Author: Fr. John

I am an Episcopal priest serving at St. Matthew's Episcopal Church in downtown Enid, Oklahoma.
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Sermon: Epiphany Last RCL A – “Becoming”

Have you heard of the up and coming rock-n-roll star Larry Underwood? His rising single is Baby, Can You Dig Your Man.

“Bay-yay-yaby you can tell me if anyone can,
Baby, can you dig your man?
He’s a righteous man,
Tell me baby, can you dig your man?”

It gets stuck in your head once you’ve heard the tune, but it is also a fictional song from my favorite novel, The Stand, by—you guessed it!—Stephen King.

No spoilers here, but I can tell you that at the beginning of the book, Captain Trips, a souped-up version of the flu, kills about 98% of the world’s population. Larry and a woman named Rita Blackmoor are in New York City, and they decide it’s best to get out of the city, which has essentially become a morgue. Very uplifting story, I can tell you. Circumstances lead them to the Lincoln Tunnel, which will take them to New Jersey.

For an even more pleasant scene, the Lincoln Tunnel is a parking lot. So many had the same idea of escaping the city, but the tunnel got jammed, and people simply died in their cars, with no one to clean up the aftermath. Even so, Larry and Rita must get through. They set out. Their only source of light was Larry’s Bic lighter. Note to self: if it is the end of the world, don’t forget your flashlight.

“It was much blacker inside than [Larry] had imagined it would be. At first, the opening behind him cast dim white light ahead and he could see yet more cars, jammed in bumper to bumper (it must have been bad, dying in here, he thought, as claustrophobia wrapped its stealthy banana fingers lovingly around his head and began to first caress and then to squeeze his temples, it must have been really bad, it must have been… horrible).” Larry enters the tunnel, and we are told that as he “negotiated the first slow, banked curve, bearing gently to the right, the light grew dimmer until all he could see were muted flashes of chrome. After that the light simply ceased to exist at all.”

Further on, “The solid darkness provided the perfect theater screen on which the mind could play out its fantasies,” of all that was going on around him. However, they push on. Stumbling in darkness over all sorts of terrors—you really should read this one—then, after struggling for what seemed hours, “Rita stopped short. ‘What’s the matter?’ Larry asked. ‘Is there something in the way?’ ‘No. I can see, Larry! It’s the end of the tunnel!’ He blinked and realized that he could see, too. The glow was dim, and it had come so gradually that he hadn’t been aware of it until Rita had spoken. He could make out a faint shine on the tiles, and the pale blur of Rita’s face closer by.” They had made it through the blackness and the terror. Larry is so excited that he reports, “New Jersey never smelled so good.”

Every year, on the Sunday before Ash Wednesday, our Gospel reading is the account of the Transfiguration. Back in the day, when I really didn’t know what I was doing as a priest (I still don’t, but I’m much better at faking it… please don’t tell the Bishop), but before, I thought of this day as the Feast of the Transfiguration. However, one year in early August, I realized we were celebrating it again. We don’t do that. August 6th is the fixed day for the feast, so I got to wondering why we read about it today. The answer is two-part. The first part is because of what lies behind us—the events in the life of Jesus that are considered at the Epiphany and the season after, which today is the last.

The Epiphany, January 6th, is the revelation of Jesus to the Gentiles through the visitation of the wise men. In the season after the Epiphany, we continue to encounter the person of Jesus and who He is.

There is Jesus’ presentation and later teaching in the Temple when He was a young boy. This is followed by the Baptism of Jesus, when the Spirit descends, and God speaks, “This is my Son, whom I love; with Him I am well pleased.” Later comes the temptation in the wilderness and the first miracle at the wedding in Cana. We also have the Confession of Peter, “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.” All of these are revelations—revealings of who Jesus is. So the Transfiguration is another revealing moment, perhaps the most dramatic, for it shows Jesus in all his glory. Origen, writing in the third century, said, “He was transfigured before them. It is not that He then became what He was not before; rather, He showed to His disciples what He was, opening their eyes and giving sight to the blind.”

Up to that moment, the Jesus the disciples knew was walking around as though wearing camouflage. His true nature was hidden. At the Transfiguration, He took off the camouflage and revealed his true self. It was the greatest and most exact of the epiphanies, and it was what all the other epiphanies were leading up to. Like the disciples, we can now see Him transfigured, which helps us understand the second reason the Transfiguration occurs now. Luke’s Gospel helps us begin our understanding.

Very soon after the Transfiguration, Luke tells us, “The days drew near for [Jesus] to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem” (Luke 9.51). Following the Transfiguration, Jesus began His final journey to Jerusalem and the cross.

