United Methodist Church Hyde Park, NY

 PASS IT ON
John 13:31-35
 
They had run out of gas on the interstate. “Must be something wrong with the gas gauge,” she said to the two women in her car. “I’ll get out and try to flag someone down.” Hundreds of cars rushed by her until finally an old Ford Escort pulled over behind her car. Her friends inside cautioned her: “Be careful. Talk to him first to see if he can be trusted.” The stranger walking toward her was a young man with a close-cropped beard. He said he didn’t have much time to help, but he’d try. As they talked, she noticed that around his neck he wore a cross of nails. She decided to trust. He drove her to the nearest exit where she purchased some gas. Then he drove up the opposite side of the interstate until he could exit and head back down to where her car was located. The woman was so appreciative of his kindness that she offered to pay him something, but he refused.
 
“I insist,” she said, the money in her hand.
 
“I wouldn’t think of it,” the young man replied. “Besides, you were the one – when my car was once stuck in a snow bank – who helped to dig me out.”
 
“You must be mistaken,” she said. “I’ve never met you before in my life!”
 
“No, it was you. You stopped to help when I needed it most.”
 
“I’m quite sure I’ve never helped anyone out of the snow,” she replied. “But tell me, how can we ever thank you enough for what you did for us today?”
 
“You can’t,” he smiled. “Just pass it on.”
 
A year later, a young girl with ebony eyes was riding her new ten-speed bike across town to the home of her best friend. She never saw the rock that skidded her tires sideways and pitched her headfirst onto the pavement. Her arms and legs were badly scraped. She was old enough not to cry, but she wanted to very badly. Her face winced in pain.
 
A woman working in her front yard who had seen the accident rushed into the street to aid her. She helped the girl limp back to the woman’s house and sat her in a comfortable chair on the porch. The woman went in and out the front door as she waited on the girl with ice and bandages and lemonade and phoned the girl’s parents.
 
When the mother of the girl arrived, she was so appreciative of the woman’s kindness that she offered to pay her something. But the woman refused. “I insist,” the mother said, the money in her hand. “I wouldn’t think of it,” the woman replied. “Besides, it was you – when I was once stranded on the interstate – who took me to get gas.”
 
“You must be mistaken,” the mother said. “I’ve never met you before in my life.”
 
“No, it was you. You stopped to help when I needed it most.”
“I’m quite sure I’ve never helped anyone who ran out of gas,” the mother replied. “But tell me, how can we ever thank you enough for what you did for us today?”
 
“You can’t,” the woman smiled. “Just pass it on.”
 
A year later, a young man in his downtown office was venting to someone over the phone about how he had misplaced not only his appointment book but also his working notebooks for a major project due at the end of the month. As he put down the phone, he noticed a little girl with ebony eyes standing in the doorway of this office. He invited her in. “Can I help you with something?”
 
“I thought you might want this.” She opened up the backpack she was holding and pulled out some papers.
 
“My project files! And my calendar! Where did you find them?”
 
“You know the new shops out by the river? They were next to the sidewalk.”
 
“Of course!” the man said. “I was out there the day before yesterday. But how did you know where to find me?”
 
“I just looked in one of the reports.”
 
“But how did you get all the way down here?”
 
“I rode my ten-speed.”
 
“You are really something! Do you have any idea how much time and trouble you’ve saved me?” He was so appreciative that he offered to pay her something, but she refused.
 
“I insist,” he said, the money in his hand.
 
“I wouldn’t think of it,” she replied. “Besides, you were the one – when I once fell off my bike – who gave me lemonade and bandaged my cuts.”
 
“You must be mistaken,” the young man replied. “I’ve never seen you before in my life!”
 
“No, it was you. You stopped to help when I needed it most.”
 
“I’m quite sure that I’ve never helped anyone who’s fallen off a bike. But tell me, how can I ever thank you enough for what you did for me today?”
 
Before she could answer, the young man interrupted. “Wait! Me? I know. You’re going to say . . . I can’t thank you, but that I should just pass it on. Right?”
 
Surprised, the girl asked, “How did you know?”
The young man fingered the cross that he wore around his neck and smiled. “Oh, just a lucky guess.”
 
Generally in this life when we are debtors, the creditors don’t let us forget it. We have developed a lifestyle of ledger keeping where the books must be balanced and everyone to get their due of money or goods or deeds or time. But Jesus said that love does not look for a return on its investment. Rather, love is like a pebble that is dropped in placid water, starting a ripple of concentric circles that keep enlarging and extending outward. It is something to be passed on.
 
Jesus wanted his disciples to understand how to live. It was so important to him that it was nearly the last thing he told them before his death. He challenged them to demonstrate to the world the power of love. “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another,” he instructed. Those who have experienced his love are to pass it on to others. This love commandment is both the center of Jesus’ teaching and the center of Christian life.
 
I read of a young orphaned boy who was raised on a vegetable farm by a childless couple. From the time David was seven years old they provided for him diligently. He never called them father and mother, because they wanted him not to forget his birth parents. They were aunt and uncle to him.
 
When David was ready to leave for college, he grabbed his uncle’s rough hands in his smooth ones and asked: “How can I ever begin to repay you two for what you’ve done for me?”
 
Uncle Asher spoke gently: “David, there is a saying: ‘The love of parents goes to their children, but the love of these children goes to their children.’”
 
David protested at that philosophy. He wanted to try to repay them. Then his aunt beautifully clarified the thought. “David, what your Uncle Asher means is that a parent’s love isn’t to be paid back; it can only be passed on.”
 
Not to be paid back, but to be passed on. In the very last chapter of John’s gospel, the resurrected Christ reiterated the lesson of the love commandment for the disciple Simon Peter. Following breakfast on the beach, Jesus asked, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Without hesitation, Peter answered, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” Jesus replied: “Feed my lambs.” The same question was asked three times. Peter answered affirmatively three times. And Jesus responded three times with a command to feed the lambs, tend the sheep, feed the sheep. All the love that Jesus had for Peter, all the years of learning at Jesus’ side – would not be paid back to the Lord directly. No, this love was to be passed on to others in Jesus’ name.
 
So it is for us. All the gifts of Christ’s caring cannot be paid back directly. You and I are all debtors to his love, but don’t worry about paying it back . . . just pass it on.