And did those feet in ancient time Walk upon England’s mountains green? And was the holy Lamb of God On England’s pleasant pastures seen? And did the Countenance Divine Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
The hymn Jerusalem, taken from a poem by William Blake, alludes to a legend that tells how Joseph of Arimathea, a tin merchant and uncle of Jesus, once brought the boy Jesus to England on a trading journey, and suggests that Jesus once walked the shores of England.
The Legend of Glastonbury goes on to describe how, after the death of Jesus, Joseph and some of the other disciples came to England. It is said that upon arrival, Joseph planted his staff, which miraculously flowered and reportedly still does so each Christmas. A sprig is taken to Buckingham Palace every year as a reminder of the miracle. The church established under Joseph of Arimathea in Glastonbury is said to be the first church in England.
That may have been the beginning of the English Church, but its early history was quite rocky, and it wasn’t until the late 6th century that it began to experience more consistent growth.
In the year 596, Pope St. Gregory the Great sent Augustine, the near-sighted prior of an abbey, along with 30 other monks to England to convert the English to Christianity. This small band of monks landed on the Isle of Thanet, located at the southeast corner of England, in the year 597.
The territory was ruled by Ethelbert, king of Kent, who was wary of these Christians, but because his wife was a Christian, he allowed the monks to stay. Eventually, Ethelbert would convert to Christianity, which encouraged his citizens to do the same. On a single day shortly after Ethelbert’s conversion and baptism, some 10,000 English were baptized in the River Swale by Augustine and his fellow monks. Not bad for a day’s work!
Augustine was consecrated as the first Archbishop of Canterbury and is known as the “Apostle to the English.” Archbishop Sarah Mullally, whom we pray for each week, is the 106th Archbishop of Canterbury.
In our Gospel reading today, Jesus saw Simon Peter and the others fishing. He said to them, “Throw your nets out into the deep water for a catch.” Simon Peter’s response was, “Look, we’re fishermen. We know what we’re doing, and we’ve been out here all night trying. They aren’t biting, but just to satisfy you…” “They caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break. So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink.”
That event seems to be very accurate in describing the early history of the English Church. Casting and casting – 600 years of casting – then finally bringing in the catch when Augustine and his monks arrived. One of the many lessons in studying the life of Augustine and this era of English church history is persistence in faith. Recognizing that the goal is worth reaching, no matter the setbacks and hardships. This is true in the greater scheme of things and in our own lives.
Pip: There are days when only a strong moral principle stands between you and knocking someone’s hat off in the street. Fr. John opens with Melville, and somehow ends up at the Holy Trinity.
Mara: This episode follows that journey — from Moby Dick to Pentecost, from the veil between Heaven and Earth to what the Holy Spirit actually does inside a human soul. Let’s start with the gift itself.
Sermon: Pentecost and the Gift of the Holy Spirit
Mara: The central question here is one most people quietly carry: if the Kingdom of Heaven is real but unreachable, how do we actually touch it? That’s the tension this sermon sets out to resolve.
Pip: The setup is a Venn diagram — God and the Kingdom in one circle, us in the other — and the sermon asks what lives in the overlap. The anchor quote comes from Richard of St. Victor’s De Trinitate: “Love not only tends to another person, but also tends to sharing love. When two persons mutually love each other, they can love and be loved and communicate their riches, but they cannot share their love. For that, still another person is required, a companion of love. Thus, love can be realized by a duality of persons, but it can only be completed by a trinity of persons.”
Mara: So the Trinity isn’t an abstract theological puzzle — it’s the structural requirement for love to be complete. The Father and Son need the Spirit the way a shared joy needs someone to share it with.
Pip: And that architecture has a practical consequence. God didn’t create us because He needed a hobby. The sermon is clear: He created us to love us with the same love that moves within the Trinity, which means a conduit had to be built — something that runs both directions, Heaven to Earth and back.
Mara: That conduit arrives in two steps. First, the Son. Then, as the Eucharistic Prayer puts it, “he sent the Holy Spirit, his own first gift for those who believe, to complete his work in the world, and to bring to fulfillment the sanctification of all.”
Pip: The phrase “first gift” does a lot of work there. Not a consolation prize for the ascension — the intended completion of it.
