O n Tuesday, January 15th, at 9:30am, on Martin Luther King, Jr’Äôs birthday, John Mack, former pastor at First Congregational Church here in D.C, died from complications from pulmonary edema and pneumonia. The edema and pneumonia came to life as John was on a post-retirement trek in Nepal with his wife, Barbara Gerlach. John and Barbara retired as pastors from First Congregational in June after 25 years of ministry at 10th and G.

Shortly after John and Barbara’Äôs arrival in Nepal, John had to be evacuated from a base camp on the mountains and taken to an ICU in Kathmandu. It soon became evident that John needed more specialized care so he, with Barbara, was air ambulanced to New Deli, India. John was at a hospital in New Deli for several weeks before he was allowed to be air ambulanced back to GW hospital. John was at GW for a week before he returned home to his family and the care of hospice and community.

After entering hospice, John shared these words in an email revealing the state of his well-being:

We all come into the world in basically the same way, but the ways of leaving are innumerable. The fortunate get to have some influence over their dying I am one of the fortunate. I look forward to having you join me in the conversation.

I share this story because John and First Church are sacred connections in my life. Since I am ordained in the United Church of Christ, I hold my local UCC membership at First Congregational. First Church, particularly the presence and companionship from both John and Barbara, was a key entry point to my new life in DC post graduation from Union Seminary in NYC.

What a joy and relief to find John and Barbara, former Union graduates, at one of the first Open and Affirming UCC churches in the country. Bob and I were married at First Church and John opened the doors for our special friends from Union, Anna Olson and Ruth Garwood, to co-officiate our service. I was ordained at First Church through this position at Pilgrims, welcoming my companion Murphy Davis, partner and one of the founders of the Open Door Community in Atlanta, Georgia, to preach and pray over my ordination.

John made sense of this ’Äúalternative ministry’Äù to my ordination committees, accompanying me to every meeting, through every phone call, and at moments of frustration and joy. These two rituals, my wedding and ordination, made my family and faith public’Äîgiving me the gift of creative expression through covenant relationship and the sacraments.

While I don’Äôt believe in ’Äúapostolic succession,’Äù the theological belief that the ordained are an elite hierarchy within the church tracing back to the original apostles, I do believe in the ’Äúties that bind.’Äù I was ’Äúbound’Äù to John through this particular ministry and experience of ordained ministry.
While I know I will always be connected to John, I feel an earthly break in that tie.
I have a circle of people in my life who have given witness to this life of following in God’Äôs way, opening up the church and the communion table to all of God’Äôs creatures.

I feel I follow in these footsteps, trying to live a life that gives testimony to the call to take risks and be authentic in life for the sake of Jesus. I was able to talk on the phone with John last week, setting up a time for a visit that never happened because of his dying sooner than expected.

On the phone, John described his spiritual life as ’Äúradiant’Äù and was savoring the community of pastors who were accompanying him in this journey towards dying.

By community of pastors, John meant everybody, the priesthood of all believers, not pastors as just clergy. If I would have been able to meet with John I would have asked him about his legacy. What is your legacy and how can I connect with it?

I didn’Äôt get to ask so I need to interpret John’Äôs legacy from his actions and liturgical choices. John’Äôs invitation to the communion table was always an open one
---all are welcome to come to the table who long for a presence. This open invitation is part of John’Äôs legacy that I connect with and I hope to share with more conviction’Äîwhen I am at the table, I am not gatekeeper or even host but partaking and sharing in an early church ritual that is a freedom meal, calling us to remember, act, be, live, build, witness, and be the change we wish to see.

I share this story because it is a story that is important to me, it is important for me to be public with the ties that bind me to God’Äôs way. With John, I experienced invitation, legacy building, and sharing light.

Our story from the Gospel of John shares these same elements. Just days after Jesus’Äô baptism, John the Baptist is standing with two disciples and they encounter Jesus.
The two disciples quickly accompany Jesus and, at the same time, question his identity.
Questions are exchanged: Who are you? What are you looking for? Where do you live?
’ÄúCome and see,’Äù says Jesus. Jesus extends an open invitation to these disciples:
Come, experience life with me, create your own stories about who I am.

Experience for yourself what I am looking for. Witness for yourself what and how I call home. So these two disciples, one being Andrew, went and witnessed. And something happened. Our text doesn’Äôt reveal the experience but something happened to Andrew as he accepted this open invitation to come and see. Something happened as Andrew encountered the Spirit of this itinerant preacher.

