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The podcast can be found here.

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Some rather interesting news came out of Alabama in 1992: The article says that the Rev. Glenn Summerford, the former pastor at the Church of Jesus with Signs Following is “currently a guest of the state correctional authorities. Pastor Summerford was convicted in the 1991 attempted murder of his wife, Darlene.” What did he do to his beloved? Records indicate, “he forced [her to hold] her hand in a box full of rattlesnakes until she was bitten.” Rev. Glenn Summerford contended that he was innocent and that the only reason his wife was bitten was because “her faith wavered.”

Another rather interesting article came out in 1998: The Rev. John Wayne “Punkin” Brown Jr., 34, of Parrottsville, Tennessee, died after being bitten by a four-foot timber rattlesnake that he had been handling while preaching. The article stated, “On Saturday, “Punkin” was clutching the snake in his right hand when it bit him on the middle finger of his left, between the knuckle and first joint. The Rev. Gene Sherbert, of Temple, Georgia, was next to Brown when this happened and reported that, “He looked at me and I knowed he was bit and I put it (the snake) back in the box.” The Rev. “Punkin” died a few minutes later. He might have made it, but he kept on preaching another quarter hour after being bitten. FYI: the Rev. “Punkin” is cousin to the Rev. Summerford who tried to kill his wife.

“Why?” do you ask would they be handling snakes? Simple: the Bible says so, Mark 16:17-18: “And these signs shall follow them that believe; In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues; they shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick and they shall recover.” I think the one thing these good folks forgot was that Scripture also says, “Thou shall not put the Lord thy God to the test.”

I believe that it was in John Grisham’s novel, The Last Juror, that one of the characters recommends, if attending a snake handling church, it’s best to sit on the front row. It seems that the snakes are kept on ice in a box, and those on the first row handle them while they’re still in a state of hibernation; however, by the time the snake reaches the back of the church – wide awake!

This is one we discussed a few weeks ago: the folks in the day of Moses had a healthy understanding of the issue of snakes. It was best to stay away from them because the ones wandering in the desert were killers. It happened on one particular day that the Israelites began to complain once more against God, so God sent them a plague of snakes and many people perished. This drove them to repent of their murmurings, but the snakes were still there, so they asked Moses to help and God told Moses to make the snake out of bronze, Nahushtan, and then to place it on a pole. When the people were bitten, if they would look at the bronze snake, they would be saved.

The people had spoken against God, so God sent the snakes as a judgment. In order to be spared the death that came from the snakes, the people were told to look upon the bronze snake. The people were called to look upon their judgment. Because you disobeyed God, because you spoke against Him, you must look upon the consequence of your disobedience, in order to be saved.

Leading up to our Gospel reading, Nicodemus, who is a Pharisee, comes to Jesus at night. He comes at night because he is afraid to be seen by others visiting with this rabble-rouser, Jesus. Even so, Nicodemus believes the signs that Jesus has been performing. Jesus tells Nicodemus that he must be born from above in order to be saved. Nicodemus fails to understand what Jesus is saying, so Jesus responds by saying to him, “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.”

The Israelites in the wilderness were required to look upon their judgment – the bronze serpent – in order to be saved. Jesus is saying, in a similar manner, Nicodemus must also look upon his judgment and believe, in order to be saved. Nicodemus must look upon the judgment for his disobedience to God. And what is the judgment for disobedience toward God, for sin? Romans 6:23, “The wages of sin – the consequence of sin – the judgment of sin is death.” Nicodemus must look upon death in order to be saved, but not just anybody’s death. He must look upon the death, the judgment of the Son of God, of Jesus in order to be saved. He must look upon Christ crucified and believe that it is through Jesus’ death that he will receive his salvation.

The message to us is no different. We too must look upon the judgment of our sins – death – and believe that it is through that judgment – in the person of Christ Jesus crucified – that we are saved. We must recognize that our sins lead to eternal death yet, God so loved the world – so loved us – that he gave his only Son to suffer death for us, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life.

