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. 

Sean C. Kim
St. Mary’s Episcopal Church
Easter Sunday
31 March 2024

Last Sunday, Fr. Bob Hutcherson in his sermon quoted from the well-known spiritual, “Were You There When They Crucified My Lord?” And Fr. Bob led us to the cross of Jesus to stand with his mother, Mary, his disciple, John, and others who were gathered to be with Jesus in his last moments. We grieved and mourned his suffering and death.

Today, we find ourselves in a different place – standing at the empty tomb. Today’s Gospel from Mark tells us that there were three women who went to Jesus’ tomb early in the morning carrying spices to anoint his body: Mary Magdalene; Mary, the mother of James; and Salome. To their shock and surprise, they encounter the empty tomb. Today, on this Easter Sunday morning, we join Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome in their witness of the Resurrection of Jesus.

You may have heard Christianity referred to as a Resurrection faith or Easter faith. What happened that first Easter morning two thousand years ago is the foundation of our Christian faith. It is the reason we are here. It is the reason we worship. It is the reason we pray. It is the reason we love and serve one another. We are people of the Resurrection.

Without the Resurrection, the movement that Jesus began would have ended in failure and shame with his death. It would have receded into obscurity, one of the many reform movements that rose and fell in Judaism. But Resurrection happened. And because of the Resurrection, the disciples who had fled and dispersed when Jesus was arrested and crucified came back together again to carry on Jesus’ mission to proclaim the Good News. The apostles dedicated and sacrificed their lives for the faith and established the early Christian communities. And from these apostolic foundations, the fledgling faith has grown into the world’s largest religion. Today, we are joined by 2.4 billion fellow Christians around the world as we stand together at the empty tomb and celebrate the Resurrection of Jesus Christ Our Lord and Savior.

Because of the Resurrection, we need not fear the power of death. As followers of Jesus, we believe that this life is not all there is. The saddest moments of my job as priest are when beloved members of our parish pass away. This past year, we had funerals or memorial services for Tom Rinehart, Maria Iskenderoglu, Ron Wiseley, and, most recently, Dick Herndon. At these services, in the midst of our grief and sorrow, we expressed our conviction, so eloquently expressed in the words of our Prayer Book, that in death, life is changed, not ended.  Life is changed, not ended.

Yesterday, at the Great Vigil of Easter, we renewed our Baptismal Vows. One of the reasons we do that is because Baptism is inseparable from Resurrection. In the words of the Apostle Paul, we are buried with Jesus by baptism into his death, so that just as Christ was raised from the dead, we, too, might rise with him to newness of life (Romans 6:4-5). In the Sacrament of Baptism, our old selves die, and we rise to new life in union with Christ. Hence, our physical death only marks a transition in this new life in Christ, a transition that will lead us to see him face to face and be reunited with our loved ones who have gone before us.

And while we are still on earth, we experience the new life in Christ every day, every hour. Our life is not the same when Jesus dwells in us, and we in him. As many of you know, my faith background is Presbyterian and Methodist. So, I grew up in the sober Protestant worship and piety of those traditions. But then when I went to college, I encountered the lively and vibrant music of Praise and Worship. And I’m going to show my age here – I was drawn, in particular, to the music of Bill and Gloria Gaither. Some of you may remember them. I mentioned the Gaither music recently to one of our younger parishioners from an evangelical background, and he pointed out that the Gaither music is pretty passé and that contemporary Christian music has gone well beyond it. Well, anyway, my first experience of it was new and refreshing. I love the traditional hymns, but the contemporary Christian music was different and also good. One of the first Gaither songs that I learned – and it’s still one of my favorites – is “Because He Lives.” I’d like to share a part of the song with you.

God sent His son, they called Him, Jesus;
He came to love, heal and forgive;
He lived and died to buy my pardon,
An empty grave is there to prove my Savior lives!
Because He lives, I can face tomorrow,
Because He lives, all fear is gone;
Because I know He holds the future,
And life is worth the living,
Just because He lives!

