We all have drop-everything films, those which we choose to watch because we have nothing better to do, which is every time it's on. One of mine is The Magnificent Seven.
Someone did a remake of it a few years ago, with Denzel Washington, and it was a nice try. But for my care, I watch the one with Yul Brynner, Steve McQueen, James Coburn, Charles Bronson, and a few others, fashioned loosely from The Seven Samurai, a film by Akiro Kurosawa.
I'm guessing you know the base story: A bunch of otherwise ne'er-do-wells, down on their luck and seeking new adventures, agree to be paid not much money for a daunting task: Defending a small Mexican town (it's a regrettable aspect of the story that Hispanics are stereotypically depicted so weakly, an awful comment on white supremacy) from a bandido and his dozens of minions, who have a history of gaining a steady income through expropriating whatever the poor citizens have gotten from the soil through their back-breaking work--turning it into something of a company town.
There's a scene in the middle where, after descending upon the town as crusaders of a sort, the Seven are betrayed by the locals, who have been promised things that can't be delivered in order that the bandidos will reign supreme (sort of like ex- promising rich businesspeople huge tax cuts, which he can't guarantee, in order for giving him $1B for his campaign. But I digress.). They are ambushed, but not murdered, a gratefully naive moment orchestrated by the chief bandido, played with otherwise gnarly rottenness by Eli Wallach. "The guns, they stay here," he says to them, tapping the table, allowing them to escape with their lives.
But before they go, he wants to know why these otherwise very savvy men, men who have been around the block a few times, men who take guff from no one, ever wanted to take on such a ridiculous, hopeless, hapless job in a fit of righteousness. McQueen provides the answer.
"Once knew a guy in El Paso who took off his clothes and jumped into a pile of cactus and I asked him why," McQueen says. "Know what he said?"
Wallach leans in. "What?"
McQueen says, "He said, 'It seemed like a good idea at the time.' "
I can relate to that. That, in summary, is why I've decided to serve my congregation as a recycled deacon. I also did it some quarter of a century ago. The world, my world, has changed, and not particularly for the better. Someone thought they needed me to serve again, though. I had no idea they remembered my previous service. But okay. I'll accept this opportunity, this second chance as it were, to do good.
I am not unlike the Seven: I've been in a few places where I ruled the day, emerging as something of a risk-taking gunslinger, inspiring both admiration and fear. But that was long, long ago in a universe far, far away: At least it seems like it now. I helped a few people, as I meant to from the start, but I also served myself quite nicely. The emphasis this time will be on the former and reducing the latter.
Becoming a deacon makes you make a promise that you, yourself, always come second, always and every time. If there is some discomfort that comes from that, well, that's part of what you take on, too. But people in need never go away, be it just for some company and acknowledgement of their humanity. You give them what I now know I lack in large amount: Time.
I've been through some discomfort lately. Hoo man, have I ever. And deacons reached me. I felt the caring. I mean to extend it. I'm lucky, in my unluckiness, that my medical issues have brought it about just as I enter my second round of service.
As devotees of the movie know, the Seven return to save the day at the cost of some of their lives. I now have no idea how long I'll last: my triple by-pass has needed to be buttressed with a pacemaker. The clock ticks. Though I don't think I was bad at being a deacon way back when, I'll be better at it this time. I'll be better at self-care, too. This will be one way to do it.
I am not holy. Not even close. My maladies have prevented me from being in church a lot lately, too. But I can still be helpful. I'm grateful for this chance. Contrary to the film, there will be no dynamic music resonating in the background. Showing up will be the point.
The service of humanity is the service of God. That much I know. I recall back in the day, I was asked to lead a prayer prior to one of our monthly deacons' meetings. I thought it would be good to point out Kennedy's final statement of his famous inauguration speech: "Here on earth, God's work must truly be our own." I'm all for that, before I ride into the sunset.
Be well. Be careful. With some luck, I'll see you down the road.
Mister Mark
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