Sermon for May 25, 2014
Sixth Sunday of Easter
The Rev. Vicki K. Hesse
St. Philip’s In The Hills Parish, Tucson,
AZ
John 14:15-31
Lord, Open our lips
That our mouth shall proclaim your
praise. Amen
Memorial
Day.
A
time to acknowledge those we have lost to war.
More
recently, it has become a time to remember
any family members
who
have died,
placing
wreathes on gravesides
or flowers
in the columbarium.
Increasingly,
some
recognize all who have fought and sacrificed,
including
those who have lost limbs
or
returned from their service with PTSD.
On
Memorial Day we also notice that there are
other
kinds of losses we face every day.
We
may have lost (or in process of losing)
someone
to Alzheimer’s.
or lost
someone in a divorce or break-up.
or
lost colleagues from changing jobs
or
moving to a new one.
…a
friend that is moving across the country.
…a diagnosis
that threatens independent living.
…visiting
family members - upset our daily routines.
All
these losses,
even
ones that were necessary or positive,
are
transitions –
they
are difficult and worthy of acknowledgement. [1]
As a
culture, we tend not to talk about loss.
We
tend to “put on a happy face.”
That
is why one of my friends calls Facebook
“Façade
Book.”
Losses
challenge our American optimism,
strain our emotional
resources
and leave
us feeling isolated.
So
today, in this community of hope,
we
can admit loss as a difficult part
of
human existence.
Without
shame or stigma,
we
can reach out to each other today
with
comfort, care and solidarity.
The
Gospel reading today
offers
a portion of Jesus’ “farewell discourse.”
It’s
a big loss for his followers.
In
John’s Gospel, it is Thursday evening,
before
the crucifixion.
After
Jesus shared a meal and
washed
the disciples’ feet,
he
prepared them for his departure,
by
saying his farewells.
He had
just given them a new commandment,
“…that
you love one another.
Just
as I have loved you,
you
also should love one another.”[2]
He appealed
to his followers
to embrace
the way he lived
and
to make this the goal for their lives:
to
love one another as he loved them.
He tried
to prepare them for his departure,
but they
were distressed.
This
impending loss distracted them.
That’s
what the threat of loss does –
it
shakes up our sense of safety and security.
Haven’t
we all had an experience
where
we get the phone call
about
something that happened
and
instantly our tolerance for small talk
goes
out the window?
We
clear the calendar
and we
know, in our bones, what we have to do.
So it
was with Jesus.
Moving
toward the close of his earthly ministry,
his
priority was clear.
Tell
his followers about God’s love
Assure
them that God would accompany them
through
“Another Advocate”
-
Jesus was the first Advocate,
who
came along side his followers
so
that they might
know
and see the otherwise invisible God.
Yet, they
were distracted.
Distracted
by the threat of loss,
by
the surrounding Roman Empire,
by
the imperial soldiers standing outside the doors,
by
the images of Emperor on walls and bridges.
Their
souls were parched and they were distracted.
As we
listen to this sacred text today,
nearing
the end of the Easter season,
Jesus
prepares us for his departure.
At an
archetypal spiritual level,
his
departure distresses us.
It shakes
up our sense of safety and security.
Perhaps
the losses in our own lives distract us.
We
are surrounded by consumer-oriented values
and bombarded
by advertising agents
through
TV and computers.
The
temptations of quick gratification
offer
weak ties
that
shift our attention
away
from deep, meaningful relationships.
We
are distracted
by
catastrophes for which we cannot help.
It seems
that God is completely absent.
We
sometimes believe that our lives depend upon
our own strength, our
own individual power.
Our souls are parched and
we are distracted.
It’s
just as hard for us to grasp as it was for his early followers.
AND
YET,
even in
the midst of distractions,
Jesus offered his followers
unwavering, loyal, persistent
love.
Jesus
promised Another “Advocate”
to be
with his followers forever,
empowering
them
to live
that contradictory way of life shaped
by love.