Believe and have eternal life. Sounds like foolishness to many and to many others it is too simple. God wouldn’t simply give salvation away so freely. We must earn that right to get into heaven. We must follow the rules. Sit, stand, kneel, bow when we are supposed to. We must live the perfect boring Christian life. We must be able to handle snakes without our faith failing for even a moment. Put one toe out of line and you will be bitten, you will be hell bound. We apply this way of thinking to others and to ourselves, and we end up echoing Paul’s question, “Who then can be saved?” In our logic we answer, “No one… not even ourselves.” To any who think in such a way, I would remind them of the day that Jesus was crucified between the two thieves:

One of the criminals who hung there hurled insults at him: “Aren’t you the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” But the other criminal rebuked him. “Don’t you fear God since you are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus answered him, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

Did the thief follow all the rules? Did he get all the answers right? Did he lead a perfect life in the eyes of God? Was he able to handle the snakes without getting bitten? Or… did he simply look upon his own judgment and see his salvation?

St. Paul writes to the Philippians: work out your own salvation with fear and trembling. With fear and trembling, look upon Christ Jesus and him crucified and see in him your own crucifixion, your own death, and then look again and see your salvation, and then… believe.

Let us pray: O Jesus, it is not the heavenly reward You have promised which impels us to love You; neither is it the threat of hell that keeps us from offending You. It is You O Lord, it is the sight of You affixed to the Cross and suffering insults; it is the sight of Your broken body, as well as Your pains and Your death. There is nothing You can give us to make us love You. For even if there were no heaven and no hell we would still love you as we do! Amen.

The podcast can be found here.

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The Forty Martyrs of Sebaste; ivory relief panel; Constantinople, 10th century AD.

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St. Basil tells the story of the Forty Martyrs of Sebaste who’s feast day is Saturday. Their death occurred in the year 313 during one of the many persecutions of Christians.

According to Basil, these martyrs were Roman soldiers who refused to renounce their faith, so they were stripped naked and led out onto a frozen pond. Nearby, a hot bath was setup as a temptation and the naked soldiers were told that if they renounced, they would be brought to the bath and allowed to warm and return to the ranks. Of the forty, one renounced (he dropped dead immediately after crossing the threshold of the bath); however, one of the soldiers sent to guard them, Aggias, saw a miraculous sight: a brilliant glowing crown appeared over the heads of the thirty-nine who remained. Seeing this, he understood that it was God, so waking the other guards, he stripped his clothes off and said to them, “I too am a Christian,” then he prayed, “Lord God, I believe in You, in Whom these soldiers believe. Add me to their number, and make me worthy to suffer with Your servants.” Immediately, the fortieth crown appeared over Aggias and he froze to death with the others.

Now, our saint for today, Gregory of Nyssa, some fifty years later was planning a hiking/camping trip with some of his friends, but his mother convinced him to stay the night and attend the celebration of these Forty Martyrs of Sebaste. He was a Christian and agreed. The service began at sundown and it was long. As it was the beginning of summer and there were many people crowded into the church, it became very warm and Gregory became drowsy and eventually fell asleep and dreamed. He dreamed that he was still in the church, but that it was empty, when suddenly the doors of the church opened and forty naked men who were blue, as from the cold, came walking in, each carrying a wooden rod. As these men began to surround him, Gregory understood who they were – the Forty Martyrs of Sebaste who had frozen to death. After they had gathered around, they began to beat him with the rods and shouted at him:

“We died for love of Christ,” said one of the men. The voice was dull and hollow, filled with sorrow.

“You sleep through the prayers to God,” said another.

“Wake and give thanks that you may pray in peace, unafraid of the torment we suffered gladly,” said a third.

“Give glory to the Maker of all, and remember our example. Give your life to God, live for him and serve him all the days you live and breathe!” exclaimed another.

“I will, I will!” Gregory cried. “Stop, please. I will serve God, I will keep your memory fresh and I will honour you all my life for your steadfast faith!”

