“Saints Peter and Paul in a vestibule,” etching by Rombout Eynhoudts after Peter Paul Rubens, circa 1630-80 (Metropolitan Museum of Art)
After his resurrection, Jesus appeared to his disciples on several occasions. Toward the end of Luke’s Gospel, we hear of the disciples on the road to Emmaus:
That same day, two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem. They were talking with each other about everything that had happened. As they talked and discussed these things, Jesus himself came up and walked along with them, but they were kept from recognizing him. He asked them, “What are you discussing together as you walk along?”
Later, in the Acts of the Apostles, we read that Jesus appeared to Paul as he was on the road to Damascus:
“Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?”
“Who are you, Lord?” Saul asked.
“I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting,” he replied. “Now get up and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do.”
The men traveling with Saul stood there speechless; they heard the sound but did not see anyone. Saul got up from the ground, but he could see nothing when he opened his eyes.
The Gospels record several instances when Jesus appeared to Peter. Today we read of his restoration. There is also a legend of Jesus appearing to Peter many years later.
Peter eventually made his way to Rome, and after a time, one of the persecutions of the Christian church began. The legend picks up:
His friends, so runs the story, had entreated the Apostle to save his life by leaving the city. Peter finally consented, but on the condition that he should go away alone. But when he wished to pass the city gate, he saw Christ meeting him. Falling down in adoration, he said to Him, ‘Lord, whither goest Thou?’ And Christ replied, ‘I am coming to Rome to be again crucified.’ And Peter said to Him, ‘Lord, wilt Thou again be crucified?’ And the Lord said to him, ‘Even so, I will again be crucified.’ Peter said to Him, ‘Lord, I will return and will follow Thee.’ And with these words, the Lord ascended into Heaven.
The encounter on the road out of Rome gave Peter the courage to return to Rome and face his death, which Jesus also spoke of in our Gospel: “When you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.” You will stretch out your hands—you will be crucified.
Today, I have a question for you. Three different encounters and three different roads. Jesus asked, “What are you discussing together as you walk along?” Jesus asked, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” Jesus said, “I am coming to Rome to be again crucified.”
Now imagine, if you will: you are walking down an old dirt road in Oklahoma. It is pleasantly warm, the sun is beginning to set, and you are at peace, simply enjoying your time, when you encounter Jesus. You say a little prayer: “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”
Pip: There's a Peanuts cartoon that opens a sermon, and somehow it leads directly to eternal life — which is either a bold homiletical move or proof that Lucy van Pelt has always been theologically underrated.
Mara: This episode covers one sermon from Fr. John, working through what it means to be part of a body where every gift counts — not just the ones delivered from a pulpit.
Pip: Let's start with the sermon itself, and the question of who actually does the work of the church.
Empowered for the Mission — Every Gift Counts
Mara: The sermon is built around a deceptively simple question: if not everyone is called to preach or heal or cast out demons, what exactly is everyone else doing in the mission of God?
Pip: The answer comes from the tail end of Matthew 10, Jesus wrapping up his instructions to the twelve before sending them out. The setup is that hardship is guaranteed — and so is help from unexpected quarters.
Mara: The sermon lands the key line directly from that passage: "Whoever receives you, receives me, and whoever receives me, receives the Father." The argument is that welcoming and supporting those who carry the mission makes you a participant in it.
Pip: Which is a genuinely generous theological claim — you don't have to be the one casting out demons to get credit for the demon-casting.
Mara: Two Old Testament figures anchor that claim. Elijah and the widow of Zarephath: she shares her last flour and oil, and the jar never empties. Later, her son dies and Elijah raises him. Elisha and the Shunammite woman: she feeds him whenever he passes through, and Elisha promises her a son she had stopped hoping for.
Pip: Both women receive what the sermon calls the prophet's reward — not because they prophesied, but because they made the prophet's work possible.
Mara: Paul's letter to the Corinthians supplies the structural argument: "There are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who empowers them all in everyone. To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good."
Mara: The upshot is that no single gift runs the whole operation. The apostles need the widow's flour. The prophet needs the Shunammite's hospitality. The body needs every member.
Pip: And the sermon loops back to Lucy at this point — those five fingers, individually nothing, curled together into something formidable. It is, against all odds, the correct analogy.
Mara: Archbishop Michael Ramsey gets the closing description of what that body looks like across centuries: "Human lives united to Jesus, receiving his presence, and showing his goodness, his love, his sacrifice, his humility and his compassion. Living stones."
Pip: The sermon closes by naming the stakes beyond the prophet's reward — Christ's reward, forgiveness and resurrection, the food that does not perish. The call is direct: find where your gift fits, and get to work.
