Untitled Sermon (2)

Ephesians 1:11–23 NRSV

In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance, having been destined according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to his counsel and will, so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ, might live for the praise of his glory. In him you also, when you had heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and had believed in him, were marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit; this is the pledge of our inheritance toward redemption as God’s own people, to the praise of his glory. I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love toward all the saints, and for this reason I do not cease to give thanks for you as I remember you in my prayers. I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe, according to the working of his great power. God put this power to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the age to come. And he has put all things under his feet and has made him the head over all things for the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all.

      Erik Erikson was a developmental psychologist and psychoanalyst known for his theory on psychological development of human beings. He may be most famous for coining the phrase identity crisis. 

Erik Erikson developed a theory of ego development—the eight stages of life that we all travel along in order to reach wholeness. Each stage offers a choice—and we can either grow toward health or grow toward dysfunction. Erickson says that the choice of stage eight, the last stage of life, is the most important because it enables us to either die in peace or die in agony. The choice is between integrity and despair—between (1) acknowledging and embracing and affirming the way our life has really been or (2) whining and grieving and complaining about what could have been. If only I had been given different parents. If only I'd had a different body. If only I had been smarter or prettier or wealthier. In stage eight there is the choice between (1) celebrating a life well lived—imperfections and all—and offering it as a completed gift to God or (2) clinging to a fantasy of what could have been better—a refusal to accept, and a refusal to let go—a final sense of despair and failure. How we live stage eight—the choice we make in our later years between integrity and despair—in many ways becomes our legacy. And it is the final lesson we teach our children and our grandchildren.

One person who mastered that stage and who is a wonderful example of what it really means to be one of God’s saints is Fred Rogers. So on this All Saints Sunday I want to talk about Fred Rogers and his legacy of love.

Fred was a vegetarian. He did not smoke or drink. He was married for fifty years to the same woman. He was the father of two sons. He awoke each morning at 5:30 to pray, to read and to write, to swim, and to answer personally much of the mail that children had sent him. For more than thirty years he was the host of the popular children's TV show, "Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood."

After graduating from college, he planned to go to seminary, but a visit to his parents' home put that plan on hold. His parents had just purchased a new-fangled gismo, a television, and Fred had never seen anything quite like it. He was so captivated by this new invention that he went to New York and got a job working on a couple of early TV shows. In 1953 he accepted a job with a TV station in Pittsburgh, America's first public television station, and he began to create a show called "The Children's Corner."

While doing this show he went to Pittsburg Seminary and after graduating in 1962 he was ordained as a Presbyterian minister. His Presbytery charged him to keep doing what he was already doing in children's television.

Shortly thereafter, an early version of "Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood" aired on the Pittsburgh public television station. The show gained popularity and soon it was broadcast in other cities in the eastern U.S. In 1968 PBS stations began to show it all across the county. And the rest, as they say, is history.  

What was it about that show that made it so popular, and why is Fred Rogers the focus of this morning's sermon on All Saints Sunday? Because in his own quiet way, he lived and taught the ethic of Jesus Christ to the children of our nation. Ironically, he almost never spoke directly about God or Jesus. He didn't have to. Fred Rogers taught children the ethic of Jesus—honesty, sharing, good manners, joy, love, respect, self-esteem, and above all else, being a good neighbor.

Each episode was masterful—beautifully conceived and beautifully executed—like a finely-crafted sermon. For example one episode entitled "Transformations" listed this as its governing theme: "No matter how we change on the outside, we're still the same on the inside."

Time and time again Mr. Rogers helped children expand their definition of neighbor. A neighbor might have a different color skin, dress differently, or speak a different language. A neighbor might be blind or confined to a wheelchair, but that didn't matter at all, because in Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood everyone was special. "I like you just the way you are," he said like a mantra. "You're special." Yes, because he loved all the children of the neighborhood, loved them unconditionally, they grew to love themselves no matter what was going on in their lives.

In May of 2002, he gave the commencement address at Dartmouth College. He said to the graduates:

When I say it's you I like, I'm talking about that part of you that knows that life is far more than anything you can ever see or hear or touch. That part of you that allows you to stand for those things without which humankind cannot survive: Love that conquers hate, peace that rises triumphant over war, justice that proves more powerful than greed. So in all that you do, in all your life, I wish you the strength and the grace to make those choices which will allow you and your neighbor to become the best of whoever you are.

One of my favorite Mr. Rogers' stories says more about his appeal, his grace and his influence than anything else. There was once a gorilla named Koko who lived in a zoo. Koko learned to communicate using American sign language and from time to time Koko would watch Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood on TV. When Rogers learned of this fact, he said, "I'd like to meet Koko." When they met, Koko the 280-pound gorilla, gave Mr. Rogers, all 143 pounds of him a great big hug. Do you know what happened next? Koko sat down in front of Mr. Rogers and took off Mr. Rogers' shoes!

