Memorial Day Sermon: The Right Rev. Ann M. Ritonia
In the name of the one who loves us, the one who saves us, and the one who spurs us ever on. Amen. Please be seated.
Well, good morning. My name is Ann Ritonia, as the Dean said earlier, and I am the eighth Bishop to the Armed Forces and Federal Ministries for the Episcopal Church. And I recruit, I endorse, equip. support and pastor Episcopal priests who serve as chaplains caring for our military, their families, veterans, the incarcerated and Episcopal Department of Defense employees that are stationed overseas. I’m also a United States Marine Corps veteran and it is indeed an honor and a privilege to be here this morning with all of you at this grand Cathedral and House of Prayer for all.
You know, many years ago on a weekend much like this, I found myself at a local cemetery in my hometown. The day was hot and I was really uncomfortable in my itchy wool band uniform. And like many self-absorbed teens wishing I had not been volun-told for this event when I could have been sleeping in. It was the kind of day when the air wasn’t moving much and the haze created shimmering ripples in the air. I’m sure you’ve all experienced that kind of day. Well, I was at the cemetery that morning to play taps for the town Memorial Day celebration to honor service members who paid the ultimate price of their lives in service to our country and their fellow service members. And across the cemetery from me was a Color Guard of older veterans, or at least they seemed old at the time, in service uniforms that had seen better fit and better days. And they could have been relaxing at home or somewhere air conditioned and comfortable on that unusually warm morning in May. But instead they chose to honor their fallen comrades. And it wasn’t until many years later I came to appreciate the importance of this remembrance and understood the profound meaning of sacrificial love as demonstrated and narrated in the experiences of our military personnel and veterans.
In today’s gospel, Jesus talks about this kind of love in his final farewell as he prepares his disciples for his departure. You see, he knows that they will experience fear and anxiety, and so he gives them their marching orders. First, Jesus says that those who love him will keep his word. And this isn’t the first time he said this. We heard it in last week’s Gospel, “love one another just as I have loved you”. And the implied command is clear. Love isn’t a feeling. Obedience to Jesus’ word is love in action. Jesus commands his disciples and us to serve one another just as Jesus washed his disciples feet. So he expects us to serve one another. Even to the point of giving our lives for our friends. Then Jesus promises his disciples that if they keep his love commandments, they will never ever be alone and they will receive a peace that the world cannot give. These commands and promises wrapped together are intended not only to instruct, but also to comfort and carry them through the difficult times ahead. And friends, I believe those words were meant not only for his disciples who struggled to be faithful after his departure, but to us as well
Love God and each other and you will experience peace, a peace that the world cannot give. You know, I wonder what Jesus means by that. And how do you and I understand the word ‘peace’. For many, peace is simply the cessation of conflict, and clearly the end of conflict and violence is a good thing. Many of us have prayed and continue to pray for peace in Gaza and Ukraine and in other parts of the world. And I also imagine peace in our homes, in our workplaces as well. But the peace that Jesus offers is more than the absence of something negative. Indeed, it has its own presence and gravitas. When someone reports feeling at peace, for instance, they’re usually saying more than an absence of conflict, but instead testifying to a sense of wholeness, even rightness, rightness in one’s being. It’s a sense of harmony with people and things all around us. And this kind of peace connotes a feeling of contentment, but even more, fulfillment, a sense that one is basking in God’s pleasure and in God’s glory in the moment. And as I have seen it can occur even amid hardship, struggle, conflict, battle and disruption.
