In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy
Ghost. Amen.

When I was growing up in the First Assemblies of God
church in Choutea Oklahoma, I desperately wanted to be
a good Christian. So I read the Bible, daily and attentively.
The older I got, the more I concentrated on the Gospels,
memorizing long passages like the Sermon on the Mount.
I figured that if I did my best to follow the direct teachings
of Jesus, I couldn’t go wrong. I noticed that all three of the
synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) contain a
passage called “The Great Commandment.” It’s recited at
the beginning of almost every Mass here at St. Mary’s:
“Hear what our Lord Jesus Christ saith: Thou shalt love

the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul,
and with all thy mind. This is the first and great
commandment. And the second is like unto it: Thou shalt
love thy neighbor as thyself. On these two commandments
hang all the Law and the Prophets.”

The remaining Gospel, John, contains a version called
The New Commandment: “A new commandment I give to
you, that you love one another.” Today’s Epistle reading
from First John can be read as a commentary on the
Great Commandment and New Commandment. Even
more, it can be read as a guide to love as the central
Christian practice.

As a teenager I realized that while other parts of the Bible,
even the Gospels, might sometimes be difficult or obscure,
THIS was a teaching that was simple and clear. It’s a
standard by which all the rest of Scripture can be
interpreted. St. Augustine said, “Whoever thinks he
understands the divine Scriptures in a way that does not
build the love of God and love of neighbor does not
understand it at all.”

In today’s reading, the First Epistle of John says, “Beloved,
let us love one another.” In last week’s sermon, Fr. Sean
told the story of heroic love shown by St. Maximillian
Kolbe, who exchanged his life for that of a fellow inmate in
Auschwitz. Fr. Sean also talked about the love we can

show in small ways in our everyday lives. This simple,
smaller way, this “little way” of expressing love and living
out our Christian calling was advocated by St. Therese of
Lisieux, a patron saint of St. Mary’s whose relic is on the
altar behind me. She wrote that something as simple as “a
word or a kindly smile, will often suffice to gladden a
wounded and sorrowful heart.”

This is so simple, yet, as you’ve probaby experienced, so
very difficult. Many of you know that I’m a barista at the
Nelson Atkins Museum. Before I open the coffee shop, I
like to duck into the back room, cross myself, say an Our
Father, a Hail Mary, a Glory Be, and then pray, “Oh my
Jesus, please help me to love you more and more every

day. And please help me to show your love to everyone I
meet.” Then I open the shop, and, during the course of the
day, I proceed to fail spectacularly. Invariably, I will be
annoyed by someone, I will be irritated by someone else,
someone will walk up to the counter five minutes before
closing and order four hot chocolates, a 16 ounce caramel
chai, and a 12 ounce half caf vanilla lavender, oat AND
almond milk latte, extremely hot. “You know,” they’ll say,
“hot enough to scald my tongue.” And while I may remain
professional, I’m not sure that in that moment I’m a shining
example of the love of God.

Trying to live up to this ideal, and failing, on a daily basis,
might be discouraging, but we are enabled to keep trying,

day after day after day, not by the success of our efforts.
Our ability to practice love comes from the fact that God
loves us. The Epistle says, “We love, because he first
loved us.”

This passage is full of images of the magnitude of God’s
love. “So we know and believe the love God has for us.
God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God, and
God abides in him.” God’s love is big enough that we can
live in it. We can make it our dwelling. We can rest in it.

The passage makes clear that love isn’t just “of God”, an
attribute that proceeds from God. God IS love. Love is the
Godhead’s very being and essence. In classical theism we

say that God is omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent.
Love is omniscient. It know everything...about you. Love is
omnipresent. It is everywhere. It is vast enough to live in
because there is nowhere else we can live. Love is
omnipotent. No power in the universe is stronger than its
power.