Mara: The harvest line from Luke lands as the final push: "The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few." Every laborer counts, regardless of what kind of laboring they do.
Pip: One sermon, but the argument keeps widening — from twelve apostles to a widow's jar to every person sitting in a pew wondering if they have anything to offer.
Mara: The answer the sermon gives is yes, unambiguously. The body needs what you have. More on that territory next time.
In a Peanuts cartoon, Lucy demands that Linus change the TV channel and then threatens him with her fist if he doesn’t. “What makes you think you can walk right in here and take over?” asks Linus. “These five fingers,” says Lucy. “Individually, they are nothing, but when I curl them together like this into a single unit, they form a weapon that is terrible to behold.” “What channel do you want?” asks Linus. Turning away, he looks at his fingers and says, “Why can’t you guys get organized like that?”
My initial reaction to today’s Gospel reading was to shake my head at the liturgical committee that chose it. There is no time, context, audience, or anything provided in the reading to help us understand. So let’s begin by setting the scene, which is a little easier if you were here last week, because this week’s reading is part of that same conversation.
The audience Jesus is speaking to is the twelve apostles, and he is giving them instructions because He is about to send them out.
At the beginning of the chapter, Matthew 10, where our reading is located, we are told, “Jesus called to him his twelve apostles and gave them authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to heal every disease and every affliction” (Matthew 10:1). Jesus gives them instruction on their travels and what to expect: “Behold, I am sending you out as sheep in the midst of wolves, so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves” (Matthew 10:16), and also tells them to “have no fear” (Matthew 10:26) for they are of great worth to their Father in heaven.
Then comes our lesson from last week. Jesus tells them that the message they carry will not bring peace but division, saying, “I have not come to bring peace, but a sword” (Matthew 10:34b).
Today’s Gospel is the conclusion of the apostles’ marching orders, and it can be seen as encouragement, because Jesus tells them that as they go and experience the hardships along the way, there will be people who never preach a sermon, never cast out a demon, never heal the sick, yet by welcoming, encouraging, and supporting Christ’s servants they become participants in the very mission of God. “Whoever receives you, receives me, and whoever receives me, receives the Father.” Good. In other words, when someone receives you as my disciple, it will be like in times past when someone received and helped a prophet carry out their work. Elijah and Elisha provide two very good examples of this.
During the reign of King Ahab, he did evil in the eyes of the Lord, so the Lord brought a drought upon the land, as Elijah had proclaimed. Afterward, the Lord sent Elijah to Zarephath. There, Elijah encountered a widow and asked her for a little something to eat and a drink of water. She responded that she had only a little flour in a jar, enough to make one small cake for her and her son to eat, after which they would die because of their poverty and the drought. Yet Elijah said, “Do not fear… The jar of flour shall not be spent, and the jug of oil shall not be empty, until the day that the Lord sends rain upon the earth” (1 Kings 17:14), and it was done according to the word of Elijah. While the world around her suffered from the drought and went hungry, the widow and her son received the prophet’s reward and had plenty.
Later, the widow’s son died because of illness, yet because of her support and kindness to Elijah, the Lord raised the child from the dead through Elijah’s prayer.
Then there was Elisha, who frequently passed through the town of Shunem. A wealthy woman lived there, and each time Elisha passed through, she would feed and care for him. Elisha asked what could be done to repay her kindness. She would not say, but Gehazi, Elisha’s servant, told him that the woman was childless, even though she and her husband desired one. Hearing this, Elisha promised her the reward of a prophet: “At this season, about this time next year, you shall embrace a son.” (2 Kings 4:16) She was too afraid to believe it, but the following year she had a son.
When Jesus speaks to the disciples about the prophets’ reward and the righteous person’s reward, he says, “You will encounter hardships in following me and doing the Father’s will, but there will be those who help you. Because of their help, they too will receive a reward.”
Why? Not everyone can be called to be a prophet or a apostle, but all can assist the prophet or apostle in other ways.
Saint Paul tells us, “Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who empowers them all in everyone. To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.” (1 Corinthians 12:4-7) And remember how, a little later, he asked a series of questions, “Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Are all teachers? Do all work miracles?” (1 Corinthians 12:29), and so on. The answer is no. Not all are this or that, but each one has been empowered with gifts “for the common good.” That’s exactly the point Lucy was making, “These five fingers… Individually, they are nothing, but when I curl them together like this into a single unit…” This same principle applies to Elijah and Elisha, the apostles, and on down through history to us gathered here today. Is this true?