Mara: Saint Cyril of Alexandria makes that explicit: the Spirit doesn’t substitute for Christ’s presence, it is his presence, dwelling inwardly where the incarnate Christ could only stand alongside. The sermon calls this ongoing — not a single Pentecost flame but a continuous exchange between the soul and God.
Pip: Which loops back to Melville. The Holy Spirit is, among its many offices, what keeps a person from methodically knocking people’s hats off. Useful work.
Mara: The sermon closes on Romans 8 — nothing in creation can separate us from the love of God — and frames Pentecost not as anniversary but as present tense. That inward, unbreakable connection is the gift being celebrated.
Pip: And if the Spirit is the conduit that holds Heaven and Earth together, the next question is what that looks like when we try to live it outward.
Mara: The thread running through all of this is proximity — the Kingdom closer than it looks, the Spirit already inside the veil.
Pip: The soul of God’s children, each one of us, is the address where the gift, the Holy Spirit, gets delivered.
One of the great epic tales begins with the simple line, “Call me Ishmael.” It is Moby Dick by Herman Melville. In the opening paragraph, he writes, “Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos [his melancholia] get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off-then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.”
As I read that, I’m thankful that my strong moral principles also prevent me from going out into the street and knocking people’s hats off… or even knocking a few blocks off. However, I do confess that there are days when I would not place a bet on those moral principles. At those times, something else helps me keep my peace and my sanity.
Last week, we talked about the Kingdom of Heaven: what it is like and where it is located. We concluded that it is glorious and beyond description, and that its location lies just beyond a thin veil, as near to us as our skin. Just on the other side of the veil is the very throne room of our God, our Savior, the Saints, and the holy angels. However, we cannot cross the veil or even see through it, so how can we participate in the Kingdom of our God?
You are familiar with the Venn Diagram, even if you may not know it by name. It uses overlapping labeled circles to compare groups, showing both what makes each group distinct and what they share in common in the overlapping sections. For example, there are three circles: one labeled “Killing Machine,” the second “Cuteness,” and the third “Eternal Sleep.” In the overlapping section between “Killing Machine” and “Eternal Sleep” is “Vampire.” The center, where all three—“Killing Machine,” “Cuteness,” “Eternal Sleep”—overlap, is “Cat.” I’m thinking of one in particular. Within our life with God, there is something similar.
If there is a Venn diagram of this life with God, God and the Kingdom of Heaven are in one circle, and we are in the other. There is also a point where the two circles overlap—where the veil is pulled back. What can we find there? The best answer is the Sacraments, and the Holy Eucharist makes this most evident.
The Eucharist begins with things that are entirely of Earth and made by us—bread and wine. The circle with God and the Kingdom of Heaven includes the Person of Jesus Christ. When these two circles overlap—Bread and wine with Jesus—when the veil is momentarily pulled back through the Sacrament and the words of institution, the result is the Body and Blood of Christ. Heaven and Earth share space and produce the blessing. However, this is one-sided. Everything is directed and given to us. Yes, we give God our praise and thanks, but God wants more of us. He says clearly, “I am a jealous God,” so He wants to participate wholly in our lives, and He wants us to participate wholly in His—remember Jesus’ great priestly prayer: “I in them and you in me, that they may become perfectly one.” (John 17:23) So, how is this accomplished? The answer lies in more fully understanding the Holy Trinity, and the first part of that understanding is knowing why three, and not just one or many.
We know that God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—is outside of time. God has always been and is uncreated. God is. Period. The one definitive statement we can make about God is, “God is love.” This love is perfect. However, for it to be perfect, it can’t be held within one person; it must be directed at another, but not just any other. God’s perfect love must be directed at one who can receive and return the same perfect love. Therefore, we have the Father and the Son. They can both give and receive each other’s perfect love. However, for this perfect love to be complete, a third is required who can share and participate in a community.
Richard of St. Victor, in his study De Trinitate, writes, “Love not only tends to another person, but also tends to sharing love. When two persons mutually love each other, they can love and be loved and communicate their riches, but they cannot share their love. For that, still another person is required, a companion of love… Thus, love can be realized by a duality of persons, but it can only be completed by a trinity of persons.”
