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Sermon: Proper 21 RCL C – “Dives in Hell”

Some of the old-timey Gospel music can be fun to listen to. Dr. Ruby Holland sang,
“Get back Satan, I’m running late
Get back Satan, I’m running late
Well I’ve got to get to Heaven, before they close the gate
Get back Satan, I’m running late.”

And Bishop Neal Roberson pleaded,
“Don’t let the devil ride,
Don’t let the devil ride,
Oh if you let him ride, he’ll want to drive…
Please Don’t let him drive your car…
Don’t do it, Don’t do it, Don’t do it!”

A simple theology—Jesus never complicated the message! That’s one of the wonderful things about musicians, artists, writers, and poets using their talents to express God’s truths. However, there are some—much like theologians—who go even deeper, creating works that require great skill and intellect to understand. Today, especially, I’m thinking about Dante Alighieri.

Dante wrote the epic poem The Divine Comedy, which consists of three major parts: Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso (Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise). I’ll be honest and tell you that I have attempted it, but have not yet made it far. My sister-in-law recommended a translation to me, and it is on the way, so I plan to try again. Keep you posted. 

For the opening verse of the first part, Inferno, Dante wrote,

“Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.”

For Dante, who acts as both the narrator and poet, finding himself in the dark forest means he has found himself in a place of sin and spiritual confusion. While searching for a way out, he meets the poet Virgil, who will serve as his guide through the nine levels of the Inferno, hell. 

The deeper the level, the more heinous the sin. Level one includes the unbaptized and virtuous pagans. Level six is guarded by demons and reserved for heretics. Level nine is the home of Satan, where he chews on the worst traitors, including Judas Iscariot and Brutus, as in, et tu Brute? 

For many centuries, Christians held a vivid and imaginative view of hell, but as we became more “enlightened,” that understanding gave way to doubt and disbelief. Now, for many, hell is nothing more than a myth that we tell children to keep them in line on rainy days. The author of the book, The Hell There Is, which we recently discussed at our Saints Book Club, states, “What is more common today, at least among the faithful, is not the outright denial of hell but a kind of practical denial of it by concluding, contrary to Scripture, that very few, if any, go to hell.” (p.2-3) He explains that individuals come to this conclusion because they don’t believe a loving God would condemn anyone to eternal punishment. However, for the author, God is not the one condemning people; rather, they are choosing hell themselves. To demonstrate this, the author references the parable of Lazarus and the rich man (also known as Dives, the Latin word for rich or wealthy). So, how does the parable show the man choosing hell over being condemned to it?

To begin (and I’ll refer to the rich man as Dives), Dives was very well aware of Lazarus’ condition. Lazarus was not sitting at the city gates where he might have occasionally been seen by Dives; instead, Lazarus was sitting at the gates of Dives’ house. Dives would have seen Lazarus every single time he went outside, yet Dives chose to ignore him. Dives did nothing directly against Lazarus, but sin isn’t limited to actions. We pray in the confession, “Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone.” Sins of commission are the wrongs we do, and sins of omission are the good we fail to do, even when we know we should act.

Countless times throughout the history of God’s people, even before the time of Jesus, God called on His people to care for the poor. For example, Deuteronomy 15:11 states, “There will always be poor people in the land. Therefore, I command you to be openhanded toward your fellow Israelites who are poor and needy in your land.”

Disobeying this command, Dives, fully aware of Lazarus’ needs, committed a great sin of omission. He was not compelled to ignore him but chose to. Dives did not choose the ways of God; he chose the ways of self and the devil, making a conscious decision to prefer hell over heaven. Further proof of this choosing is that once there, Dives’ attitude does not change.

In Hades and in torment, Dives looks up and sees Abraham and Lazarus in Paradise. He calls out, “Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.” 

That is the same attitude he had toward Lazarus while he was alive. Lazarus is a non-person to him. He does not ask Abraham to send Lazarus down to where he is so that he can beg for forgiveness. No. Instead, Dives asks for Lazarus to be sent down to serve him. “Abraham, tell that wretch to run this little errand for me.” Neither does Dives ask if he might come up to Heaven so he might escape his torment. He is neither willing to confess nor ask for forgiveness for his sins, which demonstrates that, despite the torments he is currently experiencing, he is still happy with the choices he has made. It is one of those situations where your only regret is that you got caught. Dives chose his current state, and he would rather remain in hell than walk in the ways of God. Do people truly make such an insane choice?

You are familiar with Jesus’ words in John 3:16—“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son…,” and John 3:18 tells us, “Whoever believes in Him [Jesus] is not condemned, but whoever does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God.” Then Jesus says something quite remarkable in verse 19, “And this is the judgment: the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil.” (John 3:19) “This is the judgment,” may also be translated as “This is the condemnation.” So, if we rephrase 3:19, we could say, “This is the condemnation: Jesus came into the world, and people chose the darkness—they chose hell—rather than Jesus, because they preferred their evil ways over the ways of God.” 