The men stopped beating him, vanished, and then Gregory woke up, back in the church with the service still going. Let’s just say that he rejoined the celebration with a renewed fervency and went onto serve God faithfully as he had promised.

We can let Gregory be a reminder to us that we should not become bored or complacent in our faith and in our worship. We must not take our freedom to worship for granted, because in doing so, we take God for granted.

Jesus said, “The Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you.” Allow that same Spirit to fill you with a holy fire and then worship Him with a renewed zeal.

The podcast can be found here.

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John Houseman was a producer for CBS Radio. He made the following comments regarding a program that played live in 1938: “The following hours were a nightmare. The building was suddenly full of people and dark-blue uniforms. Hustled out of the studio, we were locked into a small back office on another floor. Here we sat incommunicado while network employees were busily collecting, destroying, or locking up all scripts and records of the broadcast. Finally, the Press was let loose upon us, ravening for horror. How many deaths had we heard of? (Implying they knew of thousands.) What did we know of the fatal stampede in a Jersey hall? (Implying it was one of many.) What traffic deaths? (The ditches must be choked with corpses.) The suicides? (Haven’t you heard about the one on Riverside Drive?) It is all quite vague in my memory and quite terrible.” What was the program? Orson Welles’ version of H.G. Wells’, War of the Worlds.

Perhaps the world’s first major case of “fake news,” but nonetheless, words that had the masses running scared.

If you have the right words, lined up in the proper order, spoken with the right amount of inflection here, a little pause there, and an increase or decrease in volume at the correct moment, then you can convince many to do both great and terrible things. Words can also inspire and teach, and this is where our saint for today, George Herbert, a 16th century Anglican priest, excelled, particularly in writing poetry. He described his poems as “a picture of the many spiritual conflicts that have passed betwixt God and my soul, before I could submit mine to the will of Jesus my Master; in whose service I have found perfect freedom.”

If you enjoy poetry, then I can recommend to you the collection of his poems titled, The Temple, which was published posthumously. It is a lyrical walk through the church, the church year, and Herbert’s joys and challenges.

One of my favorite Herbert poems is “The Call.” It is also number 487 in our hymnal.

Come, my Way, my Truth, my Life:
Such a Way, as gives us breath:
Such a Truth, as ends all strife:
Such a Life, as killeth death.

Come, my Light, my Feast, my Strength:
Such a Light, as shows a feast:
Such a Feast, as mends in length:
Such a Strength, as makes his guest.

Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart:
Such a Joy, as none can move:
Such a Love, as none can part:
Such a Heart, as joyes in love.

As meaningful as those words are, there are others that were spoken 1,500 years prior. Words, that to this day, continue to inspire, challenge, and move individuals to great faith and works:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
“Blessed are…

Blessed. Those words of our Savior upended everything we thought we knew about God and literally changed the world forever.

Today, instead of making a theological point about the words of Jesus or Herbert, I invite you to consider your own words. The words we speak have the ability to tear down, enrage, discourage, to end the good; or our words can create unity and relationships, give hope, extend peace, express love…

The Apostle Paul wrote to the Philippians, “Beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” And after you have thought about these things, then allow them to form the words you speak to others, because our words have the ability to say to a hurting world, blessed are you, you are God’s own people. This is something that George Herbert understood and practiced. I pray that we will also practice this gift, this grace from God.

 

The podcast can be found here.

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The 1901 Hubert Cecil Booth Vacuum Cleaner (bet they didn’t sell these door to door!)

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Dust. People have always been trying to eliminate the problem of dust. The first vacuum cleaner was invented in 1901, and was so large that it had to be hauled on a horse drawn wagon and parked outside. It ran off of gasoline. Well, the vacuum may have gotten smaller but the problem of dust still exist and it always will.

If you are tired of dusting, consider these facts:
– The average household generates 40 pounds of dust each year.
– It is no surprise that you can dust the entire house and turn around and do it all over again. Why? A particle of dust can hang in the air for about five days. And they just keep raining down at that leisurely pace.
– Every year, 40,000 tons of dust falls from outer space.
– The largest source of dust is the Sahara Desert. It produces 770 million tons on an annual basis that then drifts as far as South America and fertilizes the Amazon Rain Forest.
– And, yes, we humans contribute to the problem. The average human creates about 1/3 of an ounce (about the weight of a key) of dust each week.

