It's Not Fair
by Frank R. Fisher, Obl OSB

"It's not fair!"
There were some days,
when those words 
seemed to be 
the only words I heard
at our house
They become so pervasive
they even influenced 
our family's search for pets. 
You see,
we were in the market
for a pair of kittens.
I threatened to name them
with our most common
 household phrases.
I'd name the first one,
"I Didn't Do It."
Of course,
the second one 
would be named,
"It's Not Fair."

Predicably,
that threat 
brought the exasperated response,
"Dad
that's not fair!"

But when you come right 
down to it.
I have to agree
with the way Elaine
often
 uses that phrase.
When she hears
 about people
 who are victims of injustice,
her first words are,
"that's not fair."
To that,
I can only shake my head,
and say,
"no,
it certainly
 isn't fair."

Lot's of things in life
 just aren't fair.
And one of the most 
incredible 
things
that isn't fair
is found 
in today's Gospel lesson.
Listen to Christ's word's again.
"If any want to become my followers,
let them deny themselves
and take up their cross
and follow me."

In these words
the only begotten child of God,
the One 
who will be crucified,
the One
 who completely understands
the horrors of crucifixion,
calls all who name themselves
Christians
to a similar fate.

We can,
 and do,
try to ignore these words
and all of their implications.
But no matter how well
 we try to ignore them,
the same voice
 still rings down through time,
"If any want to become my followers,
let them deny themselves
and take up their cross
and follow me."

As these words still call to us
through time,
perhaps it's in time
we can come to accept them.

Your name is Peter,
and up until a moment ago,
you thought that you were
 on top of the world.
In the past few years
your life has changed forever.
You've been taken from your boat
and your nets
to begin the awe striking task
of fishing for people.
You've seen demons
cast out,
the sick
 cured,
and heard the good news
of the coming kingdom of God.
Just a moment ago
in a flash
of God given insight
you understood
something
of what all this is about.
You proclaimed the One
whom you follow,
Jesus of Nazareth, 
is indeed the Messiah;
the One 
whom your whole people awaits.

You see visions of parties galore!
All of Jerusalem
will be
dancing in the streets
at this wonderful news.
But it looks like
the party's been canceled 
before its even begun.
Jesus isn't telling you
about triumph and joy.
Instead
you hear harsh words
about suffering,
rejection,
trial,
and death.

Violently you pull Jesus aside
 to say,
"Hey, stop this kidding around.
It can't be that way,
you're the Messiah."
You're stunned into silence
when Jesus 
looks straight into your eyes
and says,
"get behind me, Satan."
And then you hear
words sending a chill
 through your soul.

"If any want to become my followers,
let them deny themselves
and take up their cross
and follow me."


This isn't fair!
And it's certainly not
 what you had in mind
when you signed up for this gig.
Despite this unfairness
and despite 
your previous expectations
there's something 
keeping you following Jesus.
Something holding you 
to the course. 
And when you see your risen Lord
you remember 
Jesus
spoke not only of death 
but of resurrection.


Your name is Fritz.
A citizen of Germany;
a country that's lately
taken on the additional title
of the Third Reich.
The changes overtaking your country
once seemed marvelous to you.
And as you saw goose stepping Nazis
marching through the streets
you felt a thrill of pride 
run right through you.
There was something about them,
that made you hunger
after their power.

So you too joined the Nazi party.
You too marched 
through the streets of Berlin
and heard the thunder
of the cheering crowds.
And you kept on marching 
and obeying the party's orders

That is,
you did
 until today.
It seemed at first
 to be a day like any other day.
You went to work
and spent the day as you did any other.
It was another day of tedium turned into wonder,
as you tirelessly told your co-workers
 about the glory of the party.

But the day changed
as soon as you left your office.
For you could feel tension in the air.
A sense telling you something
was about to begin.

And begin it did.
It was just after 
you got on the bus 
to go home.
You'd sat down in the back
and had just about settled
 into your evening paper
when the bus quickly halted.
You jumped at the sudden
and obviously unplanned stop.
Then you became fully alert
as armed SS troopers 
filed through the front door way.
You smiled 
as they began examining 
the identification
of everyone on the bus.
For you knew 
a party member like you
would have no problem.
And you'd rejoice 
if the soldier's search 
revealed the presence
 of any enemy of the state.

But after the first few rows 
had been searched
you noticed the woman 
sitting next to you.
She was watching the SS 
with a terrified gaze
and she was trembling
as she sobbed 
into her handkerchief.  

  "What ever is the trouble,"
you quietly asked her.
She turned 
her shaking face 
toward you
and between sobs she answered,
"the soldiers,
they are looking for Jews.
I am a Jew."

