord, you know I love you.”

          “Feed my lambs.”

          “Simon son of John, do you love me?”

          “Lord, you know I love you.”

          “Tend my sheep.”

          A third time Jesus asks the question, and the man being questioned is hurt, so he adds:

          “Lord, you know everything; you know I love you.”

          “Feed my sheep.”

          Peter will feed the lambs and tend the flock, which as far back as the Old Testament is the description of what those God calls to leadership are charged to do.  Simon Peter, the names reminiscent of who he had been and who he was becoming, was again on the path to follow Jesus…

and in the end, he would lay down his life for him.

          Simon Peter is forgiven by Jesus.,

          Simon Peter is once again entrusted with the care and feeding of not just the little lambs, but the tough old sheep as well.

          Simon Peter is again invited to follow Jesus.

          Again and again and again darkness is overcome by light; death is over-come by life; sinners are forgiven and called to love and serve.

          Again and again and again, we are asked the musical question we will sing in a moment: “Will you come and follow me?”[v] These are words written by John Bell and his writing partner are set to the tune named for Kelvingrove, one of the places we visited in Scotland.

We have the rest of our lives to answer daily.

 

[i] Lisa D. Maugans Driver, Feasting on the Gospels, John, Volume 2, Chapters 10-21, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015), p. 332
[ii] ibid.,
[iii] Louise Lawson Johnson, Feasting on the Gospels, John, Volume 2, Chapters 10-21, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015), p. 334
[iv] Gail R. O’Day, The New Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. IX, (Nashville, TN, Abingdon Press, 1995), p. 856
[v] Hymn 726, Glory to God, Presbyterian Hymnal.

 

O Come, Let Us Adore Him

O come, let us adore him

not as our ticket to heaven

but as our guide for living on earth.

 

O come, let us adore him

not by claiming to follow

while ignoring his commandments,

but by loving God and every neighbor

in acts of kindness, compassion

and resistance to evil

unleashed in amplified selfishness.

 

O come, let us adore him

not in legalese claiming to protect

while multiplying risks,

but in genuine efforts

to foster the well-being of all

while increasing the chances

of long and productive lives.

 

O come, let us adore him

not in crowd pleasing slogans

easily chanted without thought

for the harm they incite,

but in wordless demonstrations of love

putting food on tables,

providing shelter, proclaiming hope,

and offering comfort and joy

to those who need it most.

 

O come, let us adore him

not as the reason for the season

but as the source of every good and perfect gift.

 

James E. Thyren

December 2024

The Abby, Iona, Scotland

 Impossible Possibilities – A Sermon based on Mark 10. 17-31, preached at First Presbyterian Church, Clarks Summit, PA on Sunday, October 13, 2024 

On my way here this morning, in the first ten miles from our home to the ramp for 81 South, I passed six properties dedicated to preserving, protecting or selling people’s stuff.  At the corner where our dirt road meets State Route 374 stands a building with 20 garage doors behind which people have piled the stuff their attics and basements no longer hold.  For most of the year a horse trailer, a fifth-wheel camper, and a boat trailer are parked in the grass inside the fence which surrounds the green roofed tan metal building.

            Following the highway west for a quarter mile and just as the road makes a ninety-degree turn five more beige buildings appeared. One of them houses the offices and construction equipment of the owner’s plumbing and excavating business.  The other four are lined with more garage doors guarding all manner of stuff: household overflow, boats from the nearby lake and antique cars.

            Less than a mile west of there the fields and barns of what used to be a dairy farm are home to a family auction business.  There are acres of compact and farm tractors, hundreds of vehicles, including a fire truck, pieces of construction equipment, bicycles, boats, pallets of bluestone, appliances and boxes of random stuff lined up as far as the eye can see.  Next Saturday the vacant fields nearby will be filled with the cars, trucks and trailers of people who have come to bid on the bargains so they can add to their stuff.

            Before I got to the interstate, I passed another, (you guessed it) green roofed tan building where stuff labeled “Antiques and Oddities” are auctioned off on the last Saturday of each month. Lastly, I passed a former bar converted into a space where “vintage” stuff is on sale Thursdays through Sundays. And that’s to say nothing of the stuff that is visible in many of the yards along the way.