There’s a beautiful story associated with the song. Bill Gaither composed the music, and Gloria wrote the lyrics. At the time, they were a struggling young couple. Gloria was pregnant with their first child, Bill was ill, and they were facing economic hardship. In the midst of all the anxiety and stress, Gloria found peace and strength in her faith. This song is her testament.
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Dear sisters and brothers of the Easter faith, we sing today of our salvation and our new life in Jesus Christ Our Lord and Redeemer. He has conquered death and all the forces of evil that rage against us. He does not promise us an easy life, free of suffering and hardship. What he does promise is to be with us wherever we are. Christ’s presence fills us with the hope and strength to face whatever challenge may come our way. In our darkest moments, he will shed his light. In our most turbulent moments, he will grant us his peace. In our weakest moments, he will renew our strength. As Christ’s followers, we share in the victory and power of his Resurrection. Alleluia. Christ is risen. 

ent III
Sean C. Kim
St. Mary’s Episcopal Church
3 March 2024
 
 
“Making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple, both the sheep and the cattle. He also poured out the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables” (John 2:15). An angry Jesus is not how we ordinarily picture him in our minds. We prefer the soft and tender images of Jesus – the shepherd with a lamb in his arms, the compassionate healer of the sick and diseased, the lover of children. And yet here he is, driving out people and animals, overturning tables, and shouting, “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!” (John 2:16).
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Known as the cleansing of the temple, this episode in the life and ministry of Jesus is found in all four Gospels. So, what do we make of the angry Jesus? For one thing, it shows us that he is human, experiencing the full range of feelings and emotions. Elsewhere in the Gospels, we see Jesus weeping when his friend Lazarus dies (John 11:1-44). And, although we aren’t actually told this, we can imagine that Jesus smiled and laughed at the feasts and banquets that he attended, which we do read about. In the Gospel of John, in fact, the cleansing of the temple takes place immediately after his first miracle of turning water into wine at the wedding in Cana (John 2:1-11). I picture a happy Jesus at the wedding feast, surrounded by family and friends, drinking wine. Jesus was God Incarnate, but he was also human like us.

Jesus’ anger in the temple was a response to what he perceived to be the greed and desire for profit that was contaminating the sacred grounds of the temple. Biblical scholars also point to the corruption of the temple hierarchy and Roman bureaucracy that benefited from the commercial transactions.[1] In the other Gospels, Jesus accuses the merchants and money changers of turning a house of prayer into a “den of robbers.”[2] So, it was a righteous anger, Jesus’ zeal for the sanctity of His Father’s house (John 2:17).

Throughout the history of our faith, there are many instances of those who have been moved by righteous anger and filled with holy zeal to do great things for God. In the sixteenth century, Martin Luther was angered by the corruption and worldliness of the medieval church to spark the movement of reform and revival known as the Protestant Reformation, of which we are heirs. In the nineteenth century, William Wilberforce, a member of the British Parliament, and other abolitionists were angered by the cruelty and inhumanity of slavery to work tirelessly for the emancipation of slaves in the British empire. Today on our church calendar is the Feast of John and Charles Wesley. And I know there are many former Methodists and Nazarenes in our midst. John Wesley was angered by the apathy of the Church of England toward the working classes, so he got up on his horse and traveled the length and breadth of England to preach the Gospel of Our Lord Jesus Christ. During his ministry, he traveled a total of 250,000 miles, on horseback; that would be the equivalent of circling the globe ten times. And his brother, Charles Wesley, wrote 6,500 hymns, infusing the Methodist movement with some of the most beautiful hymns ever written, many of which we find in our Hymnbook.

As some of you know, my academic training is in church history, in particular, the history of Christianity in Korea. In my research, I come across many instances of righteous anger. When Protestant missionaries first came to Korea in the late 1800s, they were angered by the sight of children abandoned in the streets. So, what did they do? They gathered them into the orphanages that they established. Christians were also angered by the total exclusion of women from education to set up the first schools for women in Korean history. A testament to the powerful legacy of this ministry, the world’s largest women’s university is in Seoul, with a student population of over 20,000, and it was founded by the missionary Mary Scranton.

This past Friday was March 1, and it is celebrated as Independence Day in Korea. On March 1, 1919, Korean Christians, angered by the tyranny and injustice of Japanese colonial rule, spearheaded national protests for independence, involving more than a million people. While colonial rule did not come to an immediate end, it did bring about major changes in policy, allowing greater rights and freedoms.

There are countless examples from Christian history in which the righteous anger of the faithful have brought about extraordinary transformations in society and politics. In fact, the modern world as we know it is filled with the profound legacies of Christian activism.

But our world is still in need of change and reform. We have new problems and issues that arouse our anger. And as followers of Jesus, we are called to channel this anger into a zeal for good works, as our forebears have done throughout the centuries.

The Season of Lent is a time of reflection and spiritual growth, a period when we join Our Lord Jesus in the wilderness for forty days. It’s most often associated with giving things up, like wine and chocolate. But it is also a time to do more.

As you look around the world today, what makes you angry – gun violence, homelessness, homophobia, racism? The Church provides opportunities for you to do something about these issues, and we have dedicated, hard-working leaders who are moving us forward.