Yes. The author of the book is correct in his assertions—God does not condemn a person to hell; they choose it. What makes this choice so woeful is that after death, there’s no second chance. When Dives asked for that cool drop of water, Abraham told him that he had received his reward while alive and ignored the needs of another person. Additionally, Abraham tells Dives, “Between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.” Death is not a threshold we cross. Death is a chasm that, once crossed, cannot be breached.

The author writes, “Think of wet clay on a potter’s wheel. If the clay is moist and still on the wheel, it can be shaped and reshaped, but once it is put in the kiln, in the fire, its shape is fixed forever. So it is with us that when we appear before God, who is a holy fire, our fundamental shape will be forever fixed, our decisions will be final. This is mysterious to us, and we only sense it vaguely, but because heaven and hell are eternal, it seems reasonable to conclude that this forever-fixed state is in our future.” (p.76)

With that understanding, I have some good news for you and I have some bad news for you. Let’s start with the bad news—“All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,” (Romans 3:23) and “the wages of sin is death.” (Romans 6:23) We have sinned and we are dead in our sin; therefore, we are already on the wrong and unbreachable side of the chasm. We are dead in our trespasses and sins because we too have not followed the ways of God. (Cf Ephesians 2:1-3) That’s the bad news. The Good News is this—like the clay on the potter’s wheel, we have not yet been placed in the kiln. Our final shape, our forever-fixed state, is not yet set. There is still time to make another choice—a better and eternal one—and that is what Jesus offers us all. Jesus has created the one and only way by which we can cross the unreachable chasm, and that Way is through Him. “Jesus said to him, ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’” (John 14:6)

“Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.”

Certain actions we take and choices we make can lead us into that same dark forest where we lose the straightforward pathway. If we persist, then, in the end, the consequences of those actions and choices bring us to that Inferno which is forever fixed. If, however, we choose the Way that Christ Jesus has established, then we are gifted an eternal dwelling place with God in the New Jerusalem. My advice then is this,

Don’t let the devil drive your car.
Don’t do it, Don’t do it, Don’t do it!

Let us pray: Loving Father, faith in Your Word is the way to wisdom. Help us to think about Your Divine Plan that we may grow in the truth. Open our eyes to Your deeds, our ears to the sound of Your call, so that our every act may help us share in the life of Jesus. Give us the grace to live the example of the love of Jesus, which we celebrate in the Eucharist and see in the Gospel. Form in us the likeness of Your Son and deepen His Life within us. Amen.

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Sermon: Padre Pio

Yesterday was the feast day of St. Padre Pio. His life was remarkable for many reasons. He was a Capuchin Franciscan monk. He received the stigmata, losing a cup of blood per day; he heard thousands of confessions, and countless miracles have been recorded through his intercessions, both during his life and after his death. In 1947, he heard the confession of a young priest. In 2002, Padre Pio was canonized as a Saint by that same man, now called Pope John Paul II. He died in 1968 at the age of 81. 

Today, I want to share just a few of the sayings of Padre Pio, but I’m going to reserve a bit of my time until after the Eucharist, because I want to share a prayer he wrote that is to be prayed at that time.

We are only capable of doing a little good. But God, in His goodness, has pity on us, is content with very little, and accepts the preparation of our hearts …. God is infinitely greater than our heart and this overcomes the whole world.

The demon has only one door by which to enter into our soul: the will; there are no secret doors. No sin is a sin if not committed with the will. When there is no action of the will, there is no sin, but only human weakness.

Remember that man has a mind, that he has a brain which serves him for reasoning, that he has a heart for feeling, he has a soul. The heart can be commanded by the head, but not the soul, so there must be a Supreme Being who commands the soul … it is impossible to exclude a Supreme Being.

The desire to be in eternal peace is good and holy, but you must moderate this with complete resignation to the divine will. It is better to do the divine will on earth, than to enjoy Paradise.

In a word: obedience is everything to me.

Before you sanctify others, think about sanctifying yourself.

And what man consider his most famous quote is one worth remembering—Pray, hope, and don´t worry. Worry is useless. God is merciful and will hear your prayer.

After Communion… 

Stay with me, Lord, for it is necessary to have You present so that I do not forget You. You know how easily I abandon You.

Stay with me, Lord, because I am weak and I need Your strength, that I may not fall so often.

Stay with me, Lord, for You are my life, and without You, I am without fervor.

Stay with me, Lord, for You are my light, and without You, I am in darkness. Stay with me, Lord, to show me Your will.

Stay with me, Lord, so that I hear Your voice and follow You.

Stay with me, Lord, for I desire to love You very much, and always be in Your company.

Stay with me, Lord, if You wish me to be faithful to You.

Stay with me, Lord, for as poor as my soul is, I want it to be a place of consolation for You, a nest of love.

