Author: Fr. John

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The Venerable Fulton Sheen said, “Hearing nuns’ confessions is like being stoned to death with popcorn.” I’m thinking that he means they aren’t all that exciting. I don’t know if I’ve heard more exciting than I have given, but there are some who come for confession that I know I’m going to feel like a hypocrite for sitting there and listening to.

As you are probably aware, confession (a.k.a. The Reconciliation of a Penitent) is not all that popular in the Episcopal Church. I encourage it because I know how helpful it can be, but as many are fond of saying, “All may, none must, some should.”

In the Book of Common Prayer (p.447), following the confession, the penitent says to the priest, “I humbly beg forgiveness of God and his Church, and ask you for counsel, direction, and absolution,” and the rubrics state that the priest is to give these things. That is the individual confession, but in the general confession, the one we say together, has no instructions. It is expected that you will have done some preparation prior to making the general confession, but in the end, you simply pray the confession and receive absolution, with no counsel, direction, etc. Not mentioned in either form is the giving of any act of penance: “Say five Hail Marys and two Our Fathers,” “Fifty lashes”, etc. Perhaps the reason being is that forgiveness of sins is a gift, so there should be no suggestion that you are somehow “paying” for that forgiveness through some act on your part. I get that, but should there still be some type of act / response on our part in receiving absolution? I believe the answer is “Yes” and it would seem that this is one of the many lessons we can take from our Gospel reading today.

Before Jesus was crucified, Peter denied him three times, so we understand why Jesus asked him three times, “Do you love me.” It was to fully restore Peter back to himself. Peter responds in the positive, “Yes, you know that I love you,” but as we read, Jesus didn’t pat Peter on the head and say, “Good boy.” No. Jesus gave Peter a means of responding to the forgiveness of sins, “Feed my sheep.” “Do you love me?” “Yes. I love you.” “Good. Go out and show the love you have for me to others. Remember: ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’”

For the forgiveness of our sins, Jesus died on the cross. The absolution we receive for our sins is a free gift, an expression of Jesus’ love for us. Therefore, it is fitting that we respond to this love of Jesus by an act of penance. Not because we have to or we are being compelled to, but because we want to love Jesus by loving others.

An act of penance is not a punishment for our sins, nor is it payment for the absolution we received. An act of penance is an expression of love, freely given as a response to the great love that has been shown to us. So whether you have made a personal confession or a general confession, ask yourself, “How might I love others in response to the love I have been shown.”

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Boudreaux and Rupert are out in the woods doin’ some squirrel hunting when Rupert suddenly collapses. Ol’ Boudreaux checks him over and Rupert doesn’t seem to be breathing and his eyes are starting to glaze over, so Bourdreaux whips out his phone and calls the emergency services. He gasps, “I think Rupert is dead! What can I do?” The 911 operator says, “Calm down. I can help. First, let’s make sure he’s dead.” Boudreaux says, “Ok. Hang on.” There is a silence; then the 911 operator hears a gun shot. Boudreaux then gets back on the phone and says, “OK, now what?”

In the Fantastic Voyage: Destination Brain, the great science fiction author, Isaac Asimov wrote, “Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It’s the transition that’s troublesome.” (Especially if you’ve got friends like Boudreaux who might hurry it along!) When you begin to obsess over that “troublesome” part, it can turn into thanatophobia, which is the fear of death. No, I’m not going to get all morbid on you by talking solely about death, but the topic is a bit unavoidable given our lessons for today. And it was that first lesson that actually explains why it is troublesome and even our fear of death. I don’t normally do this, but it is short enough, so I want to read it to you again, because it is from the Apocrypha and we don’t hear it too often (as you know, we consider the writings of the Apocrypha to be good in providing examples of life and teaching, but not the inspired word of God). Solomon writes:

“God did not make death,
And he does not delight in the death of the living.
For he created all things so that they might exist;
the generative forces of the world are wholesome,
and there is no destructive poison in them,
and the dominion of Hades is not on earth.
For righteousness is immortal.