Your first impulse
 was to yell to the soldiers.
After all 
you might receive a reward
 for turning in this woman.
And you were starting 
to raise your hand and to speak,
when something 
popped into your mind.
You remembered some words
your mother 
had read to you 
again and again
They were words
from your family's Bible.
Words that didn't mean anything
 until now.


"If any want to become my followers,
let them deny themselves
and take up their cross
and follow me."

And in your split second 
of remembrance
you turned violently 
toward the woman
and screamed,
"how could you be so stupid.
I've told you over and over again
and still you don't listen.
You're going to get us 
in serious trouble some day!"

The soldiers
diverted now from their search
approach you.
"What's going on here,"
their officer asks.
"It's my wife,"
you answer in a disgusted tone.
"I've told her 
time and time again
 to remember her papers
and she just doesn't listen."

The officer begins to laugh aloud
as you continue to fume
and insult the still trembling woman.
And then
he passes by your row
to check the papers of those 
in the last few rows of the bus.


Your name is Jackie.
You're a high school student
and a proper Presbyterian. 
Your faith,
and your church,
mean a lot to you.
You might say
your life revolves around them.

But there's some things
about your congregation
that seems strange to you.
You find it especially hard
to understand the way 
black people are treated here.
Your parents
brought you up
to believe that all people 
are children of God,
and all people are equal.
But it's obvious 
that a lot of the people
you worship with 
don't believe that at all.

Despite the way 
this bothers you
there doesn't seem like 
there's much you can do 
about it.
That is,
there didn't seem like much
until Rosa Parks
wouldn't give up her seat
on the bus.
Since then 
you've been swept up
in a movement that's changing
the face of your country.
So far you've only been on the sidelines
of that movement.
Today,
all that's going to change.
Today you're going to be
in a civil rights march.
It's going to be a peaceful march.
It may even turn out to be boring.
But there's something inside you
that tells you
 it's important
 for you to go;
it's important
 for you to live
what you believe.

The bus to the march
will pick you up by your church
in five minutes.
You're hurrying to make it in time.
There's the church,
and the bus
 ahead of you.
But for some reason
its surrounded 
by a crowd of people.
Hey,
they're people 
from your church
Some of them are 
Elders and Deacons.
They're waving their fists in the air,
and they're screaming at the people
who're getting on the bus.

You hear the words that they're using.
They're words 
your parents
would never let you repeat.
You think to yourself
that this isn't fair!

You know 
what you're doing
is right.
But you also know
 if you get on that bus
these people 
will begin to hate you.
And these are people you worship with.
People you respect.
People whose opinion of you
means more to you
than anything.

Well, almost anything.
You remember the passage
from the Gospel of Mark
your Sunday School class 
studied last week.

"If any want to become my followers,
let them deny themselves
and take up their cross
and follow me."

You 
take a deep breath,
and utter a silent prayer,
as you begin
to walk forward toward the bus.

Your name is your own.
You're a member of
The First Presbyterian Church
of Fairbury, Illinois.
A place that in many ways
 is home to you.
A place 
where you've found your niche
in the community
 of Christ's body.

You've come a long way
on the road you must travel.
And you think
you're coming near to a plateau;
a place
where you can rest
and take it easy for awhile.
For with the work
of your PNC,
you think
you've begun the final phase
of your present journey.

Life,
is of course,
one of the biggest goals
 in your mind.
It's a natural goal too.
For all things 
about this congregation,
the members who worship with you,
and the place you worship in,
have become quite sacred to you.
And you very badly
want this congregation
to stay alive.

The good news is
you're on the road
leading  to continue life.
The bad news is
calling a pastor
means the work
has only just begun.
For in congregation after congregation,
in age after age,
Christians have found
the word 
life
to a Christian congregation
means
closely following
 Jesus Christ.

And for you to follow Christ
in this time and place
requires more
than simply calling a pastor.
It means
 seriously 
reaching out
and determining
the work
to which Christ calls you.
It means
working with your future pastor
to accomplish your goals.

In the past
you may have thought of yourself
as a congregation
that won't set the world aflame.
But if you truly
want this congregation to live,
you must strike the match
of Christ's mission
and fan the fire
of Christ's love.

In so doing
the fire may consume you.

To live,
you have to risk being alive.
The effort and resources
required to live
will be considerable.

That's not fair.
And its not fair
that for this congregation to live
its members must be willing
to put it all on the line;
perhaps
you'll need to put it on the line
to the point
where they risk its death.

But remember,
it is
 only death
that leads
 to resurrection.

"If any want to become my followers,
let them deny themselves
and take up their cross
and follow me."

To God alone be glory.
Amen.

(Comments to Frank at f.fisher.obl.osb@comcast.net.)
Interim Pastor of First Presbyterian Church 
Fairbury, Illinois 
http://www.firstpresfairbury.org