This sermon was preached for the third Sunday of Easter, May 1, 2022 at St. Andrew's, Wellesley. The texts for this sermon were: Acts 9:1-6, (7-20), Revelation 5:11-14, John 21:1-19, and Psalm 30.
Happy Easter! The mystery of Easter is so big and so powerful, it can’t be contained in just one day - it spills over across a whole fifty days. The mystery of Easter is also bigger and more powerful than just one emotion. It is more than just happy.
Looking closely at the lessons and stories of the Easter season, you can see grief is part of Easter, too. As the disciples grapple with the mystery of the resurrection, they are also confronting how their vocation has been and will be transformed in the absence of their teacher. They will need to learn to be followers of Jesus without him beside them, guided instead by God’s presence in the Holy Spirit.
In today’s Gospel, we get to listen in on Jesus’ goodbye to Peter, their final scene together as teacher and student. Peter couldn’t have written more perfect closure for their earthly time together if he had tried, even though it hurt. Jesus asks Peter if he loves him three times, and in doing so, gives him three chances to repair the leftover brokenness in their relationship - one for each of Peter’s three denials on Good Friday. Each time Peter affirms that he loves Jesus, Jesus tells him how to continue loving Jesus after the ascension. If you love me, Jesus says, here is how to live out your love for me: feed my lambs, tend my sheep, feed my sheep. Love and lead my people the way I have loved and led you.
We don’t always get such a perfect goodbye with the people we love. There are so many ways relationships end and every one involves grief. But the mystery of resurrection transforms grief, and how we grieve as Christians. The promise of Easter is that all relationships will be reconciled, in the end. The good news of Easter is that we will get that chance, someday and somehow, to heal every wound, to say all the things that have been left unsaid, to make known all that was left unknown. Love has triumphed over death - every kind of death there is. Resurrection says, once and for all, love never ends.
The good news of Easter is also this: until then, until that day, we can live that love now, we can be that reconciliation now. In today’s Gospel, we see Jesus making sure that Peter knows how to live in a way that keeps Jesus alive, until they are united again.
Perhaps there is someone in your life, who you have lost, someone you didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to, not fully anyway. A relationship that ended incomplete or unreconciled. I wonder, if you got a moment like Peter did with Jesus, if you got a chance to tell that person you love them again and again – I wonder how they would tell you to live out that love. I wonder what would it mean to live in a way that keeps them alive.
When I thought of the people in my own life, I thought of Margarthe Kulke, who this parish lost so suddenly during our time apart in COVID. When I think about living out the way she taught me to love, I think about how she took the time to email me the Monday after every single one of sermons to thank me for a specific thing I had said. I imagine, if I asked her, she might also have reminded me to take a long walk every day, thanking God for the beauty of creation with every step. I think if I got a chance to ask my late grandfather how I might live out his love, he would have advised me to read, read some more, and to teach my children to love to read, too. When I think about loving the way he did, I think about how he always made sure to pause any important adult conversation our family was having to turn to his grandchildren, making sure to give the next generation a chance to contribute our perspective no matter the topic. I think about how he expressed gratitude abundantly, shamelessly, with plenty of over the top hyperbole, every chance he got.
I have been thinking a lot about saying goodbye these days, of course. I'm not dying. But my relationship with each of you is at its end. That's the nature of the priesthood, this strange calling. It's hard for me to say, but it is also important for me to say for this goodbye to be honest and true. My relationship with each of you is at its end.
And, and, all of what I've said before, too. The promise of Easter is that love does not end, will never end. Relationships continue on in new forms when we honor the ways we've changed each other. When I live out the ways you've taught me to love and be a priest, when you live out any small way I've had an impact on you.
When I think about going from this place to live out the love St. Andrew’s has taught me, three things come to mind. The first is this parish’s extraordinary practice of expressing appreciation. St. Andrew’s parishioners, clergy, and staff are all outstanding at recognizing one another’s hard work and at lifting one another up in gratitude. From the practice of writing gratitudes in the bulletin to the personal thank you notes stuffed in my mailbox, I am continuously overwhelmed by the space and time you sent aside to make sure each person feels acknowledged for their contributions to this community. I hope to foster such a culture of gratitude in the parish where I am headed.
Secondly, I have had the privilege of witnessing the powerful ways the parents of this parish love and sacrifice for their children each and every day. Again and again, I have seen you make difficult, countercultural choices to prioritize your children’s spiritual growth over so many other things that pull and tug at your attention and time. On top of balancing all the normal priorities of parenthood, you have faced uniquely challenging obstacles in the midst of a global pandemic, when all the options seemed harmful and every choice unclear. Yet through it all, I have listened as you encouraged your children to wonder about and reach for God, I have heard you model kindness, vulnerability, and supportive friendship in front of your children. Most of all, I have seen this whole parish come together to be the kind of village that so many are longing for these days - the kind of place where children are cared for in community, where young people are lifted up and loved for who they are. I pray to be the kind of parent you are to my own children and to the children God entrusts to my care.
Lastly but certainly not leastly, this parish is extremely, astonishingly generous. More than the amount you give, I have been inspired by how you give. You give as if each opportunity to donate and serve is actually a gift to you! You give of yourselves with joy, with conviction, with trust that what you give matters. You give as a spiritual practice, as a core expression of your faith. I long to bring that attitude to each part of my life, personal and professional.
And so, in that spirit, may I say just one thing more. My time here has been such a precious gift. It is a gift that I will not only treasure with gratitude - it is one that I will endeavor to give back to God and God’s people, again and again, wherever I go.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.
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