Sunday, Ocotber 15, 2023
/Proper 23
Exodus 32:1-14; Psalm 106:1-6, 19-23; Philippians 4:1-9; Matthew 22:1-14
The Rev. Clint Brown
It struck me this week as I was reading the passage from Philippians, that these are Paul’s last words. We know that because this is Paul’s last letter, written while in prison in Rome, and we know that he won’t get out of Rome alive. He will not have a chance to write another letter, and so this is his valediction, the last things he has to say to us.
With that in mind and out of curiosity, I made this week a survey of other “famous last words” spoken through history. I found both the profound and the mundane and everything in between. Churchill, who is always quotable, is reported to have said, “I’m so bored with it all,” before slipping into a final coma. You’ll remember that Nathan Hale, the great patriot, before being hanged by the British for espionage, famously opined, “I regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.” In the Christian tradition, Macrina, the beautiful and brilliant sister of St. Gregory of Nyssa, modeled an equal courage. Dying of a wasting illness, she yet prayed in faith, testifying in her final words, “Thou, O Lord, hast freed us from the fear of death. Thou hast made the end of this life the beginning to us of true life.” The great Socrates has left us not one, but two “last words.” After being sentenced to death, he bid farewell to those who had condemned him by saying, “Now it is time that we were going, I to die and you to live, but which of us has the happier prospect is unknown to anyone but God.” And then, a month later, after calmly swallowing the fatal draught of hemlock, he showed his great humanity by recalling a last bit of unfinished business – “Crito, we ought to offer a rooster to Asclepius. See to it, and don’t forget” – then closing his eyes for the last time.
There are other telling examples. One can rise to the noble heights of a Lord Nelson – “Thank God I have done my duty” – or the good humor of Oscar Wilde – “My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. One or the other of us has to go.” One’s last words can begin a mystery, as in “Why didn’t they ask Evans?” the dying words of a man on a beach that launches the Agatha Christie story of the same name. Thomas Jefferson and John Adams, the founding fathers who were sometime antagonists, but, finally, fast friends, have the eerie distinction of dying on the same day, on July 4th, no less, 50 years to the day after the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Jefferson, feeling the weight of history, came out of his troubled, feverish sleep briefly after midnight to ensure that he had made it to the anniversary. He weakly queried the attending doctor, “Is it the Fourth?” before laying back and expiring.
Returning to the history of Christianity, you may not have heard of a certain believing Roman noblewoman named Perpetua, but you should know about her last words, or rather her last act of faith. She and a group of companions met their martyr’s death in the year 203 CE, but, unfortunately, the soldier who struck Perpetua was inept and merely pierced her throat between the bones. She shrieked with pain, then, with remarkable composure, aided the man to guide the sword properly. The report of her death concludes, “Perhaps so great a woman, feared by the unclean spirit, could not have been killed unless she so willed it.” And, finally, to give a true master the last word in this litany of last words, there is the case of Groucho Marx, who, witty to the end quipped, “This is no way to live!”
What then do we find Paul saying to us when we turn to his last recorded words in Philippians? What does a man imprisoned, after years of beatings and slanders, after countless miles choking on the dust of Roman roads, following numerous bruising debates and personal betrayals, as well as a shipwreck or two along the way – all for the sake of Christ – what is the last thing such a man wants to say? Is he angry? Disappointed? Spiteful? Vengeful? Happy to finally tell off his enemies? No. He says: Stand firm. Show one another mutual support. Rejoice! Be gentle. Be non-anxious. Trust in prayer. Practice the virtues. Imitate him. The last words of Paul are a wish for us to do as he has done, to be like him, to choose the way of the cross and to do it with rejoicing.
I don’t know about you, but that sounds a lot easier said than done. Accepting life’s struggles with equanimity – taking the abuse of a harsh and resisting world and doing it with a smile on my face – these are not my ideas of fun; and yet, that is the ask. That is the road walked upon by our Lord who has preceded us. Apparently, despite all evidence to the contrary, God thinks we have what it takes to be saints, too, and that means the stakes for our life and our choices are infinitely greater than we are accustomed to imagine. We, too, have a legacy of faith to leave behind us, and so, the question becomes what, then, will be your legacy? What, then, will be your last word?