As I mentioned last week, Lenette Johnson and Philip Lofflin are working with the diocese to address the issue of gun violence. And if you are interested in reaching out to the homeless and hungry in our city, talk with Raja Reed about our Blessing Bags program or with Dcn. Lynda about volunteering at Cherith Brook. If you are interested in working against homophobia, consider helping out with Pride Weekend, coming up in June. Raja is part of the diocesan committee that is busy at work planning the various activities. During Lent, we also have a book study, led by Dcn. Lynda, examining the church’s complicity in racism. And this coming week, I will be meeting with Dcn. Lynda and parishioners John Simpson and Margaret Akdeniz about reviving our Social Justice Committee. I imagine part of our discussion will be what in our society makes us angry and inspired to work for the greater good. So, there are many opportunities here at the church and in the diocese for you to become involved.

In our Anglo-Catholic tradition, we talk a lot about holiness. And holiness consists not just in our commitment to prayer and worship but also good deeds. As we pray in the General Thanksgiving, which is a part of the Daily Office of Morning and Evening Prayer, we show forth God’s praise, not only with our lips, but in our lives, by giving up ourselves to his service, and by walking before him in holiness and righteousness all our days.[3] Jesus in his day cleansed the temple to make it holy again. And our good deeds today are part of what makes the church holy.

So, dear sisters and brothers in Christ, I pray that during this Season of Lent, your righteous anger at injustice and suffering will move you to action. I pray that this time of prayer and reflection will reveal God’s will for you in the world. I pray that God grant you a Most Holy Lent.

[1] Marilyn Salmon, “Commentary on John 2:13-22,” Working Preacher. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/third-sunday-in-lent-2/commentary-on-john-213-22
[2] Mary Hinkle Shore, “Commentary on John 2:13-22,” Working Preacher. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/third-sunday-in-lent-2/commentary-on-john-213-22-4
[3] The Book of Common Prayer (New York: Church Publishing Incorporated, 1979), 58-59.

Lent II/Orange Sunday
Sean C. Kim
St. Mary’s Episcopal Church
25 February 2024
 
 
Today’s Orange Sunday Mass is part of our continuous prayers for peace and healing in the aftermath of the deadly shooting at the Chiefs Super Bowl rally on February 14. This past Wednesday evening, we held a Prayer Vigil. It was beautiful and moving. Each of us lighted candles in memory of those who have suffered from gun violence and in hopes that this scourge on our society will end soon. Lenette Johnson, who is a parishioner and chorister here at St. Mary’s, offered a powerful and eloquent witness during the service. I would like to share some of her mesage with you this morning.
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Lenette is a retired music teacher from the North Kansas City and Kansas City, Missouri, public school districts. She recalled how life changed for her and her students at school after Sandy Hook in December 2012, when twenty children and adults were killed in the shooting.

After Sandy Hook, the active shooter drills began. 1) The first drills, teachers and students were to hide from the shooter. 2) Then a few years later, teachers were told to hide and then flee from the shooter.  3) A few years later, teachers were asked to hide, flee, and then fight the shooter. Throw whatever was in your classroom at the shooter. In my classroom, it was keyboard instruments!! I was emotionally affected by these experiences, and I could only imagine the trauma that the children were feeling. My daughter went through her entire school life with active shooter drills. And yet the white elephant in the situation, the guns, was never addressed.
 
As I listened to Lenette, I thought about how in the 1950s, schools did so-called duck-and-cover drills in the event of a nuclear attack from the Soviet Union. Remember those? I was too young, but I’ve seen photos and videos of the drills. Now, in our nation, we are doing drills not to prepare for a foreign attack with atom bombs but to protect ourselves from individuals within our own communities who wish to do us harm. What kind of society have we become?

As you know, in the recent Chiefs rally shooting, eight children were among the twenty-two people hit by the gunfire. And I just heard on the news yesterday that there was a sixteen-year-old student at Olathe Northwest High School who brought a loaded gun to school just this past Friday. There have been many other similar cases throughout the metro area in recent years. And need I list the examples of school shootings across the country, such as Columbine in 1999 and Uvalde, just a couple of years ago, in 2022, in which so many innocent children have died or been injured and traumatized for life? The active shooter drills are by no means the result of paranoia. Sadly, they are necessary precautions against a very real daily threat.

In the Gospel of Matthew, we read about the Massacre of Innocents. King Herod, threatened by the news of the birth of a king, slaughtered all the children under two years of age in and around Bethlehem (Matthew 2:16-18). Today, in our society, we have our own Massacre of Innocents, as the senseless gun violence claims the lives of innocent children.

