The Fifth Sunday of Easter - April 28

Agape Priorities
John 13:31-35

The first line of today’s Gospel, as printed in our Scripture inserts, reads: “At the last Supper, when Judas had gone out, Jesus said…” They’ve added a bit. “Now when he had gone out…” is how John 13:31 actually begins. But the context is important. It is Judas who has just gone out. The Last Supper is ending. Jesus has washed the feet of all (and remember Judas was there for the supper and the foot washing). Jesus has intimated that someone will betray him. A few of the disciples, whispering among themselves, ask Jesus who it is. Jesus replies that it is the one to whom he will give a piece of bread after he dips it in the bowl. Then we come to John 13:30, the verse before today’s reading: “So, after receiving the piece of bread, [Judas] immediately went out. And it was night.”

Then Jesus offers the teaching to his disciples that we heard this morning. It includes the well-known phrase: “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples. If you have love for one another.” These are probably some of Jesus’ best known words. But, even among active Christians, I don’t think we often place them in context.

These are some of Jesus’ final words, his parting instructions. He knew that he would soon be leaving his disciples, and this was what he said to them. David Lose, whom I have quoted before, finds it striking that he said these words and not others. For example, he didn’t say, as a fiery revolutionary might have, come die with me! Nor did he say, keep the faith, or believe in me. Nor, as others have pointed out, did he endow or establish a religious institution.

He said to his disciples: Be people who do what I’ve been doing. Go out and do what I’ve been doing.

What he has been doing, of course, in the Greek is agape. Self-giving love.

At the 10:00 service today, the children and young people will be in church for the sermon. I’ve been thinking of how to explain agape. It is different from the feeling of love that we have for people we are close to, like family or people with whom we might “fall in love.” Agape means putting yourself second. It means doing things to make someone else’s life better always your first priority.

Agape means putting yourself second to someone else’s needs.

I think many Christians, confronted with the challenge of Jesus’ command, feel overwhelmed and become paralyzed with a sense of Christian inadequacy. And yet we do fulfill Jesus’ command. Many of us, in small ways and in large, do put ourselves second to the needs of others.

We do it in how we choose to spend our time… spending time in activities that we maybe don’t enjoy in order to bring joy to others. I know I’ve told the story before of the man I met at a conference who said he went to coffee hour each Sunday because he knew there were people there who needed someone to talk to. I don’t know, but I imagine he would have rather gone home to watch football, but he stayed for coffee hour because there were people there who needed someone to listen to them.

Or I think of all of the caregivers who again and again and again put themselves second to provide care and comfort to others.

Or every time we make a choice that helps sustain the earth’s environment and resources, often at least at some cost or inconvenience to ourselves. Those choices put ourselves second to the goodness of God’s creation and the rights of others now and in the future to enjoy that creation.

We do, in small ways and in large, obey Jesus command, putting the needs of others first in our lives.

And we all also fail again and again to put ourselves second to others’ needs.

It’s hard. It goes counter to our deepest instincts. The instinct towards self-preservation. Our selfish clinging to those things we think of as our personal rights. The urge within to build fences to protect ourselves from those things we fear. It is hard to prioritize yourself second. (For an interesting commentary on the nature of our priorities, check out a recent piece on Episcopal Cafe: What the “FAA fix says about our priorities”).

To some degree also putting others first runs counter to the modern model of therapeutic health which urges us first to “take care of ourselves.” Believe me, I’m in favor of mental health and all of the therapeutic tools that help us function, but Jesus challenges us to think twice about our priorities.

We find it easiest to put ourselves second to another in those situations where we FEEL love. In fact, self-giving can be a rich part of a close, loving relationship. Prioritizing yourself second can also come with training. Think of the first responders in the recent tragedies in Texas and Boston, who ran towards danger to help others. But ultimately, it is a choice. Priorities are always a choice. Our priorities are always a choice. And as Christians we are commanded to prioritize others first. To put ourselves second to the well-being of others.

 And it’s doable. Not everywhere, all of the time. But it’s doable. And we can pray for God’s help to get better at it. To get better at giving of ourselves for the good of others.

