“Bakers’ Dozens – Everyday Saints” -- sermon 10/31/10

The Letter to the Hebrews was probably written in the late first century, although the scholars cannot determine who wrote it or to whom. In any event, it seems that the purpose of the letter was to exhort the community to be faithful, in part by remembering the example of those who had gone before. (read Hebrews 11:32-12:2)

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            Today, as you cannot help but notice, is Halloween, and what a great day that is, as any one who is a kid these days can tell you, and probably anyone who ever was a kid can tell you as well! I would guess we all have memories of getting dressed up in that special Halloween costume – my favorite was at a party after college, when I went as the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz, the one who wished he had a brain, and ended up with a Th.D – a doctorate of thinkology. And then there is the candy – I still get excited about the candy, and my kids have learned to hide their hoard when they get home. Especially the Dots.

            But today we also celebrate All Saints Day, and while we don’t get the candy, we do get something special – a day on which we can remember, as we sang earlier, “all the saints who from their labors rest.” 

            And who are these saints? The saints we remember are not just the capital “St.” saints, the ones from the early church with the “St.” in front of their names, the St. Marks and St. Theresas etc. No, when we remember the saints, we remember not just those specially called out as such, and not just those who are remembered as being especially “saintly”, but all the members of the church universal in every time and place – and not just the dead ones, whose names we read out each All Saints Day, but those who live today, the members of the church.

            We often tend to remember those saints who stand out in memory because of their remarkable deeds of faith, just like those mentioned by the author of the Letter to the Hebrews: the ones who toppled kingdoms, made justice work, resisted torture to the end, endured incredible hardship. But today, I want us to think more of what some might call everyday saints, the just plain folk who walk the streets with us or maybe even join us at the dinner table. And, in particular, the ones who, by their humble example, might make it a bit easier for us to imagine ourselves as those who others might look up to because of our faith and the way we live it out.

            Perhaps this is all because two of those folk came to my house for dinner a couple weeks ago, up visiting Cape Cod from their home outside Philadelphia.  Charlie and Weezie Baker are of my parents’ generation, and they were my parents’ friends when I was a teen. For my part, I was friends with their elder son, Pitman, and we had lots of fun times together, many of them revolving around an old Ford Econoline van that he restored, complete with captain’s chairs up front, shag carpet, a poker table, a small refrigerator, a platform bed, and of course some curtains for privacy. Pitman had (and still has) a younger brother, Justin, who was a few years younger than us. Justin was a nice enough kid, but he was, well, he was different.

You see, Justin almost died at birth, and as a result experienced uncontrolled seizures and learning disabilities. The epileptic seizures worsened as he grew older, and Charlie and Weezie went from doctor to doctor in a vain search for a cure, and Justin went from school to school, where the combination of learning disabilities and seizures and frustration at being smart enough to know that he should have been doing better all combined to prevent him from finding a suitable situation. So at age 16 they took Justin out of school, and for the next three years he was employed at the small company Charlie owned as a gofer. But when Charlie had to sell the business three years later, they found that no one would hire Justin.

When Charlie sold the business, he kept one product line, a product called Nonequal Furniture Polish. So they hired a college student to help, and Justin and his cohort started mixing the polish in the family garage. They then sold it to family and friends and anyone else who heard about it, which mostly happened through word of mouth. Later, a friend offered them free space at his business, and over time, more people were hired: one suffered from head trauma, another was epileptic, some had mental health problems. Charlie and Weezie eventually formed a 501©(3) corporation, and made two key decisions: not to take government funds to support the operation, and not to derive personal financial gain from what had been come to be called Baker Industries. To this day Charlie has not taken a salary from the business.

Over time they branched out to take on other work to keep all the people they were hiring busy, undertaking packaging operations for a manufacturer, matching checks to statements for a large mutual fund, repackaging rolls of paper towels to sell to club stores like Costco, making Styrofoam end pieces to package toner cartridge, anything that they could find.

Over the past 29 years – years when by rights Charlie and Weezie should have been enjoying retirement – they have stayed true to their mission, a mission which started with their one, seemingly unemployable son. And that mission is to employ those who have the most difficulty in getting and holding jobs, to teach the work ethic through real world experience, to act as a transition step toward outside employment, and to help those who are unable to move on to reach their highest level of achievement.

            That mission is to help people like Kim. Through some unknown trauma she had stopped talking; the most they could get out of her was an occasional whisper. They put Kim to work making beeswax candles, which Kim proved very adept at, and over time her supervisor worked on drawing Kim out, until one day she finally began to speak. She improved so dramatically that they promoted Kim to receptionist (did you get that? The woman who once could not speak became the receptionist?!). Kim went on to be employed by a nursing home.

            That mission is to help people like Vince. His youth was without direction: theft, drugs, alcohol, a downward spiral that led to eight years in prison. In prison he surrendered his life to the Lord and began the long road back, but on release found he could not get a job. The halfway house that he lived in connected him with Baker Industries, and he entered their work rehabilitation program. His energy and commitment to improve soon led him to the position of quality inspector at the plant, and after a time he took another position at an outside firm, where he was promoted to supervisor.

            Justin, Kim, Vince, just three of the people whose lives were changed by Weezie and Charlie Baker. Today, Baker Industries employs over 200 people.

            The world will say that Charlie and Weezie Baker don’t get it. Everyone knows, it is a mathematical certainty, that there are twelve to a dozen. But just as a Baker’s Dozen means that a dozen is never just twelve, that there is always room for one more, Charlie and Weezie believe that while society thinks there is only enough room for the “normal”, God calls us – and love requires us -- to make room for more – for the handicapped, the homeless, the recovering substance abusers, those on probation or parole. And the Bakers not only believe, they act on that belief, they live it out daily, and surely they sacrifice in living out their faith just as those heroes of the faith named in the Letter to the Hebrews did.

            The communion of saints of which we are all members is marked by those heroes of old like Samson and Samuel and Deborah and David and Peter and Augustine and Martin Luther and Elizabeth Crocker Jenkins.

And it is hallowed by those everyday saints like Charlie and Weezie Baker.

And yet it is also peopled by all those who sat on the sidelines risking nothing, who tossed water on the Spirit’s fire every chance that they got, who were content to count their blessings even as countless others held their hands out in need.

            So here, today, in our celebrations of All Saints Day, perhaps we would do well to take stock. What will be our legacy? Will we leave a legacy of justice or will we leave a bequest of selfishness? Will the inscription on our tombstone read, “He was always willing to serve”, or simply, “I got mine”? Will we be content to sit on our hands, or will we, O saints of God, rise up, and will we stand tall, and will we brace our shoulders to God’s work of living out our love for our neighbors, so that someday those who come behind us will have those shoulders to stand on?

            O saints of God, what will it be for you?

            Let us pray. Gracious and calling God, you set before each of us the ways of life and death, and in this life offer each of us our own unique challenges and opportunities, together with the gifts needed to rise to them. And yet you leave it to us to choose. Encouraged by the examples of those who have gone before and those who walk besides us each day, grant that we might choose your ways, and serve your people, that it not be said that for the want of love a soul was lost. Amen.