These sound like abstract ideas, but God’s love was
shown to us, in the flesh, in the incarnation, death and
resurrection of Jesus. The Epistle says, “In this the love of
God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only
Son into the world, so that we might live through him. In
this is love, not that we loved God but that he loved us,
and sent his Son to be an expiation for our sins.” Jesus

poured forth his love for all humanity on the Cross. His
heart was wounded by the centurion’s spear, providing all
humanity a certain shelter. This image of dwelling in
Christ’s wounded heart has been widely used in
Christianity since at least the medieval period. “Establish
your dwelling in the amiable Heart of Jesus,” one saint
wrote, “and you will find unalterable peace and strength to
carry out your good desires

And just as Jesus offered himself entirely to us on the
Cross as an expression of his infinite love, offering his own
heart as a dwelling place, he offers himself to us in the
Eucharist at every Mass. St. Peter Eymard declared, “The
Eucharist is the supreme proof of the love of Jesus.” In it,

Jesus comes to us in a form that will allow him to
physically and literally dwell in us.

“He who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in
him.” We make this a reality at every Mass. Jesus offers
his wounded heart to us in the Eucharist, in the bread and
wine. We offer him our wounded hearts, our sorrowful, our
confused and troubled and angry and lonely hearts. We
offer “ourselves, our souls and bodies.” And in this mutual
offering, we , in the words of Eucharistic Prayer One, are
“made one body with him, that he may dwell in us, and we
in him.”

The image of us dwelling in God and God dwelling in us is
found throughout the Gospel and Epistles of John. It’s in
both of today's Johannine readings. When we dwell in
God’s love, and God’s love dwells in us, we are free to
attempt to offer that love to others, to succeed AND to fail,
and over and over and at the last, to return to God’s
infinite love for us.

Of this, St. Therese wrote, “[It makes] me think of a little
child that is learning to stand but does not yet know how to
walk. In his desire to reach the top of the stairs to find his
mother, he lifts his little foot to climb the first step. It is all in
vain, and at each renewed effort he falls. Well, be like that
little child. Always keep lifting your foot to climb the ladder
of love, and do not imagine that you can mount even the
first step. All God asks of you is good will. From the top of
the ladder He looks lovingly upon you, and soon, touched
by your fruitless efforts, He will Himself come down, and,
taking you in His Arms, will carry you to His Kingdom
never again to leave Him.”

Sean C. Kim
St. Mary’s Episcopal Church
Fourth Sunday of Easter
21 April 2024
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            When I was young, I used to spend hours reading the Greek myths and legends. I was fascinated by the tales of capricious gods and the epic adventures of heroes. One of the most compelling stories that I remember from my childhood is that of Damon and Pythias. It’s not one of the more well-known Greek legends, but there’s a powerful ethical and emotional dimension to the story.

            Damon and Pythias are two close friends. Pythias is accused of plotting against the king and is sentenced to death. Pythias requests permission to go home to settle his affairs before his execution. When the king refuses, Pythias’s friend, Damon, steps forward and volunteers to be the hostage until his friend’s return. The condition is that if Pythias does not return, Damon will be executed in his place. The long wait begins, and the king suspects that Pythias will not show up. But when he does return, the king is not only surprised; he is so moved by the friendship of the two men that he allows both to go free. The story of Damon and Pythias embodies the ideal of self-sacrifice in friendship.

            In today’s Epistle reading from I John, we have a similar image of self-sacrifice: “We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for one another” (I John 3:16-24). As in the Pythias and Damon legend, here, too, we have the talk about laying down our lives for another. But there’s a difference. In the story of Pythias and Damon, it is one friend willing to lay down his life for the other. But, here in I John, the attitude of self-sacrifice is not limited to friends. It is a general statement, in which we are called to embrace the attitude of self-sacrifice toward all, friend or foe. Just as Jesus laid down his life for all, we, too, are called to follow him and lay down our lives for all.

Moreover, we are told that this is the definition of love: “We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another…let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action” (I John 2:16, 18). In other words, Christian love is about laying down our lives for one another.

            For me, this is one of those difficult sayings in Scripture. It isn’t difficult to understand; the meaning is quite clear. But it’s difficult to implement and practice. Sometimes, I wonder why Jesus had to say some of the things that he did. Why does he have to demand so much of us? Why couldn’t our religion be easy, requiring little of us but giving us a lot of benefits? Well, friends, it doesn’t get any tougher than this: laying down our lives for one another.