So, what should be our Christian response to the gun violence? As with other major social and political issues in our society, Christians are divided. Some call for strict controls; others claim the right to bear arms. Gun violence is a complicated and contentious issue both in analyzing the problem and in providing solutions. I know that here at St. Mary’s, we have a broad spectrum of views and opinions on the matter.

But on one point, we, as Christians, cannot be divided – our commitment to peace, a society free of gun violence. Whatever may be our analysis of the problem, whatever may be our solutions, we have to come together in working to end the gun violence and creating a peaceful and safe society. After all, we follow a Lord who is the “Prince of Peace.” At his birth, the angels in the heavens sang, “Peace on earth.”

Moreover, during Jesus’ life and ministry, children held a special place. In the Gospels, we read of how much Jesus loved and cared for the children. Parents brought their children to Jesus so that he would lay his hands on them and pray. When the disciples tried to chase them away, Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of heaven belongs” (Matthew 19:13-15; Luke 18:15-17).

Some of you know that I attended a Community of Christ Church for a brief period. When I was a kid growing up in Independence, Missouri, my siblings and I attended Sunday School at Second Church. Back then, it was called the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints or RLDS; the name change to Community of Christ came later. The reason why we went there was my parents were good friends with the organist, and the church had a great Sunday School program.

At one time, I was deeply immersed in the beliefs and practices of the RLDS Church, but since then, my faith journey has taken me in very different directions. I no longer subscribe to most of what I was taught at Second Church, but one part of the RLDS legacy in my personal life that I will always cherish is their emblem, which can been seen on their buildings and church publications. Picture a small child standing in the middle with a lion lying next to him on his right and a lamb standing to his left.  A child, a lion, and a lamb – it is a beautiful and powerful image of the hope for peace.
The emblem is based on a passage from the Book of Isaiah:

The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child will lead them…They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea” (Isaiah 11:6-9).
 
For me, this vision from Isaiah is the goal to which we strive, a world in which former enemies do not hurt or destroy but live in harmony side by side and the little child has nothing to fear. As followers of Christ, we are called to build this world of peace, a world with no active gun drills in our schools.

In closing, I would like to share with you the prayer that Lenette offered at the Prayer

Vigil:
Dear Lord, we whisper NO MORE in our prayers at night as we remember gun violence victims. We say NO MORE as we go through our day as we remember students and staff of gun violence. We shout NO MORE when we are at rallies and remember all those affected by gun violence. Help us to have the strength and courage to do those things that will lessen gun violence in our city and nation. Amen.

The Feast of Christ the King
Sean C. Kim
St. Mary’s Episcopal Church
26 November 2023  

​Today, we commemorate the Feast of Christ the King. This is a relatively new feast on the Church Calendar, instituted by Pope Pius XI in 1925. The historical context in which the pope introduced the feast was the militant nationalism that had been infecting Europe in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries and had been one of the major causes of World War I. Pius XI wanted to remind the faithful that as Christians, our highest allegiance – above any nation or government or leader – is to our Lord Jesus Christ, the King above all kings and the King of all Creation. The feast has spread from the Roman Catholic Church to other denominations, including the Anglican Communion.

 The Feast of Christ the King falls on the last Sunday of the Church Year. This serves to remind us that at the end of time, Christ will come in all his glory and power. As we prayed in the Collect, he will establish his rule as “King of kings and Lord of lords.” We have many examples of the kingship of Christ depicted in Christian art. The iconography usually has Jesus enthroned in glorious majesty and splendor and surrounded by a host of angels and saints. Sometimes, he wears a crown and carries a scepter as symbols of his royal authority.

But there is another depiction of Christ the King, one that is ironic but, in fact, more familiar to us than the regal depictions. It is the image of Jesus hanging on the cross. Above his head is the inscription, INRI, the initials representing the Latin words, Iesus Nazarenus, Rex Iudaeorum, “Jesus the Nazarene, King of the Jews.” It is the title that the Romans conferred on Jesus in mockery and contempt as they tortured and nailed him to the cross (John 19:19).

But, for us, his disciples, this title is an expression of our faith, for Jesus is indeed our King. And whether it is the crucifix that hangs above us during our worship or the crucifix on the rosary in our private devotions, it is this image of Jesus the King that we behold in our daily lives. It is the image of a king who has emptied himself of all his power and glory and given up his very life for the sake of the world. It is the image of the Almighty God who has become one of us, a vulnerable human being, to suffer and die. It is the image of our faith and salvation.