Stay with me, Jesus, for it is getting late and the day is coming to a close, and life passes; death, judgment, eternity approaches. It is necessary to renew my strength, so that I will not stop along the way and for that, I need You.

It is getting late and death approaches, I fear the darkness, the temptations, the dryness, the cross, the sorrows.

O how I need You, my Jesus, in this night of exile!

Stay with me tonight, Jesus, in life with all its dangers. I need You.

Let me recognize You as Your disciples did at the breaking of the bread, so that the Eucharistic Communion be the Light which disperses the darkness, the force which sustains me, the unique joy of my heart.

Stay with me, Lord, because at the hour of my death, I want to remain united to You, if not by communion, at least by grace and love.

Stay with me, Jesus, I do not ask for divine consolation, because I do not merit it, but the gift of Your Presence, oh yes, I ask this of You!

Stay with me, Lord, for it is You alone I look for, Your Love, Your Grace, Your Will, Your Heart, Your Spirit, because I love You and ask no other reward but to love You more and more.

With a firm love, I will love You with all my heart while on earth and continue to love You perfectly during all eternity. Amen.

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Sermon: Matthew / Heritage Sunday

The Calling of Matthew by Marinus van Reymerswale

Things to say to someone you truly dislike:

“I don’t hate you, I’m just not necessarily excited about your existence.”

“I’m not saying I hate you, what I’m saying is that you are literally the Monday of my life.”

“To me, you are like a cloud. When you disappear, it’s a beautiful day.”

“I don’t hate you, but I’d buy you a toaster oven for your bathtub.”

“I’m not saying I hate you, but I would unplug your life support to charge my phone.”

The state of the world these days has stirred up the same level of hatred (and I would say, dysfunction) in many people, so please do not shout anyone’s name—let’s keep things civil here—but I want you to think about the one person you dislike the most. Imagine them like the Grinch as he was looking at the names in the phone book of the citizens of Whooville, saying, “Hate, hate, hate, double hate, LOATHE entirely.” They pretty much just make you angry when you think about them. You would definitely like to give them a piece of your mind. Got it? Now, turn that feeling inward, where you become the target of that intense hatred.

That may seem very unhealthy for many, but for some, it’s how they feel about themselves. If you hate them, try stepping inside their heads for a few minutes, and you’ll realize they hate themselves even more than you ever imagined.

Experts tell us that there are several reasons why someone might not like or even hate themselves. One reason is the illusory truth effect, also known as the illusion of truth effect. A current example of this is what has come to be known as “fake news.” 

Believe it or not, fake news exists. Oy! The trick with fake news is to repeat something enough times, whether it’s true or not, and people will start to believe it. The same idea applies to individuals. If you tell a child enough times that they are stupid, even if they have an IQ off the charts, the child is likely to come to believe they are, in fact, stupid. Tell them or treat them as if they are unloved, and they’ll begin to think that way too. We start to believe what others say about us, whether it’s true or not. What does this have to do with today and our Patron Saint, Matthew? I always imagined Matthew sitting alone at a table while people came up to pay their taxes when they were due. But I was wrong.

As we know, during Jesus’ time, the Romans occupied the Holy Land; therefore, they claimed the right to tax the people. To collect the taxes, the Roman senate appointed wealthy citizens to oversee specific areas of collection. These Roman citizens would then hire managers for those areas, who in turn would hire local individuals fluent in the local language to collect the taxes. These local tax collectors were called publicani.

The rules these tax collectors worked under appears to have been, “Tax everything.” And they were inventive. There were taxes “on axles, wheels, pack animals, pedestrians, roads, highways; on admission to markets; on carriers, bridges, ships, and quays; on crossing rivers, on dams, on licenses—in short, on such a variety of objects that even the research of modern scholars has not been able to identify them all.” Additionally, everyone from the Roman government to the publicani wanted a little piece of the action, so the publicani cheated their own people and charged extra.

Matthew, known in one translation as “The Lord of the Passage,” was in Capernaum, a prime location for collecting taxes. He would have been able to tax people traveling on the roads around the Sea of Galilee, including farmers, fishermen, and those arriving by boat. As a result, he would have been loathed entirely by both Jews and Gentiles. One source states that he would not have even been allowed to enter the Temple, and highly religious Jews would be considered unclean if they so much as touched him.

The building he worked in—think toll booth—was a busy place, with Roman guards and soldiers hanging about (seeing to it that everyone paid and no one tried to rob the place) and a line of folks waiting to pay. The mood: hostile and downcast, and there sits Matthew, not caring what you think about paying taxes or what you think about him. Yell, cry, cuss—whatever you please—you’re going to pay, and he doesn’t care. At the end of the day, he’s going home with a fat wallet. Yet, “As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth; and he said to him, ‘Follow me.’ And he got up and followed him.”