Do you know how many people I’ve asked from this congregation to come up here and preach? Do you know how many times, when I ask that question, the person looks at me as though I didn’t have the sense God gave a turnip? Yet that same person may have taken on another ministry in the church or an act of hospitality. Something I had no clue how to do.
Paul again says, “For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body—Jews or Greeks, slaves or free—and all were made to drink of one Spirit.” (1 Corinthians 12:12-13) He is, of course, speaking of the church. When Jesus spoke of those who would receive a prophet’s reward or a righteous person’s reward, he was also speaking of the church, all of its members. This reward from God is not limited to the front person, the one in the dog collar and fancy robes. The reward is for the entire body of Christ, with each member exercising the gifts they have been empowered with.
A few weeks back, we spoke of our baptism and our entrance into the body of Christ. We then spoke of what it means to be loyal to God, not simply a passive relationship but one that is active in thought, word, and deed. Today, we understand that this active faith, as sons and daughters of God, is lived out in the Church, using the gifts we have been blessed with, both individually and corporately.
In The Canterbury Pilgrim, Archbishop of Canterbury Michael Ramsey speaks of the church as a building, which he then describes as a symbol of the Church formed by those who become the Body of Christ. Of this Body, Archbishop Ramsey captures exactly what Paul said, “Through the centuries this other Church—the Body of Christ—has stood: human lives united to Jesus, receiving his presence, and showing his goodness, his love, his sacrifice, his humility and his compassion. Living stones – what a mingling of metaphors! It tells of firm, solid, unmovable loyalty, and of persons alive in joy, in freedom, in creativity, in influence. This is the Church that Jesus Christ founded, the Church of which he said that the gates of death would never prevail against it.” (Glory Descending, Eerdmans, p.129)
This is the Church and the great work that takes place within these walls and within the Body of Christ. However, for our participation in it, there’s not just the prophet’s reward or the righteous person’s reward. Jesus says, “This is the will of my Father, that everyone who looks on the Son and believes in him should have eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day.” (John 6:40) Therefore, Jesus says, “Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give to you.” (John 6:27) For us, there is more than the prophet’s or righteous person’s reward, there is Christ’s reward, the food that does not perish—the forgiveness of sins and eternal life on the last day.
In your life with God and your life in the Church, use the gifts you have been empowered with and work for Christ’s reward. No gift is too small. No gift is unnecessary. And by combining them, we become the church God desires us to be. Ask yourself, where can I put my gifts to work in the Body of Christ, and then get busy. You are needed, for “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few,” (Luke 10:2), and we may not all be apostles or prophets, but we are all laborers in this great Kingdom of our God.
Let us pray: Everliving God, whose will it is that all should come to you through your son Jesus Christ: Inspire our witness to him, that all may know the power of his forgiveness and the hope of his resurrection; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen
Pip: There's a word in Hebrew that English can't quite hold — and a bear in Aesop's fables that apparently had something to say about it.
Mara: This episode covers one sermon from Fr. John, working through the Hebrew word hesed — covenant loyalty, steadfast love, mercy — and what it asks of us in return. Let's start with that word and what it actually means.
Sermon: Proper 7 RCL A — The Weight of Hesed
Mara: The sermon opens with an Aesop's fable about two travelers and a bear — one climbs a tree, one plays dead — and uses it to frame a question about loyalty. That question leads straight into the Hebrew word hesed, which the sermon argues is the hallmark of God's covenantal character.
Pip: And the definition comes from Strong's Concordance, which pulls no punches: "chesed saturates the Hebrew Scriptures as the hallmark of God's covenantal character and the standard for covenantal response among His people… Of its approximately 247 occurrences, over half lie in the Psalms, yet it shapes every major section of the Old Testament, from the Torah to the Post-Exilic books."
Mara: The practical upshot is that no single English word carries it. The sermon lists steadfast love, loving kindness, mercy, faithfulness, and loyalty — all of them partial translations of the same Hebrew root.
Pip: Which explains why Psalm 23:6 keeps getting read as a gentle reassurance when it's actually something closer to a covenant guarantee. The sermon unpacks it that way — goodness and mercy become goodness and God's steadfast, faithful, loyal love. That's a different weight.
Mara: And the covenant dimension matters here. Hesed isn't just a quality God has in the abstract — it's specifically tied to relationship. Deuteronomy 7:9 is cited: "the faithful God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with those who love him and keep his commandments, to a thousand generations."
Pip: So it's not sentiment. It's a binding commitment with a track record. The sermon puts it plainly: God doesn't just say "I am faithful" — he shows it. The proof is John 3:16.