And this king who hangs on the cross, this king who has emptied himself of power and glory, calls on us to follow his example. We, too, are called to empty ourselves of power and glory. Last week, I was at an annual academic conference for religious studies. It is always a great pleasure to learn about what other scholars are working on as well as catch up with old colleagues and friends. The part of academic life, however, that I do not care for is the game of status. Scholars don’t make a lot of money, but – perhaps because of that – the competition for status can get pretty fierce. We judge ourselves based on the schools we attended, the number of publications and grants, and so on. I often wonder why we can’t just focus on our love of learning and teaching? Why do we become so full of ourselves? I’m sure this kind of game of status is nothing new to you. Whatever our professions, most of us have to deal with the competition for money, power, and status. It’s the reality of our society.

And yet our Christian faith calls us to a different perspective and standard. Christ, through word and example, calls us to empty ourselves of all self-centeredness, to turn our attention away from our desire for money, power, and status, and to focus on others in self-denying love and service. The Kingdom of God that Jesus proclaimed while he was on earth was based not on power and glory but mercy and compassion. In today’s Gospel from Matthew, Christ calls on the faithful to love and care for those who are the most vulnerable –the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick, the prisoner (Matthew 25:35-45). He tells us that “just as you did to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me” (Matthew 25:40). When we serve those in need among us, we are serving Christ in them.

In the history of our faith, we have many examples of the saints who have heeded Christ’s call to humble themselves and serve others in sacrificial love. Last Sunday, we commemorated the Feast of Saint Margaret of Scotland, one of our patron saints. We have a chapel in the basement dedicated to her. Some of you may noticed that we recently brought up her portrait that used to hang there to Saint George Chapel. In the painting, she is holding a spoon, feeding a small child. The image is based on Margaret’s daily routine of feeding orphans and the poor before she herself ate. And she also washed the feet of the poor, following the example of Jesus. She may have been Queen of Scotland, born to extraordinary wealth, power, and privilege, but in her daily life she was first and foremost a humble disciple of Jesus.

None of us here are royalty, though some of you may have royal blood. I know we have a parishioner here who counts Saint Margaret among her ancestors. There may be others of you who’ve done genealogical work and come across some royalty in your family tree. But whether we’re descended from royalty or peasants, whether we’re from privileged or underprivileged backgrounds, whatever the circumstances into which we were born, we share one thing in common. As disciples of Jesus, we are all called to follow his example of self-emptying humility and sacrificial love. We are called to live not for ourselves but for God and for others.

So, on this Feast of Christ the King, we proclaim Jesus the Lord of Creation and Lord of our lives. We offer our bodies and souls to his service. May Christ the King reign in our hearts this and every day that we may carry on his work of love in the world.  

Feats of All Saints
Sean C. Kim
St. Mary’s Episcopal Church
5 November 2023
 
            Today, we commemorate the Feast of All Saints, honoring all the saints who have come before us in the faith. The saints are an integral part of our public worship and private devotions. Here, at St. Mary’s, we have our patron saints, whom we name at every Mass – Blessed Luke, Blessed George, Blessed Cecilia, Blessed Therese, Blessed Margaret, and, of course, the Blessed Virgin Mary. And throughout the year, we commemorate the saints on our church calendar during Daily Masses. Today, after the sermon, we will chant the Litany of the Saints. Beginning with Mary, the Litany will present a kind of panoramic history of two millennia of Christian history, calling out the names of holy men and women from many different eras and places.

So, you might ask, especially if you’re from a more Protestant background, why all the focus on saints? Why all the services dedicated to the saints? According to today’s Collect, we remember and honor the saints because they present for us models of faith: “Grant us grace so to follow thy blessed saints in all virtuous and godly living.” Follow thy blessed saints in all virtuous and godly living. When we think about the saints of old, their extraordinary achievements seem beyond our reach. Most of us will never be called, as Perpetua and Felicity were, to pay the ultimate price and suffer martyrdom. Most of us will never be called, as Columba, Aidan, and Patrick were, to become missionaries and preach the Gospel in hostile, foreign lands. Most of us will never be called, as Francis and Clare of Assisi were, to vows of absolute poverty.