Full disclosure, when our house was undergoing renovation and expansion, we kept a lot of stuff in the self-storage unit down the road. Like many of our fellow Americans, we have way too much stuff.  Thankfully, a lot of that stuff was salvage from the renovations and made it to the Habitat for Humanity Re-store in Nanticoke.

            Why am I blathering on about all this stuff lined up, piled high, and crammed behind doors? Very simply, because ever since Mark recorded the story of the fellow who came to ask Jesus what he could do to inherit eternal life, folks have heard the end of the story this way: “he was shocked and went away grieving because he had too darn much stuff!”

            Now is probably a good time to review a bit of what we know about the way the author of the Gospel of Mark operates.  The first eight chapters of Mark tell stories about Jesus as he preaches, teaches and heals people throughout the northern portion of Israel known as the Galilee.  The last six chapters are devoted to the final week of Jesus’ life. Today’s reading comes near the end of two transitional chapters in between which begin and end with stories of Jesus healing someone who was blind. In them, Jesus tells his disciples what awaits him in Jerusalem and describes what true discipleship involves. 

            Mark likes to use the stories that precede and follow each story to interpret one another.  That means we need to pay attention to what happened just before the passage we’re reading and what comes next.  In this case, just before the man runs up to Jesus to ask his question, Mark tells of the time the disciples try to shoo away some people who were bringing little children to be touched by Jesus.  “Let the children come to me; do not hinder them,” says Jesus, “for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.  Truly I tell you,” he told them, “whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.”

            Now, up comes a man who wants to know what he has to do to inherit eternal life, and in the course of the discussion he tells Jesus he has kept the commandments of God since he was a youth!   As the story unfolds the man is asked to unburden himself of his stuff in order to follow Jesus, and apparently goes away unable to do so.

            What is Mark telling us with these two stories going back to back?  Perhaps he is using the contrast of accepting the kingdom of God as a dependent child with the audacity to think there is anything one can do to earn one’s way into God’s good graces.  Or, it could be that he’s making sure we know that following Jesus doesn’t end with signing on in childlike trust, but begins a life of hard choices to seek first the kingdom of heaven by living God’s way every day.  Might be that Mark is weighing in on the faith verses works discussion by pointing out that it is never either/or and always both/and.  The marvelous thing about all these possible messages is that they demonstrate a truth found in the letter to the Hebrews, which says “the word of God is living and active.”  It is not dead and static.  Depending on where you are in your spiritual pilgrimage at the time, any one of those lessons might be what the Spirit has readied your ears to hear. 

            Another thing we’ve learned about Mark is that he is most always brief, to the point, and stingy with the details.  His counterparts, Matthew and Luke borrow whole sections of Mark, almost word for word…and sometimes the little editorial additions from those works get in the way when we try to figure out what Mark is trying to tell us.  For instance, in the story this morning, Mark identifies the per-son who asks the question simply as “a man.”  Matthew adds that he was young. Luke describes him as a ruler of the people. All of them note at the end of the story that the man had great possessions.  As a result, no matter which Gospel we’re reading, it has come to be known as the story of the rich, young, ruler.

            What’s the big deal?  Well, if we don’t consider ourselves rich, or we are no longer young, and we’re not “a ruler of the people,” we might conclude that the story is not speaking to us or about us.  However, if we stick with Mark’s simple identifier, “a man,” and if we go one better and take gender out of it altogether and hear a story about “a person” who asked Jesus a question, we’re able to walk a mile in that one’s moccasins. 

Consider the question the man asked Jesus.  “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”  Start with way Jesus is addressed and his response to being called “Good Teacher.”  Doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with that, does there?  It is a show of respect.  This story is not told among those where opponents were trying to trick Jesus into saying something they could then use against him as they sought to bring him down.

            Why then would Jesus begin his reply to the man with the question, “Why do you call me good?”  Scholars suggest he was diverting attention away from himself and pointing to God as the source of his wisdom.  What he says to the man is not the new revelation of a brilliant earthbound mind, but a repetition of what the Creator had taught as the way to live all along.

