The Cost of Love
The following is the text of a message that I preached at St James Episcopal Church, Painesville, on Sunday June 30, 2019. It was my first time ever preaching and I wanted to share the message for those people who were unable to attend and have requested to read it (namely, my mom).
In the name of our ever-present and ever-loving God, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Last fall, when I was on retreat, I met a woman from San Francisco, and she told me a story which (I think) captures the essence of today’s Gospel. It goes like this:
There was a woman who worked at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco as a tour guide. One day, she gives another woman a tour of the cathedral. The visitor is very impressed, and at the end of the tour she asks, “How much does it cost to get baptized here?” The tour guide, after a moment, replies with a single word: “Everything.”
I imagine this was not the answer the visitor was looking for. I wonder if she walked away disappointed, like the rich young man later on in Luke’s gospel, who could not bring himself to give up all he had to follow Jesus. And I think it’s an understandable reaction.
Do you ever wonder sometimes what Jesus was thinking? Especially when he says something really hard. For example: “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.” Excuse me? You want me to hate my loved ones and my life itself in order to follow you? Or what he says today to the man who wants to bury his father before joining the disciples: “let the dead bury their own dead.” What?
Well, in today’s Gospel, we actually get a little glimpse into what Jesus was thinking. “When the days drew near for Jesus to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem.” He ‘set his face’, which means he was inwardly convicted, bound and determined to go, to face what he knew was waiting for him. Now, we believe that Jesus was both truly human and truly divine. So even though in his divinity he was dedicated to the Father’s will, to following his mission through to its fulfillment… in his humanity, he had to steel his nerves to do it. The human instinct is to avoid pain and suffering, to survive no matter what. Walking into a city where you know you’re likely to be killed is contrary to that instinct. I can’t help but wonder if Jesus began to feel a little afraid in that moment. When he says, “no one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the Kingdom of God,” I have to wonder if he’s talking as much to himself as to anyone else. Once you know the path that God wants you to take, you can’t look back.
In a story much closer to our own time, there was a woman who gave up all she had and walked into a situation where she knew she was likely to be killed. That woman was an Ursuline sister from Cleveland, Dorothy Kazel. Sr. Dorothy first came to my attention when I was named the recipient of an award in her honor for community service and social justice at Ursuline College this year. I have to admit, the more that I’ve come to learn about Sr Dorothy’s story, the closer I’ve gotten to this woman… it scares me. Dorothy was one of four churchwomen who were raped and killed by a death squad in El Salvador in 1980. They were targeted for helping refugees in this war-torn country find safety. As white American women who did missionary work, they were relatively safe from the violence of El Salvador, until they got too involved in the suffering of the people they ministered to. Until they began to demand, from the Salvadoran government as well as their own in the U.S., that something be done to alleviate their misery. Until they began to speak out in the name of the God of justice, the God who brings good news to the poor and the oppressed.
Sr Dorothy was courageous, and she followed the Spirit’s call to the ultimate end. But she was more than just a brave person. She was remembered by so many people as someone who was full of joy. Growing up Catholic, I had the impression of a martyr as someone who is solemn and sad, but Sr Dorothy was no bleak, statue image of a saint. She was well-loved by her family and friends, and she loved them well in return. She was funny, and outgoing, and kind. Once she was asked how she would want to be remembered after she was gone, and she said this: “I want to be remembered as an Alleluia, because a Christian should be an Alleluia from head to foot.”
Dorothy’s courage, though, is what is so remarkable. It’s also what makes this story kind of scary to me: she was an ordinary person who put her life on the line to preach the Gospel – not some saint on a pedestal, who we admire but think “oh, I could never be as good or as holy as them”. This is such an example of what it means to follow Jesus. I think Sr Dorothy really lived out those things that we hear Jesus say in the Gospel today, about putting the kingdom of God first. In the diaries and letters that she left behind, Dorothy wrote frequently about not knowing what the Lord had in store for her. I’m sure that’s a feeling that many of us can relate to. But the desire to be led, to do whatever God wanted her to do, was evident in what she wrote.
Dorothy Kazel had the chance to go home before she was killed. She had served the five years that she was required to serve on the Cleveland Diocesan Mission Team, but her love and concern for the people she ministered to caused her “set her face” towards El Salvador. She loved her family and friends, she loved her religious community and her hometown, but she followed the Spirit’s call to help those who needed her the most. Like Elisha in our Old Testament reading today, she had the prophet’s mantle thrown over her, and she followed that call. This, I think, is what Jesus means when he says “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the Kingdom of God.” It’s about making the choice to be courageous, even if inside you’re still afraid. A good friend of mine told me recently: “Life is a series of choices between love and fear.” The choice to love may be more difficult, it may have a greater cost, but the alternative is to give in to fear, to the power of darkness.
This story resonates particularly with me as someone who is discerning a call to the priesthood. I too am trying to follow where the Spirit leads me, in spite of the fear that inevitably comes with it. But I think this story can resonate for any baptized Christian. We are all called to seek the Kingdom of God, to follow where the Spirit leads us. God may not be calling you to be a prophet, or a priest, or a missionary. The thing that God may call you to do may seem small in your eyes. It may seem like nothing more than a tiny ripple in a pond. But imagine if we all make those little ripples. After a while, they become waves. And imagine what God can do with those waves. Listen to what the Spirit is telling you to do. Trust, like the Psalmist, that God will not abandon you to the grave. And you will see, as we sang in these ancient words: “You will show me the path of life; in your presence, there is fullness of joy, and in your right hand are pleasures for evermore.” Amen.