The Transfiguration, placed at this point in Jesus’s life and ministry, was intended to encourage the disciples, for the days ahead were about to turn very dark. St. John Chrysostom tells us that Jesus “brings them to the mountain and shows them His glory, that when they should see Him crucified, they might not be troubled.” In the Transfiguration, Jesus was saying to the disciples, “This is who I truly am,” but in order to accomplish the work the Father has set before me, I must first pass through the darkness, this tunnel where there is no light. Only then will I again be able to attain the glory I once had. What you disciples are about to witness will be scary, surrounded by death, but remember this moment. Remember this light and be encouraged.

For us today, liturgically, the Transfiguration, assigned to this Sunday, offers reassurance of Jesus’ ultimate victory over death. After all, we are about to walk that dark tunnel with him. We will see so many turn against him, betray Him, and abuse Him. We will watch as He is arrested, flogged, and crucified. We will witness His death and His being placed in the tomb. We know how the story ends, but if we didn’t, how awful all this would be. We would be like those first disciples, huddled in the upper room, afraid of everything and everyone. However, with the knowledge of the Transfiguration, we may be in the bowels of that dark tunnel, but we will have the residual glow of that moment on the mountain, which will give us hope. That is Jesus’ true nature, and no amount of darkness will overcome Him. We have hope; yet the liturgy of the church year points to something even greater. It is pointing to our very lives.

You see, the Transfiguration is not just revealing who Jesus is. It is also revealing who we are to become. St. Paul tells us, “We all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another” (2 Corinthians 3:18). The Church Fathers have understood this to mean that “Jesus was made man, that we might be made god.” Not the all-powerful divinity, like Jesus, but transformed into the Image of God. Yet, this is only possible if we are willing to walk through the same dark tunnel that Jesus walked before us. Jesus said, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” (Matthew 16:24-25). We take up our cross that we might be crucified with Christ, so that we might travel where He has led the way.

Larry Underwood had his Bic lighter to help guide him through the Lincoln Tunnel. What will we have? Answer: “The true light, which gives light to everyone” (John 1:9). We will have Jesus and the light He revealed to us at the Transfiguration. It is that light which will guide us and encourage us.

Think of it this way: the Transfiguration took place on Mount Tabor. The crucifixion took place at Golgotha, a hill outside Jerusalem. Connecting these two places is not a path of light but a tunnel of darkness. As with our friend Larry, that is a fearful place. It is a place of death, yet to reach the other side, we must pass through it. As we go, with the hope of the light of the Transfiguration, we pray, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me (Psalm 23:4).”

As we stand on the threshold of another Lent, another reminder of the path we all must eventually travel, look to the Transfigured Lord and see the glory of your future. I promise you, it is even better than New Jersey.

Let us pray: Loving Jesus, You were transfigured on the Mountain, showing Your Disciples as much of Your glory as they could hold. Let Your eternal light shine also upon us sinners, through the prayers of the Mother of God, O Giver of Light, glory to You. Amen.

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Sermon: Scholastica

Most would agree that twins share a very special bond, and our Saint for today, Scholastica, helped prove that point. Her twin and only brother was none other than Saint Benedict.

They grew up in a wealthy family, yet early on they both felt a calling to a more austere, holy life. Benedict was the first to leave home and would eventually form a monastery based on his Rule—the Rule of St. Benedict. Witnessing such a life, Scholastica sought and received approval to form a convent, following the rule established by her brother. It was the first Benedictine Convent and was located about five miles from her brother’s monastery. 

I’m certain they exchanged many letters, but as close as they were—in proximity and relationship—they only met once a year. Pope Saint Gregory the Great records their last meeting. 

“Scholastica, the sister of Saint Benedict, had been consecrated to God from her earliest years. She was accustomed to visiting her brother once a year. He would come down to meet her at a place on the monastery property, not far outside the gate.

“One day she came as usual and her saintly brother went with some of his disciples; they spent the whole day praising God and talking of sacred things. As night fell they had supper together.

Their spiritual conversation went on and the hour grew late. The holy nun said to her brother: “Please do not leave me tonight; let us go on until morning talking about the delights of the spiritual life.” “Sister,” he replied, “what are you saying? I simply cannot stay outside my cell.”

“When she heard her brother refuse her request, the holy woman joined her hands on the table, laid her head on them and began to pray. As she raised her head from the table, there were such brilliant flashes of lightning, such great peals of thunder and such a heavy downpour of rain that neither Benedict nor his brethren could stir across the threshold of the place where they had been seated. Sadly he began to complain: “May God forgive you, sister. What have you done?” “Well,” she answered, “I asked you and you would not listen; so I asked my God and he did listen. So now go off, if you can, leave me and return to your monastery.”

Reluctant as he was to stay of his own will, he remained against his will. So it came about that they stayed awake the whole night, engrossed in their conversation about the spiritual life.

“It is not surprising that she was more effective than he, since as John says, God is love, it was absolutely right that she could do more, as she loved more.