“God created us for incorruption,
and made us in the image of his own eternity,
but through the devil’s envy death entered the world,
and those who belong to his company experience it.”
(Wisdom of Solomon 1:13-15; 2:23-24)

Why is dying troublesome to some and why do we have this fear of death? Because “God did not make death… God created us for incorruption, and made us in the image of his own eternity.”

I think I’ve told you this before, but so many will tell you that “Dying is a part of living” or “Death is natural.” No! God did not make death. Dying and death are the most unnatural things we do. It is why we fight it so hard, do all we can to extend our lives, hurt for others when they are dying or losing loved one. Death is anything but natural, so how did it come about? We understand the fall in the Garden of Eden and how sin entered, but Solomon, in the same chapter of Wisdom as our reading, expands on that:

“The ungodly by their words and deeds summoned death;
considering him a friend, they pined away
and made a covenant with him,
because they are are fit to belong to his company.”
(Wisdom of Solomon 1:16)

What did the ungodly do? According to Solomon, they looked only to themselves, fulfilling their every desire while neglecting and oppressing those who were weaker. They rebelled against God, turning on his Holy One. And so through those words and deeds, they invited death into the world and condemned themselves, and in the process they dragged the righteous down with them, even the twelve year old daughter of Jarius that we read about in our Gospel. Just as the sun rises on the evil and the good / the rain falls on the righteous and the unrighteous (cf. Matthew 5:45), so does death come to all, but that is where the equality ends, because from there the ungodly receive their punishment, but the righteous, Solomon tells us:

“Those who trust in [the Lord] will understand truth,
and the faithful will abide with him in love,
because grace and mercy are upon his holy ones,
and he watches over his elect.”
(Wisdom of Solomon 3:9)

The righteous will abide with God and he will speak to them in a similar way as Jesus spoke, “Little girl, get up.” “Get up,” he will say to them, because you were not made for death or corruption. Get up, “you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.” (Matthew 25:34) For the us, there really is only one bit of trouble with all this (and maybe I’m just speaking for myself, but I don’t think so): I’m nowhere near as innocent as a twelve year old and I know in my heart that I’m not one of the righteous. (I could… not going to… but I could give you the names of more than a few that would be more than happy to attest to it!) I am not one of the righteous: I do try—Lord knows I do—but through my words and my deeds, I’m one who has summoned death, so how can I even think to hear him speak those words, “Get up!” Answer: because in my heart, I have this hope, this faith that speaks into that potential despair and says, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well.”

If I did not believe that were true, I would not be standing here today. If I thought that I was beyond the saving grace of Jesus, I truly would give myself over to being the “ungodly,” for without this hope, I know that I would be condemned forever, but I do have hope, this faith that speaks to my soul and tells me I will hear those words: Get up and enter, “your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.” Go in peace and be raised up from death.

The anthem from the beginning of the burial rite:

“I am Resurrection and I am Life, says the Lord.
Whoever has faith in me shall have life,
even though he die.
And everyone who has life,
and has committed himself to me in faith,
shall not die for ever. —and a few lines further—
After my awaking, he will raise me up;
and in my body I shall see God.”
(Book of Common Prayer, p.491)

“Do not fear, only believe.” We may sleep, but he will awaken us. That is the message for us all. It is not a message of death, but of life eternal.

Let us pray (adapted from Psalm 16:8-11):
Gracious Father, we set you always before us;
    because you are at our right hand, we shall not be shaken.
Therefore our hearts are glad, and our bodies rejoice;
    for our flesh dwells secure in your loving embrace.
You will not abandon our souls in death,
    or let them taste corruption.
You make known to us the path of life;
    in your presence there is fullness of joy;
    and in your right hand are pleasures forevermore.
Amen.