We say in the Nicene Creed that the Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son. In a way, and don’t take this too far or we’ll all burn at the stake for heresy, the Father and the Son are like a husband and wife who have a child. The husband and wife love one another, and the child receives their shared love and returns it. It is in the love of these three that love is perfected and completed. But then God did something funny, something that really makes no sense whatsoever—God created us, but not because He was bored and needed a plaything. God created us so that He might love us with the same love shared within the Holy Trinity, and so that we might love Him to the best of our abilities. Yet, in order for that to happen, a part of Who He is must become part of who we are. God had to create a means —a conduit that goes both ways: Heaven to Earth and Earth to Heaven. As above, so below. The placement of this conduit came in two steps. First, God sent His Son, Jesus, and “to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God.” (John 1:12-13)
Second, having become children of God, as we have been saying in the Eucharistic Prayer, “That we might live no longer for ourselves, but for him who died and rose for us, he sent the Holy Spirit, his own first gift for those who believe, to complete his work in the world, and to bring to fulfillment the sanctification of all.” (BCP 374) Through the giving of the Son and the sending of the Holy Spirit, the pathway from Heaven and Earth was established.
This pathway, which is the Holy Spirit, then allows us to participate in the love and life of the Triune God. It is the Holy Spirit who bears witness to our spirit, assuring us that we are indeed God’s children. It is the Holy Spirit who speaks to our spirit, enabling us to hear and receive the Word of God and to speak to God even when our own words fail us. It is the Holy Spirit who passes freely through the veil, both coming and going, so that God might dwell in us—so that the Kingdom of God is not only in our midst but within us as well. And it is the same Holy Spirit who holds us eternally to God, giving St. Paul the knowledge to say, “For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:38-39)
All this and more is the work of the Holy Spirit, including preventing me from going out into the street and knocking people’s hats off.
In a commentary on John, Saint Cyril of Alexandria summarized this work of the Spirit for us: “As long as Christ was with [the disciples] in the flesh, it must have seemed to believers that they possessed every blessing in him; but when the time came for him to ascend to his heavenly Father, it was necessary for him to be united through his Spirit to those who worshipped him, and to dwell in our hearts through faith. Only by his own presence within us in this way could he give us confidence to cry out, Abba, Father, make it easy for us to grow in holiness and, through our possession of the all-powerful Spirit, fortify us invincibly against the wiles of the devil and the assaults of men.”
Today, we celebrate the fire of the Spirit descending and lighting upon all God’s people, but this is not a one-time event. It is ongoing, a continuous giving and receiving of Heaven, of God working from within the soul of every believer.
On this Pentecost, give thanks for God’s presence in your life through the giving of His greatest gift, the Holy Spirit.
Let us pray:
O King of glory, send us the Promise of the Father, the Spirit of Truth. May the Counselor Who proceeds from You enlighten us and infuse all truth in us, as You have promised. Amen.
For this Season of Easter, the opening sentence of any Eucharistic service has been “Alleluia. Christ is Risen.” Following Pentecost, we’ll return to “Blessed be God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.” However, what follows, no matter the season of the church year, is always the same: “Almighty God, to you all hearts are open, all desires known, and from you no secrets are hid: Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love you, and worthily magnify your holy Name; through Christ our Lord.” It is known as the Collect for Purity.
It began as one of the many private prayers for clergy to be said before the Mass, yet it was deemed too meaningful to be locked away in the sacristy and was eventually introduced into the public prayers of corporate worship.
What does that have to do with today? We are celebrating Blessed Alcuin of Tours, born in the year 730, who preserved and incorporated that prayer into our worship. Just because we worship with the 1979 Book of Common Prayer does not mean it is an entirely modern invention. Over the centuries, many like Alcuin have contributed to that wonderful little red book that automatically falls open to page 355.
Alcuin was one of the great scholars. At the time, he was considered “The most learned man anywhere to be found.” Fr. John Julian says that “Alcuin’s work was seldom highly original, but his own commitment was rather to the protection, compilation, and promulgation of the words of others.” Through these efforts, he “was chiefly responsible for the preservation of the classical heritage of western civilization.” And if that weren’t enough, he is also credited with giving the world the punctus interrogativus. Is that true? Did he really? What could that possibly be? Why, the question mark.
