Partners in Life and Death

A few weeks ago, President Obama was raked over the coals for a comment he made on a phone call with a group of Rabbis about health care. He said, "We are God's partners in life and death." Though many rabbis on the call described the statement as "unremarkable," a number of people latched onto his phraseology, especially in the wake of the "death panel" distraction.

I've thought a lot about that phrase, especially today. As a pastor, I am party to a lot of events in people's lives that, though common, don't often happen in such quick succession. Births, baptisms, weddings, and deaths are part of what I do. As a religious professional, I am party to things that are often relegated to family and close friends. I can see why the rabbis on the call found the statement "unremarkable." It's something that those with our calling see regularly.

Take today, for example. In the last 12 hours, I:

--met with an adult who is being baptized on Sunday about the meaning of baptism (new life, family of God, etc.)
--heard my son's heartbeat at a baby doctor appointment (never ceases to amaze)
--started birthing classes to get ready for said baby boy
--rehearsed for a wedding tomorrow night
--watched and waited as a beloved member of the church struggled with his last breaths.

Yes, as a pastor, I clearly am a "partner in life and death." But I was not alone in any of these meetings. Families, friends, churches, and communities all face these issues of life and death on a daily basis. We all make decisions that can either bring new life or bring us (or others) closer to death. And, sometimes, life (and death) just happens. Whether we like it or not, we walk the fine line of life with every step, and every breath we take is part of a beautiful mystery none of us can fully comprehend.

Especially today, as we all remember our feelings and pain from the events eight years ago, I pray that we recognize that, just as we were bound on that day by a common experience, we are in this thing called life together. I pray we recognize that we are indeed partners in life and death. That even as we celebrate when we hear a heartbeat or that amazing first breath, others mourn as a heartbeat fades and breath comes to an end.

As we continue to look at issues like health care, I hope we don't concern ourselves merely with our own health, our own well-being, our own care--but instead ask ourselves how we can be partners in the health of others, in the well-being of our neighbors, and in the care of those less fortunate than ourselves. Maybe it means starting a walking group, stopping smoking, or helping someone in need. Maybe it means getting to know someone who just lost their job or their health insurance, or was diagnosed with a disease. Maybe it's visiting a family member, friend, or neighbor in the hospital. Maybe it's merely getting to know the people that eat, drink, sleep, and live next door or across the street. That's not just what Jesus would do, it's what good folks do. It's what we see when we see good community in action. It's what we see when we see our country at its best.

Maybe then we won't find ways to kill good ideas. Maybe then we won't bicker about who lied first, or who is being political. Maybe then we'll just get down to the issue of how we can be the people we are supposed to be. Maybe then we'll decide to be partners not only in times of birth and death but in the stuff called "life" that comes between.