A Gift of Love
The sermon preached by Fr. Ernie on Palm Sunday April 2, 2023.
A Gift of Love
by Ernest Boyer
Yesterday was April Fool’s Day, a day for jokes and absurdity. And today is Psalm Sunday, also known as Passion Sunday, when we hear the long, brutal story of Jesus’ betrayal, trial, torture and death in all its wrenching detail. The thing is, yesterday we also held a funeral, a memorial of the life of a man whose full name was Angelito Bautista Alfonso, but who everyone simply called Lito. Lito is not a member of this church, but his dear friend and companion Michael is and it was with Michael that we gathered to share his grief and seek God’s comfort. It seemed right that this happen on April Fool’s Day, because death has a way of making fools of us all. It turns our long-term plans into a joke and laughs at our assumption that we will always have another day — then another, then another — silently smirking at any goal that does not look towards eternity.
That’s why I was so touched by the one reading that Michael chose for Lito’s service. He left the choice of the other readings up to me, but there was one, he said, that had to be there.
“You know the one,” Michael said. “It’s the one always used in funerals that begins, ‘Love is patient; love is kind;’ and so on. That one.”
“Oh, of course,” I said. “It’s the famous passage from 1st Corinthians chapter 13. It’s the reading most used in weddings.
“In weddings?” Michael said with a smile. “Oh yes, I guess that’s right. And here I thought it was funerals.”
“Well, why not in funerals” I asked. “In many ways it’s perfect — and more than perfect. It’s beautiful. I mean, really, what higher praise is there for a person’s life than to be able to quote 1st Corinthians’ poem of love to describe it? There’s really nothing better you can say. What an extraordinary tribute! Let’s do it!”
And so we did. 1st Corinthians 13 was the second text, and Holly read it beautifully. It was an extraordinary accolade for the life of a man who most of us have never met, but who touched the life of someone very dear to us, Michael Barnes, who does such a beautiful job providing us with music every week.
And now, one day later, we gather again, this time to hear once more the agonizing story of Jesus’s last days and death. It’s as if it were April Fool’s Day all over again. Once more death seems to triumph. Once more, Jesus reveals just how human he really is. His mortality and vulnerability are bared for all to see. Being human, he was born with a limited time on earth, and on this day almost 2000 years ago that time came to an end in abrupt and horrible way. He died. But did he have to? Was it really necessary that he, Jesus — the son of God — die … and die in this particularly gruesome manner?
Well, actually, I believe it was. That’s because I am convinced that deep down we all resent that we too must die. We resist the idea. We don’t really think that death will actually come for us. “No, not me,” we think deep down. “Death won’t come for me.” And then when we realize that it will after all, we feel terrified, horrified and betrayed. We feel angry. We feel let-down and abandoned. And although not all of us consciously say this to ourselves, we secretly wonder how God could allow it. We wonder why it has to be, and where God is in all this. We feel alone and resentful and angry at God. “Where are you, God?” we demand, “Do you have any idea what I’m going through? Do you even care?”
Now, I realize that this is not true of everyone here. That’s because at a certain time of life — particularly among especially spiritual people, you begin to accept death and instead of saying “Why me?” you say “Why NOT me?” But that’s rare. Most people react to death throughout their life with their gut. And what they experience is nothing less than dread. They fight it until nearly the very end. To quote Dylan Thomas, they “Rage, rage against the dying of the light,” and at the same time they rage, rage against God for not preventing it too.
It’s because of feelings like these that Jesus came among us. To our question: where are you God? He came to show us that he’s HERE. He’s here among us. And to the question, “Do you have any idea what I’m going through, God? Do you even care?” He came to show us that NOT ONLY DOES KNOW WHAT WE ARE GOING THROUGH, HE WENT THROUGH IT TOO. And not only does he care, he loves us more deeply than we can know. All this is just another way of saying that he came among us to reconcile us to God. He came to bring us home again. In other words, Jesus had to die just has he had to come among us. He did both out of love. He did both for us.
You know, when I was studying pastoral counseling I came across a striking image. “When a person is profoundly depressed, or deeply grieving it is like they are at a bottom of a very deep pit,” our teacher said to us once. “Think of these people as trapped at the bottom of a deep, dark well. They are unable to climb out. They feel trapped and alone. They feel cut off from the world and from life. They’re lonely and they’re afraid — very afraid. They feel completely hopeless, convinced that this will be their life from now on. The thing is, you as a counselor won’t be able to pull them out of that pit. Only they can do that. But you CAN go down into the pit and sit there with them for a time. You’re there simply to share your presence. You’re there to share their world. You’re there to listen to their fears. You’re also there to bring hope — doing this less by anything you say than simply by being with them. And then, you need to leave. In time, maybe they will find the strength to follow you and leave too.”
That’s what Jesus did for us. As it says in today’s second reading from Philippians,
Jesus, “though he was in the form of God, … emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death —even death on a cross.”
Jesus came down into the pit of our rejection of God to join us in our pain, and loneliness, and sense of isolation, showing us — in part with his words and even more with his presence — that there is another option than the despair of rejecting God … showing us that we do not have live a life without purpose, or meaning or hope. His very presence among us was a sign of that there was another way. All we needed to do was to trust that he was with us and follow where he led and we too would be free from the pit.
So yes, Death will seem to have its April Fool’s Day joke, but Death’s laughter is hollow, and cannot endure. Because Christ is here with us. Even on the cross.… Especially on the cross. He’s come down into the pit where we are on our darkest days
to bring us meaning,
to bring us strength,
to bring us purpose,
to bring us hope.
That hope is simply this: all this will pass. We are not what we seem. We are far more than that. We are more like Jesus than we know. We were made in God’s image and at the center of our being we carry nothing less than the spark of God. Where we are now is just a shadow of where we are meant to be and all we need to do is trust in Jesus to find it. That home is wherever HE is. And we go there whenever WE trust in him. “So just do it,” he said. “I’m right here. All you have to do is trust.” AMEN
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