            And yet as tough as it is, there have been countless followers of the Lord Jesus throughout the history of our faith who have done just that, holding before us models of Christ-like love. Some of you may have heard of St. Maximilian Kolbe. Fr. Kolbe was a Polish Roman Catholic priest and Franciscan monk, who was interned at Auschwitz for opposing the Nazis during World War II. When a prisoner escaped, the Nazis randomly selected ten men to be starved to death. When one of the men shouted, “My wife! My children!” Fr. Kolbe volunteered to take the place of the stranger, and the Nazis agreed to his request. He was starved for two weeks and then killed by lethal injection.

If you’re wondering what happened to the man for whom Fr. Kolbe died, Franciszek Gajowniczek, he survived the camp and the war and lived to the age of 93. Inspired by Fr. Kolbe’s sacrifice, he became a lay missionary. Fr.  Kolbe was canonized a saint by fellow Polish priest, Pope John Paul II, in 1982, and Franciszek Gajowniczek was there at the canonization. Fr. Kolbe’s feast day is August 14.

            We commemorate Fr. Kolbe and other saints because they carried out great deeds and lived extraordinary lives. They stand out among the rest of us. The Greeks have their heroes; we Christians also have our heroes. Few are called to the kind of heroic faith that Fr. Kolbe embodied. And yet we, as fellow followers of the Lord Jesus, are called to the same command to love by laying down our lives for one another.

            Laying down our lives doesn’t have to mean giving up our lives. Love doesn’t always require the ultimate sacrifice. We can lay down our lives for one another in other ways. Returning to our Epistle, we read, “How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?” (I John 3:17).

            When we help a brother or sister in need, we are laying down our lives. We are giving up a part of ourselves – our time, our resources, our energies. In a way, it is a kind of dying to ourselves and living for others, as we take the focus away from ourselves and turn to those around us in love and service.

And I see this kind of self-sacrificing love everywhere in our community here at St. Mary’s. Just these past couple of weeks, I saw love in action when Fr. Larry and Jami Blakeley went to visit a parishioner, Chip Oldham, who had long been neglected and almost forgotten by the rest of us. He is featured in this week’s newsletter. I saw love in action when our parishioners took the time to join those who had lost loved ones to grieve and mourn with them. And week after week I see love in action when you pick up Blessing Bags to distribute to the homeless on the streets. I see love in action in the volunteers who labor in the kitchen to provide generous hospitality to our community and those in need.

             How about you? How will you lay down your life this week?

Sean C. Kim
St. Mary’s Episcopal Church
Second Sunday of Easter
7 April 2024


Psalm 133 is one of my favorite psalms. I like it so much that I have the psalm in Latin posted to the corkboard in my office at school. Ecce quam bonum et quam iucundum habitare fratres in unum! Oh, how good and pleasant it is when brethren live together in unity! What a treat it is to have the choir chant it so beautifully this morning.

One of the reasons I’m so fond of the psalm is because family means so much to me. My parents are no longer living, but I’ve always been close to my sister and brother and their families. We went to the same schools, even college and graduate school, and we currently live just minutes from each other. My family provides me with love and support. And among life’s greatest joys for me – and I’m sure this is true for many of you - is gathering around the table together as a family. Perhaps, it’s my Asian, Confucian heritage with its emphasis on the family. Or perhaps, it’s all the “Leave It to Beaver” and “Brady Bunch” reruns that I watched as a kid – and still do.

I’m also drawn to the striking poetic imagery of the psalm. Brethren living in unity is compared to “the fine oil upon the head that runs down upon the beard of Aaron, and runs down upon the collar of his robe” (Psalm 133:2). The oil is olive oil. These days, we use olive oil mainly for cooking, but in ancient Israel, it had multiple purposes. It was used as medicine to heal wounds or mixed with fragrant spices for hair and skin care. Apart from these practical uses, olive oil was also a symbol of blessing. Visitors to one’s home would have their feet washed and then have oil poured on their heads as a gesture of hospitality. And oil was used for the important purpose of anointing kings, priests, and prophets.  

In the Episcopal Church, we carry on this ancient tradition of using oil to anoint and bless. Every year during Holy Week, the Bishop blesses the oils for healing and anointing at what we call the Chrism Mass at the cathedral; chrism is the consecrated oil. This year, our parishioners Raja Reed and Jami Blakeley joined the Altar Guilds of St. Andrew’s and St. Paul’s to put the chrism into several vials for distribution to the churches in our diocese.  

