I remember years ago, a young man came to see me. He had that same question. He was worried. He was a recent convert to Christianity. He had grown up in another religion all his life. He was concerned. And he came into my office with a sad expression on his face; downcast eyes, which I was to learn was a common expression for him. What he was worried about was this: he was a Christian now, and he was glad of it, but his family was not. They had not made this conversion. And so his purpose in coming to see me today was to ask the question, "Well, does this mean that my family, the people that I love, are doomed? Does it mean that they’ll be burning in hell? Does it mean that because I have not been able to convince them to take the step that I have taken that this means I am responsible for their ultimate fate? And does it mean that it is certain to be an unhappy one?"

As he talked, I came to realize that he wasn’t just talking about his family. As he talked on and we talked on about the church’s teaching about salvation, about what heaven might be like, about the desire to be with God., I could see that he didn’t seem to be feeling better, that his face still drooped, that his eyes were still downcast. I could see that he was talking about more than just the people he loved, that he was in fact still talking about himself. He had made this big step in his life, but he had brought himself with him into his new faith. He had brought himself with him. Well, we do bring ourselves with us.

I began to see he had embraced his faith from a spirit of fear and that perhaps that spirit of fear was an old enemy for him and a familiar one. I began to see that we all bring ourselves with us into whatever faith or experience we currently embrace. I came to see that he would need to bring that spirit of fear into the presence of God, that just converting was not enough to banish it. He needed to present the actual spirit of fear to God and say, "Please transform it, heal it. Please allow me to live fully in the faith that I have embraced. Please allow me to feel the joy that is promised to the children of God. Please allow me to know that I am not doomed, that I am not doomed to live out the same fearful existence I had before with the only difference being that I call myself a Christian now. Help me begin to broaden my view of what it might mean to know myself, to be a child of the living God."

Will the number of the saved be few? That is, am I among them? Will the number of the saved be few? That is, how can I tell? How can I tell by looking either in the mirror or out on the street? Who is among those chosen to live with God in eternal happiness forever and who might be among those fearful people chosen to be outcast from that?

It hurt me to hear his fear, to hear his sorrow about his family certainly, but also his uncertainty about himself. It hurt me to hear it because I have heard it before and I have come to think that it is hurtful to us ask such a question. We have not always seen happy results from people who are too certain that they and they alone are among God’s elect. We have seen where that can lead for an individual or for a group of people.

When the people ask Jesus, "Will the number of the saved be few?" he replies in a strange way. He said, "You’ll see me. You’ll see Abraham and Isaac and Jacob within the kingdom of God and you’ll be missing from it. And you will say, ‘Well, you taught in our streets, you ate and drank with us.’" But it was not enough just to be a part of the group. What was necessary was to desire, to long to be with Jesus. That was what was required. And so the people were offended by that as we are sometimes offended when the suggestion is made that it is not always clear who is among the elect when we fall victim to the ancient human tendency to surround ourselves with people like us. It is a very short walk from there to the faulty assumption that only people like us will be saved. Very easy for us to think that we can tell, tell by looking, tell by natural affinity or pleasing appearance, who is among the blessed of God. But God, Jesus says all the time, over and over again, does not count membership as the first thing to be concerned with, does not count who you are or what you are, but rather counts what you do. He says, "Did you feed the naked? Did you give water to the thirsty? Did you take care of the poor?" And when we say, "Well, actually no, I didn’t do any of those things. I was busy avoiding things. I avoided people who were sinful. I was too busy doing that to actually do anything, but mostly what I have done is remain away and clean."

Well, then God says to us, "Well, then I think you have more to do, don’t you?"

The duty of faith, the sign of membership in the kingdom of God, is that you make the world around you more Godly, that you make the world better, and spread love and joy where you are. It is a positive thing and not a negative thing. Things that we do and are, rather things that we avoid and are not. What did you do? Not, what did you not do?