            Back to the heart of the question: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”  A preaching professor suggests there is a contradiction in what the man is asking.  Pointing back to the previous incident where Jesus has commended the complete dependence of a little child as the way to accept the kingdom of God, the professor notes that the idea that one can do something to gain the kingdom doesn’t fit with what Jesus has just said. He points out: “One can rarely do anything for an inheritance; by definition, an inheritance is something a person can only be given.”[i]

            Eternal life is like any other inheritance:  it is a gift.  And what is the proper response to such a gift?  Acceptance for starters; and gratitude; and a willingness to put the gift to good use.  That said, we still do well to take seriously the question voiced by the man.  Commentator Lamar Williamson points out, “Even an heir must meet certain conditions and fulfill certain obligations, so this rich man asks what he must do to inherit life.”[ii] Jesus takes the man’s question seriously. There’s no hint of frus-tration or irritation or incredulity in what Jesus says in response.  He simply reviews what the man already knows, using the second tablet of the Ten Commandments to describe the kind of doing expected of people of faith. Jesus lifts up the commandments that deal with human relationships.

            “You know the commandments:  You shall not murder; you shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.” 

            Perhaps with a look of relief on his face the man responds: “Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.”  He’s on the right track…he’s been doing what is expected of him.  Hearing this, Mark tells us: “Jesus, looking at him loved him.”  Can we imagine Jesus thinking: “finally, someone who gets it?” Here is someone who is living the commandments, not merely hanging them on a classroom wall. And Jesus loves him for it.

            And yet, there is more…Jesus does more than look at him…he speaks to him. Scott Bader-Saye say of his words: “Jesus’ call and challenge to the rich man arise from love and invite the man into love [when he says] (give the money to the poor.)  He continues: Jesus’ invita-tion is not a command or a judgment, not an attempt to exact justice; it is rather, an attempt to enact gratuity. To love the man, Jesus must tell him the hard truth that his wealth in his way. So Jesus invites him, as an act of love, to unload his burden, to give away his wealth, to free himself from that which has come to bind him, even though he has no idea he is so bound. This is love. This is the truth—and it is hard to hear.”[iii]

            Jesus issues his call to discipleship with five action packed words: “You lack one thing; GO, SELL what you own, and GIVE the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; the COME, FOLLOW me.”  The two movements of discipleship are contained in those five imperatives:  Leaving something behind; pursuing something new: Go, Sell, & Give, then Come & Follow.  In the process, the man is invited to take the focus off himself, and the attempt to save his own life, “What must I do…” Instead, Jesus invites him to focus on others. To love his neighbors by using his surplus to address their shortfall. Jesus invites him to empty all his self-storage units and share what’s in them with people who have need.

            The cost of discipleship, the leaving in order to follow, shocks the man. Last we see of him, he is walking away, grieving because what he has to leave behind is substantial.  Then we come to what Mark places after the story:  Jesus looks at his disciples (just as he looked at the man with love in his heart) and speaks about the difficulty wealth and possessions present to those who would be faithful.  Twice he says how hard it is to get into the kingdom of God. First time he appears to be talking about the man who walked away grieving.  Next time he includes them, and by extension us, because as we estab-lished at the beginning, most of us have too darn much stuff. “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God,” and follows it up by drawing the comical cartoon of a camel trying to squeeze through the eye of a needle.

            Many have tried to come up with modern equivalents of the camel/needle metaphor.  My favorite comes from the late Frederick Buechner under the heading of “Riches.”  In his collection Beyond Words, he wrote:

            “The trouble with being rich is that since you can solve with your checkbook virtually all of the practical problems that bedevil ordinary people, you are left in your leisure with nothing but the great human problems to contend with: how to be happy, how to love and be loved, how to find meaning and purpose in your life.