“Three days later, Benedict was in his cell. Looking up to the sky, he saw his sister’s soul leave her body in the form of a dove, and fly up to the secret places of heaven. Rejoicing in her great glory, he thanked almighty God with hymns and words of praise. He then sent his brethren to bring her body to the monastery and lay it in the tomb he had prepared for himself.

“Their minds had always been united in God; their bodies were to share a common grave.”

St. Paul begins his famous passage on love by saying, “If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing… Love never fails.” And it did not fail Scholastica. She said, “I asked you [Benedict] and you would not listen; so I asked my God and he did listen.” 

Through the pure love of God and her brother, Scholastica asked that God hear her prayer. God did. When you pray, ask yourself, “Am I asking out of pure love, or do I have some other motive?” I would suggest that by answering that question, you have a very good chance of knowing how God will answer your prayer.

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Sermon: Epiphany 5 RCL A – “Conform”

A fable passed down for generations tells of an elderly man traveling with a boy and a donkey. As they walked through a village, the man led the donkey, and the boy walked behind. The townspeople called the old man a fool for not riding, so to please them, he climbed onto the animal’s back. When they reached the next village, the people said the old man was cruel to let the child walk while he rode. So, to please them, he got off, set the boy on the animal’s back, and continued on his way. In the third village, people accused the child of being lazy for making the old man walk, and someone suggested they both ride. So the man climbed on, and they set off again. In the fourth village, the townspeople were indignant at the cruelty to the donkey because he was made to carry two people. The frustrated man was last seen carrying the donkey down the road.

In the 1950s, the Polish-American psychologist Solomon Asch conducted a series of conformity experiments. The tests were simple, but the results were profound. Since then, the tests have been replicated numerous times. What doesn’t change are the results.

The test was administered to college men and billed as a vision/eyesight test, but it was much more.

Asch created an image with three vertical lines of varying length and labeled them A, B, and C. He then brought in a group of individuals and asked which of the three lines was the longest. Simple enough, but there was a twist. If there were eight individuals in the room being tested, seven of them—known as confederates—were in on the experiment. The odd man out was the subject. The questioning would then begin. “Which of the three lines is the longest?” The confederates always answered first, and the subject last.

At first, the confederates would give the correct answer, but after a few rounds, they would all intentionally choose the wrong answer.

You’ve got lines A, B, and C. A is the longest, and everyone chooses A. All is well. Then you are shown a new set of lines in which C is the longest, but all seven confederates say B is the longest. When it’s the subject’s turn to answer, and he plainly sees that C is the longest, how will he answer? Will the subject be truthful, regardless of what everybody else has said, and choose C (the longest), or will he cave to social pressure and go along with the confederates’ choice of B? Remember, the subject thinks this is a vision test, so there’s no pressure to “get along.” Nothing high-stakes about the choice. Yet, of all the subjects tested, only about 25% never conformed, giving in to social pressure. 75% conformed at least some of the time, and 33% gave in to peer pressure 100% of the time, even though the answer was clearly wrong.

The big question then is “Why?” Asch concluded there were several factors—a desire to be accepted, fear of being different, and conflict avoidance. People would rather be wrong than be ostracized.

Because the experiment was conducted on college students, Asch concluded, “The tendency to conformity in our society is so strong that reasonably intelligent and well-meaning young people are willing to call white black. This is a matter of concern. It raises questions about our ways of education and about the values that guide our conduct.”

He made that statement about young people, but I would be willing to make a substantial wager that it applies to us all. True? I believe so. Ever go along with something you didn’t feel was right, but participate because everybody else was doing it? Yeah. Everybody nod your head.

Social conformity exerts great pressure on us all, leading us to conform to the person others expect us to be rather than the person we truly are. This is a good thing when it comes to taking a bath or brushing your teeth. However, in other situations, it can take a very bad turn. Consider what happened to the average German citizen during the 1930s and the rise of Nazism.

A week or so ago, I came across a quote but was unable to identify the author. I liked it enough to include it in my journal. It is on the New Age side of things, but bear with me. It reads, “You will never be free until you realize this. It was never about what they think. It was always about whether you listen to yourself. We spend so much of life chasing approval, fitting into shapes that were never ours, walking paths paved by other people‘s expectations. But have you noticed? The more you chase what pleases them, the further you drift from what fulfills you. The universe gave you a compass, not in your pocket but in your chest. Your intuition is the echo of the cosmos whispering through you. And yet, how often do we trust our fear more than we trust that quiet knowing? Do not fear walking alone. Do not fear growing alone. Because to stand in your own light is to remember the truth.”

It sounds like Asch. We chase approval, fit into shapes that are not our own, and follow paths that are not ours—we conform. We chase or believe in things that don’t fulfill us, and have nothing to do with who we want to become, yet we do it to get along. Mustn’t go against the grain. However, within us is a voice that speaks truth. A voice that will guide us along a path that will fulfill us and even transform us into the person we were created to be.