You can purchase all the new fangled dusting products you want, but no matter what the manufacturer claims, you are not winning the war on dust. You’re just keeping it at bay. As pesky as it is, there is still some dust that is holy. That is sacred. That God cares dearly for. You know the story:

In the day that the Lord God made the earth and the heavens, when no plant of the field was yet in the earth and no herb of the field had yet sprung up—for the Lord God had not caused it to rain upon the earth, and there was no one to till the ground; but a stream would rise from the earth, and water the whole face of the ground—then the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the man became a living being.

God breathed into the dust and gave it life and from that day forward, He has loved His creation, but sometimes, when I hear those words, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return,” I hear those words and they almost sound like a threat. Like God saying, “Don’t forget, you misbehave and I’ll send you right back where you came from.” But instead, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return,” is simply an undeniable fact. Today is Valentine’s day and I jokingly put up on Facebook that today’s sermon was going to begin, “Happy Valentine’s Day, you’re going to die.” But to say that we will return to the dust is simply saying the same thing—minus the Happy Valentine’s Day bit. We will return to the dust, but we are sacred dust. We are God’s dust.

Karl Rahner, a Jesuit priest who is considered to be one of the most influential theologians of the 20th century in his book, The Eternal Year, wrote, “When on Ash Wednesday we hear the words, ‘Remember, you are dust,’ we are also told that we are brothers and sisters of the incarnate Lord. In these words we are told everything that we are: nothingness that is filled with eternity; death that teems with life; futility that redeems; dust that is God’s life forever.”

We are dust. Yet, through the redeeming sacrifice of Christ we have eternal life. We are God’s life forever, because through Jesus, we become one with Him and one with the Father. And as the Psalmist wrote:

As a father cares for his children,
so does the Lord care for those who fear him.
For he himself knows whereof we are made;
he remembers that we are but dust.

During these days of Lent, remember that you are but dust, but also remember Whose dust you are. And remember the price that was paid so that you might return to Him.

 

The podcast can be found here.

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Ever know someone who just doesn’t know when to shut up? Thibodeaux was walking down the road one day and spotted Boudreaux walking towards him carrying a sack over one shoulder and a shotgun over the other. Thibodeaux knew old Boudreaux had been out duck hunting so when they met, he asked him, “What you got in the sack?” Boudreaux replies with a smile, “I got me some ducks in this sack.” Thibodeaux then says to Boudreaux, “If I guess how many ducks are in yo sack, can I have one?” Boudreaux knows that Thibodeaux can barely count to ten, much less guess how many ducks he’s got, so he confidently says, “If you can guess how many ducks I have in this sack, I’ll give you both of them!” Thibodeaux guessed three.

The Psalmist writes, “For God alone my soul in silence waits”

It is said of Abbot Agatho, one of the desert monks, that he carried a stone in his mouth for three years until he learned to be silent, however, for us today, to go for more than a few hours of silence is enough to make us nervous.

In seminary we had silent retreats that lasted up to three days. There would be times of instruction – listening – but no talking. The goal: listen to God. I did enjoy them for the most part, but by the end of the day I would snap and end up talking to a dog or a tree.

When you are alone it is much easier to maintain the silence, but in a group, all that changes. During those retreats in seminary, we were all fairly successful on the first day and everyone obeyed the rules: head down, walking quietly, meditating, etc. However, we lacked discipline and we are by nature social creatures, so by day two, when you were certain none of the professors were looking, you would spot your buddy and give them a nod and a smile. They would then furtively look around and respond in kind. By day three, the entire seminary had worked out such an elaborate set of hand signals and gestures that we all looked like a third base coach giving instructions to the batter. Sure, no one is talking, but the silence is the equivalent of a high school marching band after the team wins the big game. But it’s not just us non-cloistered folks that can’t maintain the silence. The Trappist Monks live a life of silence and their most noted brother, Thomas Merton, writes that even the overuse of sign language within the material silence of the monastery promotes the busy mind.