Without hesitation, Matthew walked away from it all—the job, the money, everything. He walked away from it all to follow a wandering Rabbi. What would make him do it? On that, the Gospel—even Matthew’s own Gospel—is silent, but I can’t help but wonder.

Some folks can be yelled at and cussed all day long without it affecting them one little bit. Like water off a duck’s back. But for most, it may not impact them much initially, yet over time, it begins to wear on them. Just ask anyone who has ever been in an abusive relationship—they start to believe every word—an illusion of truth effect. So I had to wonder, even with the job and the money, do you think it’s possible that Matthew came to hate himself as much as the people hated him? It wasn’t some pity party, but I wonder if, over time, he started to believe he had no real value, no true friends, no real life. Did he come to believe that he was nothing more than the names people called him?

Perhaps he wasn’t a Biblical whiz kid, but he remembers a few things from his youth, like the words of Psalm 22.

I am a worm and not a man,
    scorned by everyone, despised by the people.

All who see me mock me;
    they hurl insults, shaking their heads. (Psalm 22:6-7)

And, day after day, as he sat there collecting taxes and enduring all the abuse the people dished out, do you think he might have hoped for something better? A life where he could be accepted and valued? A life where he could be loved?

Again, the Gospel is silent, but I have to wonder: when Jesus walked by, did he catch Matthew’s eyes? And in Jesus’ eyes, did Matthew see it all—everything he truly wanted: acceptance and value? And in those two words, “Follow me,” did Matthew hear Love calling out to him?

The Blessed Virgin Mary. In Luke’s Gospel, we learn that when Mary discovered she was with child, she went to visit her cousin Elizabeth. When she entered Elizabeth’s house, Mary greeted her. Scripture says, “When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, ‘Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy.’” Elizabeth’s unborn son, John the Baptist, heard Mary’s greeting and knew that Jesus was near, so he responded with joy by leaping in the womb. I wonder if, in a similar way, when Matthew heard the voice of Jesus, “Follow me,” did his soul leap for joy within him?

Former Presiding Bishop Michael Curry said, “When you look at Jesus, you see one who is loving, one who is liberating, and one who is life-giving.” Matthew was loved by God, he was liberated from those things that bound him, and he was given new life in Jesus. 

I came across a quote this past week attributed to Kahlil Gibran, the Lebanese-American writer and philosopher. After a bit of research, I found that he did not actually say it, but the quote remains quite meaningful—”God said ‘Love Your Enemy,’ and I obeyed him and loved myself.”

Matthew saw, heard, and I believe his soul leapt within him when Jesus called out to him. Matthew no longer hated the enemy; he no longer hated himself but learned to love himself because he finally understood what it meant to be loved. In doing these things and in allowing himself to be loved by Jesus, he became a Saint of God.                                                                       

That is also true when you see Jesus, and it is true when you hear him. If you will look up into the face of Jesus, listen to his voice, and follow Him, He will do the same for you. And not only will he make you a saint, but He will make you a child of God Most High.

Let us pray: O Glorious St. Matthew, in your Gospel you portray Jesus as the longed-for Messiah who fulfilled the Prophets of the Old Covenant and as the new Lawgiver who founded a Church of the New Covenant. Obtain for us the grace to see Jesus living in his Church and to follow his teachings in our lives on earth so that we may live forever with him in heaven. Amen.

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Sermon: Hildegard of Bingen

Scivias I.6: The Choirs of Angels. From the Rupertsberg manuscript, folio 38r by Hildegard of Bingen.

Today, we celebrate Hildegard of Bingen, born in 1098. She was highly sought after for her advice and corresponded with kings, queens, abbots, abbesses, archbishops, and popes. She undertook four preaching tours across northern Europe, practiced medicine, authored treatises on science and philosophy, composed remarkable music and liturgical dramas, and was quite the artist. What makes this even more impressive is that in the 12th century, these roles were typically reserved only for men.

Along with her many achievements, she was also someone who had visions, which started to appear to her when she was just three years old. She would later describe them as “The Shade of the Living Light.” She wrote, “These visions which I saw—I beheld them neither in sleep nor dreaming nor in madness nor with my bodily eyes or ears, nor in hidden places; but I saw them in full view and according to God’s will, when I was wakeful and alert, with the eyes of the spirit and the inward ears.”

Here is an example of her writing:
It is easier to gaze into the Sun than into the face of
the mystery of God.
Such is its beauty and its radiance.
God says:
I am the supreme fire; not deadly, but rather,
enkindling every spark of life.
I am the reflection of providence for all.
I am the resounding WORD; the It-Shall-Be
that I intone with mighty power
from which all the world proceeds.
Through animate eyes I divide the seasons of time.
I am aware of what they are.
I am aware of their potential.
With my mouth I kiss my own chosen creation.
I uniquely, lovingly embrace every image I have
made out of the earth’s clay.
With a fiery spirit I transform it into a body to serve
all the world.