Today, we read from St. Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians. He said, “For what human being knows what is truly human except the human spirit that is within? So also no one comprehends what is truly God’s except the Spirit of God. Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit that is from God, so that we may understand the gifts bestowed on us by God.”

Paul is saying that no one can truly know another person simply by looking at them or even by being in relationship with them. A part remains hidden, perhaps even from themselves. Since that is true, if we can’t even know another person, then knowing God is even less possible, unless—and there is the key—unless we have the Spirit of God within. Through the Spirit, God chooses to reveal Himself to His children. Still, we live in the world, and the spirit of the world can influence our lives. It is this spirit that wants us to conform, to chase approval, walk paths that are not our own, and turn from God. Therefore, in his letter to the Romans, Paul writes, “I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.” (Romans 12:1-2)

Paul implores us not to listen to the spirit of this world but to look to the Compass within our chest, our soul, and to listen to the whisperings of God’s Holy Spirit. Such actions may bring on the feelings Asch described in his experiment, primarily fear of being different and of being ostracized, but “Fear not,” Jesus says. “You will not have to walk alone, for I am with you.”

Jesus says, “Don’t be afraid to be different. Why? Because I created you to be different. I created you to be the salt of the Earth. I set you on a path not to be conformed to this dark world but to be the light of the world. Therefore, ‘let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.’”

Will such a life make a difference?

In his experiments, Asch introduced a variable. What if one of the confederates dissented and chose the truth? In almost every case, the subject, seeing an ally—someone they could stand with—chose the truth. The truth doesn’t need a majority, just company.

If you become the light, you will give others the courage to do the same. You may or may not be able to change the world around you, but by living out the truth, by shining the light of Christ, by not conforming, by not ending up carrying the stupid donkey, and ultimately by living according to the Spirit of God, you will fulfill the will of God in your life (which, by the way, is far more important than winning the battle).

The author of Proverbs writes,
“The way of the wicked is like deep darkness;
    they do not know over what they stumble.”
“But the path of the righteous is like the light of dawn,
    which shines brighter and brighter until full day.”
(Proverbs 4:19 & 18)

Walk the path of righteousness and be that light. It is why God, in His infinite wisdom, created you.

Let us pray (Hymnal 1982 #656 by John Keble):
Blest are the pure in heart,
for they shall see our God;
the secret of the Lord is theirs,
their soul is Christ’s abode.

The Lord, who left the heavens
our life and peace to bring,
to dwell in lowliness with us
our pattern and our King;

He to the lowly soul
will still himself impart and
for his dwelling and his throne
will choose the pure in heart.

Lord, we thy presence seek;
may ours this blessing be;
give us a pure and lowly heart,
a temple fit for thee.

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EWC Roll Call – “Harassing Bigfoot”

Prompt: “That’s how we ended up spending the night in jail.”

150 words.

We parked at the Honobia Community Park in Honobia, along the Little River in southeast Oklahoma. We set the five hound dogs loose and traveled north. The dogs picked up the scent. They moved fast through the dense forest, and we, racing behind, barely kept up. After thirty minutes, the dogs’ baying told us they had somehow managed to bring our prey to a halt, either trapped or treed. Coming into a small clearing, the muddy remains of an old, dried-up cow pond at its center, we saw him. He was furious and bellowing, stuck in the mud. At every attempt to free himself, he became more and more bogged down. We called the newspaper and reported it to the authorities, and that’s how we ended up in jail. We did not know that in Honobia, Oklahoma, it is, in fact, illegal to harass Bigfoot.

Shared the prize…


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Sermon: Manche Masemola and Other Martyrs

Today, Thursday, and Friday, we celebrate three martyrs. Today, we remember Manche Masemola, an Anglican woman from South Africa who, in 1928, was put to death by her parents at age 15 for converting to Christianity and refusing to renounce her faith. She was unbaptized, but she declared she would be baptized in her own blood. Tomorrow is the Feast Day of St. Agatha, who, in 251 AD, was put to death at age 19 for refusing to renounce her faith and marry a Roman prefect. Shortly before her death, she prayed, “You Lord, who have created and guarded me from my childhood, and made me to act with manly strength, have taken from me the love of the passing world, who kept my body from contamination, who made me overcome the torments of the executioner, the iron, the fire, and the chains, who gave me in torment the virtue of patience! Please accept my spirit now, for it is already time that I should leave this world by your command and reach your mercy.” She is the patron saint of breast cancer patients, which points to some of the torture she endured. And, finally, Friday is the Feast Day of St. Paul Miki and his companions, who were missionaries in Japan in the 1500s and were put to death for proclaiming the Good News. Before he died, he said, “The only reason for my being killed is that I have taught the doctrine of Christ. I certainly did teach the doctrine of Christ. I thank God it is for this reason I die.”

