He Does Not Lose His Sheep: The Funeral of Rudolph "Shorty" Hartman

He Does Not Lose His Sheep

The Funeral of Rudolph “Shorty” Hartman

John 10:11-16

Rev. Dr. Christopher W. Brademeyer

That portion from God’s holy Word for consideration this morning is our reading from the holy Gospel according to St. John in the tenth chapter with special emphasis on verse eleven which reads as follows:

                [Jesus said,] “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.”[1]

Thus far the Scriptures.

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Dear Helen, dear children and grandchildren, dear friends in Christ, today we stand in the presence of death. And not just death in the abstract, but the death of a husband, a father, a grandfather, a brother, a neighbor, the death of Rudolph “Shorty” Hartman. An accident on what would have been an otherwise ordinary Monday morning changed everything. One moment, life as it had been for 87 years. The next, a hospital room at Jamestown Regional Medical Center, and then the silence that follows when the Lord calls a man home.

There is no way to make that feel small. Death is an enemy. It tears. It wounds. It leaves an empty chair and a quiet house. And yet the Christian does not stand before death without words. We do not stand here guessing. We stand here confessing the truth that death is not the end of Shorty or anyone who is in Christ Jesus.

Rudolph "Shorty" Hartman

Job, who knew suffering more deeply than most of us ever will, said this: “Oh that my words were written! Oh that they were inscribed in a book!” And then he spoke words that have indeed been written down and carried through the centuries: “For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last He will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God.” This is not wishful thinking. This is not false optimism. This is faith anchored in a living Redeemer.

Shorty was born on July 29, 1938, in Kulm, North Dakota, to Arthur and Adeline. He was baptized into Christ. That matters more than any other date on the calendar, even more than they day he was born to His parents. This is because in Holy Baptism, the living Redeemer placed His name on Shorty and claimed him as His own.

On October 5, 1958, at Zion Lutheran Church in Edgeley, he was united in marriage to Helen. For nearly 68 years, they shared a home, a life, five children, joys, burdens, and the steady rhythm of ordinary days. That kind of faithfulness is not flashy. It is steadfast. It is the kind of love that shows up, day after day. And, as St. Paul says in Ephesians 5, this sort of love in marriage is a beautiful reminder of the love that our Lord Jesus has for His church.

For almost 50 years, Shorty worked at Harvest States in Edgeley. Half a century of labor in one place. That tells you something about a man. He was not restless. He was rooted. He provided. He showed up. He did his work. He served in the Army National Guard. He was a member of this congregation. He lived his life not in grand headlines, but in steady commitment to his family, his community, and his Lord.

But today, we do not praise Shorty as though his steady life could conquer death. We do not pretend that long marriage, hard work, or community respect can shield a man from the grave. They cannot. Death, that wage of sin, still took Shorty from

  But Christ has conquered death. In the reading from Gospel of John, our Lord says, “I am the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd lays down His life for the sheep.” Notice what He does not say. He does not say the sheep find their own way. He does not say the sheep fight off the wolves. He says He lays down His life. That is the center of our comfort today.

Shorty has a Shepherd. And this Shepherd is no mere idea. Nor is He a vague spirituality. Shorty’s Shepherd is One who took on flesh, who carried sin, who went to a cross, who entered a tomb. Jesus Christ did not remain distant from death. He walked straight into it. And by His resurrection, He walked out again.

“I am the Good Shepherd,” Jesus says. “I know My own and My own know Me.” That knowing is covenantal. It is personal. The Lord who called Shorty in Baptism did not forget him in that hospital room. The Shepherd was there. And when the time came, it was not chaos that had the final word, but the voice of Christ calling His sheep home.

St. Paul wrote in Epistle to the Romans, chapter 8, words that are fitting for days like this: “If God is for us, who can be against us? … Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?” He lists everything he can think of: tribulation, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, danger, sword. We could add: accidents, hospital rooms, sudden phone calls, shock that takes your breath away.

“Neither death nor life… nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Not even this. Death separates us from one another for a time. That is why we grieve. But death does not separate Shorty from Christ. And because it does not separate him from Christ, it does not have the final word over him.

Job says, “After my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God.” That is the scandalous Christian claim. Not that the soul floats away into vagueness. Not that memories are enough. But that this body, frail, aged, finally broken, will be raised. Redeemed. Restored. The same Redeemer who lives will stand upon the earth. And on the Last Day, He will call forth the dead. Shorty will stand again, not as an 87-year-old man worn by time, but as one made new in the image of the risen Christ.

That is why Christians can grieve and yet confess hope. Not because we are strong. But because our Redeemer lives.

Helen, Mark, Joel, Jered, Robin, Leslie, and grandchildren, your grief is real. The empty place at the table is real. The quiet where his voice once was is real. Such grief is natural, even for us Christians. After all,  Jesus Himself wept at the tomb of Lazarus. But He also said, “I am the resurrection and the life.”

The life Shorty lived, rooted in marriage, work, church, and community, was a gift of God’s providence, His loving care. The salvation Shorty now rests in is a gift of God’s grace. And that grace is anchored not in what Shorty did for Christ, but in what Christ has done for him.

“For I know that my Redeemer lives.” Today, we say those words not as sentimental poetry, but as defiance. Death has taken much from us. But it has not taken Christ. And because it has not taken Christ, it has not taken Shorty either. In a little while, we will commend his body to the earth. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. But we do so in sure and certain hope of the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting. The Good Shepherd who laid down His life for the sheep has also taken it up again. And He will not lose one of those the Father has given Him. Not even Rudolph “Shorty” Hartman.

In the holy Name of + Jesus. Amen.

The peace of God that passes all understanding keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

[1] John 10:11 English Standard Version. All further quotations from the Holy Scriptures are from the ESV.