God, after all, is pretty good at self-giving for the good of others.

That’s pretty much what Jesus was about. Throughout his life and ministry and his death on the cross. Jesus gave of himself for us.

One commentator I read pointed out that, despite the prominence of the word “new” in today’s readings and in Jesus’ own words about a “new” commandment, in one sense Jesus’ death on the cross was NOT something new. Jesus’ death for us was an expression of who God is. Who God is and always has been, giving of himself for us.

And giving of ourselves for others is how we are to be expressions of God in our world. I am absolutely sure that when we put ourselves second to the needs of others, when we act to meet the needs of others, we are doing God’s will. No matter what it feels like, when we act to serve the needs of others, we are doing what Jesus did and what we, as the Body of Christ, are supposed to be doing.

Easter Day - March 31

Good Friday Alleluias

We’ve waited a long time to say Alleluia.

Jesus Christ is risen today. Finally. The Lenten journey is ended. Alleluia.

The forty days of Lent are long. In the Bible forty doesn’t literally mean forty; it means “a very long time.” I don’t know why that came to be. The Israelites wandered in the wilderness for forty years. Actually it would have undoubtedly been much longer.

At the time of the flood, it rained for forty days and forty nights.

 Jesus was tempted in the wilderness for forty days.

Forty means “I can’t imagine a human being could endure that long…”

The real forty days of Lent can seem very long, almost beyond endurance.

But the waiting is done. The time of endurance is over. The church is bursting with the beauty of spring’s new life. Alleluias resound from the rafters. The season of penitence, fasting, self-examination and self-deprivation is done! Thanks be to God! The Lord is risen indeed.

The days and weeks of Lent and Holy Week do make us yearn for Easter. They strengthen our appreciation for the gift that is given on Easter. Endurance produces character, Paul says in Romans. He meant Christian character, of course. So I am grateful for Lent. And I am even more grateful that it is over.

Or is it? Is Lent truly over?

There will be dark days ahead; times that seem beyond human endurance. Temptation and sin still abound. Death still confronts us. Despite the joy and glory of this day, Lent is never far from us.

But because Jesus died and rose again then, on that first Easter, we never have to wait for resurrection again. It is always with us. That is very good news. Easter is every day.

Even when our mornings aren’t “happy,” and we are not eager to welcome them, the risen Christ is still alive and with us. That’s the gift of Easter.

Even when the church is not filled with the aroma and brightness of Easter lilies, Easter lilies still bloom in the graveyard. Metaphorically, at least, every day on every grave an Easter lily blooms. Easter is about the lilies in the graveyards, not the ones at the altar. The gift of Easter is the gift of eternal life beyond death, offered to us all. Even at the grave we make our song alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!

Last night at the Vigil, I quoted St. John Chrysostom’s Easter sermon. One of my favorite lines in Chrysostom’s sermon is this: “Let no one mourn that he (or she) has fallen again and again; for forgiveness has risen from the grave.” When we sin, when we fall, again and again and again, God is eager with forgiveness. And we are reconciled to God. That is the gift of Easter.

Whenever we feel captive or powerless in a dark place in our lives, even if we are very far from this Easter day or that Paschal candle, the light of Christ burns for us and within us. The light of Christ, the Easter light, brings light into our darkness, no matter when or where we are.

Easter isn’t about just this one day. It is about every day. It is about being given the power to say (and experience!!!) alleluia throughout this life we’re in.

For those of us steeped in church tradition, at least Episcopal church tradition, it would have been really, really, really hard to say “Alleluia” on Good Friday. But that is Easter’s gift. We live our live our lives now, every day, even our Good Fridays, in the presence of the risen Christ. As partakers in Christ’s resurrection.

I’m glad we don’t say Alleluia during Lent (and please don’t say it next Good Friday), because abstaining helps us remember the potency and significance of all of the resurrection reality that Alleluia symbolizes. But the gift of that first Easter is Alleluia every day… even in Lent… maybe especially in Lent.

Today is a glorious Easter. Today is also at least a little bit of Lent. So today, in the midst of Easter (and Lent) we proclaim: Alleluia! Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed!