"So, what do you do"...wrong question?

I guess men have this question posed to them quicker than women do…not long after “What is your name?” and maybe “Where are you from?” comes the next query: “So, what do you do?”

A fair and innocent enough question.

But it certainly comes up early in the process. We think it’s important. In fact, often times it defines who we are. I am a youth minister, and have been for over two decades.

But is that really who I am? Is that what gives me my value…the things I accomplish…my usefulness to others?

Years ago, I worked as a nursing home chaplain in Indiana. It was a wonderful, depressing, joyful, frustrating tenure. I saw some of the best—and worst—of family behavior. I saw what happened to folks who had no one. I saw some of the most dedicated servants, as well as some of the most despicable people, I have ever met.

During that time, I wrote down some thoughts. Here is one encounter I had with Paul, a resident of the nursing home, who was in his late eighties at the time:

November 1, 1991:
Because of my job, and because I live in the Village, I haven't got to meet as many people as I would like to. That also means I spend most weekends doing nothing if I'm not working. I went to work feeling sorry for myself, bemoaning my "empty Fridays."
Today I visited Paul. Paul is 86 years old (he reminds us of it often), blind, and nearly deaf. The only way to communicate with him is to bend down and yell in his ear. Paul asked me what time it was, and then asked me to get him a cup of coffee. He told me today about his girlfriend, who died six months before their wedding in 1929. He said, "There was nobody like her. I miss her so. Thank you for the coffee. By the way, what day is it?"
It's Friday, Paul. Thank you.

You know…I’ve often wondered, how would Paul (whom I’m sure is long gone) have answered, “What do you do?” in 1991? Would he have re-imaged the question into, “What did you once do?” and tell me about his work in the factory…Or would he have been honest and said, “I lay in a bed 24 hours per day. I cannot see. I can barely hear. I’m bored, and no one comes to visit me. The highlight of my day is when someone gets me some coffee.”

The people who think we are defined by what we do would question what “use” Paul was at that point. And if you live your life by that creed, you eventually must come to the question, “So, why should we ‘keep’ someone like that alive? What ‘good’ are they to society? Should we spend our ‘resources’ helping someone who cannot ‘give back’?” This is truly dangerous ground, but it’s an inevitable conclusion we reach…if we define one’s “value” by one’s “usefulness.”

Thankfully, we have another option: I believe our value lies not only in what we do, but in Who created us. Paul had value…not based on what he could “contribute to society,” but because He was a precious creation of a God who loved him and gave everything for him. Paul, thankfully, was aware of that very important truth. And on a November day in 1991, God used what some would consider a “disposable life” to teach me a lesson of great value.

And so again, Paul, I say thanks. Fortunately, his hearing and sight are just perfect now. I hope God will send the message along.

A tribute for an important American…no, the other one.

Hey gang...forgive the length, but here are some thoughts on a couple of funerals being held this coming week:

*****

Today, the world will stop rotating on its axis for a few hours, so that we may "pay tribute" to a sad, disturbed, and tragically flawed individual. Michael Jackson's eulogies have been repeated non-stop on TV. Anyone who knew people that knew people that knew Jackson have appeared on the airwaves to tell us about the “real” King of Pop. We have been subjected to watching thousands of individuals who obviously need a job (and a hobby) completely remove all doubt as to their perspective of “what makes one great.”

Meanwhile, in Montgomery, little more than a footnote informs us of the death in Ohio of 90 year-old H.M. Cummings, a member of the famed Tuskegee Airmen. Most people are unaware that Cummings has died. Many more are unaware that he ever lived.

This is heartbreaking. Thousands are attending Jackson's funeral. The tributes are worldwide. Millions are saddened that they cannot attend a glitzy memorial service for a man whose estate lawyers will fight over for years, and (until a few days ago) was best known for keeping plastic surgeons employed, and making atrocious choices with regards to bed-mates.

Meanwhile, Cummings will be quietly laid to rest. His net worth is not a public issue.

What a monumental travesty.

Jackson achieved fame because he sang and danced well (and let's be honest...no one has thought of him doing that particularly well in well over a decade, until his death). Cummings...I’m unsure how well he sang or danced. Oh, by the way…he did help save the world back in the 1940's.

Where have our priorities gone? One man, we celebrate because of album sales and a dance. He was a "cultural icon" and "inspiration," because he moon-walked, and we wished we could. The other, we briefly mention as a footnote. He was a pilot, or something like that. Some army guy. Or was it Air Force? Ah, well. If only he danced.

It's time for our country to redefine who is "important." We like to put that word with "famous." Guys who can hit a ball out of the park are "important." People whose album sales make them 'more popular than Jesus' (a quote made famous by another cultural icon we like to mourn) are "important." People who make billions in four-minute audio clips are "important." Friends, sometimes the words “famous” and “important” should be separated.

Meanwhile...men who overcome prejudice to fight for freedom and against tyranny...get a brief obituary. Men who are willing to lay down everything so that their children may be free...they are mentioned. Men who epitomize what it means to be a great American, man, soldier, citizen, African-American...well, NBC won't pre-empt “Days of our Lives” to talk about the days of his life. However, we are bombarded with every detail of a man who, thought talented, was flawed enough to become a caricature of himself. Yet we can't stop dwelling on a life that was honestly more about “what could have been” than “what was."

Memo to America: Get out of the streets, quit dancing, take the glove off, and go inside. Find a computer, and read about H.M. Cummings, and the Tuskegee Airmen of World War II. Ask yourself, "is it possible that thousands of people are attending the wrong funeral?" Examine how one man fought for a world that had yet to recognize his equality...and it wasn't the guy with the glove. Shout from the mountaintops that album sales build a company...but sacrifice builds a nation. Internalize the fact: The person who HAS character always is greater than the person who IS a character. Parents of all races...use this teachable moment to show your dear ones how evil--both the despots abroad and the bigots at home--can be overcome with the sacrifice of great men.

Keeping plastic surgeons employed doesn't make Michael great. Keeping us free makes Major Cummings great. Today, in between the moonwalk facsimiles and glowing eulogies...pause and thank the true hero. Major Cummings…Thank you. You were a hero, and a great American. We owe a tremendous debt to you for your service. Rest in peace.

Now that's important.