Jesus said, “Every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.” There is a theological interpretation of this passage, as well as a practical one, and it is the practical one that we understand to apply to Alcuin. The “scribe,” according to Sirach, is one who “will seek out the wisdom of all the ancients.” Think of it in terms of the George Santayana quote, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” Alcuin not only sought out the wisdom of the ancients but, as Jesus taught, believed that the teachings of our fathers were worth preserving, not only for their historical value but for our collective benefit.
He died in the year 804, and a portion of his epitaph reads, “Dust, worms, and ashes now… Alcuin my name, wisdom I always loved, Pray, reader, for my soul.”
When we think of the lives of the Saints, we often think of the apostles, martyrs, or evangelists. So, in the midst of them all, did you ever imagine coming across a librarian? Alcuin’s life says to us, “It’s not about the specific gift that God has graced you with. It’s about how you employ that gift.”
God has graced each of us with gifts. Don’t squander them or leave them unused. Like Alcuin of Tours, practice them to your greatest ability in the work of God’s Kingdom.
For many, the idea of Heaven or a paradise after death is just a child’s fantasy. Something we tell ourselves so life has some purpose beyond mere survival. For others, Heaven is the reason for life itself, and they have given it a great deal of thought. Although not one who put much credibility in the faith, Mark Twain did, at times, share his views on Heaven, and, as you can imagine, they came with a side of humor.
“Heaven goes by favor. If it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in. – Mark Twain, a Biography
“I don’t like to commit myself about Heaven and Hell, you see, I have friends in both places.”
Dying man couldn’t make up his mind which place to go to — both have their advantages, “heaven for climate, hell for company!” – Mark Twain’s Speechs, 1910 edition, p. 117.
When I reflect upon the number of disagreeable people who I know have gone to a better world, I am moved to lead a different life. – Pudd’nhead Wilson’s Calendar
It seems to me that for many, even if they believe in Heaven, their thoughts don’t go much further than wondering whether they’ll get in and how large their mansion will be. So today, I thought we would begin by taking a deeper look at Heaven.
First, what is it like? Throughout scripture, there are vivid visions and descriptions of Heaven. Daniel tells us,
“As I looked,
thrones were placed, and the Ancient of Days took his seat; his clothing was white as snow, and the hair of his head like pure wool; his throne was fiery flames; its wheels were burning fire.
A stream of fire issued and came out from before him; a thousand thousands served him, and ten thousand times ten thousand stood before him; the court sat in judgment, and the books were opened.” (Daniel 7:9-10)
That sounds exciting, but John, in his Revelation, surpasses them all. There is the throne room with a throne of jasper and carnelian, the sea of glass, and the four living creatures. Then, toward the end, John tells us he saw Heaven descending. It has twelve gates, each made of a single large pearl, streets of gold, and so many other amazing features.
Once past the description, we wonder where it might be located. Given all that we read in scripture, we know the general direction is up. In the Old Testament, we read how Elijah was carried up in a fiery chariot (2 Kings 2:11), and Jacob dreamed of a ladder upon which the angels of God ascended and descended (Genesis 28:10-19). Both of these lead us to believe Heaven is up.
The New Testament also points upward. Jesus said, “For I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will but the will of him who sent me” (John 6:38). And, as we read today, “a cloud took [Jesus] out of [the disciples’] sight.” Later, Paul, referring to himself, says, “I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven—whether in the body or out of the body I do not know, God knows. And I know that this man was caught up into paradise” (2 Corinthians 12:2-3a). John also indicates this in his Revelation (Revelation 4:1).
So, we have this glorious description and a general location—up—but then Jesus comes along and says something that muddies the water. A Pharisee had asked Him about the coming of the Kingdom of God, and Jesus answered, “‘The kingdom of God is not coming in ways that can be observed, nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There!’ for behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you.” (Luke 17:20-21) To complicate matters further, the phrase “in the midst of you” can also be translated “within you” and “among you.” I suspect that if you asked Jesus which it is—in the midst of, within, or among—He would answer, “Yes.”
There is no solid consensus among the Church Fathers on the topic of Heaven, but most would agree that there is a location, though it isn’t the most important aspect. For them, the place is only the setting. The important part is that God is there and that we will have communion with Him, and this communion is not limited by time or space.
