My Final Sermon

As I packed up my office my last week at Christ the King, I found my very first sermon I preached. Shocker. It was on the Old Testament.  And my final sermon was no different.  I love the Old Testament and loved that I was a part of a faith community that welcomed these ancient stories and allowed them to shape our lives.  

It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye

When I was in fifth grade, a boy named Andy, stood on the stage of our elementary school auditorium and sang the Boys II Men classic, Its So Hard to Say Goodbye.  It seemed so poignant as we were about to leave the safety of elementary school for the complicated, hormone-infused, and dramatic halls of middle school.  The goodbyes didn’t stop there.  There were goodbyes at our HS graduation, from summer camp, from college.  Our stories are littered with goodbyes.  Some goodbyes are welcomed, some are painful, some goodbyes are too soon and others seem to be in perfect time. 

On this Sunday, on which I say my goodbyes to you, our Old Testament lesson recounts a poignant goodbye as well.  I swear I didn’t pick this lesson.  I admit that if left up to my own devices, I would have probably chosen an easier passage, one that didn’t name the goodbye so clearly.  Yet, the ironic Spirit of God had different plans.  And today, we enter into goodbye, not only for us, but for Elijah and Elisha. 

Elijah had a storied history in Israel, marked by the swing from great highs to hiding in caves fighting off depression.  Along the way Elijah recruits Elisha as his successor.  Elisha becomes student, friend, servant, sidekick.   Regardless of the journeys that proceeded this morning’s text, today’s journey is different.  It is laced with the reality of goodbye.  And Elisha seems the only one unwilling to name it.

Elijah mentions three times, “I am only supposed to go this far.” 

The prophetic community remarks three times, “You know your master is leaving you.” 

And with each remark Elisha responds the same, “Shh. We are not talking about this.” 

Although he is a prophet, a well-respected religious leader, a spokesperson for God, he is so much like you and I.  He is more comfortable avoiding goodbye, focused on the hole that is left, wondering where God is in all of this. 

This story isn’t only Elisha’s story.  It is Peter’s story too.  Remember the conversation around the dinner table at the Passover meal.  Jesus, much like Elijah, says, “I am only going this far.  This is the end.”  And Peter, much like Elisha, answers with a bold and naïve, “No. I will never leave you.”  “Shh…We’re not talking about this. “

Although on Elisha’s journey, he could only find the words, “Keep Silent.”  Elijah knew that the silence would not bring about the work of God.  And so Elijah and Elisha journey.   It is the same journey that Moses made.  The same trek that Joshua made before entering the Promised Land.  A journey that takes them through the anointed place known as Bethel, the site of the great battle in Jericho and then ultimately to the waters.  And like Moses, Elijah parts the seas.  And on dry ground they walked to the other side of the Jordan.  

Having walked through a miracle itself, Elijah asks his student “What can I do for you?” 

Rev. Martin Copenhaver muses, “Elisha must have been tossed into a whirlwind of possible responses:’ What do I need?  I need to know how I can carry on.  I need to know how I can be a prophet, when everything I know I learned from you and you are about to leave.  I need to know how to be a leader, because all I know is how to follow.  I need to know what to say when people turn to listen to the prophet of the Lord, and they mean me! I need you to stay.’  What Elisha ends up saying is ‘Please leave me a double dose of your spirit.’ Elisha assumes that he is half the man Elijah is and that he will need twice his master’s spirit just to break even.”

Rev. Sam Well, former Dean of Duke Chapel, writes of Elisha adds, “There isn’t a large vocabulary for such goodbyes. And Elisha isn’t just facing the loss of Elijah.  He’s facing the inheritance.”  Elijah's leaving would mean something new for Elisha.  Yet, Elijah knows something that Elisha lacks.  Elijah knows that God moves through goodbyes to empower a new generation in ministry.  Elisha is looking back and wondering, “how can it possibly get better?”  Elijah is looking ahead knowing that the best days are yet to come. 

It is no different with the disciples.  Jesus, Peter, Andrew and John climb a mountain together today.  The experience a miraculous encounter with resurrection and the voice of God.  As many have called it, it is a mountaintop experience.  One of the moments you find yourself longing to return.  As Jesus hung on the cross and disciples were scattered and locked away in fear, I can’t help but wonder if they said, “Now what.  How could it possibly get better than the mountain?”  And Jesus is looking ahead and knowing that the best days are yet to come. 

Back in the early years of email, when everyone had an AOL address, I used to receive lots of inspirational stories and email forwards and this week I kept thinking about an email that was circulating about forks.  

A woman was diagnosed with a terminal illness and given three months to live. She asked her Pastor to come to her home to discuss her final wishes. She told him which songs she wanted sung at her funeral, and what scriptures she wanted read, and which outfit she wanted to be buried in. Then she said, “One more thing… I want to be buried with a fork in my hand.” The pastor was surprised.

The woman explained, “In all my years of attending church socials and potluck dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably say to everyone, ‘Keep your fork.’ It was my favorite time of the dinner, because I knew something better was coming, like velvety chocolate cake or deep dish apple pie – something wonderful. So, I want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and wonder, “What’s with the fork?” Then, I want you to tell them, “Keep your fork, because the best is yet to come.”

The pastor’s eyes welled up with tears of joy as he bid the woman goodbye. He realized she had a better grasp of heaven than he did, and knew something better was coming. At the funeral, when people asked him why she was holding a fork, the pastor told them of the conversation he had with the woman before she died. He said he could not stop thinking about the fork, and knew they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either. He was right.“Keep Your Fork.  The best is yet to come.”

That is what transfiguration Sunday is all about.  It is a glimpse to this weary world that the best is yet to come.  Elisha disappears in a whirlwind and gives his mantle to another, who will speak, lead and be apart of new life in Israel.   Jesus takes the disciples up the mountain to give them a glimpse of the overwhelming glory of God.  A reminder that the painful goodbye of the cross paved way to the never ending welcome of heaven. 

So, God’s beloved children, if we are going to say goodbye to anything.  Let it be to the ordinary.  Let us say goodbye to our need to be in control.  Goodbye to our ingrained thought that the past was better.  And let us hope and live as if the best is yet to come. 

Live like there's no tomorrow.  Love extravagantly.  Lead a life to be followed.  Oh and keep your forks.  

God's Love and Mine, 

Danielle Kathryn