Obituary | Wayfarer

He judged Israel twenty-three years. Then he died, and was buried at Shamir.
Judges 10:2 (NRSV)

I had my annual physical this past week. In just over four months I will hit one of those birthdays with a zero in it, and medically things kick into gear with this one. There are more tests, and more questions, and more pleas for precaution. I have the rare experience of having the same doctor who cut open my 11 year old leg to remove a giant chunk of skateboard now sticking his finger up my backside to check my prostate (Sorry…TMI).

So it is that my thoughts have wandered into the big picture considerations of life’s journey in recent days. I’m asking the GPS recalibration questions of life’s road:

Where have I been?
Where am I at?
Where am I going?

One of the interesting things I have observed as we journey through the Book of Judges is that there are Judges for whom chapters are devoted to telling their stories. Then, there are judges like Tola and Jair in todays’ chapter who are mentioned in passing. Tola led for 23 years. Period. End of story. Jair led 22 years, had 30 sons who rode 30 donkeys and lived in 30 towns. Done.

Garrison Keillor, in one of his Lake Wobegon monologues, made the observation that a small town newspaper isn’t really the news. What a small town newspaper prints is just a table of contents to what’s really happening (which will never be printed). I have come to realize that the same thing is true of obituaries.

Having officiated my share of funerals over the years, I’ve come to realize that the two or three paragraphs printed in the newspaper and read in the funeral service don’t really tell the story of a persons life any more than the silly numerical trivia of Jair’s sons can possibly be the totality of his tale. It’s when you sit around the living room with grieving spouses, children, and grandchildren eating a day old donut brought to the house by a well meaning neighbor that you begin to catch a hint of it. Hearing their memories in the privacy of home, away from the public eye and amidst the din of screaming children, you hear stories of quiet strength, simple love, and moments that changed life for an individual.

Tola and Jair may not have had stories that fill chapters in the Great Story. I know, however, that there is more to the stories behind the blurbs we read today. So it is with all of us. Very few of us get more than a two or three paragraph summation at the end of this journey. But, that’s not the whole story by a long shot. The real story is being written daily in our relationships, our words, our gestures, and our seemingly insignificant acts of kindness and love.

So how’s my story going as I approach mile marker 50?
Where have I been?
Where am I at?
Where am I going?

December 11. It’s about time to watch It’s a Wonderful Life again.

Now Samuel died, and all Israel assembled and mourned for him; and they buried him at his home in Ramah. 1 Samuel 25:1 (NIV)

Over the past few years I have, on occasion, received an early morning phone call from my dad. A call in the early morning is always a bid disconcerting, but I’ve learned that it probably means that someone we know has died. My dad’s routine is to check the obituaries in the paper each morning to, as he puts it, “see if it’s going to be a good day.” Presumably, each day he doesn’t find his own name on the page is a good day.

Just a couple of weeks ago Wendy and I attended the funeral of a friend who died unexpectedly. This week I received a phone call asking me if I would officiate the funeral of a gentleman who was in my congregation when I was a pastor many years ago. I agreed to do so and was honored to be asked.

Perhaps because of these recent events my mind has been thinking about death and funerals this week. That’s why I found it interesting to open the chapter this morning and find that it begins with a one line obituary for Samuel. Samuel was such a key figure in the historic events we’ve read in the previous three weeks. He was the miracle baby, the boy who was called by God at a young age, a key figure in the downfall of the house of Eli, the final Judge of Israel, a priest, a prophet, and the transitional character between the period of the Judges and the monarchy. Samuel lived a long and eventful life. And, in the end, his death is given a one sentence obituary amidst the stories of David and Saul.

This morning I’m reminded that the same fate awaits us all in this earthly life. It’s a sobering but critical truth, and one that should not be wholly ignored. At the end, our entire life journey will be reduced to a sentence or two. What will it have to say? How will we be remembered?

Please forgive me if I’m starting the day off with a downer. Look at it this way: The phone didn’t ring this morning, so my dad must not have found your obituary in the paper. That means it’s going to be a good day.

Press on.