To me, she shows a genuine understanding of God’s love. Not as we might view God from a theologian’s point of view, but from a human perspective (not that theologians aren’t human).

In our Gospel reading today, John wrote those beautiful words, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” In Hildegard’s poem, it seems she was expressing that same idea: God is saying, I am aware of who they are, their potential. I lovingly embrace them, transform them, and give them my Son to show them this great love I have for them so that they may be where We are.

Hildegard was one who intimately knew of this transforming love of God and was able to express it through music, preaching, poetry, and art, surpassing the boundaries of her time. Perhaps such intimacy with God is not something everyone can achieve, but it is something everyone should strive for. In doing so, we can also become living testimonies, breaking through our own limits.

There is an exceptional German movie about her life, “Vision,” and I recommend it if you don’t mind subtitles (or speak German).

In 2010, Pope Benedict XVI said, “Let us always invoke the Holy Spirit, so that he may inspire in the Church holy and courageous women like Saint Hildegard of Bingen who, developing the gifts they have received from God, make their own special and valuable contribution to the spiritual development of our communities and of the Church in our time.” In 2012, Benedict named her a Doctor of the Church, among thirty-three at the time, with only three being women.

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Living Healthier

If you’ve spent any time looking at the photos I post, you know I enjoy cooking, and that what I cook isn’t always the healthiest choice. (See example one, hamburger wrapped in bacon… dang, that was tasty!) It used to be that this wasn’t a problem. I had the metabolism and exercise to counteract any negative effects. Now, at 60, apparently not so much. I got my annual blood work done last week. High cholesterol and pre-diabetes. I’m already on blood pressure medicine. (I’m sure most of you just had to look at me and knew this without the blood test.) Folks, I want at least another 25 good years, so it’s time to make some changes. I’m going to keep cooking and keep eating, but I’m on a mission to learn how to make the very best healthy foods. (The picture below was the first attempt: quinoa instead of rice, cornstarch instead of flour, a tablespoon of olive oil instead of deep frying, honey instead of sugar, broccoli instead of no vegetables at all.) I’ve ordered a new cookbook and will be exploring various spices to elevate my cooking. If you’ve got recipes, please share them. I’d love to add them to my repertoire. If you invite me over or bring me food, please, make it healthy. If you see me reaching for the donut, slap my hand. Thanks.

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Sermon: Holy Cross

Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw, known as “Sam Bahadur,” served in the Indian Army for forty years and was the first to attain the rank of Field Marshal. His nickname was Sam Bahadur—Sam the Brave. Highly decorated and highly respected. When asked whether he had a fear of death, he replied, “If a man says he is not afraid of dying, he is either lying or is a Gurkha.”

Gurkha refers to the Brigade of Gurkhas, a rifle regiment of the British Army composed of men from Nepal. Of them, Field Marshal Viscount Slim wrote, “The Almighty created in the Gurkhas an ideal infantryman, indeed an ideal Rifleman, brave, tough, patient, adaptable, skilled in fieldcraft, intensely proud of his military record and unswerving loyalty.” However, despite all this praise, at one point, a British Commander asked for volunteers from a unit of 200 Gurkhas to join the Airborne Division—those who parachute into enemy territory. Of the 200, only five volunteered; the rest shook their heads. Hearing of their bravery, he asked the Gurkha commander why so few were willing to join. It was then that the misunderstanding was uncovered—the Gurkhas knew they would be jumping from an airplane, but they didn’t know anything about parachutes.

From that, it’s easy to understand why so few volunteered, but let me ask you this: what the heck was going through the heads of those five who said, Yes? 

Today, we celebrate the Feast of the Holy Cross. It is a day to remember and honor the Cross of Jesus and to commemorate the day when the true Cross was discovered. 

That story begins on May 3, 326. Helena, the mother of Constantine, the first Christian Roman Emperor, is said to have found the true cross in Jerusalem.

Helena went on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem to visit the most important sites in Jesus’ life. After talking to many people, she found out that Jesus’ cross, along with the crosses of the two criminals crucified on either side, had been buried to hide them. Some reports say that when she unearthed the crosses, the one belonging to Jesus still had the sign Pilate had ordered put on it: “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” Other reports say that at first, they couldn’t tell which cross was which. So, they brought a dying woman to the site of the three crosses and laid her on each one. Then, St. Macarius, the Bishop of Jerusalem, said a prayer. 

“O Lord, who by the Passion of Thine only Son on the cross, didst deign to restore salvation to mankind, and who even now hast inspired thy handmaid Helena to seek for the blessed wood to which the author of our salvation was nailed, show clearly which it was, among the three crosses, that was raised for Thy glory. Distinguish it from those which only served for a common execution. Let this woman who is now expiring return from death’s door as soon as she is touched by the wood of salvation.”