The culture in which we live does not value silence. We like to have some kind of stimulation going on around us. It becomes habitual to turn on the TV or radio as one of the first things we do when we get home, just to have a bit of noise in the background. One author even refers to the negative aspect of this practice as “stimulation pollution,” and observes how it comes in many different forms: from the radio and TV to cell phones and computers, but then there are also books, magazines, billboards. There can be incessant talking as we flit from one person to the next. We find ourselves internally formulating our responses to the person who is speaking instead of listening. Interaction becomes a way to acknowledge that we really exist. If we are talking, worrying, giving our opinion, saying what we’ve done, what we own, we must be alive, we must have worth! But, there generally isn’t any space between the words to absorb what has been said. As a result, many of our conversations are superficial. Thomas Merton: “It is not speaking that breaks our silence, but the anxiety to be heard.”

Not only does this “stimulation pollution” effect our natural life, it also has a dramatic impact on our spiritual life. We become as equally anxious with the silence during our time with God as we do when the world becomes silent around us, so during those times when we should be still during our prayers, we will often respond in one of two ways: we either just keep rambling on or we stop, say “Amen,” and go about our business, believing that we are done. In truth, we are only beginning.

In our spiritual life, silence is not just the absence of talk—silence has substance. Silence is being in the presence of God. Merton claims that silence is our admission that we have broken communication with God and are now willing not only to listen to God, but to hear his voice. To be silent before God allows us to truly see Him in his glory and to hear what it is he has to say.

We read today: the three apostles who were closest to Jesus, Peter, James, and John, were allowed to go up on the mountain with him. As we have read many times before, Jesus would often go off to a secluded place where he could spend time with His Father. He would get away from all the “stimulation pollution,” which could even effect him, but on this occasion, he took the three with him so that they might experience something of the true nature of God. And they did.

Before their eyes the Lord was transfigured. The light that surrounded the Lord was not from outside of Jesus. It was from within. It was his glory radiating out, and so in the solitude and silence upon the mountain with Jesus—fully man—they came into relation with Jesus—fully God. And God love Peter, because he did just what so many of us do when we come to that point, he just couldn’t keep it shut: “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”

Peter is standing in the very presence of God, the great deliverer Moses, and the Prophet of all prophets Elijah; yet, instead of being silent, instead of listening, he wants to know if he should put up a tent for everyone. It is easy to dig on Peter, but would we have done any better? Most likely we would have all pulled out our cellphones and taken a selfie, with Jesus, Moses, and Elijah in the background.

Most of you have probably figured out by now that I don’t hear so well even with hearing aids. One-on-one I’m pretty good, but put me in a room with a lot of voices and I just smile instead of being able to join in. These little devices are pretty amazing though. I didn’t realize how much I was missing until I got them, but when you first start wearing them—sound overload. You hear everything, all the way down to the sound of the grit under your shoes as you walk. It is too much stimulation pollution. Over time, your brain learns what’s important and what’s extraneous and then filters out the unnecessary. However, even then, there is still a lot of sound out there. I wouldn’t wish hearing loss on anyone, but I will tell you that one of the most satisfying moments of my day is taking them out. Not only is it an auditory sensation, in a way it is also physical, like being wrapped in a warm blanket on a cool evening.

The same thing is true in our times of silence before God. We’ve got a lot we want to say. Our minds race with the days activities, hurts, joys, things that we have done and left undone. It is our own personal cacophony of “stimulation pollution,” but in order to hear that still small voice, we must bow our heads and silence the extraneous, so that when God the Father says to us, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!”—we will actually be able to hear what he says.

Thomas Merton wrote: “Lord, it is nearly midnight and I am waiting for you in the darkness and the great silence. I am sorry for all my sins. Do not let me ask any more than to sit in the darkness and light no lights of my own, and be crowded with no crowds of my own thoughts to fill the emptiness of the night in which I await You.