And doesn’t that make sense? Especially if we revisit the timing of Jesus’ promise. It is the night of his betrayal, the evening when he will be handed over to those who hate him and who will have him killed. And it is at that moment he not only senses peace, but he gives it to others. This kind of peace is a gift of God. And I believe something that we sense most keenly when we give God a certain amount of control over everything we worry about or that creates anxiety. Now, that doesn’t mean that we surrender responsibility, but rather we recognize that there are limits to what we can affect or achieve on our own. You’ll remember that in our Baptismal Covenant when we make those promises, we always say “with God’s help”. Because when we sense those limits, we place ourselves, our loved ones, our fortunes, and our future in God’s hands. And God’s response is to give us peace, a peace that allows us to lift our gaze from the troubles that beset us and see those around us as gifts of God, worthy of our love and of our attention. And the world can’t give us this kind of peace because when fear, contempt and the premise that you somehow must earn your humanity rule the day, one might wonder if the world can give peace at all.
Peace from this perspective is at best a break, a moment of rest, a brief lull in the fray of everyday life and the constant need to compete, secure, hoard and protect. But Jesus gives differently than the world. Jesus gives freely with no expectation of return, only the hope that transformed by love and by this peace we might pass it on, giving others the gift that we have received. Jesus’ capacity for setting aside anxiety by putting his whole trust in God’s grace and love, this kind of peace is Jesus’ gift to us. A commodity we sorely need in our world. And absent for far too many, which is why Jesus does not leave his disciples or us to our own devices. He leaves us with the spirit of God. Like a favorite teacher or leader who expects and sees the best in us and reminds us of who Jesus is in the example he gave us. And it is this same spirit that empowers us and the disciples to keep his commands.
Friends, the spirit of God is evident in our world in so many ways, especially when we think the best of each other rather than assuming the worst. When we tell our own stories rather than talking about others or when we serve faithfully like the men and women who serve our nation’s military, willing to give their lives for the cause of freedom. And I have witnessed this time and again in my travels all around the world to military installations. Because this sacrificial kind of love leads to Jesus’ promise of peace, a gift and a mark of true discipleship that’s available to all who obey Jesus’ command to love. And yes, while many yearn for peace in the world’s terms, the end of conflict, a sense of calm or serenity, the peace that Jesus promises as he leaves his friends might include such things. But the peace that he promises is nothing less than the consequences of the presence of God. And then and now, it is not passive peace because through the power of the spirit, this kind of peace propels the disciples and later the church into active mission. This peace is bound up with all that makes for right relationships, love, respect, forgiveness, mercy, compassion and gratitude.
The presence of this piece given by Jesus and in the connectedness of the community of believers, enables us to live lives of faithfulness and love. Soon we will offer one another a sign of Christ’s peace. And I wonder how often we sense the depth of God’s gift of peace, the promise that no matter what happens, God will not abandon us but is always working for our good and through us for the good of our neighbor and the world. How often do we feel caught up and by God’s peace? The promise that God loves us more than anything and will hold onto us through all that may occur or come our way? How often do we sense God’s deep purpose, that we experience this peace and share it with others? You know, in that cemetery where I stood so long ago, on that scorching day, I became aware of that kind of peace for the very first time in my life through absolutely nothing I did. I was anxious I was going to screw up playing taps and ruin the end of the service. It’s harder to play than it sounds. But as I watched those aging soldiers stand at attention, the sun shining off the medals they wore, in presenting arms with such dignity and care, an unexplainable sense of peace settled over me and that place and I was able to honor our nation’s fallen with them with a few notes from my horn.
Friends, the prospect before us this week is living into the reality that we cannot earn or grasp God’s peace but simply receive. And only by releasing our grip on the things we hold so tight and opening our hands and hearts, can we receive God’s gift of peace, especially when we’re convinced that it’s all up to us. And even when we fall short, God is still there offering us his peace, a gift that the world cannot give. And taking all of this into account, let’s take a moment to appreciate God’s love for us, confident that through it God will use us. And this weekend and tomorrow when we hear the bugle play, may we remember with gratitude the fallen heroes of our nation who selflessly sacrificed everything for the freedoms we enjoy and the freedoms that we must continue to uphold. And finally, in a few moments when we share the peace, remember that Christ’s promise is available for all to receive. The peace of Christ be with you.