Upon touching the wood of the true cross of Jesus, she was restored to health. True or false? Some might say such stories are nothing more than foolishness. Maybe. But St. Paul tells us, “For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” (1 Corinthians 1:18)

A few weeks ago, we talked about Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, the author of The Gulag Archipelago. The book describes the ten years he spent in a Russian prison. But before he was imprisoned for speaking out against the Communists, he was actually a supporter. Early in his life, he drank the Kool-Aid and became an atheist. That was what most young Russians were doing as they bought into the system. So, when he went to prison, he was an atheist, but when he got out, he rediscovered the faith of his childhood.

The prison was in Siberia. He was cold, hungry, and feeling defeated there. The story describes a day when he was working outside. The wind was howling, and he felt miserable. Standing there, leaning on his shovel, he finally lost all hope. He simply did not care what would happen to him.

He saw a nearby bench, so he dropped his shovel, walked over, and sat down. As he sat there, he fully expected to be beaten to death by a guard for his actions. It is what happened to any prisoner who was disobedient. 

After a short while, he heard someone approaching. He thought it was the guard, but it wasn’t. It was another prisoner—an old, very thin man. The man said nothing to Solzhenitsyn. Instead, he knelt in front of him and, with a small stick, scratched out the sign of the cross in the dirt. Then he got up and hurried back to work.

Solzhenitsyn looked at that crude cross, and some part of the true light of God reached him through it. In that moment, he realized that he did not have to face these terrors alone and that he did not have to survive on his own strength. “With the power of the cross, he could withstand the evil of not just one but a thousand Soviet empires.” (The Sign of the Cross, Gezzi, p.3-4)

Listen to these words of the theologian Stanley Hauerwas.

“The cross is not a sign of the church’s quiet, suffering submission to the powers-that-be, but rather the church’s revolutionary participation in the victory of Christ over those powers. The cross is not a symbol for general human suffering and oppression. Rather, the cross is a sign of what happens when one takes God’s account of reality more seriously than Caesar’s. The cross stands as God’s (and our) eternal no to the powers of death, as well as God’s eternal yes to humanity, God’s remarkable determination not to leave us to our own devices.” (Resident Aliens: Life in the Christian Colony, p.47)

These days, when you sit down to watch TV or the news, you see a great deal of violence. Some of the violence appears in the TV shows or movies we watch. And now, a lot of the violence is in the news. I remember a time (showing my age here) when news reporters would say something like, “Due to the nature of the material, you may want to have your children leave the room.” Not anymore. Now, they just throw it out there, and we all have the opportunity to struggle with PTSD. The concern with this bombardment of violence is that we are becoming desensitized to it. It no longer affects us. What we see on the news might as well be a video game because it all looks the same.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “For the great and powerful of this world, there are only two places in which their courage fails them, of which they are afraid deep down in their souls, from which they shy away. These are the manger and the cross of Jesus Christ.” (God Is in the Manger: Reflections on Advent and Christmas) This used to be true, but I believe, like the violence around us, we have become desensitized to the manger and the Cross of Christ. They no longer influence our thinking, our actions, or our way of life. We see the Cross everywhere—jewelry, T-shirts, 100-foot statues beside the road, all the way down to being stitched and bejeweled across the backside of a pair of jeans. It no longer has the power to strike a holy fear in the hearts of those who see it, but it should.

The Cross was once an instrument of torture and death. However, through Christ, the Cross was transformed into—not just “a” symbol—but the very means of our salvation, our victory over Satan and death. St. John Vianney tells us, “The sign of the cross is the most terrible weapon against the devil.” And Thomas à Kempis states, “In the cross is salvation, in the cross is life, in the cross is protection from enemies, in the cross is infusion of heavenly sweetness, in the cross is strength of mind, in the cross is joy of spirit, in the cross is highest virtue, in the cross is perfect holiness. There is no salvation of soul nor hope of everlasting life but in the cross.”

Remember those five Gurkha soldiers—the ones who volunteered to jump out of the plane even before they knew about parachutes? They weren’t crazy. They weren’t blindly risking their lives like suicide bombers. Nor were they so naive that they had no idea what happens when someone falls from a great height. Instead, they had this courage—this faith in themselves and their abilities. Crazy as we might think them, they thought, “I can do that.” 

I’m not asking you to jump out of an airplane without a parachute, but I am asking you to have that kind of courage and put that kind of faith in the Cross of Jesus.

Going forward, when you see the Cross, don’t just look at it without recognizing what it represents, for it is nothing less than the power of God working in you, for you, and through you. 

I love that verse from Joshua when the Lord says, “Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9) The Lord our God “gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control,” (2 Timothy 1:7) and we can know and experience these things through the Holy Cross of Jesus.

Let us pray: Holy Cross of Jesus, be my true light! Holy Cross, fill my soul with good thoughts. Holy Cross, ward off from me all things that are evil. Holy Cross, ward off from me all dangers and deaths and give me life everlasting! Crucified Jesus of Nazareth, have mercy on me now and forever. Amen.

