P.O. Box 53055    
Los Angeles, CA 90053   

PRETTY GOOD PAY FOR HALF AN HOUR

“Don’t worry,” Jesus once said, “about where your next meal’s going to come from. Or what you’re going to wear. Or how long you’re going to live. Look at the lilies — they don’t work and they don’t worry. And even Solomon wasn’t dressed as well as they are.”

If there ever was a person in this world who has lived in complete obedience to that Bible verse in Luke, it has to be this fellow Kramer, who for nine years has been barging into Jerry Seinfeld’s apartment. He never knocks; he never asks permission. He just comes in and takes things: food, utensils, Tupperware. Jerry’s leather jacket — two of them in a single episode. Anything that isn’t nailed down.

And the equally mystifying thing is this: how does the man make a living? Seinfeld fans know that of the four regulars, Jerry is a stand-up comic; George has had at least a stint working for the New York Yankees and George Steinbrenner. Elaine Benes has had several strange jobs, including working at Pendant Publishing and also a time where she got paid to buy socks for a rich old man and help him try them on. But the guy next door — Kramer? There’s never a hint or a clue that he ever works to earn a paycheck. He’s always coming up with a new and brilliant financial investment opportunity for Jerry and George: a bake-your-own-pie pizza place. Or a restaurant called PB&J’s, where all you can get is a peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich. A new cologne that makes you smell like you’ve been at the beach. Oh, there are plenty of ideas floating around in the head of Cosmo Kramer . . . but no one’s actually ever seen him work.

Of course, when a Thursday evening TV viewer tunes in to the last five or six episodes now, he has to keep reminding himself that the real Michael Richards IS working — to the tune of $600,000 per half-hour episode. And believe me, those paychecks are real. The guy playing Kramer can afford to buy a lot more than a peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich on the bread he’s taking home from NBC every week from now until May 14.

And it’s that REAL work we want to think about today, because after three days of wondering out loud about the spiritual dedication of these four young, single, restless, confused television characters, today I want to say this: there’s something we could learn from this multimillionaire named Jerry Seinfeld as he gets ready to retire at the age of 44.

It may seem that it all came so easy to him. Does this man ever really work? That’s what we might wonder. In his own book, SeinLanguage — and again, he didn’t really have to write it; it’s just a compilation of his comedy routines — he confesses: “One of life’s great pleasures is watching other people work.” And he also admits that as a kid he wasn’t much of a worker even then.

“I used to mow the lawn for five bucks on the weekend,” he says. “And I was the worst. Sometimes I wouldn’t even turn the mower on. I’d just make the lines with the wheels and say I was done.”

And from watching the NBC sitcom, you’d get the idea that the character of Jerry still hasn’t learned to work. Except for the very occasional comedy-club bits, he never seems to have to do anything. The four of them eat out constantly, go to plays and ballgames and films, go away for the weekend. Does he even sweat over a new joke or routine for his act? They never show it; he’s just always “Jerry.” He’s automatically funny without having to work. He’s another of those “Lilies in the field” who seems to get everything he wants the easy way.

But you know, friend, all of this couldn’t be further from the truth. And without taking away at all from the cautions we’ve shared these past three days, I want to say right here again that all of us could learn a biblical lesson from the soon-to-be-retired Mr. Seinfeld.

His real life, as described to Time Magazine last December, goes more like this. Every night, Jerry gets home around ten p.m. He’s in bed and asleep by 10:30, and gets up again at six. What does he do? A quick bit of exercise, and then he’s right back to the office. He doesn’t even stock his house with all of those cereal brands he’s supposed to be so fond of; instead, he eats at work during the 14- to 15-hour days he ALWAYS puts in. In real life, he doesn’t eat out at all — no time. Doesn’t watch TV; doesn’t see films; doesn’t read newspapers. “The whole ‘90s just passed me by,” he admits. “I missed them completely.”

