Just as I Have Loved You…
John 13:31-35

The names have not been changed to protect the innocent in the story I'm about to tell you.  The names haven't been changed because the innocents are no longer living.  The setting for this story is a large Episcopal church in Northern Indiana in the fifties,

Billy Sawyer was a beautiful child — golden hair, the bluest of blue eyes with an unusual slant to them and a sweet smile.  He was in my Sunday school class from the time we were preschoolers.  His mother, Alberta, was my mother's friend.  Even as a child, I knew she wasn't very happy.  She would sit at our kitchen table, as often as not quietly crying.  It was an adult thing — something I didn't understand.

Now our church was full of good people always concerned with loving their neighbors as themselves and glorifying God.  For example, the leftover clothes from the annual rummage sale were always boxed up and mailed to our companion diocese.  The outgrown ballet tutus were clean and mended; the little boy suits with perky bow ties were in good shape as were the shiny patent leather pumps or they weren't sent to our “neighbors” in Nicaragua.

It was the glorifying God part that the congregation took most seriously.  All the bells and whistles were observed in a set of hierarchies to beat all hierarchies.  Young boys were introduced to the system when they trained then served as acolytes; young girls were initiated by their part in the Junior Altar Guild.

Every young boy at the age of seven or eight was trained to be a torch bearer — the first rung on the acolyte ladder.  The Acolyte Master and his counterpart, the Junior Altar Guild Mistress worked with the children to prepare them for their debut into service for their church.

It was a rite of passage that all of us were excited about but Billy Sawyer was especially delighted.  The idea of dressing up in a fine red cassock with a lacy surplice and white gloves really appealed to him.  And carrying a real torch in a parade was thrilling.

Most of the boys picked up on the training quickly.  It was pretty simple.  The Acolyte Master lit the torches of the two torch bearers in the narthex; they led the procession then split at the altar with one going to the right, the other to the left.  The Acolyte Master met them in the sacristy and stored their torches until the recessional where the process was repeated in reverse.

There was great attention paid to scheduling the torch bearers as a “matched pair” The boys were drilled on being very solemn as they processed, looking straight ahead at all times.  That was the part Billy had trouble with.  He did o.k. in practice but when he had on his vestments and his candle was lit, he just couldn't help smiling at people, especially those he loved.  He was so adorable that everyone was pretty tolerant about it, even though they thought his joy was totally inappropriate.

Well time passed and the little boys grew.  Soon it was time for this group to move up the acolyte ladder to be trained to serve at the altar.  There was so much to remember for all the boys but it was so very difficult for Billy.  The second time he tried to wash the priest's hands with the wine, he was quietly moved back to the torch bearer ranks.  Well more time passed and Billy was no longer small enough to be part of a matched pair.  And, he still smiled too much and looked at people.  He exhibited the same joy he had on Day One. But now he was a big adolescent, no longer adorable — gawky and overweight.  People no longer smiled back.  The cuteness had worn off.  Something had to be done.

The powers that be — whoever they were — decided to handle it with great sensitivity.  A few weeks later at the late service they presented Billy with a certificate of appreciation (which he couldn't read). Everyone smiled at Billy that day.  Then he became invisible and they dismissed him in their hearts and minds.

His mother tried to bring him to the 10 o'clock service a few times but it upset him too much.  Sometimes they came at 8 because there was no procession.  The light left his eyes; the joy had been snuffed out. While the other boys went on to college and careers and families, Billy's life didn't go anywhere.  His purpose had centered on being a torch bearer and that had been taken from him.

I wish I could provide you with a different ending, but I can't.  There was no Kingdom on Earth. No one stepped forward to be Billy's advocate.  His mother didn't know how and the other adults couldn't see to step outside the box of convention.  I regret that we, the teenagers who grew up with Billy, didn't protest.  Even then I knew in my heart it was wrong but I didn't know how to make it right.

I believe our Lord was talking about things like this when he said, “Just as I have loved you, you should love one another.” For he loved the misfits, the sinners, the imperfect ones.  He loves us even when we aren't very successful at being part of a matched pair.  He loves us when we are young and cute, but he also loves us when we are gawky adolescents and struggling middle-aged people and old forgetful seniors.  He loves us when we are at our best, but also when we are at our worst.  And that is how we are called to love one another.

We are called to love each other even when the “other” doesn't seem very lovable.  We are called to consciously make the extra effort.  We are called to break out of our ingrained reflexes to act in new and different ways.  We are called to seek ways to say “yes” instead of “no.” 

Last week Edie talked about being available and vulnerable.  If we aren't tuned in to those things going on around us, we can't change them.  We can't change the things that should be changed, if we don't step out and take a risk sometimes. We can't change things if we aren't willing to go against the flow sometimes and to do the unexpected and sometimes unaccepted thing.

When we look at the three years Jesus walked on this earth, we see many examples of how he made himself available. It wasn't a once in awhile thing.  It was a daily way of life. It was often in quiet ways.  Remember the woman in the crowd who touched the hem of his robe.  In the midst of all those people, he noticed and he made himself available.  He loved her even when there were more important people making demands on him.  Do we notice when someone touches the hem of our robes?  When they cry out for help, often in ways that aren't obvious, do we shut them out or do we listen deeply to what they are asking?

Remember the crippled man who was so obnoxious in seeking to be healed?  Jesus heard and responded even though those around the cripple tried to silence him.  Do we cut through the obnoxious and instead listen for the real need? Do we put ourselves in the paths of the poor and lonely, uneducated, different-from-us people, or do we pretend we don't see as we hurry on to our next important task?

Remember the woman at the well?  The one with all the husbands?  Jesus listened to her heart not just her words.  Do we do that?  Do we judge before we listen or do we listen before we judge?

When Jesus said, “Love one another as I have loved you”, he didn't put a list of restrictions on who one another was.  He didn't say, “It's just fine to limit those you love to those who don't challenge the limits you put on your love.”

And so we are all called to love the Billy Sawyers, the sick  men and women, the crippled beggars and the women at the well.  We are all called to love one another in all our imperfections and our shortcomings.  And if we ever need a guide on how to do this, we simply need to remember: “Just love one another as I have loved you.

Amen.

The Rev. Betsy Porter
May 6, 2007

Return to St.  James' Home Page                                                                                                                                                05.07