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Sermon: The Martyrs of Memphis

The Martyrs of Memphis icon was painted (or “written”) in 1999 by Br. Tobias Stanislas Haller, BSG.

In 1873, the sisters of the Community of St. Mary in Peekskill, New York, were invited by the Bishop of Tennessee to establish a school for girls in Memphis. I couldn’t determine the exact reason; however, I suspect it had something to do with the Yankees’ arrival in the South shortly after the Civil War. Still, it is implied that the sisters’ presence was not appreciated. Undeterred, the sisters continued their work, but as soon as the school opened, the first of two Yellow Fever epidemics broke out. While most of the city was fleeing, the sisters remained and cared for the sick. A member of the community wrote about Constance:

“Sister Constance went out first to the sick.  Before she reached the house to which she was going, she was met by a young girl weeping and in great distress.  She said her sister was just taken with the fever, that they could get no doctor, and did not know what they ought to do for her.  My Sister went immediately to the sick child, did for her all that could be done, and ministered to her wants daily till her recovery.  My Sister always loved to speak of this little Louise as her first patient.”

During that first epidemic, 5,000 people became ill and 2,000 died.

Afterward, the school opened, and during four smooth years, Constance and another sister went back to New York for a retreat. However, they were gone only two weeks before news arrived that a second epidemic had started. They quickly returned to Memphis and once again began caring for the sick.

Over 5,000 died during this second wave of Yellow Fever, including Constance and most of her companions, known as the Martyrs of Memphis. Speaking of Constance’s death, one biographer wrote, “Few know what a wonderful life it was that ended, for this world, when Sister Constance died. It was one long and entire consecration to Christ and the Church; and the strength with which she met the fearful trials of those last days, directing, sustaining, and cheering her devoted companions, and working day and night to spare others, was a supernatural strength. She was but thirty-three years old when called away; a woman of exquisite grace, tenderness, and loveliness of character, very highly educated, and one who might have adorned the most brilliant social circle. All that she had she gave without reserve to her Lord, asking only Himself in return as her own.”

Constance’s final words, “Hosanna.  Hosanna.”

Father Morgan Dix wrote: “Before the memorable year 1878, many spoke against these faithful and devoted women; but after that year, the tongue of calumny was silent, while men looked on with beating hearts and eyes dim with tears.”

Jesus said, “Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.  Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.  Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also.  Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.”

Constance and her companions were those who first died to self and, like single grains of wheat, fell to the ground, grew, and produced much fruit. They then sacrificed their lives again, just as their Savior did, by serving others.

The final petition of our collect (prayer) for Constance asks the Lord to “Inspire in us a like love and commitment to those in need, following the example of our Savior Jesus Christ.” We pray that God’s Church will be inspired by these Martyrs of Memphis and many others who give of themselves and produce such abundant good fruit.

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Travel: The Sword of Damocles

I saw in my previous post that I provided a description, but failed to insert the picture. In case you were interested….

Richard Westall’s The Sword of Damocles. The story behind the painting: 

The “sword of Damocles” refers to a situation where a person lives under the constant threat of an impending disaster or harm. The idiom comes from an ancient Greek anecdote where a sycophantic courtier named Damocles, who envied the powerful life of King Dionysius II, was offered to trade places with the king for a day. Damocles found himself in the king’s seat, enjoying the luxury, only to look up and see a sharp sword hanging precariously above his head by a single strand of horsehair, symbolizing the ever-present danger and anxiety that comes with power and fortune.

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Travel: North Carolina with the Brother

A trip to North Carolina to see the Brother

It all started out with The Queen giving me the stink eye, because she saw the suitcase and that always means trouble, in her pointy little head’s opinion.  After the final treat, I headed to OKC and caught my first flight to Atlanta. I remember Drew always referring to it as “Hotlanta.” Somewhere I saw a sign… several years back… that said, Nobody calls it that. We did.

Spent an hour and a few dollars in the Braves Bar during the layover before taking off for RDU–The Raleigh/Durham airport.

That evening, my brother and I spent hours outside talking and drinking. He was hanging something fierce the following day (the whiskey was good but perhaps a tad too much), so we lay low and just hung out.

Truly a very nice evening. We haven’t talked like that since we were kids, and I suppose that is a good thing.

Hangover and a Papilio glaucus

We spent the day just resting and enjoying being outdoors in the beautiful weather. There are several very fat mosquitoes around his house. I had no idea they were feeding on me until the following day. Ate my ass up! After a bit, the brother felt well enough to move around long enough to go to the grocery store. I picked up the fixin’s for a nice chicken curry. When I started to put it together, we discovered that they had no curry powder; however, they had all the ingredients to make their own curry powder… very tasty.

The butterfly was beautiful.

Duke

On this day, we went to Duke University, where my brother received his PhD.  A beautiful campus and very rich. I bought a flimsy t-shirt and thought it would cost about $20. Turns out… $56! Almost told the girl she could keep it, but came home with it anyhow. Glad I did.

