St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD
June 1, 2024
The Funeral of Robert John Baker
Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 23
1 John 3:1-2
John 14:1-6a
The Undiscovered Country
First, on behalf of all of us at St. Thomas’, I want to offer my condolences on the death of Robert.
We are honored to provide this sacred space for his funeral.
And we pledge to continue to be here for you, to offer whatever support we can, whenever you might need us.
The passage that I just read from the Gospel of John is one that we often hear at funerals.
The setting is the Last Supper.
Jesus has gathered with his friends for one final meal.
For some time, Jesus had been predicting his suffering and death, and his resurrection on the third day.
Jesus had been trying to prepare his friends for what was coming, but they just wouldn’t hear him, just couldn’t accept that their friend and Lord was going to suffer and die.
And they definitely couldn’t look ahead to new life, new life which must have seemed simply unimaginable.
It’s hard, so very hard, to accept that someone we love is going to suffer and die.
We all know that feeling.
But in Jerusalem two thousand years ago, gathered around the table, the disciples began to face the hard truth.
And with time running out, Jesus the Great Teacher tries to get across some final, most important lessons.
He blesses the bread and the wine and shares them with his friends, promising that he will continue to be present each time we gather around the table, every time we remember him.
Jesus gets up from the table and begins to wash the feet of his friends.
Shocking. That’s the work of a servant.
Peter is so shocked that he objects, he simply refuses the idea of Jesus washing his feet.
But Jesus tells Peter that this is how it must be for people who want to follow Jesus.
We must love one another.
We must serve one another.
And so, Peter and the others get their feet washed by the Son of God.
And, finally, as we heard today, Jesus promises that someday we will all be reunited. And not only that, but Jesus insists that we know the way to the place of reunion.
It’s only Thomas who’s brave enough or honest enough to admit that he has no idea what Jesus is talking about.
Thomas says, “Lord, we do not know the way to the place where you are going. How can we know the way?”
To which Jesus responds, “I am the way.”
To be honest, I doubt that cleared things up very much but, eventually, eventually, the disciples got it, they remembered the bread and the wine and the washing of feet and the commands to love and forgive one another.
They began to follow the way of Jesus and began sharing the way with others.
In fact, some early Christians were described as People of the Way.
I wish we had never lost that name because being a person of “the Way” isn’t so much about believing all the right things, like checking items off a list.
No, “the Way” is all about the journey – and like every journey – like every life - there are dangers and joys, missteps and triumphs.
Knowing that I had never met Robert, Polly loaned me a copy of her dad’s autobiography: The Unlikely Diplomat: Traveler Tales.
Fascinating stuff.
As most of you probably know, in his book, Robert looks back on his “way” – reviews his life – his often exciting, sometimes frustrating, sometimes dangerous, sometimes bizarre and sometimes amusing experiences around the world, in service to our country.
Reading story after story, I was transported back to the Cold War, a dangerous time, for sure, but also a time that, considering the threats and suffering of today, now seems almost quaint, kind of innocent.
However, for me, the most fascinating and moving part of Robert’s life story was the early years.
Robert notes that in the late 1800s his Polish grandmother came from Poland to Baltimore on a Hamburg-American Line ship. And in 1978, her grandson was appointed the US cultural attaché in Berlin.
That’s an almost unimaginable leap in just two generations.
As Robert writes, it was “quite an American family ride.”
And that leap, Robert’s “way,” was only possible because his grandparents and parents worked so hard under often grueling conditions, sacrificing their own lives, really, for the future, for his future – for the future of a bookish kid – the future of a brainy boy.
That’s what love looks like.
A kind of footwashing, really.
And Robert’s leap, Robert’s way, was only possible because of his own talent and hard work, and because others were willing to mentor and encourage him.
I think especially of Fr. Gibbons at Loyola College who set the course of Robert’s professional life, really, encouraging him to apply to the Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies.
(How amazing that Robert was the first Loyola grad to be admitted!)
Fr. Gibbons encouraged him to think big, to be bold, to explore the world beyond Baltimore, and to use his talents in service to others.
And that’s just what Robert did during his long and adventurous life in so many countries around the world.
And now, Robert has made one last journey, traveling to what Shakespeare called “the undiscovered country.”
Robert has arrived at the place of reunion, the place of peace, the place that the Prophet Isaiah imagined as a big mountaintop party with the best food and drink on the menu, forever and ever.
For us, however, the journey continues.
Fortunately, we know the way.
It’s the way that Robert learned from some hardworking people.
It’s the way of love and service.
Amen.
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