            “In desperation the rich are continually tempted to believe they can solve these problems too with the checkbooks, which is presumably what led Jesus to remark one day that for a rich man to get to heaven is about as easy as for a Mercedes to get through a revolving door.”[iv]

            To the disciples, steeped in a culture where it was assumed wealth was evidence of being blessed, Jesus’ words were shocking.  In exasperation the disciples ask: “Then who can be saved?”  In answer, Jesus points them back to God. He restates in a new way what God’s grace is all about…our salvation doesn’t depend on us, but on God.  With love in his eyes, his heart, his voice, Jesus says: “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”

            At that point, Peter pipes up.  Speaking for those you’ve heard described throughout Bill Carter’s sermon series as the “duh-sciples,” he once again blurts out a truth that he doesn’t fully understand. “What about us? We’ve left everything and followed you?”  To which Jesus offers to those who have left everything behind for the sake of the good news the promise of families and bountiful fields, with persecutions, and eternal life.

            Including with the blessings the note about persecutions is a reality check. As one of my mentors said over and over: “No one ever said it would be easy.” The sacrifice and sharing that come with leaving something behind in order to follow Jesus come with a cost.  Maybe you missed out on family gathering or a social event last week in order to pick up trash, make sandwiches, stitch a quilt or sing some hymns with the folks over at The Pines. Yet, I’m guessing you found satisfaction in doing something for others, and joy in the company of the family God surrounded you with in the process.

            The prevailing interpretation of today’s story has been that the man walked away sorrow-fully because he could not bring himself to sell his stuff and share the proceeds with those in need. An alternate explanation suggests the man went away grieving because he had decided to follow Jesus. He knew how hard his letting go and leaving behind would be.  The marvelous thing about the Gospel of Mark is that it always leaves open the possibility of getting it right later. With God the impossible becomes possible.

            Mark is the Gospel that ends in the middle of a sentence. His Easter morning story says the women, having been told to tell the disciples he had been raised from the dead, “fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”  The ending is left in the air. It leaves us to finish the story with our lives.

            The man in today’s story may not be the sorrowful loser walking away from the call to follow. He may be a winner taking the first steps to leave behind what hindered him, and toward a new future following Jesus.

Here too, the story is ours to finish.

[i] Charles L. Campbell, Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 4, Homiletical Perspective, (Louisville, KY., Westminster John Knox Press, ©2009), p. 165
[ii] Lamar Williamson, Mark – Interpretation, (Louisville, KY, John Knox Press, ©1983,) p. 183
[iii] Scott Bader-Saye, Feasting on the Gospels, Mark, (Louisville, KY, John Knox Press ©2014), p. 310
[iv] Frederick Buechner, Beyond Words: Daily Readings in the ABC’s of Faith, (New York, HarperOne, ©2004), p p. 345-6

 

October 4, 2024 was my Mother, Jean Thyren's 100th Birthday.  That day the good folks who host her in Assisted Living in the Health Center of Cranes Mill Retirement Community threw a wonderful party for her.  The West Caldwell Borough Council President was on hand to present her with an 

official proclamation, as a resident of the community since 1950.

The party included the presentation of a Crown, a Queen's Robe and Scepter, music by Hunter Hayes, and cake and sparkling cider.  

Jan and I, my sister Nancy and brother-in-law Tom, our niece Kristin, our daughter, Carrie were able to represent the family and enjoy the festivities.

Later that afternoon and evening, our daughter Katie and granddaughters, Addie and Elise arrived from

Washington State, and niece Lauren, husband Chris, and their children, Abby and Declan arrived to join us at our block of rooms in Fairfield. Katie's husband, Chris, arrived on the red-eye Saturday morning.

(Carrie's hubby, Dane was taking care of canines Bullet and Zelda back in Illinois).

Saturday morning the out-of-towners dropped in to surprise and render the 100-year-old speechless, as the rest of us prepared a gathering in the "Country Kitchen" in the Assisted Living wing of Cranes Mill.

Richard and Susan Conners, lifelong friends who have been Mom's most frequent visitors, (and our go-to team to meet Mom's needs for tissues, batteries or other necessities) joined us.  Kristin Paterson 

organized a wonderful meal catered by the folks at Shop-Rite.

After the meal, we circled up for a time to celebrate the guest of honor.  What appears below is some-thing I wrote to precede a Champaign Toast to the Birthday Girl and a time when those around the 

circle shared memories of cherished moments with Jean.  (The pictures that follow have been added

as illustrations, here and there.)

One Hundred Years of Giving 

We gather to give thanks

for all the gifts we have received

in the form of Jean Maynard Ackerman Thyren

whose days we celebrate today.