But whatever our personal circumstances may be, we are called to the same life of “virtuous and godly living” as followers of the same Lord Jesus Christ. We could spend a lot of time discussing what “virtuous and godly living” means, and we may have different opinions about what is virtuous and godly. Ancient theologians and philosophers used to compile different lists of virtues: the four cardinal virtues, the three theological virtues, the seven capital virtues, and so on. And, of course, there are plenty of lists of vices as well – and they tend to be more interesting. The fact is, we don’t need a long list of virtues to live a “virtuous and godly life.” In last week’s Gospel reading, we read about the Pharisee asking Jesus which of all the commandments is the greatest. Jesus responds with what some call the double love command, also known as the Summary of the Law: love God and love neighbor. All the laws and commandments are rooted in these two.

Or to put it another way, all the various virtues emanate from loving God and loving neighbor. To turn again to today’s Collect: “Grant us grace so to follow thy blessed saints in all virtuous and godly living, that we may come to those ineffable joys which thou hast prepared for those who unfeignedly love thee…” Unfeignedly love thee. The saints are all about love – loving God and loving neighbor.

That’s why among the saints’ names on the Litany, we have Fr. James Stewart-Smith and Fr. Edwin Merrill. Fr. Stewart-Smith and Fr. Merrill were both beloved priests at St. Mary’s. They’re the two priests whose portraits grace the back wall of St. George Chapel. This past Thursday, on All Souls Day, we celebrated Mass at Forest Hill Calvary Cemetery. And we paid our respects to Fr. Merrill and Fr. Stewart-Smith, who are laid side by side in the cemetery. I took a photo between the two tombstones in the hopes that some of their saintliness might rub off. Fr. Stewart-Smith served twenty-three years as rector from 1891 to 1914, and Fr. Edwin Merrill, for 35 years, from 1918 to 1953. Between the two of them, they served St. Mary’s for basically the first half of the twentieth century.

But we remember and honor Fr. Stewart-Smith and Fr. Merrill not just for setting records in terms of the length of service but because of their deep and abiding love. They loved God, expressed through their life of prayer and worship. Everything they did was grounded in their profound spirituality. And they loved neighbor, establishing numerous ministries for the poor and needy. One of the tributes to Fr. Stewart-Smith at his death described his life as “a labor of love…walking among the lowly, the poor, the distressed and the fallen as a ministering spirit to relieve comfort and to lift up.”[1] Fr. Stewart-Smith and Fr. Merrill are modern-day, local saints who have bequeathed to us at St. Mary’s a powerful and beautiful legacy of love.

Fr. Stewart-Smith and Fr. Merrill, and all the saints that we name on the Litany are long dead and gone. But they are alive to us not just in memory. We are united in Christ as one body. Again, to use the words of today’s Collect, we are “knit together in one communion and fellowship in the mystical body of Christ our Lord.” We, the living and dead, are all united through faith in Jesus Christ. And we experience this unity with Christ and the saints most fully in the Eucharist. In the sacred mysteries of the Eucharist, the veil between heaven and earth disappears, and we are joined by the saints and all the citizens of heaven.

So, dear sisters and brothers, on this happy feast day, we celebrate all the saints. We hold up these models of embodied love to remind and inspire ourselves of what it means to live as followers of Christ Jesus. And as we gather at the altar, we join our voices with those of all the saints in our eternal praise and worship of the Lord our God.
 
[1] W.F. Kuhn, “Tribute to Fr. Stewart Smith,” The Kansas City Free Masonry, August 21, 1915.

Pentecost XXII
Matthew 22:34-46
St. Mary’s Episcopal Church
Sean C. Kim
29 October 2023


In today’s Gospel reading from Matthew, we have what is known as the Summary of the Law: 
Hear what our Lord Jesus Christ sayeth. 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 greatest 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.

Sound familiar? Well, you just heard at the beginning of today’s service. The Summary of the Law is an integral part of the Anglican tradition of worship, and here at St. Mary’s, you hear it at every Mass.

As with many aspects of our liturgy, it is biblically based. In today’s reading from Matthew. Jesus is in the middle of a confrontation with Jewish leaders, who are out to test him. A lawyer, a Pharisee, asks him, “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest” Jesus responds by selecting two passages from the Hebrew Scriptures, the Torah. The first is Deuteronomy 6:5, and it is part of what is known as the shema: “Hear therefore, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.” The shema is an ancient confession of faith for Jews, and it is still used in worship today. But Jesus doesn’t stop there; he couples the shema with Leviticus 19:18: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Judging from the silence that follows, Jesus passes the test. We are told that from that day on, no one dared to ask him any more questions (Matthew 22:46).

The Summary of the Law is a constant reminder of what it means to be a Christian and what we value most in our faith. All the laws and commandments can be boiled down to loving God and loving our neighbor – in Jesus’ words, “On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.” 

