The "Queen" is Dead

She was born on the Fourth of July, grew up in Brooklyn, and as a young woman, worked as a model. She would marry three times and give birth to one son. She would become a billionaire and reign over some of New York’s most iconic properties (like the Empire State Building). Demanding. Proud. Volatile. That’s how her friends described her. She died a few days ago, at the age of 87. Her name was Leona Mindy Rosenthal Roberts Panzirer Lubin Helmsley. “The Queen of Mean,” for short.

Leona was already a millionaire when she caught the eye of New York property tycoon Harry Helmsley in the early 1970’s. He divorced his wife of 33 years to marry her—and, together, they amassed an astonishing fortune. Leona Helmsley became a household name in the 1980’s, when she became the poster child for the couple’s signature hotel chain. with her imperial gaze and perfectly coiffed hair staring from the Helmsley Palace Hotel print ads, the copy read, “the only palace in the world where the queen herself stands guard.” Her stare made knees knock.

In time, Leona was charged with tax evasion. Convicted of evading $4 million in taxes, she paid a $7.1 million fine and spent 21 months in jail. Her husband, long in poor health, died in 1997.

During Leona’s celebrated trial, a slate of witnesses testified that she was haughty, cruel, and heartless. Unforgettably, a housekeeper, under oath, said that Mrs. Helmsley once remarked, “Only the little people pay taxes.” One wag contributing to this week’s New York Times blog on her passing, caustically observed, “Maybe she’s now being told that only the little people make it into heaven.” She was not famous for being loved, or for being loving.

In recent years, she did make some substantial gifts to charity: $25 million to a Presbyterian Hospital and $5 million to Hurricane Katrina relief, for example. But her estate is estimated to be between $4-5 billion.

And, in her will, she left $12 million to her dog—well, actually to a trust to take care of her dog. Her dog? Yep—an eight-year-old Maltese named Trouble. Trouble was, apparently, her closest friend and most valued companion.

She left $10 million to her aged brother and $10 million each to two grandsons. She declined to leave anything to her other two grandchildren, simply stating she did not “for reasons known to them.” Leona’s only child (the father of her four grandchildren) died suddenly at age 42 of a heart attack, in 1982. Most of the estate will be transferred to the Helmsley Charitable Trust. No one knows how it will be disbursed. So far, the dog is the big winner.

Following her death, Donald Trump summed up her life this way: “(She) was definitely one of a kind. Harry (her husband) loved being with her and the excitement she brought and that is all that really matters.”

All that really matters? Ouch. But, then, that’s the Donald talking.

Of course, it’s very possible that Mrs. Helmsley has been grossly misunderstood in all of the hullabaloo that surrounded her heyday in the headlines. Nobody is a cardboard cut-out, a one-dimensional villain or hero. We’re all a complex weave. Clearly she was a success in business. There’s no question that she was devoted to her husband Harry. And to Trouble, the dog.

Five billion dollars. Eighty-seven years. Thousands of employees. Four fabulous homes. A private jet. Jewelery to rival the crowned heads of Europe. Four grandchildren—two of whom have been written out of the will and two others that get less than the dog. Sad.

Like all of us, Leona leaves everything behind, as she moves from this world to the next. She had a lot more money to leave behind than the rest of us combined. But, what about the riches that really matter? And, what about the Lord’s review at the Judgment Day (as recorded in Matthew 25), “...when I was hungry you fed me, when I was naked, you clothed me...”? What about treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust can destroy? And, what about “where your treasure is there will your heart be also?”

I can’t speak for Leona. She’ll have to cover those bases for herself. But, I will have to speak for myself. And, I hope, that Genesis-the-Wonder-Dog will not then be front and center in the discussion of my legacy. May it be said at our passing that there is no doubt about our destiny, because we lived and loved in such a way that we were, unmistakably, the Lord’s own. May we seize every day, spend every dollar, and invest in every relationship, for the good. For Heaven’s sake. May we be famed for building God’s kingdom, not our fortunes. May we be deeply loved because we loved deeply. May we be remembered for our kindness and grace. Like Jesus has been.

I love you, Madison Park Church. I am sorry for you, Leona—and for those who held you dear.