After spending time with Jesus, the first thing Andrew did was find his brother, Simon. Andrew had to share this Jesus experience with someone else. Come, see, we have discovered the Messiah and Andrew brought Simon, soon to be re-named Peter, to Jesus.


In this open invitation to ’Äúcome and see,’Äù Andrew is connected to the light, the spirit of Jesus and God, so much so that he is moved to share this light, this encounter with Jesus with his brother. There were no barriers to this invitation to connect with Jesus:

if you long for a presence, come and see.

Andrew and Simon are now part of the ties that bind, dwelling in the legacy of their prophetic Jewish ancestors’ÄîMoses, Miriam, Hannah, Jeremiah, the prophets, Mary, John the Baptist. They, along with Jesus, were keeping a legacy of prophetic justice alive, living in the movement of God.

Even before, but particularly after Jesus is executed on the cross, they will be part of the community that will embody the ministry of Jesus. Andrew and Simon are invited to ’Äúcome and see,’Äù accompany Jesus and witness his light, his actions, his words.

They need to embody, take hold, of Jesus’Äô ministry, so the light can go forth. Come, all of you, witness to the movement of God. Andrew and Simon embodied the legacy of Jesus
and shared it with others. John Mack embodied this legacy and shared it with others. This is the tie that binds us---we are all called to share this living legacy of openness and welcome. This is the light we are called to share with the world.

One way we are doing this during Epiphany is in our storytelling in worship and our weekly Updates and Invitations email. Our storytellers are sharing their story of encountering the Holy One and that encounter, like Andrew and Simon, has impacted the direction and choices in their life. When we share the light, as Andrew shared with Simon, as John Mack shared with me, we breathe life into the movement of God, revealing how the Spirit continues to bring people to life-changing encounters with Jesus.

Martin Luther King, Jr. embodied the legacy of Jesus and God’Äôs way. MLK extended the invitation to come and see: come and see the horrors of white supremacy, come and see the lynching’Äôs that kill black people, come and see the poverty of the African-American community. Come and see that the word of God has something to say about all of this. Come and see that we are creating a movement that is a testament to the legacy and hope of the power of God.

Listen to these words from Martin Luther King, Jr. as he shares a testimony of legacy and hope:
I choose to identify with the underprivileged.
I choose to identify with the poor.
I choose to give my life for the hungry.
I choose to live for and with those who find themselves seeing life
as a long and desolate corridor with no exit signs.
This is the way I'm going.
If it means suffering a little bit,
I'm going that way.
If it means sacrificing, I'm going that way.
If it means dying for them, I'm going that way.
Because I heard the voice saying: do something for others.

Several months later, King also said,
"I identify with those people
you call gooks and enemies and Viet Congs
and those who must be burned to death.
I identify with them; they are my sisters and brothers.
Those are my children running aflame.’Äù
These words could have shaped a testimony of Moses, of Miriam, of the prophets. These could have been the words of Jesus, of Mary, of Andrew and Simon, of the apostle Paul. These could have been the words of the thousands who gave life to the civil rights? What if the good news of Jesus Christ was never shared? What if people had kept the light to themselves? What happens if we don’Äôt live into each others legacy? What happens if we live a life not believing we will ever leave a legacy? What if we don’Äôt extend the open invitation to ’Äúcome and see?’Äù What if we don’Äôt share the light with the world? What if Martin Luther King, Jr. had never acted on the words ’Äúdo something for others?’Äù
Ella Baker, the godmother of the civil right movement, wrote
’Äúif there is any philosophy,
it’Äôs that those who have walked
a certain path should know some things,
should remember some things they can pass on,
that others can use to walk the path a little better.’Äù
John Mack knew some thing, he shared those things and my path is so much better because of someone like him. We are entrusted with a legacy not because of privilege or advanced academic degrees but because we hear the words, ’Äúcome and see, do something for others.’Äù
We are sharing the same faith that Andrew and Simon encountered, a faith that re-names us and creates life-changing encounters. We are called to share a light that is thousands of years in the making. Lynn’Äôs story she shared this morning connects back to Andrew and Simon. She is living in their legacy. Lynn has a story because of the open invitation to ’Äúcome and see,’Äù make room for all who long to encounter a presence.
John Mack was 65 years old when he died. Martin Luther King, Jr. was 39. Jesus was in his early 30’Äôs when he was killed. There are so many ways we can embody the subversive truth and legacy of God’Äôs way. For me, John Mack’Äôs truth and legacy were apparent even before he died. We only have one life to live out those ways and share the light. Let’Äôs make our legacy count and be known for the sake of Jesus.
        ✞