St. Andrew's-Wesley United Church

Rev. Gary Paterson

March 21, 2010

Now, I don’t usually use props in a sermon, but our guest today, Mr. Ryan Bingham, from Career Transition Counselling, in Omaha Nebraska, is unable to be with us this morning. Perhaps he’s been caught up in a snowstorm somewhere in the eastern half of the continent – aren’t you glad you live in Vancouver? Or maybe he is too busy telling yet some more people that their jobs no longer exist, and they will be joining the ranks of the unemployed, starting tomorrow. So here I am, packsack in hand, ready to offer you a little motivational talk. Just pretend that you are listening to the dulcet tones of Mr. Clooney… I mean, Mr. Bingham. If only, eh…?

So thank you for coming. Now, I want you to imagine that you can fit your life into this backpack. Start with the little things… the knick-knacks from your shelves, the books, the linen, the china, pots and pans; add the TV, your bed; throw in the car, then the home… and the mortgage. All the stuff of your life. Now, hoist this pack onto your shoulders… feel the straps biting in, weighing you down. Heavy, isn’t it? Can you move? How much does your life weigh? I’ll bet you can hardly take a step into your future. And remember, as Ryan Bingham says, “The slower we move the faster we die.”

Now, take that bulging, overflowing backpack off… and burn it! Yes, that’s right! Dump everything out, jettison the load, get rid of it. Feels pretty good, yes? Exhilarating, even? Lighter, freer, up in the air… so to speak. Reminds me of a parable… the one you just heard. There was a rich man… had lots of stuff; kept wanting more; worried about where he was going to keep it all, save it all, never sure he had enough. And then, unexpectedly… “You Fool… this very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, where will they be?” So it’s not the packsack of stuff that gets burned; it’s you. Game over.

Who would have thought that a movie like “Up in the Air” was a gospel parable? But before you go too far down that road, let me introduce you to the second part of Ryan Bingham’s talk… with your newly emptied packsack now being filled up with people. Start first with your photo albums… right at the bottom – as Ryan says, “Photos are for people who can’t remember.” Then add your casual acquaintances, your neighbours and your friends. Then throw in your family… the parents if they’re still alive, those sibs that you always had a tough time getting on with, the nephews and nieces; add your girlfriend/boyfriend, your husband or wife; and then for full measure, right there at the top, include the kids. And once again, try and hoist that pack onto your pack. As Mr. Bingham maintains, relationships are the heaviest part of our lives; just think of all the negotiations, the compromises, the secrets… the responsibilities. Ask yourself again, “How much does my life weigh?” -- and remember, “The slower you move, the faster you die.”

Meet Ryan Bingham, the guru of nonattachment, the unencumbered life. Footloose and fancy free, travelling light and fast. And boy, sometimes it really does appeal. Reminds me of a poem… it’s called… get this… “Poetry of Departures;” by Philip Larkin:

Sometimes you hear, fifth hand,

As epitaph:

He chucked up everything

And just cleared off.

And always the voice will sound

Certain you approve

This audacious, purifying,

Elemental move.

And they are right, I think.

We all hate home

And having to be there:

I detest my room,

Its specially-chosen junk,

The good books, the good bed,

And my life, in perfect order:

So to hear it said

He walked out on the whole crowd

Leaves me flushed and stirred,

Like Then she undid her dress

Or Take that you bastard;

Surely I can, if he did?

And that helps me stay

Sober and industrious.

But I’d go today,

Yes, swagger the nut-strewn roads,

Crouch in the fo’c’sle

Stubbly with goodness, if

It weren’t so artificial

Such a deliberate step backwards

To create an object:

Books; china; a life

Reprehensibly perfect.

Adventure; freedom; pleasure… just chuck all those life-limiting responsibilities; call it a midlife crisis; call it anything, but just go for it. Flushed and stirred… can you feel it? Except… except… so artificial, such a deliberate step backward… ‘cause once you’ve walked out on the whole crowd… then what? It’s the same you.

Well, if you want to know what such a life might look like, then take a good look at Ryan Bingham, especially as he is played by the affable, handsome, sleek and totally engaging George Clooney. Oh, don’t we love the man! He travels… a lot. Three hundred and twenty-two days of the year, with only forty-three miserable days at home. Yes indeed. He loves the airport, business class, Hilton hotels, shiny bars, taxis, rent-a-cars, good restaurants and one-night stands. As he says, “To know me is to fly with me – this is where I live.”

His job is of a piece with the character… a logical extension. Ryan Bingham is a road warrior, a terminator; he travels around the country telling people they are fired, doing the dirty work for bosses who are too chicken to do the deed themselves. “You’re finished; no more pay cheque; no more health insurance….” – God’s blessing on our American neighbours today as Congress takes its vote. He does it so smoothly, so bloodlessly, with an understanding smile, a gentle nod, a few words “Think of this as a golden opportunity for new adventures… just chuck it all out and go swagger the nut-strewn roads. Oh, and by the way, please give me your card key and clear out your personal belongings… today. Thank you. Next….” He smiles…he delights in what he does, and maybe it’s because it’s George Clooney, you can’t help but like the guy.

