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7th Sunday of Easter Acts 1:15-17, 21-26 ~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The Gospel according to John 17:6-19
"I have made your name known to those whom you gave me from the world.
They were yours, and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word.
Now they know that everything you have given me is from you; for the words
that you gave to me I have given to them, and they have received them and know
in truth that I came from you; and they have believed that you sent me.
I am asking on their behalf; I am not asking on behalf of the world, but on
behalf of those whom you gave me, because they are yours. All mine are
yours, and yours are mine; and I have been glorified in them. And now I
am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to you.
Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they
may be one, as we are one. While I was with them, I protected them in
your name that you have given me. I guarded them, and not one of them was lost
except the one destined to be lost, so that the scripture might be
fulfilled. But now I am coming to you, and I speak these things in the
world so that they may have my joy made complete in themselves. I have
given them your word, and the world has hated them because they do not belong
to the world, just as I do not belong to the world. I am not asking you
to take them out of the world, but I ask you to protect them from the evil
one. They do not belong to the world, just as I do not belong to the
world. Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth. As you have
sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. And for
their sakes I sanctify myself, so that they also may be sanctified in truth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He was worried about them. Sort of like you’re worried when you send your child to kindergarten or college. Sort of like you might be worried about someone you’ve helped take care of when you’re about to take a trip. Sort of like that. But not really. Because he wasn’t worried about the usual hardships and dangers that befall all of us. He wasn’t worried just the way I was worried when I sent my daughters to school for the first time. Michaelyn climbed on a bus that was a thousand times bigger than she was and peered at us with frightened eyes peeking over the window sill. I left Elizabeth in a school cafeteria, a tiny girl sitting amidst the chaos of the first day of school. In typical fashion, she handled it much better than I did. As hard as that kind of worry is, he had a different kind of worry. Jesus was about to leave his disciples. It was the night before he would be arrested, and he knows what lies ahead; he knows he’s leaving them. But he’s not just leaving them to the hardships, and unlucky breaks, and tragedies of the big bad world. This isn’t just the first day of school. He has given them a mission, and he knows, he really knows, how dangerous it can be. He is sending them into the world to be “in the world, but not of the world.” He has called them to be different, and dangerously so. When he is gone, they are to embody the radical love of God in a world that loves hate. They are to embody the radical acceptance of God in a world that loves exclusion. They are to embody the radical peace of God in a world that loves violence. They are to embody the radical power of sacrifice in a world that loves the power of coercion. They are to embody the love of devotion to God in a world that loves devotion to self, and things, and titles. No wonder he’s worried about them. He knows what’s going to happen to him for being this way. So he prays. “I’m asking for them,” he says. “I’m not going to be with them, and they will be in this world — this world of hatred and exclusion and violence and coercion and misguided meaning. Protect them. Father, help them to have the kind of relationship that we have. Let the joy I know be made complete in them. I’m not asking that they be taken out of the world; I know their mission is there, but I know the world will hate them; protect them from the evil one. They do not belong to that world, but it will be powerfully seductive. Sanctify them, strengthen them, make them holy — set apart — to speak the truth. And now, I send them into the world.” That is Jesus’ prayer for his disciples on the night when he will leave them. I think the image is not really me sending my daughters to the first day of school. The more appropriate image, especially on this Memorial Day, might be that famous picture of General Dwight Eisenhower speaking with American paratroopers just before D-Day in 1944. He had already given the order to launch the greatest amphibious invasion in human history. As he addressed those brave men with blackened faces who were about to climb into airplanes and be dropped into hell, he had to know that he was sending many of them on a mission from which they would not return. Well, it’s been two thousand years since Jesus sent his disciples out on that dangerous mission. I don’t think it has gotten any safer. Episcopal priest and author Barbara Brown Taylor writes,
The question that haunts me, that I hate, but that I must ask, is this: is Jesus still worried about us? Does he need to be? Or are we much safer now? And if we — we disciples of the Risen Christ in this world of hatred and exclusion and violence and coercion and misguided meaning — if we who are called to be Christian soldiers with the cross of Jesus going on before— if we are safer — if we aren’t willing to make the jump — shouldn’t we be worried about that? ________________________ The Rev. James H. Pritchett, Jr. St. John’s Episcopal Church, College Park, GA. If you would like to comment on this sermon or receive these sermons by email, contact me at rector@stjohnscollegepark.com.
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