At the top of my list was the University Chapel. Yeah, they call that a chapel. Truly stunning and I would like to have heard that organ play. 

We went to lunch in the refectory at the School of Theology. Should have taken a picture, but had Zimbabwean Beef Stew, Fufu (a doughy African bread used for scooping food), and a curry cabbage dish. Everything was excellent. Afterward, we went over to one of the many libraries, where I saw an exhibit on Indigenous Peoples’ Graphic Novels/Comics.

Had to send several pictures to my friend, Faith. There were several pieces on The Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women (MMIW).

The interesting thing about the exhibit was to see the evolution of the portrayal of Indigenous People in the graphic novels/comics.  From Scalphunter to Superhero…

That evening, the brother fixed us all a steak dinner, and I had the opportunity to finally begin to know my sister-in-law, Tori. So great. The conversation was very wide-ranging, and before it was over, I had ordered a specific translation of Dante’s Inferno. Definitely looking forward to the read. I have shied away from it in the past because I did not understand all the historical references to persons and places. Tori says that it is not necessary. Seems it is a bit like Umberto Eco’s Foucault’s Pendulum–read and enjoy the larger story without getting too bogged down in the details.

Saturday with Mark and Tori

Tori had a meeting with their Quaker group, so Mark and I eased into the day. When we got moving, we headed to the University of North Carolina. Mark’s official title and position: MARK TOLES, PHD, RN, FAAN Professor; Beerstecher-Blackwell Distinguished Term Scholar & Senior Division Chair, Health Systems, Policy and Leadership Innovations. He’s pretty much got his act together.

We began the day at UNC’s botanical garden. Way too many pictures to post here, but it was beautiful, even though late in the season.

Bald Cypress
Tithonia

Also in the garden was the cabin of Paul Green. I knew nothing about him, but I very much enjoyed seeing him. According to Wikipedia: 

Paul Eliot Green (March 17, 1894 – May 4, 1981) was an American playwright whose work includes historical dramas of life in North Carolina during the first decades of the twentieth century. He received the Pulitzer Prize for Drama for his 1927 play, In Abraham’s Bosom, which was included in Burns Mantle’s The Best Plays of 1926-1927.

His play The Lost Colony has been regularly produced since 1937 near Manteo, North Carolina, and the historic colony of Roanoke. Its success has resulted in numerous other historical outdoor dramas being produced; his work is still the longest-running.

The plaque behind the desk reads:

WHAT IS THE SOUL OF MAN?

I WALK THROUGH THE WOODS, AND I WALK THROUGH THE HILLS,
AND I ASK YOU TO TELL ME IF YOU CAN –
YOU KNOW WHAT A TREE IS, YOU KNOW WHAT A ROCK IS,
BUT WHAT IS THE SOUL OF MAN?

I SEARCHED THE BROAD EARTH, I BEGGED THE FAR SKY,
I QUESTIONED THE RIVERS THAT RAN,
BUT NEVER A WHISPER TO TELL THAT THEY KNEW
AUGHT OF THE SOUL OF MAN.

I BOWED DOWN AT EVENING, I BOWED LOW AT MORN.
I PRAYED FOR SOME SIGN OF LIFE’S PLAN,
WHEN LO, THE GLAD ANSWER, THE WORD WITH ITS LIGHT —
LOVE IS THE SOUL OF MAN.

FROM YOUR FRIENDS AT WILDERNESS ROAD

MARCH 17, 1979

It’ll probably show up in a sermon someday.

Mark also enjoys water painting. He is much better at it than I am.

We met Tori for lunch at Sutton’s Drug Store, but unless a tasty chili cheeseburger is a drug, then it is now only a restaurant…. but what a burger, and yes, I got the t-shirt.

We continued touring the campus and saw a show at the planetarium (there may have been a nap involved during a portion of it) and then stopped at the Ackland Art Museum. We were all delighted with this visit, and it definitely made the day.

My favorite piece was Saint John the Evangelist by Valentin de Boulogne. He is listening so intently to the Spirit.

Richard Westall’s The Sword of Damocles. The story behind the painting: 

The “sword of Damocles” refers to a situation where a person lives under the constant threat of an impending disaster or harm. The idiom comes from an ancient Greek anecdote where a sycophantic courtier named Damocles, who envied the powerful life of King Dionysius II, was offered to trade places with the king for a day. Damocles found himself in the king’s seat, enjoying the luxury, only to look up and see a sharp sword hanging precariously above his head by a single strand of horsehair, symbolizing the ever-present danger and anxiety that comes with power and fortune.

Finally, there was a fine etching by the German artist Albrecht Dürer titled The Babylonian Whore, a depiction of a scene from the Book of Revelation.

Saturday and Home

La Luna, è bellissima. A wonderful few days in North Carolina.

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