Those are three of the estimated 70 million Christian martyrs since the time of Christ. Even today, 5,000 to 10,000 people are estimated to be martyred each year—people who died for the same cause as Manche, Agatha, and Paul Miki.

On her feast day, Saint Methodius of Sicily spoke of Agatha. The words he shared are true for Agatha and for all who have stood upon the solid rock of their faith in Christ Jesus. Methodius writes, “The woman who invites us to this banquet is both a wife and virgin. To use the analogy of Paul, she is the bride who has been betrothed to one husband, Christ. A true virgin, she wore the glow of pure conscience and the crimson of the Lamb’s blood for her cosmetics. Again and again she meditated on the death of her eager lover. For her, Christ’s death was recent, his blood was still moist. Her robe is the mark of her faithful witness to Christ. It bears the indelible marks of his crimson blood and the shining threads of her eloquence. She offers to all who come after her these treasures of her eloquent confession.

“Agatha, the name of our saint, means “good.” She was truly good, for she lived as a child of God. She was also given as the gift of God, the source of all goodness to her bridegroom, Christ, and to us. For she grants us a share in her goodness.

“Agatha, her goodness coincides with her name and way of life. She won a good name by her noble deeds, and by her name she points to the nobility of those deeds. Agatha, her mere name wins all men over to her company. She teaches them by her example to hasten with her to the true Good. God alone.”

My prayer is that none of us ever has to experience what these and so many others have gone through. My prayer is that if we do, we can stand as firmly in our faith as they did. My prayer is that we can look to their lives and their deaths and find the courage to live our faith in the smallest of details. As St. Josemaría Escrivá tells us, “‘Great’ holiness consists in carrying out the ‘little duties’ of each moment.” (The Way, #817)

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Evolution of a Sermon

I put this together for myself, but thought it was fun for a post. It shows my preparation for the sermon on Sunday, February 1, 2026.

The inspiration…

Working it out…

Manuscript (I don’t read my sermons, but I do prepare a full manuscript) and final preparation…

Proclamation…

You can read the full text here.

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Sermon: Epiphany 4 RCL A – “God’s Wisdom”

The study of wisdom in Scripture is fascinating, and I’d like to delve into it more deeply, but at its core is the fact that wisdom is a grace given to us by God in order to live according to God’s will. However, wisdom is only knowledge until it is applied. For example, “Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is knowing not to put it in a fruit salad.” As author Terry Pratchett noted, “Wisdom comes from experience. Experience is often a result of a lack of wisdom.”

Our readings for today provide an excellent lesson on the application of wisdom and its absence, beginning with our Old Testament lesson. I’ll share with you a different translation of the lesson from Micah, as it will help clarify what is being said. The Lord says,

“Come, present [My] case before the mountains,
And let the hills hear you pleading.
Hear, you mountains, the case of the LORD
You firm foundations of the earth!
For the LORD has a case against His people,
He has a suit against Israel.
“My people!
What wrong have I done you?
What hardship have I caused you?”

Why is God pleading a case against His people, accusing them? Micah has outlined three major offenses elsewhere: social injustice and the oppression of the poor, the corruption of religious and political leaders (who were essentially the same people), and the worship of false gods. Micah cries out against all these sins, all of which arise from the people looking to their own understanding and wisdom and choosing what they believe is better over the wisdom of God and what God said is better. Therefore, God is not happy, and He is making a case against His people. At this point, God even challenges the people to make a case against Him, but before they attempt such a foolish endeavor, He reminds them of what He has already done for them, saying,

“Testify against Me.
In fact,
I brought you up from the land of Egypt,
I redeemed you from the house of bondage,
And I sent before you
Moses, Aaron, and Miriam.
‘My people,
Remember what Balak king of Moab
Plotted against you,
And how Balaam son of Beor
Responded to him.
[Recall your passage] From Shittim to Gilgalb—
And you will recognize
The gracious acts of the LORD.’”

We are familiar with the events in Egypt—how the Israelites were held in captivity for 400 years. Yet when God heard the cries of His people, He came to their rescue. He sent them “Let My People Go, Moses.” There were the ten plagues, the release, and the parting of the Red Sea. Then, at Mount Horeb, God gave them the Law, He gave them His wisdom, so they would know how to live and do so without excuse. This was God’s wisdom spelled out for the people; however, they sinned because they still relied on worldly wisdom, which cost them dearly, and they spent the next 40 years wandering in the desert. Finally, God allowed them into the Promised Land.

As they were going, they encountered many obstacles, including King Balak and the Moabites that Micah mentioned.

Balak had witnessed the Israelites’ progress through the lands and seen how they conquered all, and he was terrified. In an attempt to defeat them, he applied his version of wisdom and sent emissaries to Balaam. Balaam was a sorcerer of sorts, renowned for his ability to bless and to curse. Although not an Israelite, he could speak to God.