So, where does this leave us? Theologian J.I. Packer sums up our knowledge nicely: “We know very little about heaven,” he said, “but I once heard a theologian describe [Heaven] as ‘an unknown region with a well-known inhabitant,’ and there is not a better way to think of it than that. Richard Baxter expresses the thought in these lines…
‘My knowledge of that life is small, The eye of faith is dim, But it’s enough that Christ knows all, And I shall be with him.’”
Further, if you need one of our own for confirmation, N.T. Wright wrote, “‘Heaven’ is, in fact, one of the most misused religious words around today, with the possible exception of the word ‘God’ itself.” (Source)
Do you remember what God said when Moses asked, “If I come to the people of Israel and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what shall I say to them?” God said to Moses, ‘I am who I am.’ And he said, ‘Say this to the people of Israel: ‘I am has sent me to you.’” (Exodus 3:14-15) The Name “I AM” is beyond explanation. Say whatever you will, you will fail to describe God. I believe the same is true of Heaven. If we ask God, “What is Heaven?” He will answer, “It is.”
“What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him.” (1 Corinthians 2:9)
Heaven is a mystery, yet it is much closer than you think.
Why all this talk of Heaven? Today we celebrate the Ascension of Our Lord. We read about it in the Acts of the Apostles, and it is affirmed in the Nicene Creed:
“We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ… He suffered death and was buried. On the third day He rose again in accordance with the Scriptures; He ascended into Heaven And is seated at the right hand of the Father.”
Forty days after Easter, Jesus ascended into Heaven. This is the exaltation of humankind, for now Heaven is not only the home of God and the angels but also home to one of our own—a flesh-and-blood human being. The significance of this cannot be overstated.
As Jesus ascended into Heaven in His body, He took us—the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve—with Him, for He is the Head and we are His body. Yet just as we are with Him there, He is with us here. A longer passage from N.T. Wright helps explain. “Heaven is God’s space, which intersects with our space but transcends it. It is, if you like, a further dimension of our world, not a place far removed at one extreme of our world… and the God who lives there is present to us, present with us, sharing our joys and our sorrows, longing as we are longing for the day when his whole creation, heaven and earth together, will perfectly reflect his love, his wisdom, his justice, and his peace.” (Source)
I’m not sure I like the word “dimension” in this context. Perhaps I’ve heard the opening credits of The Twilight Zone one too many times. Instead, I understand it as a veil that separates us from Heaven. This aligns with the Church Fathers. The veil is as near to us as our skin, yet we cannot see or pass through it in this lifetime. Still, just on the other side is our God and the Kingdom of Heaven.
Jesus prayed that we might be one with Him, the Father, and one another. He then prayed, “Father, I desire that they also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory that you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world.” (John 17:24) He prayed not only that we be where He is when we’re dead, but also that we might be with Him now. And we are, because He is as near to us as the skin on our bodies, just on the other side of the thin veil.
King David prayed,
“Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, who alone does wondrous things.
Blessed be his glorious name forever; may the whole earth be filled with his glory! Amen and Amen!” (Psalm 72:18-19)
The life of a Christian is to live in such recognition of and reliance on the nearness of Heaven and the Risen Lord, this oneness with Jesus, that others can see it and be drawn into it. In doing so, the Kingdom of God, Heaven itself, is expanded until it fills the whole Earth, and the prayer of David is fulfilled.
You have the ability to do this great work within you because you are not working alone. All of Heaven is by your side, and the Church works alongside you. Together, we work to bring to fulfillment another great prayer:
“Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, On Earth as it is in Heaven.”
At the Ascension, Jesus didn’t float away to some far-off place and now only looks down to see who has been naughty or nice. Instead, He is very near to us all, continuing the work He began in us until its final completion (cf. Philippians 1:6).
Let us pray: The light of God surrounds us, The love of God enfolds us, The power of God protects us, The presence of God watches over us, Wherever we are, God is, And where God is, all is well. Amen.
Today we are celebrating the Eve of the Ascension. In his preaching on the Ascension, St. Augustine of Hippo states: “Today our Lord Jesus Christ ascended into heaven; let our hearts ascend with him. Listen to the words of the Apostle: If you have risen with Christ, set your hearts on the things that are above where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God; seek the things that are above, not the things that are on earth. For just as he remained with us even after his ascension, so we too are already in heaven with him, even though what is promised us has not yet been fulfilled in our bodies.”