We give thanks for a lifetime of giving

despite early setbacks wrought

by the Great Depression,

the Second World War,

and the untimely death of her father.

 

Some are stories of long-ago memories which speak of happy times:

a family gathered near the Shrewsbury in the summer

in a house with a circular grate bringing heat from the basement,

the men of the family arriving by train

in time for a quick dip before dinner.

Our love of “the shore” is surely in our genes from those early days.

Then there’s the mental picture conjured from the story

of two sisters walking home from their grandfather’s market,

abandoning the fish they carried

to the dog that robbed what was supposed to be dinner.

And who hasn’t heard of the nights

when the Ackerman sisters and the Hyde boys

were marched off to bed by Aunt Grace at the piano

after an evening of singing?

 

Fast forward, (if you know what the means)

past the high school years

which included helping a girlfriend change a tire

on her brother’s car

(to the horror of that friend’s mother.)

Skip over the mysterious “dance card”

found among the treasures in her scrap book,

and her days as a working girl at “the Pru.”

Recall the happy faces on the October night

she married the one who some of you know

as the second in the line of Thyren PopPops.

Wedded bliss began with some gifts that to this day

can be found on the walls and floors of Paddleberry…

and a memorable first dinner of boiled beef

quickly replaced by creamed eggs.

Though the sequence is fuzzy to one as yet unborn at the time,

Mom’s giving just as quickly included

caring for her new husband amid illnesses, ailments and surgeries.

And then came Nancy

and lots of cute pictures in cozy snowsuits amid a blizzard-

and six years later, yours truly arrived

in time for one of the hottest summers ever.

In between,

the beloved bungalow on Thrumont Road

where so many of our memories still reside,

and so many of our gifts were first bestowed:

dresses, pajamas, baptismal suits, blouses and shirts sewn

on a machine paid for in weekly installments.

Hand knit mittens and hats.

Repurposed toys and furniture from neighbors

who had outgrown them.

Train sets and first radios, barbells and other treasures long forgotten.

 

Sunday dinners with Aunt Doris telling stories

of her cruise on the Queen of Bermuda or trip with the Ski Club.

Christmas breakfast with Nana and PopPop.

Clearing out the furniture for Doris and Dave’s Wedding Reception.

Sunday dinners with PopPop and Uncle Albin and Gandy.

Desserts tested on us before served to Bridge Club on Tuesday night:

Prune Whip

or a cake made of minty chocolate cookies glued together and iced.

 

Into that house she welcomed the next generation,

first Kristin, when not visiting her on Westville Avenue.

From it she took an endless bus ride to Unadilla

to cook and provide care after Katie arrived on a July night.

Lauren took up residence around the corner and Grandma

helped get her into her sox before nursery school.

Carrie came next and was relieved when Casey

and Holly took her place as the first one to be

put out of the play space in the guest bedroom.

Memories of holiday visits abound!

We’ll let you tell us about them.

 

For those with eyes to see,

the woman of the house taught us about caring for others,

and making a difference in the larger world:

Sunday School Teacher and Elder in charge of Communion,

Circle leader, lifetime member of Presbyterian Women,

making the RCA Book to pay off the Christian Ed wing of church,

Treasurer of the Serrv Shop, worker at the Thrift Shop,

and in later years VFW Auxiliary Memorial Day Marcher.

 

More importantly,

we observed caring in action, giving in meaningful ways:

the devoted daughter visiting at Green Hill,

the rock of a sister and aunt during Dave’s cancer battle,

the stalwart friend of bridge club cronies facing struggles,

the confidant and helper for Alice and Betty,

and the courageous companion of her husband,

our father and grandfather,

as they faced their final illnesses.

 

In each of our homes

there are little reminders

of 100 years of giving and caring

by the woman we honor today:

Ornaments for the Christmas tree

and cross-stitch pictures,

items of jewelry chosen after a sweaty soccer match,

or fine art pottery from the Cranes Mill collection.

 

Yet the ones that count the most

are the memories we hold dear

and the ones we are making today

as we say

Happy Birthday Mom

Happy Birthday Grandma

Happy Birthday Ggma!