The emissaries of Balak came to him and asked him to curse the Israelites so that Balak’s armies could defeat them. Balaam spoke to the Lord, but the Lord said, “Don’t even think about it.” Two more times the emissaries asked Balaam to curse, and two more times God said, “No.” However, wanting to get paid and relying on his own wisdom, Balaam set out anyway, riding his donkey, to see these Israelites. It turned out the donkey was far wiser than Balaam.

As they were going, the donkey saw an angel of the Lord holding a sword that blocked their path, and the donkey turned aside. Balaam, unable to see the angel, beats the animal. After the third time and the third beating, donkey turns to Balaam and, impersonating Eddie Murphy, says to Balaam, “I just know that before this is over, I’m gonna need a whole lot of serious therapy.” (Shrek, 2001)

No, that’s not it. The donkey essentially says, “Fool, can’t you see that angel standing right there?” At which point the angel reveals himself. Long story short, Balaam blesses the Israelites instead of cursing them. He wises up for at least a moment. It is believed that Balak was later killed in battle, and we know that Balaam was executed for his treachery.

In His case against the Israelites, the Lord makes one final appeal to His wisdom and the good it brings when He says the people should remember what happened at their passage from “Shittim to Giglgal.” This is a reference to the miraculous crossing of the Jordan River, when the waters backed up, and the people crossed into the Promised Land on dry ground.

God accused the people because, using their own wisdom, they oppressed the poor, their religious and political leaders were corrupt, and the people worshiped false gods. God furthered His case by showing how good He had been to them by defeating those who would hold them captive, attempt to conquer them, or curse them. God demonstrated the foolishness of the “wisdom”—the wickedness—of these mortal kings and the people by showing how He had loved and protected them. How His way was so much better. Yet, the people were disobedient and sinned against Him and one another. The wisdom of God far exceeded the wisdom of the Israelites and their enemies, but the people were not obedient.

All this was a demonstration of what Paul, quoting Isaiah, said to the Corinthians. “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart.” Note that Paul is being sarcastic about the wisdom of the wise and the discerning. He is laughing at the “wise” who apply earthly wisdom instead of God’s.

So Paul asks, “Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?” Paul answers his own question by telling us that God has flipped the script. Those who think they are wise, He shows to be fools. “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, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are.” Just as He has always done, God is turning things upside down.

God chose a young peasant girl instead of the Emperor’s daughter. God chose a baby in a manger instead of a king in a palace. God chose 12 men—tax collectors, fishermen, ordinary sinners—instead of scholars to be His disciples. Finally, God chose to be enthroned on a cross instead of a throne of gold lined with soft cushions. God chose the foolish, the weak, the lowly, and the despised. The greatest act of foolishness was when God chose a Cross to defeat all His enemies. And, to the world around us, it is the greatest insanity when we do the same, choosing the cross so that we can defeat those who come against us, seeking to separate us from our God. How do we persevere in the face of this opposition? Micah explains,

“He has told you, O man, what is good,
And what the LORD requires of you:
Only to do justice
And to love goodness,
And to walk modestly with your God;
Then will your name achieve wisdom.”

We achieve true wisdom when we choose the wisdom of God, when we choose the Cross and the ways of God, as exemplified in Jesus Christ. This is not the wisdom of the world or our own. In fact, it is quite the opposite. For it is not the way of the rich, the fat and happy, or the powerful. No. The wisdom of the Lord says,

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
“Blessed…” and wise are those who live by these words of God.

“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.” We are blessed when we live according to the wisdom of God.

Today, where do you find wisdom? In other words, what or who do you trust and place your faith in?

Do you place your faith in people—political or religious leaders? The Lord says,

“Cursed is he who trusts in man,
Who makes mere flesh his strength,
and turns his thoughts from the Lord.”
(Jeremiah 17:5)

Do you put your faith in this world? Jesus says, “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal” (Matthew 6:19).

How about those idols of your own creation—your strength, your resources, position, talents? Jonah said,

“Those who pay regard to vain idols
    forsake their hope of steadfast love.” (Jonah 2:9)

You get the point. Blessed are the poor, the meek, the peacemaker. Blessed are those who seek and follow the wisdom of God. Jeremiah says,

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord,
    whose trust is the Lord.
He is like a tree planted by water,
    that sends out its roots by the stream,
and does not fear when heat comes,
    for its leaves remain green,
and is not anxious in the year of drought,
    for it does not cease to bear fruit.” (Jeremiah 17:7-8)

The world may view your trust and the wisdom you live by as foolishness, but it is the wisdom of God, given only to His beloved children. “Do not swerve to the right or to the left; turn your foot away from evil” (Proverbs 4:27), and choose the wisdom of God. It takes time to learn, but it is not hidden from anyone who seeks it. As St. James tells us, “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.” (James 1:5)

Let us pray: (from St. Thomas Aquinas)
Grant us, O Lord our God,
a mind to know you,
a heart to seek you,
wisdom to find you,
conduct pleasing to you,
faithful perseverance in waiting for you,
and a hope of finally embracing you.
Amen.