“Christ is now exalted above the heavens, but he still suffers on earth all the pain that we, the members of his body, have to bear. He showed this when he cried out from above: Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me? and when he said: I was hungry and you gave me food. Why do we on earth not strive to find rest with him in heaven even now, through the faith, hope, and love that unites us to him?”
Augustine is teaching us about two ‘states’ of the Ascension as they relate to our union with Christ, and he bases this teaching on what we learn from St. Paul’s writings to the church in Corinth: “For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ.” (1 Corinthians 12:12) What does this mean for us?
We are the Body of Christ, and Christ is the head of the Body. So no matter where he is, he is with us always unto the end of the age, because we are one. Through his death and resurrection, we become members of him. Therefore, since he has ascended into heaven, we too have ascended into heaven. If we are on earth and we suffer, he is on earth, suffering with us. We see Christ in everyone we meet, because he is in everyone we meet. We worship him as he sits at the right hand of the Father, because he is there as well.
Bottom line: the Ascension is a mystery. That said, this is probably some sort of heresy, so just forget it after I’ve said it. As I was thinking about this, I remembered Jacob and his ladder. You’ll recall that Jacob lay down, fell asleep, and had a dream: “There was a ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven. And behold, the angels of God were ascending and descending on it! And behold, the Lord stood above it and said, “I am the Lord, the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac.” He then speaks to Jacob about the land that is promised and then says, “Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land. For I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.” When Jacob woke, he said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.”
Jesus said, “I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved. They will come in and go out, and find pasture.” Jesus also says, “Truly, truly, I say to you, you will see heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.”
This is the possible heresy bit: it seems to me that the Ascension is the permanent placement and perfection of Jacob’s ladder, granting everyone access to the Gate of Heaven, to Jesus, after his departure. And it is through this ladder that we have access to the head of the Body, Jesus, and to the very throne room of God. Maybe something to think on… or maybe not.
A new priest came to town. On the first Sunday, he preached one of the best sermons folks had ever heard. Everyone was excited, believing things were looking up for their church. They all complimented him on his wonderful, inspiring words. The following Sunday, the new priest preached the exact same sermon, to the letter. Folks looked a bit bewildered, but since it was so good, they all thought it was worth hearing a second time, just not two Sundays in a row. However, since he was new, no one said anything other than that they enjoyed the sermon. The third Sunday, once again, the priest preached the exact same sermon. The Sr. Warden didn’t think they could take a fourth Sunday, so after everyone had exited the church, he had a word with the priest. “Father,” he said, “that’s a good sermon you preached.” “Thank you,” he replied. “However,” continued the Senior Warden, “you have preached the same sermon three times now. We’ve all heard it and were wondering when you were going to go on to a different subject.” “Sir,” he responded, “when you all start acting like you’ve heard it, I’ll preach something else.”
In the opening words of our Gospel lesson, Jesus said something curious: “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” Earlier, He said, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. For truly, I say to you, until heaven and earth pass away, not an iota, not a dot, will pass from the Law until all is accomplished” (Matthew 5:17-18). What is curious is that we are also taught that we are no longer under the law or its commandments. St. Paul, in his letter to the Romans, said, “While we were living in the flesh, our sinful passions, aroused by the law, were at work in our members to bear fruit for death. But now we are released from the law, having died to that which held us captive” (Romans 7:5-6a).
So, what’s it going to be, law or no law? The answer, of course, is both, and the reason this sermon may sound like a repeat of so many others I’ve given is that the only way the answer can be both is if the solution is love. Therefore, I can stop preaching on love if we all start acting as if we’ve heard it. The problem is, one quick glance around the world today tells me I’ve got to continue preaching on the topic. So, with that, how is the answer “both”? How can we be under the law and not under the law? Jesus provides the answer when He was questioned by a lawyer who asked Him, “Teacher, which is the great commandment in the Law?” Jesus’ answer, I hope you all know by heart: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets” (Matthew 22:36-40).