Mara: That's where the sermon turns the question around. God's hesed is costly, freely given, unearned. But the Matthew 10 passage — "whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me" — makes clear that covenant runs both directions.
Pip: The Luke version is even starker. "Hate" your father, mother, wife, children. The sermon reads that as deliberate exaggeration: not literal hatred, but the kind of total priority that makes real love of others possible in the first place.
Mara: And then comes the honest admission — we don't hold up our end. Adam, David, Peter, us. The sermon doesn't soften it. But hesed circles back: "His hesed endures forever," from Psalm 136. Covenant mercy covers covenant failure.
Pip: The bear gets the last word, really. Deserting a friend in danger is unwise — and the sermon asks whether we'd be that kind of friend to Jesus, or the other kind.
Mara: The closing prayer frames it as reliance: strength, wisdom, protection, grace — all asked from the same God whose hesed the sermon just spent a thousand words unpacking.
Pip: A word that takes five English words to translate, and still loses something in the transfer.
Mara: And a covenant that asks the same thing back from us that it promises. That tension doesn't resolve — it just keeps asking the question.
One of Aesop’s fables tells of two men who were traveling in company through a forest when, all at once, a huge Bear crashed out of the brush near them. One of the Men, thinking of his own safety, climbed a tree. The other, unable to fight the savage beast alone, threw himself on the ground and lay still, as if he were dead. He had heard that a Bear will not touch a dead body. It must have been true, for the Bear snuffed at the Man’s head awhile, and then, seeming to be satisfied that he was dead, walked away. The Man in the tree climbed down. “It looked just as if that Bear whispered in your ear,” he said. “What did he tell you?” “He said,” answered the other, “that it was not at all wise to keep company with a fellow who would desert his friend in a moment of danger.”
Reflecting on our Gospel lesson this morning led me to consider the loyalty we owe to God. This thought, in turn, brought me to the Hebrew word for loyalty: hesed.
To explore the meaning of hesed further, I turned to Strong’s Concordance. If you haven’t heard of it, Strong’s is essentially a very in-depth dictionary of the words in the Bible. It states, “חֵסֵד (chesed) saturates the Hebrew Scriptures as the hallmark of God’s covenantal character and the standard for covenantal response among His people… Of its approximately 247 occurrences, over half lie in the Psalms, yet it shapes every major section of the Old Testament, from the Torah to the Post-Exilic books.” (Source)
Despite at least 25 years of serious study of Holy Scripture, I would have come across such an important concept, but… not that I remember.
But as I dug in, I realized that the trouble with the word hesed is that there is no single English word that fully captures its meaning. Loyalty is only one aspect; so, in scripture, we often find it rendered as steadfast love, loving kindness, mercy, faithfulness, and loyalty. One of the most popular verses where the word appears is Psalm 23:6,
“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
Given the richness of hesed, we can now see that this verse offers far more than we may have realized at first. ‘Surely God’s goodness and God’s steadfast love, God’s loving kindness, God’s mercy, God’s faithfulness, God’s loyalty shall follow me all the days of my life.’ Still, for God’s mercy or faithfulness to count as hesed, it must not only reflect these qualities but also be specifically connected to the covenant relationship God has with his people. The covenant is beautifully expressed in Deuteronomy: ‘Know therefore that the Lord your God is God, the faithful God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with those who love him and keep his commandments, to a thousand generations.’ (Deuteronomy 7:9)
This all points towards the covenant relationship that God has made with his people. In other words, God’s mercy, loyalty, faithfulness, and the like are not just words. These attributes come with action and proof. God says, “I’m not only going to tell you that I am faithful, but I am also going to show you that I am faithful. I am not only going to tell you I am loyal, but I’m also going to show you. I’m not only going to tell you that I love you, but I will show you that I love you.” And we know that he has—“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” (John 3:16)
That single verse, I believe, is at the heart of God’s hesed toward his people. It is love, faithfulness, mercy—in action. This action is not cheap; it is very costly. For us, it is not earned, bought, or demanded; instead, it is freely given as a grace because God chose us as recipients of his love and grace. That is the covenant he has made with us.
Yes, this week’s Gospel reading got me thinking about loyalty—just a few of the things I learned. We’ve been speaking of God’s hesed toward us, but what about our hesed toward God?
Our Gospel lesson from Matthew 10 does not use the word hesed, but as I learned more about its meaning, what Jesus describes looks remarkably like the covenant loyalty the Old Testament often calls hesed—showing steadfast love and kindness—in our relationship with him.