Unlikely Inspiration

I’ve had a lot of feedback from last Sunday’s message, in which I described a chapter in John Lennon’s spiritual journey that has been heretofore in the shadows—a season in which he came to terms with Jesus. The illustration was part of the Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds installment of the Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band preaching series. The story inspired in many a thirst for more—and I’ve been asked for references and recommendations for further reading.

I’ve also been asked questions like “where do you come up with this stuff?”

Well, when preparing a sermon series, I have to first pray. I do that. Routinely. I also, of course, study the Scriptures daily. Galatians captured my attention last spring, for instance, and, voila, God’s Blog: A Study in Galatians Backward was born. I also enjoy National Public Radio (NPR) and am taken, every now and then, by an insightful piece on air. I also subscribe to several periodicals—some mainstream and others not so well known. And, oh yeah, I read the Seattle Post-Intelligencer (a newspaper)on line every day.

In May, I stumbled onto 40th anniversary stories of the Beatles’ iconic Sgt. Pepper’s album. Sgt. Pepper’s defined an era and still tops the charts as one of the world’s all-time best sellers. Four decades and two generations after it first hit the shelves, you can still pick up a Sgt. Pepper’s CD at Target or WalMart. It has few peers. I dusted off my own Sgt. Pepper’s CD and found myself matching it to Scripture. Sgt. Pepper’s is full of questions; the Bible is full of answers. Colossians was a good fit.

Thanks to a tip from a friend, I found an article in Christianity Today (CT)(January, 2007) that captured “John Lennon’s Born Again Phase.” CT, in turn, had excerpted material from a new book titled The Gospel According to the Beatles (written by English journalist Steve Turner and published this year by Westminster John Knox Press).

Some of the most interesting material in the CT piece involved Lennon’s correspondence with televangelist, Oral Roberts. Lennon spent many hours watching Roberts, Pat Robertson, and Billy Graham on television, in the 1970s. In a desperate letter to Roberts, written in 1972, Lennon confessed his dependence on drugs and his fear of facing up “to the problems of life.” He included a gift for Oral Roberts University and then quoted one of his own famous lines, “Money can’t buy me love.” Lennon continued, “It’s true. The point is this, I want happiness. I don’t want to keep on with drugs. ...Explain to me what Christianity can do for me. Is it phoney? Can He love me? I want out of hell.”

Roberts replied with a copy of his book Miracle of Seed Faith and several letters. He wrote: “John, we saw you and the Beatles on television... your talent and music was almost awesome and your popularity touched millions. Your influence became so widespread and powerful that your statement (in 1966)— the Beatles are more popular than Jesus—might have had some truth in it at that moment. But, you know, our Lord said, ‘I am alive for evermore.’ People, the Bible says, are like sheep and are often fickle, following this one day and something else the next. However, there are millions who have received Jesus Christ as their personal Savior and have been filled with the Holy Spirit. They love Him. To them, He is the most wonderful and popular man who ever lived because He is the Son of God and His name endures.”

Roberts continued: “I thank God that you see this, John, and finally regret thinking any man or group could be more popular than Jesus. Jesus is the only reality. It is Jesus who said, ‘I am the way, the truth, and the life.’ So, you see, your statement that because of your hard background you’ve never really wanted to face reality is actually really saying you’ve never wanted to face our loving Lord. What I want to say, as I tried to say in my other letter, is that Jesus, the true reality, is not hard to face. ...You said, John, that you take drugs because reality frightens you. Remember to open your life to Jesus. He will take all the fear away and give you peace. Peace that passes all understanding.”

Lennon eventually professed to his friends that he embraced this truth, accepting Jesus (Colossians 2:6a)—but, then, later fell away (he failed to commit to actually following Jesus)(Galatians 2:6b). Not long after, sadly, his life ended prematurely—gunned down in front of his home at the age of 40, in 1980. A story of tragic proportion.

Jesus used the currency—the vocabulary and conversation—of His time to engage his listeners and communicate truth. Farming. Fishing. Lamp oil. Headlines. Fig trees. Caesar. All became springboards for Gospel teaching that people could remember. A series like Sgt. Pepper’s (or Grey’s Anatomy or, stay tuned, Dreams Work) attempts, albeit clumsily, to do the same. Thanks for listening! Thanks for asking. Thanks for your encouragement.