Sermons from the Episcopal Church of the Redeemer

"But after Judas' death, the other eleven apostles get together. And they do something really beautiful. Peter says, you know Judas was one of us. He was one of us. He was part of who we are. And we actually can't go forward until we have another person to take that place because we are incomplete without Judas. Think about that for a moment. The beginning of this beloved community is founded in a place of love and respect and forgiveness and honoring of the place that Judas, of all people, had played in the life of that community."

"God's love is not only like a father's love. God is also like a mother's love. Like the love of a sister, or a friend, or a neighbor. Or that old lady at church who plays peek-a-boo from the second pew. And yet, God's love is even more than this. God's love is like the gentle breeze on your skin on a hot August day. God's love is an intricate snowflake on jet black hair. God's love is a cold drink of water for someone who has traveled many, many miles through desert lands in search of safety and sanctuary. God's love surpasses our human understanding. And if we want our children to understand this, we must expand our language for God. We must open the gate of welcome to them and explore all that God has been, is now, and will be forever. For all of her children. How in the world can we expect to love one another as God loves us if half of us don't even see ourselves as made in the image of God?"

"[W]e heard today that God is love and that those who love know God. And then when we love one another, we abide in God. Which is to say, we make our home in God and then God abides in us. Which is, of course, to say that God is making God's home in us and when we hear that this is true, then there is nothing else that can compare with this reality. God is love. This is a radical idea. A radical belief that God is love. It is not reasonable. It's not moderate, it's not something that you can stay calm, cool, and collected while receiving and trying to understand. It is inherently radical and changes your whole reality when you say God is love."

"We recognize the voice of the Good Shepherd, not only because we recognize the tone but also the content. There is a consistency of message and the message is one of love. Love God. Love your neighbor. Love yourself. Love one another as I have loved you. The message is of love.

Think of the loving relationships in your lives. The voices you immediately recognized resonate with. Think of this constancy of that current of love that runs through them. Sometimes it's expressed out loud. Sometimes simply known to be, an undercurrent even in difficult or conflicted times. We serve as shepherds and guides for each other. And we are shepherded too."

I've gotta be honest, I find this sometimes to be very dangerous territory. Because I get nervous about us looking towards the afterlife, in which I believe, looking towards that afterlife as a way to ignore what's happening here. That we have the capacity, when we go, "Well, that's okay, 'cause I know where I'm going when I die." That we can use that the same way we could use drinking or drugs or something else to numb ourselves to the realities of here and now. To turn a blind eye from the darkness that we face here from day to day. "I know it's scary and hard here, but I've got a divine destiny and God's great Kingdom, so I'm okay" is not okay. And when we see people grieving the deep darkness of death, when we try to remind them of the life to come, sometimes that's helpful. Quite often it is a way to short circuit someone's grief and natural processing of the hard realities of the life that we live

Here we are, in this time and place. We have our own fears and our own unique challenges in becoming our own brand of beloved community. To listen to the mutuality of love. To be of one heart and soul and mind, so that there is not one needy person among us. To live together in diverse community. To achieve racial reconciliation and justice and economic equity. Recent current events demonstrate once again that we've got a long way to go on that count.

Jesus is sending the Holy Spirit out to breathe the breath of God and inspire the whole world to live into the love for which every one of us is made. And as God blows that breath out, the Holy Spirit of the world, he is blowing all of us out. Out of this space. Out of our comfort zones. Out of that space of clinging and into a recognition of where God is in the world today. It will not look the way it did a year ago. It will not look the way it did a week ago. But God is at work. Hear your name. Recognize the love for which you are made. It is a love that cannot be killed. It is a love that animates all things with grace, mercy and justice. We are bound together in this resurrection. Not so that we can just cling to the things that we love. But so that we can pursue them. Follow them into this world and name God's blessing and participate in the work God would have us do.

This is a solemn night. Jesus told us it would come to this. Jesus forewarned us of the suffering he would endure. How he would be lifted up. We heard the words. But witnessing a loved one being killed is heartrending, heartbreaking and leaves us with unanswerable questions. What could we have done?

You know, sometimes it's difficult to accept God's love on God's terms. But when asked to dance, why not? I mean just say yes and let Jesus take the lead. And as our lead Jesus teaches us, "You also ought to wash one another's feet, for I have set you an example". This is an invitation. An invitation to beloved community through servanthood. Jesus invites us, well, actually, Jesus commands us to love one another as he loves us. And maybe by kicking up some dust along the way. By proactively loving the other in another.

We do this every year so that we can bury our sin beneath the soil with him. Every year we engage in the act of planting the garden, because without getting our hands dirty, nothing will grow. The week before us is for dying. Dying to self and dying to sin. Burying our part in the plot. Knowing this is not the end but the beginning. Trusting that something will grow from the muddied muck and mire of life.