Jesus said, “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword…. Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”
Luke’s Gospel puts this in even harder words, “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.” (Luke 14:26-27)
In both passages, Jesus insists our relationship with Him goes beyond lip service. It must be accompanied by real action and commitment.
Last week, we explored how our baptism brings us into a new allegiance, a new identity, and a new life with Christ Jesus as King, savior, and master. This week, we see what that covenant demands of us—it demands nothing less than what God demands of Himself. God says, ‘I will show you unwavering faithfulness; therefore, you must show me unwavering faithfulness.’ God says, ‘I will show you 100% loving kindness, loyalty, all these things; therefore, to be in a covenantal relationship with me demands that you show me 100% loving kindness, loyalty, etc.’
When Luke says we are to ‘hate’ father, mother, wife, and children, he is using exaggeration to emphasize a point: we must place God above all else. By doing this, God can then teach us and give us the grace necessary to ‘love one another,’ as He has loved us. So, being in this covenant relationship with God 100% also enables us to be in a covenant relationship with each other. In this way, hesed becomes not only a word that defines a relationship but also the defining characteristic of a life lived to the glory of God.
But here’s the rub. I said that God demands 100% loving-kindness, loyalty, and the rest from us, but the reality is we never do. I believe we try, but we fail. Adam and Eve failed, David failed, Peter failed, we fail. There’s no excuse, but when we fail to fulfill this covenant with God and one another, there is hesed again—there is mercy, God’s mercy to us. As the Psalmist says, God’s “mercy…His hesed endures forever.” (Psalm 136) As God shows us covenantal mercy, we show it to each other.
Aesop’s bear made a very good point: It is “not at all wise to keep company with a fellow who deserts his friend in a moment of danger.” This speaks to one aspect of what we should look for in a friend, but it also speaks to our understanding of God’s relationship with us, as proven time and again. Jesus has called us friends (John 15:15). Ask yourself, “Am I the kind of friend to Jesus who would abandon him under any circumstances, or regardless of the cost, would I remain faithful?”
In discovering the answer, we begin to see whether we are worthy of Him, whether we are His disciples. And, if necessary, we rely on His unfailing mercy to restore us to Him and seek to fulfill our part of the covenant—the hesed—we have entered into.
Let us pray:
May the Strength of God guide us. May the Power of God preserve us. May the Wisdom of God instruct us. May the Hand of God protect us. May the Way of God direct us. May the Shield of God defend us. May the Angels of God guard us. Against the snares of the evil one.
May Thy Grace, Lord, Always be ours, This day, O Lord, and forevermore. Amen.
Pip: There's a sermon out there that opens with Henry Ford, pivots through a Ridley Scott film, and lands at a baptismal font — and somehow the logic holds the whole way through.
Mara: That's Fr. John's recent work at Candle in a Cave — a sermon on what baptism actually does to a person, and why the answer is more than symbolic.
Pip: Let's start with the knights of Jerusalem and what they have to do with a sacrament.
What Baptism Actually Does
Mara: The sermon opens with a question that sounds almost dismissive — does water make someone a child of God any more than a sword makes someone a knight?
Pip: And the film Kingdom of Heaven is doing real theological work here. Balian of Ibelin knights common farmers and blacksmiths before a siege, and the bishop asks whether the ceremony changes anything. Balian's answer is one word.
Mara: The sermon quotes it directly: "Does making a man a knight make him a better fighter?" — and Balian looks the bishop square in the eye and says, "Yes."
Pip: That yes carries weight because medieval knighthood wasn't ceremonial decoration. It conferred land, status, religious standing, and — crucially — a new interior sense of self.
Mara: Exactly the point. The sermon draws the parallel plainly: baptism isn't merely about water, just as knighthood isn't merely about a sword. Both are about, in the sermon's own words, "a new allegiance, a new identity, and a new life."
Pip: The Ford story at the opening earns its place here — a machinist returns stolen tools the morning after his baptism. Something actually shifted.
Mara: The sermon lists what that shift includes: forgiveness of sins, participation in Christ's death and resurrection, renunciation of evil, and entry into the community of faith. Then it names the seal — chrismation with oil blessed by the bishop, and the words spoken at the sign of the cross.
Pip: "You are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ's own for ever." That's the line that closes the ceremony, and the sermon treats it as the thing that makes the rest of it stick.
Mara: Nine baptisms on the day this sermon was preached. The closing line echoes Ford: dam up the Cimarron and baptize everyone.
Pip: A bishop, a machinist, and Balian of Ibelin walk into a font — and the sermon makes the case that all three are asking the same question.
Mara: What holds this together is a single claim — that identity conferred by ritual is real identity, not performance.