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Happiness is waking up, looking at the clock and finding that you still have two hours left to sleep. — Charles M. Schulz

We used to sleep five to a bed and three of them used to wet the bed. I learnt to swim before I could walk. — Bernard Manning

Some national parks have long waiting lists for camping reservations. When you have to wait a year to sleep next to a tree, something is wrong. — George Carlin

Never under any circumstances take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night. — Dave Barry

I’ve always envied people who sleep easily. Their brains must be cleaner, the floorboards of the skull well swept, all the little monsters closed up in a steamer trunk at the foot of the bed. — David Benioff

Our Gospel reading from Mark began, “When evening had come, Jesus said to his disciples, ‘Let us go across to the other side.’” When it was dark, the disciples went out onto the waters. Mark gives us time and place, a time and place that are reminiscent of another time and place: “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.  The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep.” (Genesis 1:1-2) The deep is what rose up in the time of Noah and destroyed every living soul except for those on the Ark. The deep is what swept down and destroyed the armies of Pharaoh. The deep is the place Jonah was cast into and devoured by the whale. The deep is the home of the Leviathan. The deep is the chaos of the world. The deep is death. And the disciples go off into the darkness and onto the face of the deep, and it is then that the wind blows and this deep, this chaos and death begins to churn, thrashing the boat and making the disciples fear for their lives. They call out to Jesus who is sleeping in the bow of the boat, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” Do you not care that we are descending into the chaos and the death? Of course he cares, so he rebukes the wind and the rain, “‘Peace! Be still!’ and a dead calm returns to the face of the deep.” The disciples then ask, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” Who then is this that even the chaos and death obey? The disciples have not yet grasped the truth of who Jesus is, for there is only one who can calm the chaos and put an end to death. From our Psalm today:

“[The Lord] stilled the storm to a whisper
and quieted the waves of the sea.” (Psalm 107:29)

It is the Lord our God who commands the chaos and it is the Son of God that rebukes and conquers death. So why is it that Jesus sleeps?

A story tells of a young man who applied for a job as a farmhand. When the farmer asked for his qualifications, he responded, “I can sleep when the wind blows.” This puzzled the farmer, but he liked the young man and hired him. A few days later, the farmer and his wife were awakened in the night by a violent storm.

They quickly began to check things out to see if all was secure. They found that the shutters of the farmhouse had been securely fastened. A good supply of logs had been set next to the fireplace. The farmer and his wife then inspected their property. They found that the farm tools had been placed in the storage shed, safe from the elements. The tractor had been moved into the garage. The barn was properly locked. Even the animals were calm. All was well. And they found the farmhand sound asleep. The farmer then understood the meaning of the young man’s words, “I can sleep when the wind blows.” The farmhand did his work loyally and faithfully when the skies were clear, so he had faith that whenever a storm would blow in, all would be well. He was not afraid and so he slept in peace.

Jesus slept when the wind blew, because he knew that all had been cared for by his Father. He knew that God’s purposes were being fulfilled and that his Father was with him. As the Psalmist says:

Where shall I go from your Spirit?
    Or where shall I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
    If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
If I take the wings of the morning
    and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
    and your right hand shall hold me. (Psalm 139:7-10)

Jesus slept, even when the chaos was blowing and the smell of death was in the air because he had faith in… because he knew of the Father’s presence and the loving hold that that the Father had on his life. And here’s the Good News: Jesus slept because he knew of the Father’s presence and Jesus slept so that we could also know of the Father’s presence… so that we could see that we have no need to be afraid of the chaos or even death itself. Jesus slept so that we would know that we could sleep.

There will always be storms, chaos, and death, but these things do not have the final word. Jesus is the final word and he declares, “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.” (Revelation 22:13) And his end is life eternal.

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
    will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress,
    my God, in whom I trust.”

Because you have made the Lord your dwelling place—
    the Most High, who is my refuge—
no evil shall be allowed to befall you,
    no plague come near your tent.
For he will command his angels concerning you
    to guard you in all your ways. (Psalm 91:1-2, 9-11)

Yes, Jesus calms the storm, but you have been set free so that you may sleep while it is blowing.

