13 Pentecost

 

September 4, 2022

Luke14.25-33

+ At each Wednesday night Mass here at St. Stephen’s, we always commemorate a saint of some sort in the Church.

And more often than not, these saints are amazing people who have fascinating things.

Well, this week we will be commemorating several fascinating people, in addition to also commemorating the birth of the Blessed Virgin Mary (which is commemorated on Thursday, the 8^th)

Today, is the feast day of the person commemorated in our Peace and justice

window, Bishop Paul Jones.

Bishop Jones was the Bishop of Utah, and with the outbreak of World War I, he spoke out against the war, being a committed pacifist.

Making that statement set him apart from the rest of the Bishops in the Episcopal Church at that time, and he was forced out of the House of Bishops and forced to resign as Bishop.

But through it all, he never once recanted his statements or his belief that war was inherently evil and anti-Christian.

Also this week, on September 9 in the Episcopal Church’s Calendar of saints, we commemorate a group of truly remarkable people.

We will commemorate Blessed Constance and the so-called “Martyrs of Memphis.”

I have always been fascinated by these so-called “Martyrs.”

And since our own experience with a pandemic, their story takes on such deeper meaning.

The Martyrs of Memphis are a fascinating group of saints in the church.

Dr. Scott Morris summarizes the Martyrs of Memphis in this way:

In 1878, a yellow fever epidemic struck Memphis and killed 5,150 people in a brief period of time. The city’s rich fled to St. Louis, leaving the poor and middle class to fend for themselves. A notable exception was a group of Episcopal nuns known as the Sisterhood of St. Mary. They were led by a brave woman named Constance. Five women with little medical training cared for thousands of people because they believed that it was God's will for them to stay and comfort the sick and dying. In the end they, too, succumbed to yellow fever. Today, they are known as the Martyrs of Memphis. 

Constance and her companions were all Episcopal nuns—members of the Community of St. Mary.

Yes, of course, there are Episcopal nuns, as well as Episcopal monks in this world.

And some of them were quite extraordinary.

Like Constance and her companions.

Now, they might not be martyrs in the traditional sense of the word.

They didn’t get murdered for their faith.

But they did pay a price for their faith, and in service of their following of Jesus.

And the word Martyr simply means “witness.”

In this sense, they were truly witnesses for the faith in Christ.

And in that sense Bishop Jones himself could be considered a kind of martyr, for standing up and paying a price for his own witness in this world.

 But no matter how we might try to make sense of it, it’s a fascinating story.

And some of us might say, foolish, especially when we consider that at any time, those sisters could have left the city.

But they made the choice to stay and to serve, knowing full-well that staying would’ve meant almost certain death.

Bishop Jones could’ve just went along with his fellow bishops without saying a thing.

This is what sacrifice is all about.

In today’s Gospel, we find Jesus at his most blunt.

This is not the nice, sweet Jesus we have come to idealize.

This Jesus uses some harsh language to make clear that following him is not some pleasant, sweet, Sunday drive.

Following Jesus means sacrifice and the continued call to sacrifice.

Most of us don’t want to believe that following Jesus involves such sacrifice.

Many people think that following Jesus means going to church on Sunday and acting nice and maybe occasionally helping the homeless or the needy, which are all good things.

But following Jesus sometimes means following Jesus to the edge.

Following Jesus sometimes—in fact, more often than not—involves hefting that cross on our backs and trekking off after him, despite the fact that we are tired and drained.

This past week, I thought I had just about reached my own personal limit.

I have been dealing with several situations, both professionally and personally, that really pushed me to my limits recently.

And these situations have exhausted me to my core.

I have been feeling very weary lately.

But the fact is, as I preach all the time, sometimes this is what it means to follow Jesus.

It means sometimes that, while bearing a cross, we must also endure the gauntlet as well.

It means that although we are close to burning out, we must still go on.

We must shoulder our burdens, brace ourselves for the gauntlet and move on.

That doesn’t mean there weren’t moment when I, at least privately, pray: “I don’t now if I can keep on following Jesus.”

But somehow, even in those low, dark moments, we find the strength to go on.

We find the encouragement to put one more step in front of the other and we just do it.

One other insight in all of this: following Jesus does not mean we are slaves to Jesus.

We have free will through all of this.

As I look back on this past week and throughout my years of being a Christian and a priest, I realize there have been plenty of opportunities to simply turn away and say that I will not or cannot follow Jesus.

There have been opportunities to simply walk away and go along another path.

There is no sacrifice in following Jesus if there’s no free will.

For Bishop Jones, he could simply have remained quiet and not stirred the waters.

He could have chosen not to speak out and to make a stand.

And probably nothing would’ve happened.

He could’ve lived out his days quietly as just another Bishop in the Church.

But he spoke out, and stood up for what he knew what was right.

He knew that to do anything else was not following the way Jesus led for him.

For the martyrs of Memphis, they had the opportunity to leave.

The sisters could simply have left and went back to their convent in New York state and lived a full life of further service.

But they chose to stay, knowing full well what staying meant.

They knew that staying probably meant their own death.

But they also knew they were needed and this was where Jesus was leading.

For us, hopefully, Jesus isn’t leading us to quite that difficult of a sacrifice.

But still we are being led and often that place to which we are being led is a difficult and painful place.

It is probably not an actual cross.

However, Jesus is asking us a very important request today.

Give up your possessions, he says.

Don’t let anything come between you and God, he is saying, as difficult as it is to do.

Because those possessions—even those relationships—that get in the way are often things we cling and cherish more than anything else.

Following Jesus means putting the God of Jesus first and foremost.

It means making God the center of our lives and nothing else.

And it means following Jesus even when we would rather be doing something else.

It means sometimes even giving up relationships that hinder us in our following.

And that it very difficult.

But following Jesus, we know that ultimately all path lead to victory.

All the sacrifices we make in that following will be repaid to us in ways we can’t even fully fathom or imagine.

So, let us take up the cross we have been given—whatever it might be in our own lives—and let us follow Jesus wherever he might lead.

Let us take the cross and bear it with strength and dignity.

And let us shed ourselves of anything that might come between us and God who leads us along what seems at times like uncertain paths.

Let us follow Jesus.

Because we know he will not lead us on uncertain paths, nor will he lead us to a place of desolation.

Rather Jesus will lead, as we know in our heart of hearts, home to our true home.

 

Let us pray.

Loving God, give us strength to take up our cross and follow  Jesus your Son that we may go where he leads and do what he did, and in doing, so may we inherit what he gained and become your children today and always; in Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.