Now you and I, if we think back to memorizing our lines for the school play in sixth grade, might wonder why it takes the entire week every week, 14 hours a day, to do this little half-hour of television . . . and that’s a half-hour WITH commercials. Why does it take so much work? Well, the answer in a nutshell is this: we’re talking about a dedication to excellence, to perfection. Here are people who, whether you agree or disagree on the appropriateness of this or that TV topic, have determined to work their hardest, do their best, and make a media product that was absolutely as good as it could possibly be.

And you know, even the Word of God commends an attitude of excellence, of perfection . . . FOR THE PEOPLE OF GOD! Did you know that? In Ecclesiastes 9:10, the writer has a Seinfeld philosophy when he tells us:

“Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might.”

The book of Exodus goes on for long chapters in giving detailed instructions about God’s house, the tabernacle. Skilled workmen were to be hired; the very best and most talented people were to be put on this job. Everything was to be Grade A, top-of-the-line. And if you read through that entire section, you find an unqualified sense of perfection here. Nothing less than the best was to be tolerated, in materials or in labor.

Pastor Adrian Rogers, who leads a 24,000-member Baptist Church in Memphis, tells how people have sometimes criticized his congregation for building a beautiful sanctuary. Along the lines of: “Why don’t you take all that money and feed the poor instead? That’s what people need — food.”

And he responds by asking them: “Well, what about that big football stadium? What about that nice bank on the corner? What about that gas station?” And when his critics reply: “Well, people need entertainment and they need money and they need gas for their cars,” he then tells them straight out: “Yes; well, people need Jesus more than they need anything.” And that’s why Bellevue Baptist Church worked hard and gave hard to build for Jesus the most beautiful church they could. That’s why they dedicated themselves to excellence and to perfection and into doing “with all their might” what God had called them to do.

In Psalm 150 is a beautiful passage where God’s people are told to praise heaven with great music, with singing and choirs and flutes and cymbals. And you get the clear sense of King David saying to us: “But do it well! Don’t get up front in church if you haven’t practiced your trumpet hard all week. Don’t play unto the Lord if you’re not willing to do your very best.”

And you know, friend, I want to take this Jerry Seinfeld lesson to heart right here at the Voice of Prophecy. It’s tempting, when we’re tired, to slough off. Maybe a radio script isn’t quite right, or I’ve had a busy week, or just got back from vacation, and haven’t really spent the time going over each page, each text, each illustration, praying and working on the words, the delivery, the way I should. So the thought occurs: “Well, this time just wing it.” But down in Studio City, Jerry Seinfeld and Michael Richards and Jason Alexander and Julia Louis-Dreyfus are putting in 14-hour days to get their parts right. Camera crews are there till midnight sometimes; videotape editors are spinning those reels endlessly to get just the right cut, the proper mix. Am I as committed to excellence, to perfection, for the cause of the Lord Jesus Christ? Do God’s people try as hard, dig as hard, to make a product for God as the folks at NBC?

An actor named Ben Stein told People magazine what it was like to work on Seinfeld. He had a bit part in one episode, just a small guest role. But as he tells it, “Seinfeld’s notion of quality control — which is practically superhuman — took its toll. Every scene, every angle, every inflection had to pass the test of whether or not he would think it was funny.” And then he added: “There was absolutely no tolerance for anything that wasn’t perfect.” Do you know how long they worked to get that one little video clip ready? Ten days! That’s right; for ten long days they rehearsed and re-rehearsed and tried it this way, that way, the other way . . . until it was perfect. Every angle, every nuance, sweating over every syllable. And that small bit of perfection went into the show itself, which now has a record of 178 Nielsen-hit episodes.

And our God calls us to that kind of excellence, to working with all of our might. I keep returning to the fact that all of this marvelous Seinfeld talent and energy, which we applaud here, is spent on a television program that is famously about “(quote) nothing.” All that diligent, painstaking work . . . for “nothing.” Tonight after you’ve watched a half-hour of perfect comedy about nothing, will you then spend some time talking with God about YOUR life? Will you commit yourself to perfection in SOMETHING — and have that something be your journey toward the kingdom?