A couple of years ago a journalist, Tom Junod, wrote a feature article on Mister Rogers for Esquire magazine. After following 70-year-old Fred Rogers around for a few days, Junod discovered what he calls an "ecstatic ascetic." Fred was a vegetarian. He did not smoke or drink. He was married for fifty years to the same woman. And he was the father of two sons. He awoke each morning at 5:30 to pray, to read and to write, to swim, and to answer personally much of the mail that children had sent him.

It seemed that wherever Mister Rogers went, people recognized him, and stopped him to touch him and hug him and tell him what a difference he had made in their lives. One day in New York, where he was taping a show, it started to pour rain. So he ducked into the nearest subway station to catch a train, dressed in his signature sweater and tennis shoes. The train was full of black and Hispanic teenagers who, when they saw him, stopped cold. Then, in spontaneous concert, they started singing the theme song from his show, "Won't You Be My Neighbor." And the "clattering train turned into a single soft, runaway choir."

What Junod realized after shadowing this odd man is that Fred Rogers was a person who lived in "a perpetual state of astonishment." He not only loved children, but he was himself a child at heart, a child in spirit.

Such was the charismatic charm of Fred McFeely Rogers, Presbyterian minister, and a modern-day saint to the children of our nation if ever there was one. It will always be a beautiful day in the neighborhood, thanks to him and thanks to God.

Fifty-six years ago, Erik Erikson developed a theory of ego development—the eight stages of life that we all travel along in order to reach wholeness. Each stage offers a choice—and we can either grow toward health or grow toward dysfunction. Erickson says that the choice of stage eight, the last stage of life, is the most important because it enables us to either die in peace or die in agony. The choice is between integrity and despair—between (1) acknowledging and embracing and affirming the way our life has really been or (2) whining and grieving and complaining about what could have been. If only I had been given different parents. If only I'd had a different body. If only I had been smarter or prettier or wealthier. In stage eight there is the choice between (1) celebrating a life well lived—imperfections and all—and offering it as a completed gift to God or (2) clinging to a fantasy of what could have been better—a refusal to accept, and a refusal to let go—a final sense of despair and failure. How we live stage eight—the choice we make in our later years between integrity and despair—in many ways becomes our legacy. And it is the final lesson we teach our children and our grandchildren.

One person who mastered that stage and was Fred Rogers. So on this All Saints Sunday I want to talk about Fred Rogers and his legacy of love.

Fred was a vegetarian. He did not smoke or drink. He was married for fifty years to the same woman. He was the father of two sons. He awoke each morning at 5:30 to pray, to read, to write, to swim, and to answer personally much of the mail that children had sent him. For more than thirty years he was the host of the popular children's TV show, "Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood."

After graduating from college, he planned to go to seminary, but a visit to his parents' home put that plan on hold. His parents had just purchased a new-fangled gismo, a television, and Fred had never seen anything quite like it. He was so captivated by this new invention that he went to New York and got a job working on a couple of early TV shows. In 1953 he accepted a job with a TV station in Pittsburgh, America's first public television station, and he began to create a show called "The Children's Corner."

While doing this show he went to Pittsburg Seminary and after graduating in 1962 he was ordained as a Presbyterian minister. His Presbytery charged him to keep doing what he was already doing in children's television.

Shortly thereafter, an early version of "Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood" aired on the Pittsburgh public television station. The show gained popularity and soon it was broadcast in other cities in the eastern U.S. In 1968 PBS stations began to show it all across the county. And the rest, as they say, is history.  

What was it about that show that made it so popular, and why is Fred Rogers the focus of this morning's sermon on All Saints Sunday? Because in his own quiet way, he lived and taught the ethic of Jesus to the children of our nation. Ironically, he almost never spoke directly about God or Jesus. He didn't have to. Fred Rogers taught children the ethic of Jesus—honesty, sharing, good manners, joy, love, respect, self-esteem, and above all else, being a good neighbor.

Each episode was masterful—beautifully conceived and beautifully executed—like a finely-crafted sermon. For example one episode entitled "Transformations" listed this as its governing theme: "No matter how we change on the outside, we're still the same on the inside."

Time and time again Mr. Rogers helped children expand their definition of neighbor. A neighbor might have a different color skin, dress differently, or speak a different language. A neighbor might be blind or confined to a wheelchair, but that didn't matter at all, because in Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood everyone was special. "I like you just the way you are," he said like a mantra. "You're special." Yes, because he loved all the children of the neighborhood, loved them unconditionally, they grew to love themselves no matter what was going on in their lives.

Wherever Mister Rogers went, people recognized him, and stopped him to touch him and hug him and tell him what a difference he had made in their lives. One day in New York, where he was taping a show, it started to pour rain. So he ducked into the nearest subway station to catch a train, dressed in his signature sweater and tennis shoes. The train was full of black and Hispanic teenagers who, when they saw him, stopped cold. Then, in spontaneous concert, they started singing the theme song from his show, "Won't You Be My Neighbor." And the "clattering train turned into a single soft, runaway choir."

Fred Rogers was a person who lived in "a perpetual state of astonishment. He not only loved children, but he was himself a child at heart. Such was the charismatic charm of Fred Rogers, and a modern-day saint to the children of our nation if ever there was one. It will always be a beautiful day in the neighborhood, thanks to him and thanks to God.