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Sermon: Thomas Aquinas

G.K. Chesterton, in his biography of Thomas Aquinas, wrote, Aquinas “was called the Dumb Ox. He was the object, not merely of mockery, but of pity…[St. Albert the Great knew] that the dunce is not always a dunce.. his famous cry and prophecy [about Thomas] – “You can call him a Dumb Ox; I tell you this Dumb Ox shall bellow so loud that his bellowings will fill the world.”

Chesterton also says, Aquinas “would not be an Abbot; he would not be a Monk; he would not be a Prior or ruler in his own fraternity; he would not be a prominent or important Friar; he would be a Friar. It is as if Napoleon has insisted on remaining a private soldier all his life.”

Given the expanse of his mind, Thomas Aquinas could have done just about anything he chose. Instead, he chose to think deeply about his faith and then share with us what he learned. 

An excerpt from one of those writings—The cross exemplifies every virtue

“Why did the Son of God have to suffer for us? There was a great need, and it can be considered in a twofold way: in the first place, as a remedy for sin, and secondly, as an example of how to act.

“It is a remedy, for, in the face of all the evils which we incur on account of our sins, we have found relief through the passion of Christ. Yet, it is no less an example, for the passion of Christ completely suffices to fashion our lives. Whoever wishes to live perfectly should do nothing but disdain what Christ disdained on the cross and desire what he desired, for the cross exemplifies every virtue.

“If you seek the example of love: Greater love than this no man has, than to lay down his life for his friends. Such a man was Christ on the cross. And if he gave his life for us, then it should not be difficult to bear whatever hardships arise for his sake.

“If you seek patience, you will find no better example than the cross. Great patience occurs in two ways: either when one patiently suffers much, or when one suffers things which one is able to avoid and yet does not avoid. Christ endured much on the cross, and did so patiently, because when he suffered he did not threaten; he was led like a sheep to the slaughter and he did not open his mouth. Therefore Christ’s patience on the cross was great. In patience let us run for the prize set before us, looking upon Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith who, for the joy set before him, bore his cross and despised the shame.

“If you seek an example of humility, look upon the crucified one, for God wished to be judged by Pontius Pilate and to die.

“If you seek an example of obedience, follow him who became obedient to the Father even unto death. For just as by the disobedience of one man, namely, Adam, many were made sinners, so by the obedience of one man, many were made righteous.

“If you seek an example of despising earthly things, follow him who is the King of kings and the Lord of lords, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. Upon the cross he was stripped, mocked, spat upon, struck, crowned with thorns, and given only vinegar and gall to drink.

“Do not be attached, therefore, to clothing and riches, because they divided my garments among themselves. Nor to honors, for he experienced harsh words and scourgings. Nor to greatness of rank, for weaving a crown of thorns they placed it on my head. Nor to anything delightful, for in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink.”

He wrote over 20,000 pages (some estimates say up to 100,000), and the way we think about your faith is directly related to those writings. His influence is beyond measure. Even so, on December 6, 1273, Aquinas had a deeply moving religious experience. He never wrote of it.“[E]verything he had written,” shared a friend, “seemed like straw to him by comparison with what he had seen and what had been revealed to him. He believed that he had at last clearly seen what he had devoted his life to figuring out and, by comparison, all he had written seemed pale and dry. Now that he could no longer write, he wanted to die.” He died four months later on March 7, 1274. Perhaps, one day, we’ll learn what he learned. 

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Sermon: Epiphany 3 RCL A – “Talk or Fish?”

Someone asked me why I don’t tell Boudreaux jokes anymore. Answer: There are only so many of them, and the ones remaining aren’t necessarily suitable for church. Which leaves me today with having to tell you one I’ve already told you, but it is in my top five.

One summer, no one living along the bayou could catch any fish except old Boudreaux. Knowing Boudreaux, the game warden thought something might be up, so he asked him how he did it. Boudreaux told the game warden he would take him fishing the next day and show him. Once they got to the middle of the lake, Boudreaux took out a stick of dynamite, lit it, and threw it into the water. After the explosion, fish started floating to the surface. Boudreaux took out a net and started scooping them up. When he had them all gathered, he looked back at the game warden, who was just sitting there with his mouth open, too stunned to even speak. Finally getting his wits back, the game warden started hollering at Boudreaux, “You can’t fish like that. It is so illegal that I’m hauling you into jail this very moment.” Boudreaux sat there for a moment, then he took out another stick of dynamite, lit it, and handed it to the game warden, asking, “You gonna fish or you gonna talk?”