Let us pray: O Christ Jesus, when all is darkness and the storms rage, and when we feel our weakness and helplessness, give us the sense of Your presence, Your love, and Your strength. Help us to have perfect trust in Your protecting love and strengthening power, so that nothing may frighten or worry us, for, living close to You, we shall see Your hand, Your purpose, Your will through all things. Amen.

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Duties of state. We’ve probably discussed these in the past. Duties of state are those ordinary tasks which come about due to our various states of life (i.e. husband, employee, friend, mother, etc.) If you are employed to deliver the daily paper, then one of your duties of state is to deliver the paper, but it actually goes beyond that, for included in that is the commitment to do it well and to the best of your abilities. So a newspaper boy’s duty of state says that he’ll get up every morning, deliver the paper, insure that it doesn’t land in the neighbors yard or in the sprinkler, and that it won’t arrive at 7 p.m. instead of 7 a.m.

The trouble with these routine items is that over time, they can sometimes become so familiar that we no longer attend to them as we should. If you stay late at work everyday, while at the same time ignoring the needs of your family, then you are not fully attending your duties of state. At other times, we can become bored and even begin to resent those duties. There are any number reasons that this can occur, but in failing to meet our duties, then not only are we failing those around us, but we are also failing God.

The 18th century French Jesuit priest Jean-Pierre de Caussade, wrote The Sacrament of the Present Moment. There he states, “No moment is trivial, since each one contains a divine Kingdom, and heavenly sustenance.” He also writes, “To discover God in the smallest and most ordinary things, as well as in the greatest, is to possess a rare and sublime faith. To find contentment in the present moment is to relish and adore the divine will in the succession of all the things to be done and suffered, which make up the duty to the present moment.”

Faithfully fulfilling those duties of state, even the most trivial, becomes a sacred act because we recognize the moment as a gift from God. Evelyn Underhill, who we celebrate today, also understood this. In her book, Life as Prayer, she wrote: “Never let yourself think that because God has given you many things to do for Him…pressing routine jobs, a life full up with duties and demands of a very practical sort—that all these need separate you from communion with Him. God is always coming to you in the Sacrament of the Present Moment. Meet and receive Him there with gratitude in that sacrament; however unexpected its outward form may be, receive Him in every sight and sound, joy, pain, opportunity and sacrifice.”

Underhill believed that we should be so filled with God’s Holy Spirit that we give over our lives to His service, not just in church and ministry, but in the ordinary as well, and that if we are faithful, we will encounter God.

Think about the woman in our Gospel reading today. There are many things that are taking place in this incident, but consider the fact that she was performing a very simple task—going to the well to draw water. This was a task she performed everyday, if not multiple times per day, yet in going about her day-to-day business, she encountered God. The same can be true for us, so I have an assignment for you today: at some point today, you are going to be performing some chore, something you do all the time, perhaps even something you don’t really think about as you go about it. In the middle of that task, I would like you to pause for just a few moments and ask, “Where is God in this?” “How can I please Him through my work?” In doing so, you might not only discover the desire to perform the task better, but you might also discover joy in the process.

Enjoy the gift of each “now” the Lord gives you.

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A clown is out surfing in his full clown costume one day. Suddenly he’s attacked by a great white shark.

The shark takes one bite, quickly realizes his error and swims away.

As the shark rejoins his friends below the surface, one of the them asks him, “Why didn’t you just kill that thing?”

The attacking shark replies, “It tasted funny.”

On the fifth day, “God said, ‘Let the waters swarm with swarms of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the expanse of the heavens.’  So God created the great sea creatures and every living creature that moves, with which the waters swarm, according to their kinds, and every winged bird according to its kind.”

