Strength to Love Like Jesus

Sermon for the Sixth Sunday of Easter, Year A

St. George's Episcopal Church | Washington, DC

1 Peter 3:13-22; John 14:15-21

“If you love me,” Jesus tells followers, “you will keep my commandments.”

It’s a peculiar thing to hear love talked about as an obligation to a set of commands. And it would be fair to wonder this morning whether obedience is really what provides evidence for love?

Over these recent weeks, the lectionary has been progressing through the Gospel of John, in what is known as the Farewell Discourse; which are the final instructions Jesus gives at the last supper in anticipation of his departure… All of which, in the timeline of his life, take place before the events of Holy Week—which we have of course just observed a handful of weeks ago. 

Even as we continue our fifty-day celebration of resurrection throughout this Eastertide, the lectionary aims to remind us how we are to love; in particularly once Jesus is no longer present as a physical guide.

There will come a time, the disciples are gently told, when they will be, so to speak, on their own. This is of course difficult for them to understand, and they don’t fully grasp it. But, nevertheless, as Jesus knows, some difficult days lie ahead for them. And for any who strive to follow in his way, it won’t always be so clear how to do so.

Navigating this kind of complexity is very much the context for this morning's epistle: the first letter of Peter, which is written to a people facing persecution. 

It addresses those living within a generation of Jesus’ life, sometime during the first century. And in those days, unlike these modern times in which we live, Christianity was considered an enemy of Rome. White Christian Nationalism had yet to be appear on the scene of human history, and there were no strategic benefits to be had between the State and the Church—or we might more say between the power of Empire and a fledgling, counter-cultural movement known as “the Way.” 

In those early days, followers of Jesus lived amid waves of state-sanctioned violence. It was a time when legislators weaponized power against them; when disciples lived in confusion and anxiety, wondering how they might survive. And so in this letter they are encouraged, “Do not fear, and do not be intimidated.”

1 Peter suggests the best way to keep living, even in the face of humiliation or even death, is to keep living. Even when faced with suffering, with hardship, with the threat of harm or abuse, to choose to live life fully anyway.

Philosophers refer to this kind of posture in life with the term "the courage to be.” One of my professors in seminary, The Rev. Dr. Eboni Marshall Turman, illustrates the concept by holding up a familiar image circulated around from the Black Lives Matter movement. Perhaps you are familiar with the photo Ieshia Evans: a young, black woman in a soft flowing dress, wearing flats that wouldn’t pass a kitchen’s close-toed safety policy, stands face to face with a row of riot police dressed in steel-toed boots and armed like a paramilitary force; as they zip-tie her wrists, she stands firm in faith, unmoved.

I think this is a pretty good image of what it looks like to live in the manner 1 Peter describes: with gentleness, reverence for life, and most importantly a clear conscience—knowing one hasn't violated the truth of who they are. To choose to live, no matter what the circumstances may be, from a place of deep abiding love. Because anything less than love would be to accept the shameful terms of those who would malign life but know little of truth.

Our lives are most at risk when we become separated from the truths of Love. Because as Jake Owensby puts it, “love is the way we make life livable." And my favorite Emily Dickenson poem says it this way: 

Love—is anterior to Life —Posterior—to Death— Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth—

Love is the existential reality that has brought all of life into creation. But abiding in that love does not happen by mere accident...  

As the Christian philosopher Søren Kierkegaard would insist—along with bell hooks, Simone de Beauvior, James Baldwin, and countless others—love is an “ethical imperative.” And for those of us who claim a place in this particular spiritual path, it is the foundation of our faith in the One who teaches, “‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.”

So, we might also call to mind images from this last week of Tennessee State Representative, Justin Pearson: confronting the violation of this commandment, and doing so from a place of love.

This morning we are reminded, "If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” 

Jesus doesn't have in mind some kind of barrier to belonging or a loyalty test, though… Rather, it is an invitation to know the abundant fullness of life that God desires for us. It is an invitation to know that we are loved and to then act in obedience according to that truth; refusing to conduct our lives according to anything less than our belovedness.

What's at stake is nothing short of our own humanity, and respect for the dignity of the common humanity we share with all persons. But if all of this sounds a little too abstract, it is an invitation that Jesus first demonstrates through action…

When the disciples hear everything said in this morning's gospel lesson (as Andrew McGowan observes), the floor is still wet from water splashed around as Jesus washes the feet of his disciples. Evidence of his love surrounds them in quite tangible ways, and it is surely felt as it hangs in the air as he speaks. 

And this is just the command that Jesus gives: to love. To love as he loves. What the disciples have just witnesses and experienced in that upper room has the power to sustain them through whatever difficult days lie ahead.

Love generates love.

When we are loved well ourselves, we are moved to then love others. Not merely out of an obligation but in response to what we’ve received and allowed to saturate the truth of our being—of who we are and our place in this world. This kind of reciprocity of love for ourselves and our neighbors will surely get us through.

To love Jesus is to learn to love like Jesus. And even in this we are not alone.

No matter how unclear or difficult it may be, the Spirit of Truth—abiding even now in each of us—comes with strength to love.

Amen