Now, “Up in the Air” isn’t an “issue film” – although it is a searing indictment of corporate America and greed and alienation. But instead it’s a comedy, a romantic comedy at that, wrapped up with a “coming-of-age” story. So you laugh; you laugh until it hurts. Hurts, because here and there, now and then, you catch glimpses of something dark and sad; self-irony, which Ryan has in spades, only goes so far… and then you discover emptiness. The film keeps you flying along, the audience laughing its way to a good time… hey, pass the popcorn. But those other images… they stick with you. Like Ryan’s apartment in Omaha… no wonder his forty-three days home are miserable; so white and empty… makes a hotel room look warm and cozy. Or what about those opening clips of people who had been fired; talking heads, reacting, hurting, trying to make sense. I found out later that most weren’t professional actors; they were the real McCoy, women and men who had recently been fired. Who knew very personally what they were talking about. Faces like that, they have a way of staying with; and you think to yourself, this isn’t funny, really. Ryan terminates people… as he says, “We take people at their most vulnerable and set them adrift.” So what’s the difference between being up in the air … or lost? Or then there’s the airmiles… Ryan’s drive to arrive in the super-elite club by collecting ten million points… and the surreal moment of victory. Like, what does it profit a man if he earn ten million air miles, and loses his soul? Fool….

Makes you wonder what you want to put into your backpack… yours, I mean; or more candidly, my own. What do I believe needs to go in my backpack? What’s important? The gospel parable ends up talking about being “rich in what matters to God”… what’s important is not all the stuff we can collect, from air miles to money, but figuring out what matters to God, and making sure that that’s what our life’s backpack is full of, at least mostly.

Maybe the first task is to figure out what does matter to God… and to you. Sometimes it takes a crisis to clarify things; those moments when your life shifts, things fall apart, change. Crises come in many different shapes and sizes – health, work, family, money, war… but in this movie, for Ryan, they arrive with a couple of women. Natalie is the first… and her last name, Keener, says it all… twenty-three, a hot shot graduate from Cornell, who decides that the termination process can be made much for efficient and cost-effective if it’s all done by teleconferencing. Who needs to meet face-to-face… that’s expensive, and sometimes messy. All of sudden Ryan catches a glimpse of himself… back then. Only Natalie appears to be even more of a shark than he ever was; she is likely to be the one that terminates Ryan… not for any personal reasons, you understand, it’s just that the job isn’t needed anymore.

And then there’s Alex… ah… beautiful Alex… Ryan’s equivalent and equal in wit, sexual flexibility and non-commitment. “I am the woman you don’t have to worry about; think of me as yourself only…” – well, go see the film. You’ll understand why Ryan begins to fall for her… and what’s that all about, he asks himself. It’s a crisis all right… and it forces Ryan, and us, to re-consider what needs to go in the backpack.

There are hints in the movie, suggestions of an answer to that question. There’s Ryan’s hunger for human connection, his tentative vulnerability… for all his fine lines, and smooth style, loneliness opens up on screen. Or what about the scene where Ryan is called on to motivate his sister’s fiancé when he gets cold feet on the day of the marriage? All a little strange since, as Ryan points out, he’s a master of non-commitment… sort of the wrong guy for the task. But he asks his sister’s fiancé to think about the most important moments of his life, the most memorable, and ends by saying, “And were you alone when those moments happened?” But then, just to keep you laughing, the director adds another image, as Ryan continues, “Think of my sister as your co-pilot; we all need a copilot,” says Ryan. Which does the trick, and sends the young man back to his true love, full of apology, and a new proposal, “Ah honey, will you be my co-pilot?” (It works for him, but I wouldn’t recommend it as a great will-you-marry-me line.) Or what about the discovery that Natalie up and quit when confronted by the suicide of one of the women she has terminated… in the full sense of that word, no? Or the clips of the unemployed at the film’s end, quick snippets of people sharing how they survived being fired, how they got through the crisis. There’s a lot of talk about friends, family… people. You watch this movie, and you’re going to learn a lot about what matters to God.

So… again… your backpack… what comes out? What goes in? How to be rich in what matters to God? Could do worse that hang on to words from the prophet Micah… “What does God require of us but to do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with God.” Justice, kindness, and walking humbly with the Spirit -- think about these words when we sing them at the end of the service, as we get sent out into the world. How to fill my backpack with what matters to God? I think of Raymond Carver, in his final collection of poetry, “Towards the Waterfall”… his final collection because he was dying of cancer. A short poem, which I’ve shared with you before….

And did you get what

you wanted from this life, even so?

I did.

And what did you want?

To call myself beloved, to feel myself

beloved on the earth.

The movie ends with a question mark, up in the air so to speak. Where will Ryan go? What happens now? How heavy is his backpack, and what’s in it? Is there room for a lot of love… if it’s heavy with love, maybe that’s just another way of saying that you’re rich in what matters to God, feeling yourself beloved on earth.