The variations and number of God’s creation on this day were so great that we still have not even discovered them all. When it comes to the sea, perhaps the most feared of them all is the Great White Shark (even if they don’t like funny tasting clowns), but there are many other creatures that just go about their business: everything from the Blue Whale that can weigh as much as 330,000 pounds to the tiniest single cell organisms (and lets not forget the Leviathan!) There are so many, so today I want us to consider just one: Nautilus pompilius, also known as the Chambered Nautilus. You’ve got a picture on the cover of your bulletin of one’s shell that has been split. They’ve been around so long that they are included in the fossil record.

One variety can grow up to 10 inches in diameter and live for up to 20 years. They live in the Pacific between Japan and Australia, spend most of their time at 1,000 feet (but can dive to 2,000), and according to one, eat “anything that smells,” because it is through various chemical signatures that they locate their food. Alive… well, they almost look as scary as a Great White Shark, but it is for the beauty of their shells that they have been highly prized for centuries, and you’ll see the shell in art, incorporated into drinking glasses, and other decorative items.

As the creature grows, it develops the various chambers. Its body moving into the larger one as it ages. The empty chambers then are used for buoyancy and to regulate depth by filling them with water or air, and it was the understanding of how the shell and chambers are formed that inspired the poet Oliver Wendell Holmes to write a poem, The Chambered Nautilus (source). Holmes saw the growth of the soul and spirit within the growing chambers of the nautilus. He begins:

“This is the ship of pearl…”

From there he describes how the nautilus spends its life toiling to create for itself a larger and more perfect and glorious home, which is not known until the creatures death, but even so, it persists in that work of growth. Holmes then takes the imagery further, to speak to us about our spiritual “home”:

“Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:—
Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,
As the swift seasons roll!
Leave thy low-vaulted past!
Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,
Till thou at length art free,
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life’s unresting sea!”

The nautilus grows, creating and recreating a home for itself that is larger and more glorious than the last. We are to do the same, so that when the Lord comes, he will find within us a mansion prepared for himself, but it does not end with the individual, for we are to grow in the image and likeness of God, so that the kingdom of God may also grow. So that a home is created as a sanctuary for every living being. As Jesus said in our Gospel, “The kingdom of God… is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.” How are we to understand this and apply it?

“From the smallest of all the seeds on the earth….” The seed that was the smallest, that is, the one that humbled itself the most, was God—Jesus—who was born in a manger and who then humbled himself even more, to death on a cross, and then like a seed that was laid to rest in the earth: Joseph of Arimathea “went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus.  Then he took it down and wrapped it in a linen shroud and laid him in a tomb.” We know not how it all happened, but on the third day, Jesus rose from the dead, and from him, from that smallest and humblest of all seeds and all beginnings has grown the greatest of all sanctuaries for every living soul: the Church, but the Church only grows if we—in union with one another—like the nautilus, continue to grow, ever seeking to be more like Jesus.

Is the church perfect? If I’m a part of it, most definitely not! As Archbishop Michael Ramsey stated and something we always need to be reminded of, “The Church is not the society of those labeled virtuous.  It is the mixed community of sinners called to be saints.” However, as we seek and discover greater perfection in our own life, creating and recreating our spiritual homes, then we also assist in growing and perfecting what Christ Jesus began when he called twelve—not so virtuous—fellas to follow him. The Church will not reach perfection until the end of days, however, through our good work, it will continue to grow and provide a home for those who are called.

For us to spiritually grow is the will of God. C.S. Lewis, in The Problem of Pain, states, “To ask that God’s love should be content with us as we are is to ask that God should cease to be God.” God is working within us, growing us, so that we might be like him and with him, and so that the Kingdom of God might be fulfilled. Like the nautilus, always be in that process of creating and recreating your spiritual home that you might participate in the greater work of the Church.

Let us pray:
Heavenly Father,
look upon our community of faith
which is the Church of your Son, Jesus Christ.
Help us to witness to his love
by loving all our fellow creatures without exception.
Under the leadership or our Bishop
keep us faithful to Christ’s mission
of calling all men and women
to your service so that there may be
“one fold and one shepherd.”
We ask this through Christ, our Lord.
Amen.