“In order to remain in the sweet darkness of pure Faith, let me become nothing to the pale, weak light of sense. As to the world, let me become totally obscure from it forever. Thus, through this darkness, may I come to Your brightness at last. Having become insignificant to the world, may I reach out towards the infinite meanings contained in Your peace and Your glory.

“Your brightness is my darkness. I know nothing of you and, by myself, I cannot even imagine how to go about knowing You. If I imagine you, I am mistaken. If I understand You, I am deluded. If I am conscious and certain I know you, I am crazy. Darkness is enough.”

The “Alleluias” end this week and the silence of Lent begins. It takes practice and patience, but I pray during this season you will experience the stillness of God. I pray that you hear the voice of God speak words of comfort and love to your soul. I pray that you experience the deep silence and peace of his presence. I pray that the light of his glory fills you with an abundance of his Holy Spirit and that you are able to walk nearer to your God.

Let us pray: Lord, speak to us in the quiet moments of this day. Touch our lives and remind us to turn and choose Your way instead of ours. Encourage us to exercise the gifts and graces You have given us as your children. Walk with us along the pathways of our lives and teach us according to Your Wisdom and Love. Lord, speak to us, so that we will be ready to do Your will. Amen.

The podcast can be found here.

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The history of Absalom Jones is quite well documented. He was born a slave in 1746 in Delaware. At the age of sixteen he was sold to a merchant in Philadelphia; however, he was able to earn an income for himself working in the evenings. Using the New Testament he was able to teach himself to read and continued his education at a school run by Quakers. In 1770 he was married and upon completion of his schooling, along with the help of Richard Allen, he formed the Free African Society, which provided assistance to widows and orphans. It wasn’t until 1784 that he was able to purchase his freedom.

Later he would become a lay preacher at St. George’s Methodist Episcopal Church. Given the popularity of the services he conducted, the church grew ten times what it had been; however, there was a great deal of racial tension because the growth was through the addition of African-Americans members, which, due to the tension, prompted those members to withdraw and form the African Episcopal Church, with Absalom continuing as their lay minister. This work culminated in Absalom making application for Holy Orders, to become a priest, and he was first ordained a deacon in 1795 and a priest in 1802 making him the first African American priest in the Episcopal Church.

F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote, “I don’t want just words. If that’s all you have for me, you’d better go.” When I read about the lives of great Christian women and men, like Absalom Jones, I’m often drawn to their words, what they said or wrote, but I also want to see that they have put that faith – those words – into action. All of Absalom’s work spoke clearly to me of a man intent on fulfilling the Gospel message as he understood it, but there was one event that solidified it all in my mind: in 1770 he was married to Mary Thomas, who was a slave in the home next-door to his owner. With the money he earned working for himself at night he purchased his wife’s freedom; however, it wasn’t until 1784 that he was able to purchase his own freedom. He bought his wife’s freedom 14 years before he was able to buy his own. Jesus said in our Gospel, “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” There is no question that his work in the African-American community is exemplary. Given the timeframe and the state of the nation at that time, it is truly amazing, but this one action, purchasing another’s freedom before his own, speaks the loudest to me about the character of Absalom Jones.

In our Gospel today, Jesus continued by saying, “You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father.” Absalom is one who is called “friend” by Jesus. Friend because of the work he did for the many and friend because of the work he did for the one.

Absalom Jones did not allow the chains of slavery to prevent him from carrying out the work that Christ had called him to, so we can look to him for inspiration in overcoming the barriers that might prevent us from doing the same and to more fully understand what it means to lay down ones own life for the sake of another.

The Presiding Bishop has invited Episcopalians “to deepen our participation in Christ’s ministry of reconciliation by dedicating offerings at observances of the Feast of Absalom Jones to support the two remaining Episcopal Historically Black Colleges and University (HBCUs): St. Augustine’s University in Raleigh, NC, and Voorhees College in Denmark, SC,” so today’s offering will go to support this work.