Loving God and loving neighbor are not only the two foundational commandments on which our faith rests; they are also inseparable and interrelated. Our love for neighbor flows out of our love for God. We cannot say that we love God if we do not love our neighbor.

Of the two commandments, however, we tend to hear and talk a lot more about loving neighbor than about loving God. Loving neighbor is a favorite topic of sermons. And around Christmas time, which is just around the corner, we hear the message not just in church but in our society at large. Think of all the feel-good movies and TV shows, and the calls for charitable giving during the season. We can never hear enough about loving our neighbor, but, the fact is, we don’t hear as much about loving God, even in church.

I think part of the reason is that we don’t always know what loving God means. We believe in it, but we wonder how we go about loving a God who is transcendent, beyond the reach of our five senses. We certainly cannot see or touch God, and we cannot put our arms around God and say “I love you” as we would a person. So how do we love God?

Well, the Summary of the Law provides a key. In fact, it lays out a three-fold approach to loving God – with all our heart, with all our soul, and with all our mind. To begin with, we love God with all our heart. The Hebrew word for heart has a different sense than in English. We tend to associate the heart with emotions, but in Hebrew the heart has more to do with intention. It is “the center of a person’s willing, choosing, doing.”  So, to love God with all our heart means to turn our hearts, our intentions, away from the world and ourselves to God. It is placing God above our personal interests and desires.

Second, we love God with all our soul. We pour out what lies deep in our soul to God through prayer. Whether we do so in private or in public worship, prayer is our main line of communication with God. Through prayer, we give thanks as well as present our petitions and intercessions, and we listen to God’s voice and discern God’s will for our lives.

Finally, we love God with all our mind. For the Jews, loving God with their mind meant studying God’s Word as revealed in the Torah. For us Christians, it is the Bible. Some of you may be familiar with the daily devotional called Forward Day by Day. We have copies on our welcome desk in the Parish Hall, if you’d like to pick one up after the service, and it’s also available online. Forward Day by Day is published by the Forward Movement, an Episcopal organization, which recently did a survey of Episcopal churches on various topics, and it found, to no great surprise, that we as a denomination don’t read or know our Bible as well as other denominations. Perhaps it’s our focus on liturgy; I know Roman Catholics don’t do too well on biblical literacy either. But for whatever reason, we are not reading God’s Word as we should.

If I might share a personal note with you, actually a recommendation, I have found the Daily Office of Morning and Evening Prayer to be a rich resource for both prayer and Bible study. I’ve been an Episcopalian for almost twenty years, but it wasn’t until I began the ordination process a few years ago that I discovered what a treasure the Daily Office was. Praying Morning and Evening Prayer every day is a source of great strength and spiritual growth. I love the rhythm and the discipline that it provides. And the Daily Office takes us into prayer as well as Bible study since both Morning and Evening Prayer have selected readings from the Psalms, the Old Testament, and New Testament. The Daily Office will basically take you through the entire Bible in three years. So, if you are not praying the Daily Office already, I would highly recommend it. Historically and theologically, the Daily Office is the most distinctive aspect of Anglican spirituality. And these days, there are all sorts of Internet programs that make it convenient and easy to pray the Daily Office. 
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Dear friends, as we pray and study Scripture, we are obeying the greatest commandment to love God with all our heart, with all our soul, and with all our mind. And grounded in our love of God, we will be able to love our neighbors as ourselves. On these two pillars of love rests our calling as followers of the Lord Jesus. And during this time of war and violence, strife and division, we have a lot of work to do in living out our calling. So, let us pray as never before. Let us immerse ourselves in God’s Word. Let us go forth into the world proclaiming Christ’s Gospel of love. Amen.

Pentecost XVI
Matthew 18: 21-35
St. Mary’s Episcopal Church
Sean C. Kim
17, September 2023

The Gospels are filled with difficult passages. And today’s reading from Matthew is one of them. Sometimes, the difficulty lies in trying to understand what Jesus meant. We’re separated from Jesus by more than 2,000 years and vast cultural and social differences, never mind the challenges of translation. But the problem with today’s text isn’t about understanding what Jesus meant; rather, the difficulty lies in following what Jesus tells us to do. And what is that message? Forgive.

Peter comes to Jesus with the question: “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” Jesus responds: “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times (Matthew 18:21-22). He follows this up with a parable. A king forgives a servant who owes him a huge sum of money, but then that same servant fails to forgive a fellow servant who owes him a much smaller sum of money. The point of the parable is clear and simple: forgive as you have been forgiven. But this is so much easier said than done.