Jesus’
promise and his claim:
Was focused
and simple, but not easy:
Love Matters.
In
his life and his ministry,
Jesus
spread a “contagion of genuine love”
that
formed a community of hope.
In
that hopeful community,
the
followers began to wonder.
They dared to believe
that
the strength of the love that Jesus embodied
was more real and more
truthful than
the
subjugation and humiliations of the Roman rule.
Through
the Advocate,
his
followers found the boldness
to
recognize in the “other”
someone
whom God also loved
and
called them to love.
His
followers found the strength and ability
to keep
the commandment
to
love one another as he loved them.
Even in
the midst our distractions,
Jesus
offers us unwavering love.
Jesus
assures us that we will not be alone
as we
try
to live
that contradictory way of life shaped
by love.
The
Advocate infects us, too,
with
a contagion of love that has formed
this
community here.
This
community, sustained by the Holy Spirit,
reveals
to us God’s love
as
both the source and the goal of our lives.
One
author beautifully captured
the
expansive nature of love
when
she wrote:
“People
always say that
when
you love someone, nothing in the world matters.
But
that's not true, is it?
You
know, and I know,
that
when you love someone,
everything
in the world matters a little bit more.” [3]
In
our community, at St. Philip’s,
can
we dare to believe that God’s love
is
stronger than our distractions?
Can
we feel the Spirit and see the face of Jesus –
in
every gathering to address prison issues,
in
every offer of teaching and learning,
in
every deep study of scripture,
in
every greeting at the door on Sunday,
in
every anointing for healing,
in
every prayer for the dying,
in
every celebration of joy?
Can we
reach out to people who are different from us,
and in loving them
find
that everything matters a little bit more?
While
we are bombarded with
distractions,
temptations and consumer images,
the
Advocate, the Holy Spirit,
frees
us and redirects us toward love.
The
Spirit presents
times
to offer care and compassion
with
folks who are hurting
and times
to offer grace and forgiveness
with
folks who irritate us;
Jesus offers us unwavering love.
Author
Alan Paton,
in
his novel Ah, But Your Land Is Beautiful,
wrote
how God’s love reveals what is most true.
There
was a time in S. Africa during apartheid
when
laws prevented black S. Africans
from
mixing with whites.
At
the death of a white SA official
[who
had tirelessly worked within the system
to humanize
life for the oppressed]
blacks
were turned away from his funeral.
It
was a terrible insult.
Later,
a black pastor visited the white chief justice
and
asked him to participate in the
Lenten
foot-washing service.
The
Pastor asked him to wash the feet
of a
congregant
who
had been a servant in the judges home
and
had cared for his children.
The
chief justice agreed.
When the
time came for the judge
to
wash the woman’s feet,
he
came forward, washed and dried her feet
and
gently kissed them both.
This
gesture set healing in motion –
that
simple expression of care
disclosed
the truthfulness and
life-giving
power of God’s love.
The
woman and the judge both experienced
transformation
that arises
when we recognize each other
as
neighbors.[4]
Today,
this Memorial Day,
Jesus
offers unwavering love and invites us
to admit
that loss is a difficult part of human existence.
Today,
without shame or stigma,
we
can reach out to each other.
Using
the blue DOK prayer cards in the pew racks,
write
down someone or something that you mourn,
or
something you have lost.
As
you place it in the offertory basket,
receive
the unwavering love of Jesus.
Know
that this community of hope
will
hold you in prayer and love
for
the next few weeks.
May
you know the strength that arises from Love.
because
Love
matters.
Amen
[1]
Portions of this sermon inspired by David Lose, Luther Seminary, Cited at http://bit.ly/StA9Bb
[2]
Gospel According To John, 13:34
[3] Author Jodi
Picoult writes in her book Handle With
Care (Washington Square Press, 2009)
[4] Story inspired by Nancy J. Ramsay’s
Pastoral Perspectve on John 14:15-31 in Feasting
on the Word, (Louisville, Westminster John Knox Press, 2010) 492, 494
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