The young man will be able to tell whether he is among the number of the saved by the growth of joy in his heart. And he will grow the joy in his heart by partaking of a life that does not shrink away, but grows; that does not fear, but longs to give and gives joyously. The children of God are happier here because they divest themselves continually of all the fears and the cares that surround us when we cling to our privilege, to the things we think we need. When we do that, we are not free. When we assume that God distrusts the same people we distrust; when we assume that because we are distrustful, because we are fearful, that God mirrors our behavior, we render God smaller than we know God to be. God is better than we are. And God is bigger. God’s love is greater than the greatest of human love. But the love of God in us makes our human love bigger and bigger and more joyful and better. So that even if we are not now in the kingdom of heaven, we have made the domain of Earth that God has given into our care for a brief time, better, happier, and more saved. Amen.

Interview with Barbara Crafton
Interviewed by Lydia Talbot

Lydia Talbot: Barbara, your message was a critical assurance that we need to hear, especially in the aftermath of the tragedies at the World Trade Center that you witnessed. The spirit of fear, you are saying, in terms of faith, has got to be examined and we must address our faith instead from a spirit of the love of God.

Barbara Crafton: That’s really true. Fear can kill and we have seen it kill. We must stand on the side of light. In order for us to do that we must believe in the love of God and not fear punishment from God.

Talbot: You are wounded by the tragedy and devastation that you have seen in New York City. You have put your body there in solidarity with those who are suffering. You are ministering and you continue to minister to them. Can you tell us about that experience?

Crafton: I think we all are, and the whole nation. But in New York we are more preoccupied with it because we can’t avoid it. The smell of it hangs over the city. The signs of it are everywhere. The sirens of the fire engines going back and forth from the site to stations and hospitals. The churches there are mobilized to deal with the needs of the rescuers. And now, sadly, [the needs] of the recovery workers as rescue is no longer a realistic expectation.

Talbot: You lost an entire fire department division near your church.

Crafton: That’s true. The one nearest us, they all died. And the one next nearest, half of them died. And that was not unusual. So brave, so inspiring. There is something so Christ-like about a firefighter because he lives so close with the possibility of martyrdom and yet they are young and strong. They are the ones who have everything to live for in life and yet willingly lay it down.

Talbot: The wounded healer; the suffering servant. Barbara, you have said that only the faith community can give voice to hope and sorrow at the same time.

Crafton: Yes. And that’s what has to happen. The sorrow has to be expressed, it can’t be swept under the rug or it can’t be whistled away. It does have to be accepted and acknowledged and spoken. And it is profound sorrow. I think everyone in New York is near tears most of the time. But it’s the faith community that can in the same breath ask, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" and still be confident that God hasn’t forsaken us; still see the signs of God’s love everywhere and they are everywhere in the midst of this terrible, terrible tragedy.

Talbot: Because the alternative to hope is despair and fatalism. But, Barbara, you are of the theatrical community. You are an artist, you’re an actress, yourself a writer, producer, director and a woman in the pulpit every Sunday morning as well. Tell us the stories there about how the artistic community is ministering.

Crafton: We are good at that because we are trained to reveal secrets that others keep hidden because they look funny, they are undignified. But an actor is a clown, is a one-dimensional villain, is a totally sad thing or a wonderful, complex mix of all of those things. And the actors job is to make the audience feel. And so if we can help them feel and express things that most people have a hard time expressing or even naming, it’s such a good thing to do. One of our young ladies is in the current production of Forty Second Street on Broadway. And this wonderful chestnut of a play that has delighted audiences for many, many, many years had just opened this season. She was praying in the chapel that all of the companies would not close, that all of these people would not be deprived of their livelihood, but also of the chance to do what they do well and that is to make people more joyous just for a little while.

Talbot: And that’s what you have done with us today, Barbara Crafton. The theater is coming alive again in New York City.

Crafton: Yes, it is.

Talbot: And faith and St. Clement’s Church is part of that.

Crafton: We’re still here!