Pip: Which means the next time someone asks what water does, the answer is still yes.
According to Christian ministry lore, a machinist at the Ford Motor Company found religion and was baptized. Before his conversion, the man had frequently stolen parts and tools from the Ford factory.
Moved by his newfound faith, the employee returned all the stolen goods to his boss the very next morning, explained his baptism, and asked for forgiveness. Dumbfounded by this unprecedented response, the manager sent a telegram to Henry Ford (who was traveling in Europe at the time) asking how to handle the situation. Ford reportedly wired back his enthusiastic approval with the now-famous reply: “Dam up the Detroit River, and baptize the entire city!”
When I get home on Thursday nights—my Friday—my brain is only up for a glass of wine and a movie. Since most new movies disappoint, I’ll usually rewatch an old favorite. A couple of Thursdays ago, I settled in with Kingdom of Heaven, best described as historical fiction about the defense and fall of Jerusalem to Saladin in 1187.
This movie centers on Balian of Ibelin. In the movie, his personal life is entirely fictional; however, his role in the defense of Jerusalem is quite accurate, down to a powerful scene as the final battle approaches.
The problem: too few knights remain to defend the city. Most have died or fled. The Patriarch of Jerusalem points this out to Balian. Accepting his words, Balian gives a rousing speech and commands, “Every man-at-arms or capable of bearing them, kneel.” All comply. Approaching a young man, Balian recites his father’s words: “Be without fear in the face of your enemies. Be brave and upright, that God may love thee. Speak the truth even if it leads to your death. Safeguard the helpless. That is your oath.” To the young man’s surprise, Balian slaps him and says, “And that’s so you remember it.” Balian then steps back, addressing the assembly, and says, “Rise, a knight.”
The bishop, who has witnessed all this, is not impressed and says to Balian, “Does making a man a knight make him a better fighter?” Balian looks the bishop square in the eye and says, “Yes.”
That actually happened, but for us today, we might be inclined to think like the bishop—putting lipstick on a pig doesn’t make a pig a beauty queen. However, that’s us today. Back then, being made a knight made you something new.
Being made a knight gave you land and privileges. It offered chances for advancement, political influence, and access to goods and services a commoner would never have. It meant entry into the aristocracy and more. But perhaps more importantly, a shift took place within. You actually became someone. People looked up to you; they called you “Sir.” Your sense of self-worth increased dramatically.
There was also a religious aspect, especially in Jerusalem. There, you became a true defender of the faith. For many, you were a Christian hero. The Pope essentially stated that serving as a knight in Jerusalem counted toward all penances you owed.
When the bishop asked, “Does making a man a knight make him a better fighter?” Balian’s “Yes” carried all this weight, and those who took the knee believed it. No longer were they blacksmiths, farmers, peasants, or even slaves. They were now great defenders of the faith, and for those who truly believed, it would have meant a great deal and, in fact, made them knights and better fighters.
And if you have figured out by now that I’m not talking about the knights of Jerusalem but about those to be baptized into the Christian faith, give yourself a gold star.
Today, we have ____ who will be baptized into Christ’s one holy catholic and apostolic Church. Yet some might ask, “Does water make someone a child of God any more than a sword makes someone a knight?” The answer: Yes! Because neither baptism nor knighthood is merely about water or swords. Both are about a new allegiance, a new identity, and a new life.
Behind that, yes, lie forgiveness of sins, participation in Christ’s death and resurrection, the renunciation of Satan and evil forces of this world, the desire to fight sin and injustice, and true loyalty to Christ Jesus as Lord and Savior. Baptism also opens participation in the community of faith in thought, word, and deed, the call to commend the faith that is in you, and more. Through baptism, you become a citizen of the Kingdom of God and take on all the benefits and duties of a child of God, as has been practiced throughout the Church’s history.
Finally, I won’t be slapping anyone to make them remember it, but we will chrismate all those baptized with the oil blessed and set aside by the bishop. As the sign of the cross is made on the forehead, the words are spoken: “You are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ’s own for ever.” This sealing in the Holy Spirit helps us remember all that has been done for us and all that we have vowed to do ourselves.
Given all this sacrament of baptism accomplishes in a person, I say, “Dam up the Cimarron and let’s baptize everyone.” Or, according to the Book of Common Prayer on page 301, “The candidates for Holy Baptism will now be presented.”
Jesus said, “Every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.”
