January 12, 2025 Epiphany 1, First and Last God Loves us

Lisa Wiens Heinsohn

First and Last, God loves us

Homily for St. John’s Episcopal Church by Lisa Wiens Heinsohn given January 12, 2025

The Baptism of Jesus: Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

Coming to church on Sunday can be a little bit like a heartbeat. It can be a regular rhythm of life in which life and love are emphasized, over and over again, no matter what is going on in the world outside or in our own hearts. And it is only like that because we aren’t primarily a social club, or a self-help method, or a social justice nonprofit, even though we have similarities to all those things. Church can be like that because we are a community that revolves around the love of God. At our best, at St. John’s we emphasize what is most important, what is ultimate: that love truly is stronger than any other force on earth, that life emerges from seemingly dead ground every spring, that resurrection is built into the natural order.

I’m describing what church can be partly because lately I’ve been thinking about first things, and last things. In many ways we’re in a time of first things. It is the beginning of the new year, 2025. Today we will get the chance to baptize a beautiful human being, José Luis Cleveland whom we call Louie, and baptism is an initiation into the community of those who follow Jesus’ Way of Love. Louie is about go to Basic Training in the Army at Fort Benning in Georgia, to become a soldier for the first time. Today we celebrate Jesus’ baptism, which also was a beginning for him. Jesus came to the River Jordan from the wilderness, and when he was baptized, the scripture says that the heavens were opened and God said, You are my Son, the Beloved. I am so pleased with you, so very pleased.

It’s worth noting that God said this beautiful, intimate thing to Jesus—this expression of unconditional love and affirmation—before Jesus accomplished anything. Before he made something of his life. Before he had done miracles or taught anyone anything. All he had done is come of age. We have no idea what Jesus’ childhood or teenage years are like, other than the fact he once kind of ran away from home to have a conversation with Temple elders and made his parents worried sick when they couldn’t find him for three days. So maybe Jesus didn’t make the honor roll or play for varsity sports. Maybe he even got in trouble sometimes. But the point is, even Jesus wanted to be baptized, and even Jesus needed what God offers every single human being without exception, which is to hear this: You are my Child, my Beloved. I am very pleased with you.

You might argue with me. You might say, God was pleased with Jesus but God would definitely not be pleased with the mess some people make of their lives. In point of fact I’m sure God is grieved about some of the violence and hatred in this world. But what I know in my bones is that God is inherently delighted with each human being for who they are, because all human beings are made sacred, are called very good from the very dawn of time. All we need to do is look into the face of a newborn baby to know this. No matter what any of us does in our lives, God loves us, period. One of the main reasons we come to church every week or however often we come is to be reminded of that.

And we need to be reminded of the deep reality of God’s love because of last things. Sometimes, we know it when last times come. We know it when we move away from a place and say good-bye to our homes and friends. Sometimes, our loved ones die in predictable ways and we have a good idea what the last thing is that we ever said to them, or the last thing they ever say to us, which can be a gift because we can be intentional about those precious and sacred moments. But maybe more often than that, last times come and we don’t know that’s what they are. Sometimes someone we love is lost unpredictably and for the life of us, we cannot remember the last thing we said to them. Or we are in a marriage that is decades long and we can’t remember the last time we had a romantic date. Some of us have relatives in the Pacific Palisades, who just lost their homes in the terrible fires happening in Los Angeles County, and they had no idea that they had just celebrated the holidays in their homes for the last time. And I look around and see that this way of life our civilization enjoys is not sustainable for this beautiful earth. Many last times come and go quietly, and we never know that’s what they are.

And when we look back at last times, whether we knew they were the last times or not, almost without fail we will know that what was important about them is whether or not we exchanged love and blessing in those times, that we acted not out of convenience but out of what matters. We will know that it is important to savor the moment and appreciate the person or the home or whatever it is that ends. Looking back at last things, we will want to have been present with love and blessing and gratitude. We would want to choose making the effort to do what is right instead of waiting for a better time. Because in the end, acting out of love and blessing is the only thing that really matters and the only thing that lasts.

This past Wednesday night I attended the Wednesday night dinner where parents and kids eat and socialize and do choir practices. Ed and Heidi Schaefer cooked an absolutely delicious meal of pulled pork sandwiches and homemade pickles which I must say were some of the best pickles I’ve ever eaten. I had some great conversations with families. One of the dads told me that on Christmas Eve they were at the church service and his six year-old daughter was sitting on his lap. I won’t say who it was because I don’t want to embarrass them. But apparently in my sermon on Christmas Eve I said, “Life is complicated.” And the six year-old daughter turned to her dad and said, “No it isn’t. Why did she say that?” And you know what? Whatever point I was trying to make Christmas Eve, I stand corrected. Sometimes life feels complicated, but in the end it is simple. There are only a few things that matter. Saying I love you matters. Acting like you love people matters. Choosing the common good over convenience and self-interest matters. Doing the right thing matters. In first times and last times and all the times in between, embodying love and blessing matters.

Louie, if you remember nothing else from today and your baptism, I hope you remember that you are being initiated into a community and a way of life that prioritizes love, and that embraces you unconditionally. We aren’t perfect, just like you aren’t perfect. We may even fail you sometimes, and I apologize in advance for that and say we will do our best to make amends if that happens. You are going to leave soon for Ft. Benning and I don’t know where life or the Army will take you, or how much time we’ll get to spend with you in the future. Regardless, I hope that you find yourself experiencing again and again, steady as a heartbeat, these words from God: You are my Son, my Beloved. I am very pleased with you.

And this is true not just for Louie, but all of us. We are all dealing with many things in our personal lives and in our public lives. Our nation is in transition, with half the country feeling great about it and half the country in varying degrees of worry, fear, anger and even despair. I don’t believe we can be neutral on this division or act like there is moral equivalence in every perspective out there. So often it feels like we live side by side in different universes. But we do not. There is one universe. Its fundamental nature is sacredness, and we are called to prioritize love.

I have a friend who is a bus driver for Minneapolis, who is a Lakota Sundancer. He has blue eyes and blond hair but he is enrolled in the Cheyenne River reservation in South Dakota. Because he looks white sometimes other white bus drivers say racist things to him, expecting him to agree. But he shakes his head and calls over another bus driver from Somalia whom he knows saw his family die and had to leave everything to come to this country, and he asks his Somalian friend to share his story with the bus drivers who had just said racist things. My Lakota friend refuses to demonize the racist bus drivers but he won’t stand silently by either and just listen to them. He gives them the chance to learn and think differently. That is love. Although my friend comes from a different spiritual tradition than ours, he knows love is what matters.

Now I suppose we at church could be wrong. Perhaps the fundamental nature of reality is competition and an uncaring impersonal universe that operates out of vast laws of nature where the strongest and fittest win. But I choose to see things and operate differently. I would rather risk everything and lose, offering love and sacrificing for the common good and living from a place of light, than hoard everything and come out on top in a world where might makes right. Here at church, we have the chance to model Jesus’ third way. This way transcends duality and division and intolerance. We refuse to demonize anyone, but we also speak the truth and invite better from people when they act in hurtful ways. In Jesus’ Way of Love, everyone has a place. Your gifts are honored and valued and celebrated. And in this way, at the beginning and at the end, in first times and last times, we receive the love of God and pass it along to each other. Let us be a sanctuary and a spiritual incubator for this love, come what may, with God’s help. Amen.

10am Service