Today, we read about Peter and some of the other fellas out fishing, but I’m guessing they weren’t prepared for what happened either. How their lives could be so radically changed and so quickly. Perhaps, as they were hauling in the day’s catch, they were making plans for a family outing after Synagogue on Saturday or thinking they needed to renegotiate the price of fish due to the increased fishing tax. Whatever they were thinking, I can’t imagine it included hearing the words, “Follow me,” and then following after some itinerant rabbi.

When you consider those events, can you imagine doing the same? The Gospel says they “immediately” followed him. One second you are a fisherman, and the next you are a disciple, crisscrossing the country, living rough, snatching a piece of grain from a field you are passing to have something to eat, and going through a pair of sandals every week. Sure, you are meeting new people, and there are the miracles—my goodness, the miracles—and you are listening to teachings that, for the first time in your life, allow you to come to an understanding of God. But there are also the more difficult parts. Some truly hate the rabbi you are following. After a while, there is even talk among some of them about finding a way to have him arrested or even put to death. After all, they did try to throw him off the cliff that one time. Then there was the time you thought you were going to die out on the sea when that great storm came up out of nowhere. As you huddled in fear, the rabbi slept in peace. When you cried out to him in your fear, he chastised you, then he chastised the storm, and the seas were calm. Thinking back on the day you met him and he said, “Follow me,” probably more than once a day, you ask yourself, “What the heck was I thinking?”

Years later, after witnessing his death and resurrection, you find yourself in prison, awaiting your execution. In the hours leading up to it, you reflect once again on those first words, “Follow me,” but you no longer wonder what you were thinking. Instead, you know within your very soul why you were chosen, why you were called: to serve His purposes. To be a fisher of men and to assist in ushering in the very Kingdom of God.

If you think back on your life, many of you probably remember the time when Jesus spoke those same words, “Follow me,” to you. For many, including me, we don’t know why we responded as we did, immediately dropping our old life and following him. For me, I don’t remember the date and time, but I remember the moment, and I have no way to describe it. Yet—in the twinkling of an eye—I stopped everything and followed him.

Like you and those first disciples, I have seen miracles—oh, yes, I have—I have seen lives transformed, and I have begun to learn more deeply about the things of God. But things weren’t always so good, and then I stuck with you lot. There are still days when I ask myself, “What the heck were you thinking?” (I also direct that question to God!) But I still remember the moment he said, “Follow me,” and I’m still amazed that he chose me.

What does all this have to do with today? As I thought about those first disciples and us, I was reminded of how similar we are to them in our lives and experiences. Individually and together, we experience times of great joy and great sadness, times of need and times of abundance, faith and doubt. Through faith and the knowledge imparted to our souls, we sit on the hillside listening to Jesus teach. We look over His shoulder as He reaches out to bring life where there was death. We see those who love Him and those who deride Him. We witness His brutal death, and we wait in the upper room with the other disciples for those three days, then rush to the tomb after Mary Magdalene tells us He has risen. In all these ups and downs, we may once again ask, “What was I thinking?” But then we remember: we have been chosen and we have a purpose. “You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.” (1 Peter 2:9) We have been chosen for this time and this place to be the Church and to be His witnesses. Today, I ask you to remember that all we do is because we have been chosen to follow Jesus and to be a great light in the darkness. We are the Church, and we have all been called to be fishers of men to assist in ushering in the very Kingdom of God.

Take some time to consider this: Jesus said to you, “Follow me.” If you’re listening to me today, there is a very good chance you did just that. So if that is the case, why did He call you? To what purpose have you been called into service in the Kingdom of God? When you begin to discern that calling, engage with it. Live it. St. Paul said in his letter to the Ephesians, “We are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” (2:10) And again, he says in his letter to the Philippians, “It is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.” (2:13)

Thomas Merton said, “If you want to identify me, ask me not where I live, or what I like to eat, or how I comb my hair, but ask me what I am living for, in detail, ask me what I think is keeping me from living fully for the thing I want to live for.”

You have been called by Jesus. You have responded that you will follow. Now ask yourself, “What am I living for in Christ Jesus and His Kingdom?” Are you going to fish or talk? In the words of the Captain of the Starship Enterprise, Jean-Luc Picard, “Engage.” Start fishing.

Let us pray: O Lord, our God, You called Your people to be Your Church. As they gather in Your Name, may they love, honor, and follow Your Son to eternal life in the Kingdom He promised. Let their worship always be sincere, and help them to find Your saving Love in the Church and its Sacraments. Fill with the Spirit of Christ those whom You call to live in the midst of the world and its concerns. Help them, by their work on earth, to build up Your eternal Kingdom. May they be effective witnesses to the Truth of the Gospel and make Your Church a living presence in the midst of the world. Increase the gifts You have given Your Church so that Your faithful people may continue to grow in holiness and in imitation of Your Beloved Son. In His name we pray. Amen.

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