“Every scribe.” We heard this reading just a few Wednesdays ago when we studied Alcuin, who was a librarian of sorts. It also appears when we celebrate the great historian, the Venerable Bede; the theologian, Thomas Aquinas; and a more contemporary writer we studied at length, Dietrich Bonhoeffer. We hear this reading and understand that our Saint’s gift involved the Church’s writings. Ephrem of Edessa, whom we celebrate today, is no different.
Early on, he served in the household of Bishop Jacob of Nisbis, and it is likely that he attended the Council of Nicaea (where the Nicene Creed was composed) with the Bishop in 325. Following the Bishop’s death, Ephrem remained in service to Jacob’s successors but was eventually forced to flee following the Persian invasion. He then settled in a cave, where he lived out the remainder of his life.
Although he lived an austere life, he remained active in preaching and writing and was ordained a deacon. Of his writings, he not only wrote the hymn we read but also over 400 others used to teach the orthodox faith, which is how he became known as “The Harp of the Holy Spirit.” He died in 373 from exhaustion while caring for the sick.
There is much for Ephrem to be remembered for, but his role as “scribe” stands out most. For some, his writings are a bit too flowery, but many others find great beauty and comfort in them. In one particular hymn, he addresses the Upper Room where the Last Supper was held: “O blessed spot! No one has seen or shall see the things which you have seen. In you the Lord himself became true altar, priest, and bread and chalice of salvation. He alone suffices for all, yet none suffices for him. He is Altar and Lamb, victim and sacrifice, priest as well as food.”
In the Gospels, Jesus is never pleased with the scribes. He sees them, along with the Sadducees and Pharisees, as placing stumbling blocks before the people, at one point saying, “But woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you lock people out of the kingdom of heaven. For you do not go in yourselves, and when others are going in, you stop them.” Yet Jesus says that what is needed to be a faithful scribe is one “who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.” It is one who understands the writings of those who have gone before and recognizes that those writings speak of and point to the Savior.
Jesus said, “For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward.” Ephrem was one who, through his writings, gave us a “cup of water to drink,” and therefore has received his reward. We give thanks for him and all those who have passed on such knowledge, which leads to salvation through Jesus.
Groucho Marx said, “If you find it hard to laugh at yourself, I would be happy to do it for you.” And the Tunisian Prime Minister, Habib Bourguiba, wrote, “Happy is the person who can laugh at himself. He will never cease to be amused.” We know that laughing at ourselves, or self-deprecating humor, can have a healthy side, but it can also become detrimental. We say something about ourselves that makes others laugh, but on the inside, we actually believe it. Example: “My romantic strategy is simple: I just wait for someone to make a terrible mistake and fall in love with me.” In addition, most of the time, we don’t need to laugh at ourselves, because the world can pour it on just fine. That is not only true of who we are, but also of our faith. In fact, the world has been great at ridiculing and laughing at those who act in faith.
There’s Noah. He’s an easy one. Can you imagine the grief they must have put him through? According to Scripture, it took him 50-100 years to build the Ark. All the while, everyone was watching, and I’m certain they were laughing. When he started gathering the animals, think of the ridicule. How stupid could a person be?
Then there was Abram, who became Abraham, whom we read about today. Can you imagine: Abram starts packing up his house. The neighbors stop by and ask, “Hey, Abe, what are you doing?” His response, “The Lord spoke to me and said, ‘Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing.’” Can you imagine the ridicule and laughter? “You can’t even pack your camel correctly, and the Lord is going to make a nation out of you? Please.”
When David was just a boy, he went up against the giant Goliath. His brother saw him coming and berated him. The King, Saul, said, “You’re just a boy. You’ve got no chance” (cf. 1 Samuel 17:33). Then, Goliath laughed and sneered. “Am I a dog, that you come to me with sticks?… Come to me, and I will give your flesh to the birds of the air and to the beasts of the field.” (1 Samuel 17:43) All of them rebuked him and, I’m certain, laughed at him, not only the Philistines but his own people. “You’re nothing but a child. Go home to mama.” But what St. Paul would later write to the Corinthians was just as applicable to these: “God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God.” (1 Corinthians 1:27–29)
Noah, his family, and the animals were saved from the flood, while the world perished around them. Abraham walked the earth 4,000 years ago, and we are part of the great nation established through him, which continues to grow and expand. David struck down Goliath with a single small stone and became the greatest King Israel has ever known, and his lineage produced Jesus. God chose the weak, the despised, the lowly, and the ridiculed to accomplish His work, so that it was clear to all that the victory was God’s alone.
If these three were the only examples in Scripture, we could say, “Everybody gets lucky on occasion,” but in truth, it is the way of God. And the pattern continues. Gideon’s 300 defeated an army. Esther saved her people. A young girl named Mary said yes to God and bore the Savior of the world.”
