The Rev. Joanne Sanders

The Rev. Joanne Sanders

Stanford Memorial Church

June 6, 2010

EVERY ENDING HAS A BEGINNING

This morning we continue with a relatively new tradition at University Public Worship at the academic years’ end by denoting our service as a tribute to graduates. I consider it an honor and privilege to have Kyle, Claire and Cooper – members of the Class of 2010 –participate in several aspects of our liturgy today – reading, sermon, prayers of the people, and Holy Communion. They have also each been a part of an inaugural group in the Office for Religious Life this year called SOULS (Students Organizing Unique Liturgical Experiences). It wouldn’t seem like Stanford if we didn’t have an acronym right? We have met several times throughout the year at Dean McLennan’s home, shared a meal and conversations that have ranged from the relevance of religion, the existence and meaning of such a service as this within our university, to questions of vocation and purpose. It’s been such a gift to have you each as a part of that and I’ve gained much from your presence and insights.

Every ending does indeed have a beginning and so these moments are always bittersweet. In the academic cycle you face the inevitable of saying goodbye on a regular basis, while recognizing that the trajectory for the 3 of you and many of your peers is a life and future of goodness, hope and compassion. I know you each at least well enough to be certain of that. This is both humbling and gratifying to say the least.

Since I’m sharing the pulpit this morning with one of our graduates, Claire Lorentzen, my remarks will be brief. Blessed are the brief! That said, I thought I would at least distill a bit from our gospel reading because it is both timely and instructive for all of us.

For our graduates and for many of us, summer is the season of taking our leave from one place and heading out on our proverbial road trips. In the gospel of Luke today, Jesus is apparently on a road trip, headed from Capernaum to a town called Naim. The road on which he and his disciples travel is crowded by a funeral procession. As it passes by, we imagine Jesus reaching out his hand in compassion toward a mother whose son has died. While we can certainly see and imagine the extraordinary suffering of a woman as a result of her son’s death, what we may not see is the even more acute suffering of a widow who has lost everything. This is the deeper suffering to which I believe Jesus speaks. You see, widows held a tenuous position in Jesus’ day. They often moved to the margins of society and fell vulnerable to alienation and exclusion from the community or the simple daily provision of familial care.

So what’s the point? There are two. Jesus’ acts of compassion demonstrate at least two things about the nature of God. First, it was a witness to the provision that God is available to all. It demonstrates God’s regard for those at the margins. We can easily forget the risks Jesus took to demonstrate the reign of God on earth. Second, Jesus is willing to risk rebuke for exercising God’s mercy for the least among society. Clearly, he notices and responds to those on the fringes, who often live unseen. He sees people as God sees them, worthy of love, respect and dignity and responds to them as God responds to us. He sees that we are good.

I’m working my way through a new book by Archbishop and Nobel Peace Prize Winner Desmond Tutu and his daughter, Episcopal priest Mpho Tutu, Director of the Tutu Institute for Prayer and Pilgrimage in Washington D.C. It is called Made for Goodness and Why This Makes All the Difference.The

fact that both the Archbishop and his daughter can encourage and challenge us to this higher call is remarkable. They both have been involved in works of reconciliation and healing in the some of the darkest corners of the world.

Their premise for this essential book: We know all too well the cruelties, hurts and hatreds that poison life on our planet. We write this book because we know that the catalogue of injuries that we can and do inflict on one another is not the whole story of humanity, not by a long measure. We are indeed made for something more. We are made for goodness.

What difference does goodness make? “Goodness changes everything,” writes Tutu. “It changes the way we see the world, the way we see others, and most importantly, the way we see ourselves. The way we see ourselves matters. It affects how we treat people. It affects the quality of life for each and all of us. What is the quality of life on our planet? It is nothing more than the sum total of our daily interactions. Each kindness enhances the quality of life. Each cruelty diminishes it.”

Now perhaps more than anyother time in history we need to be reminded of this. That we are made for goodness and it is up to us to live up to our destiny. As today’s gospel narrative suggests and as we clearly know, there is great pain and suffering in our world. Jesus demonstrates the uncanny willingness to step into that chaos and unpredictability to bring goodness and compassion in the midst of suffering and invites us to do the same. It is also an extraordinary invitation to live into the goodness that is our essence. Goodness is at the core of the mystery of what we know and call God.

Claire, Cooper and Kyle I know that the 3 of you have your own extraordinary examples of goodness and compassion in the ways that you

have met those on the fringes of society. One of which we will hear about next. May you, and all of us, continue to flourish in that goodness. To willingly step into the chaos of what is unpredictable about our world, even our own lives, and bring meaning, life and love to all whom we meet.

(Ms. Claire Lorentzen continues)

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