Photo of mural provided by the Maryknoll Sisters website: https://www.maryknollsisters.org/2015/04/15/el-salvador-martyrs-still-have-lessons-to-teach/
In the name of our ever-present and ever-loving God, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Last fall, when I was on retreat, I met a woman from San Francisco, and she told me a story which (I think) captures the essence of today’s Gospel. It goes like this:
There was a woman who worked at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco as a tour guide. One day, she gives another woman a tour of the cathedral. The visitor is very impressed, and at the end of the tour she asks, “How much does it cost to get baptized here?” The tour guide, after a moment, replies with a single word: “Everything.”
I imagine this was not the answer the visitor was looking for. I wonder if she walked away disappointed, like the rich young man later on in Luke’s gospel, who could not bring himself to give up all he had to follow Jesus. And I think it’s an understandable reaction.
Do you ever wonder sometimes what Jesus was thinking? Especially when he says something really hard. For example: “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.” Excuse me? You want me to hate my loved ones and my life itself in order to follow you? Or what he says today to the man who wants to bury his father before joining the disciples: “let the dead bury their own dead.” What?
Well, in today’s Gospel, we actually get a little glimpse into what Jesus was thinking. “When the days drew near for Jesus to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem.” He ‘set his face’, which means he was inwardly convicted, bound and determined to go, to face what he knew was waiting for him. Now, we believe that Jesus was both truly human and truly divine. So even though in his divinity he was dedicated to the Father’s will, to following his mission through to its fulfillment… in his humanity, he had to steel his nerves to do it. The human instinct is to avoid pain and suffering, to survive no matter what. Walking into a city where you know you’re likely to be killed is contrary to that instinct. I can’t help but wonder if Jesus began to feel a little afraid in that moment. When he says, “no one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the Kingdom of God,” I have to wonder if he’s talking as much to himself as to anyone else. Once you know the path that God wants you to take, you can’t look back.
In a story much closer to our own time, there was a woman who gave up all she had and walked into a situation where she knew she was likely to be killed. That woman was an Ursuline sister from Cleveland, Dorothy Kazel. Sr. Dorothy first came to my attention when I was named the recipient of an award in her honor for community service and social justice at Ursuline College this year. I have to admit, the more that I’ve come to learn about Sr Dorothy’s story, the closer I’ve gotten to this woman… it scares me. Dorothy was one of four churchwomen who were raped and killed by a death squad in El Salvador in 1980. They were targeted for helping refugees in this war-torn country find safety. As white American women who did missionary work, they were relatively safe from the violence of El Salvador, until they got too involved in the suffering of the people they ministered to. Until they began to demand, from the Salvadoran government as well as their own in the U.S., that something be done to alleviate their misery. Until they began to speak out in the name of the God of justice, the God who brings good news to the poor and the oppressed.
Mural of the four churchwomen martyred in El Salvador. Sr Dorothy is on the far right.
Sr Dorothy was courageous, and she followed the Spirit’s call to the ultimate end. But she was more than just a brave person. She was remembered by so many people as someone who was full of joy. Growing up Catholic, I had the impression of a martyr as someone who is solemn and sad, but Sr Dorothy was no bleak, statue image of a saint. She was well-loved by her family and friends, and she loved them well in return. She was funny, and outgoing, and kind. Once she was asked how she would want to be remembered after she was gone, and she said this: “I want to be remembered as an Alleluia, because a Christian should be an Alleluia from head to foot.”
Dorothy’s courage, though, is what is so remarkable. It’s also what makes this story kind of scary to me: she was an ordinary person who put her life on the line to preach the Gospel – not some saint on a pedestal, who we admire but think “oh, I could never be as good or as holy as them”. This is such an example of what it means to follow Jesus. I think Sr Dorothy really lived out those things that we hear Jesus say in the Gospel today, about putting the kingdom of God first. In the diaries and letters that she left behind, Dorothy wrote frequently about not knowing what the Lord had in store for her. I’m sure that’s a feeling that many of us can relate to. But the desire to be led, to do whatever God wanted her to do, was evident in what she wrote.
Dorothy Kazel had the chance to go home before she was killed. She had served the five years that she was required to serve on the Cleveland Diocesan Mission Team, but her love and concern for the people she ministered to caused her “set her face” towards El Salvador. She loved her family and friends, she loved her religious community and her hometown, but she followed the Spirit’s call to help those who needed her the most. Like Elisha in our Old Testament reading today, she had the prophet’s mantle thrown over her, and she followed that call. This, I think, is what Jesus means when he says “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the Kingdom of God.” It’s about making the choice to be courageous, even if inside you’re still afraid. A good friend of mine told me recently: “Life is a series of choices between love and fear.” The choice to love may be more difficult, it may have a greater cost, but the alternative is to give in to fear, to the power of darkness.
Sr Dorothy's grave in All Soul's Cemetery, Kirtland OH. I visited the day that I was notified I won the award named for her.
This story resonates particularly with me as someone who is discerning a call to the priesthood. I too am trying to follow where the Spirit leads me, in spite of the fear that inevitably comes with it. But I think this story can resonate for any baptized Christian. We are all called to seek the Kingdom of God, to follow where the Spirit leads us. God may not be calling you to be a prophet, or a priest, or a missionary. The thing that God may call you to do may seem small in your eyes. It may seem like nothing more than a tiny ripple in a pond. But imagine if we all make those little ripples. After a while, they become waves. And imagine what God can do with those waves. Listen to what the Spirit is telling you to do. Trust, like the Psalmist, that God will not abandon you to the grave. And you will see, as we sang in these ancient words: “You will show me the path of life; in your presence, there is fullness of joy, and in your right hand are pleasures for evermore.” Amen.
Photo of mural provided by the Maryknoll Sisters website: https://www.maryknollsisters.org/2015/04/15/el-salvador-martyrs-still-have-lessons-to-teach/
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