Practicing forgiveness is hard, and, at least for me, preaching on forgiveness is also hard. But, fortunately for today, I had some great outside help. The last time I preached on forgiveness, one of our parishioners sent me a kind email that provided a wonderful summary and commentary on my sermon. And, quite frankly, her feedback was more lucid and eloquent than my sermon. So, in preparing today’s sermon, I dug up that email and used it to help organize my thoughts. I don’t want to put that person on the spot, so I won’t mention her name, but thank you for the help!

Forgiveness is hard because it runs counter to our nature. When we are wronged, we want to seek revenge and restitution. Think of when we watch a movie or read a novel. There is something deeply satisfying about the villain getting his just desserts at the end of the story. Forgiveness, on the other hand, requires us to abandon the idea of getting even. It requires us to rise above our self-interest and even risk vulnerability and rejection.

But, no matter how difficult it is, Jesus commands us to forgive. Moreover, he has personally set the supreme example of forgiveness. As he hung on the cross, he prayed, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34). And throughout Christian history, the faithful have turned to Jesus as the example and inspiration for forgiveness.

As many of you know, I was born and raised in the Korean Christian tradition. Our family used to attend a small Korean Presbyterian church on the corner of 81st and Holmes in south Kansas City. The Presbyterians don’t commemorate the saints in the same way that Anglo-Catholics do, but they do have their own unofficial saints whom they remember and honor.

One of the Korean saints that has left a deep impression on me is Pastor Son Yang-won. Almost every Korean Protestant has probably heard of Pastor Son, and he is remembered by the Church for an act of radical forgiveness. Pastor Son was a Presbyterian minister who lived through the turbulent history of Korea under Japanese colonial rule and then the painful division of the country into North and South Korea. In 1948, a couple of years before the Korean War, a communist insurgency took over his town. The rebels descended on his family, attacking them for their Christian faith. During the persecution, one of the insurgents, a young man named Chae-son, shot and killed two of his sons. When the government restored order in the town a week later, Chae-son was apprehended and found guilty of murder. But before the sentence of execution could be carried out, Pastor Son intervened and pleaded for Chae-son’s life. And he also made a surprising and unusual request. He asked the court for the prisoner’s release so that he could be adopted as his son. The court granted the request. Chae-son was released and adopted by Pastor Son, who cared for him as his own son and taught him the Christian faith. Later in life, Chae-son himself became a Christian minister. Tragically for Pastor Son, he was killed by the communists during the Korean War, becoming one of countless martyrs who died for the faith.

Not many of us can practice the kind of radical forgiveness that Pastor Son exemplified. He is remembered precisely because what he did lies beyond the reach of most people. But, even if we don’t attain to the spiritual heights of Pastor Son and other saints, we are still under the same command to forgive.

To return to today’s reading from Matthew, at the end of the passage, Jesus tells his disciples to “forgive your brother or sister from your heart (Matthew 18:35). To forgive with our heart is the start of the process of forgiving. When we forgive with our heart, we make the choice to set aside the desire for getting even and commit to restoring the relationship. It involves the intention to follow Christ’s command and example to forgive. What comes next, however, may often be beyond our control.
At one of the churches where I’ve previously served, I knew a saintly woman who embodied Christ’s love and was a faithful member of the parish. Kind and compassionate, she gave generously of her time and money to the church and the community. Everyone respected and admired her. I was surprised one day during a small group meeting when she shared that she had been estranged from her son for several years. In spite of her attempts to reconcile, they had not talked for a very long time. And soon others shared their stories of unresolved conflicts in their lives.

An idea that we encounter in our culture as well as in church is that once you forgive, everyone lives happily ever after. It’s seen as a kind of on-off switch. Just do it, and everything will be fine. But, of course, life is not that simple. Forgiveness is not that simple. Yes, it involves making the choice to forgive, but in following through, we may encounter struggles and challenges. In fact, there may be situations in which the only thing left to do is to leave it to God and pray for reconciliation. Forgiveness can be a long, messy process. Forgiveness is hard work.

But, as followers of the Lord Jesus Christ, forgiveness is not optional for us. It’s an integral part of our faith commitment. Soon, as we gather at the altar, we will join together in the Lord’s Prayer, in which we pray that God “forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Each time we pray the Lord’s Prayer, at the Eucharist, or in our private devotions, we are not only reminding ourselves but making the resolve, the intention, to forgive.

But, of course, it does not stop there. The hard work of forgiveness takes place in the messiness of our daily lives. Who among us is immune from slights, grudges, and grievances? And confronted with difficult situations, we may not always succeed in our efforts to forgive. But Christ calls us to try over and over again – even if it means seventy-seven times.