Again and again, God works through the foolish, the weak, and the ridiculed, overturning the expectations of the powerful.
In our Gospel reading, we find two more examples. First is the calling of Matthew. Jesus said, “Follow me,” and Matthew did. That evening, Jesus had dinner at Matthew’s house, and many other sinners were present. Seeing this, the Pharisees said, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” They ridiculed Jesus and, I imagine, laughed at his foolishness. I suspect their comments were like those of the Pharisee who invited Jesus to dinner. You’ll recall that the “sinful woman” came and washed Jesus’ feet with her tears, dried them with her hair, and then anointed them. The Pharisee thought, “If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what sort of woman this is who is touching him, for she is a sinner.” (Luke 7:39) I can hear them saying the same thing about Matthew and his companions.
The second incident in the Gospel involves Jesus. The little girl has died, yet through her, Jesus intends to demonstrate the power of God. He says to the crowd, “‘Go away; for the girl is not dead but sleeping.’ And they laughed at him.” They believed that only God has power over life and death, and, in their understanding, Jesus was merely a man.
Remember how Jesus’ hometown ridiculed him? They said, “Where did this man get this wisdom and these mighty works? Is not this the carpenter’s son? Is not his mother called Mary? And are not his brothers James and Joseph and Simon and Judas? And are not all his sisters with us? Where then did this man get all these things?” (Matthew 13:54-56) “We know this kid. Who does he think he is? He’s Joe’s boy. He’s nothing.”
When Jesus said to those gathered around the dead little girl that she was only sleeping, they laughed at Him. They knew she was dead and that only God could raise the dead. They were saying, “Who do you think you are? You’re nothing.”
However, you would think that after witnessing all the miracles the people would have believed, but even then there was still ridicule and disbelief. “‘He is possessed by Beelzebul,’ and ‘by the prince of demons he casts out the demons.’” (Mark 3:22)
Writing in the second century, the philosopher Celsus spoke sarcastically about Christianity and those who followed Jesus. He described Christians as “the most uneducated and vulgar persons” and “like a swarm of bats–or ants creeping out of their nests–or frogs holding a symposium round a swamp–or worms in a conventicle in a corner of mud.” Not what I would call high praise, but it is what many thought of Christianity and Christians. 2,000 years later, not much has changed. Should we be surprised? No. Jesus said, “A disciple is not above his teacher, nor a servant above his master…. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household.” (Matthew 10:24-25)
Throughout history, God’s people have been ridiculed and laughed at for their faith. Yet no word or sneer from the outside has stopped us from moving forward. Yet, there is ridicule and laughter that can and does bring everything to a halt—when we attack ourselves. When we laugh or sneer at the faith that is in us. What does that look like?
“I’m not good enough. My sins are too great for God to hear me.” “God is too busy to be bothered with the likes of me and my little problems.” “What I want to say or ask just isn’t all that important, so I shouldn’t bother God with it.” “I’m too weak. I’m too foolish. I’m laughable in my relationship with God.” These and all the other “reasons” we come up with are simply ways of degrading and ridiculing who we are in God and in our faith. We’re laughing at ourselves, but not in a healthy way, and it is detrimental to our life with God.
Jesus says, “If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.” (John 15:7) There are no qualifiers in that statement like, “Ask whatever you want, as long as you’re as holy as me, and it better be important.” Jesus says, “Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” (Luke 12:32) It is the Father’s pleasure to hear from us and to fulfill those things in accordance with His ways.
St. Paul says it so clearly: “Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession… Let us then with confidence—let us boldly—draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” (Hebrews 4:12, 16)
There are plenty in the world who will gladly ridicule and laugh at your faith. And you know… so what. They’ve been doing it since the beginning. Wish them a nice day and keep moving. As St. Josemaria Escriva says, “Don’t waste your time and your energy — which belong to God — throwing stones at the dogs that bark at you on your way. Ignore them.” (The Way) But also don’t do their job for them. Don’t undermine your own faith through self-condemnation and self-abuse. Instead, come before God’s throne of grace with boldness and confidence, come as His beloved children, and lay your heart before Him. It is His good pleasure to hear you.
Let us pray: “Loving and Merciful Father, we come before You knowing that You are ever present and attentive to the voice of our prayers. In the quiet of our hearts, we trust that You hear every petition, joy, and sorrow we lay before You. We place our anxieties and needs into Your compassionate hands, confident that Your steadfast love endures forever. Strengthen our faith, Lord, and grant us the grace to always accept Your holy will. Amen.”
Candle in a Cave 