The other image in the psalm is the dew of Hermon falling on the hills of Zion (Psalm 133: 3). Hermon was a mountain located some 125 miles north of Jerusalem and famous for its abundant dew. In a land that was dry throughout most of the year, the dew that fell during the night was an essential source of water.  The dew, like the oil, represents what is good and pleasant, a blessing from God.

And so, too, is brethren living in unity a blessing from God. It is the goal of our life together, as the family of God. We are called to live together in peace, unity, and harmony as sisters and brothers in Our Lord Jesus Christ. According to the great theologian and church father, St. Augustine, Psalm 133 provided the inspiration in the early church for the birth of monasteries, where monks, brothers in the faith, would strive to live together in unity.  

At the 8 o’clock service, Jan Brill, whom many of you know, reminded me of a joke that she had shared with me earlier. There was a monastery, where the monks took a vow of silence. The only exception was at Easter, when one monk would be allowed to express one thought. One Easter, a monk said, “I hate the food here.” The second year, another monk said, “The food is not bad.” The third year, a third monk said, “I’m out of here; I’m sick of all this conflict.” Interesting, this joke actually reflects a real situation we have here at St. Mary’s. Some of you have been to Conception Abbey. Raja, as well as Fr. Charles when he was here, hates the food there; I actually think it’s quite good, especially for dormitory food.

So, what about us today? We do not live as monks and nuns in a cloister but out in the world. And whether at home or work, we fall short of the ideal of unity in our daily lives. Who is free from differences and conflicts with those whom we live and work? Even in our churches, unity is elusive. We are divided by theological, social, and political issues, as well as interpersonal tensions and conflicts. As you know, I study and teach religious history. And so much of the history of Christianity, as well as that of other religions, is the story of division and conflict. This goes back to the very origins of our faith. Think of the arguments among Jesus’ own disciples that we read about in the Gospels and the controversies that rocked the early church.

Before I was ordained a priest, my clergy friends and mentors warned me how bad church politics could get. I didn’t believe them. I had been in academics a long time and had seen a lot of bad behavior – and I’m not talking about students. As those of you who have been education know all too well, academic politics can get pretty nasty, and I thought I had seen the worst. Well, I was wrong. I don’t know if church politics is any worse than academic politics, but, I have to say, I’ve been surprised. Perhaps, it’s because we have higher expectations for religious people, especially clergy. Or perhaps it’s just my naivete and ignorance. After all, the church, too, is an institution with hierarchies of power and authority. Why should it be any different?

Resolving conflict and building unity is hard work. Unity doesn’t come naturally. At our school, for instance, we have detailed codes of conduct and civility. The church, too, has guidelines and regulations, as well as training for clergy and staff. And yet no amount of rules or training can entirely rid us of division and conflict in our lives. It seems to be human nature. 

But, fortunately, as people of faith, we are not left to our own devices. We place our hope in Jesus, the ultimate source of our unity. Indeed, it is only in Christ that we can ever hope of overcoming the selfish desires and interests that divide us and achieve the unity to which we are called. It is Christ’s presence within us that guides us and gives us the grace to transcend our divisions and conflicts. 

Moreover, we can experience the perfect unity that Christ offers us each time we come together for Holy Eucharist; it is the supreme blessing of unity from God.

As we gather at the altar, kneeling side by side, we are able to lay down our divisions and conflicts, even if for a brief, sacred moment. We call this service Holy Communion, after all, because we share in common – “commune” with one another – the Bread and the Cup. In the words of the Apostle Paul: “The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a sharing in the blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a sharing in the body of Christ? Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread” (I Corinthians 10:16-17).  

The ritual acts of sharing the One Bread and the Common Cup are not mere symbols of our unity. We believe that in the Blessed Sacrament, we truly unite with one another in Jesus Christ Our Lord as one mystical body. And the body includes not just us here physically present in the Nave at St. Mary’s but all the faithful throughout the world, as well as the citizens of heaven. Christ in His Sacrifice brings all his followers together in perfect unity as one body. 
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So, dear sisters and brothers, come now to the Table of Our Lord. Let us gather as one family and share the Bread and the Wine in the Banquet prepared for us by Our Lord. For it is in the Mysteries of the Blessed Sacrament that we will receive a foretaste of the perfect and eternal peace and unity of that Heavenly City that awaits us.