We understand this to mean that behind the law lies a single guiding principle: love. Love is also the defining mark of a Christian. Jesus said, “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:34-35). You know this as well. Together, these point back to the first line of our Gospel, “If you love me, if you are My disciples, then you will keep this summary of the law, which is to love God and to love one another.”
Here endeth the sermon. Go and love God and your neighbor. Amen? You should be so lucky. It would be that easy if we actually knew what it means to love like this, to love as Jesus loves us. But our idea of love often comes from a cherub named Cupid and a greeting card company with estimated revenues of about $5 billion, neither of which teaches us to love as Jesus loves. Let’s see if we can begin to sort it out. We’ll start by looking at a law: #10 of the top ten—“Thou shall not covet.”
To covet has two sides. The first is a lack of gratitude. When we covet, we are not satisfied or thankful for what we have. There is a constant need for more and more. Second, to covet is to become jealous of another for what they have and to want it for ourselves. To covet a thing or person is to desire it, and—whether we would define it as such—the things we desire are the things we love. Yet this love is disordered, because in it there is no love of God or of neighbor. In that disordered love, we become angry, anxious, and restless. Our souls are in turmoil over a desire, a love that cannot be fulfilled. Therefore, St. Augustine was correct when he wrote, “Our hearts are restless until they rest in God.”
To love instead of covet is to be thankful for the blessings and things God has provided us with, and to give thanks for the blessings others have. In your eyes, it may not seem fair that so-and-so has such-and-such, but that is not your concern. If they have sinned in order to gain what they have, that is between them and God. Don’t allow their sin to cause you to sin. If God, out of His goodness, has chosen to bless them, then be happy for them. You, you are to follow the commandment and love.
If that makes sense, then we understand that we don’t love as we should because our love is disordered. Our desire is elsewhere rather than on God, and this is sin in its most basic form. This disordered love has been with us since the very first day, when Adam and Eve desired a piece of forbidden fruit more than they loved God. It is also this disordered love that Jesus came to heal. The Lord said through the Prophet Ezekiel, “I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to obey my rules” (Ezekiel 36:26-27). The healing that Jesus brings to our souls fulfills this great work. In doing so, Jesus gives us freedom from the law, because we are no longer trying and failing to obey a set of statutes. Instead, we are living a transformed life. No longer will we say, “I can’t do ____ or I’ll go to hell.” Instead, we say, “I want, I desire to do or not do this, because I love God and I love my neighbor.”
In John’s first epistle (John is the great preacher of love), he writes, “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God” (1 John 4:7). Preaching on this and the verses that followed, St. Augustine said some radical things: “Love, and do what you will: whether you hold your peace, through love hold your peace; whether you cry out, through love cry out; whether you correct, through love correct; whether you spare, through love do you spare: let the root of love be within, of this root can nothing spring but what is good” (Homily 7.8 on the First Epistle of John). “Love, and do what you will.” That sounds very permissive. “I loves you, baby, and I can do whatever I want.” No. That is not what Augustine is saying. He is saying, “If—and that is a mighty big ‘if’—if my love is rightly ordered, if I truly love God, and if I truly love my neighbor as Jesus has loved me, then I am free from the law, because in my heart I will desire to do the right thing—I will fulfill both the law and the commandments of Jesus.” No longer will I have to do something. I’ll want to do it out of my love of God and neighbor.
I will have to preach a variation of this sermon time and time again. Why? Because we’ve been trying since day one to get it right, and only One, only Jesus, has succeeded. However, in Him and through Him, we are learning. And with the help of the Holy Spirit, whom Jesus has sent, we will continue to do so.
Are you loving as Jesus loves? No? If you work on only one thing in your life, work on that. By doing so, you can’t help but walk closer with God.
Let us pray: Grant, almighty God, that we may celebrate with heartfelt devotion these days of joy, which we keep in honor of the risen Lord, and that what we relive in remembrance we may always hold to in what we do. Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God, for ever and ever. Amen.
Hearken to my voice, O Lord, when I call; have mercy on me and answer me. You speak in my heart and say, “Seek my face.” Your face, Lord, will I seek.
I love to read, but I’ll occasionally go through a phase when I don’t even want to pick up a book, so I’ll end up binge-watching something on TV for a few weeks. Then I’ll get tired of that and go back to reading. It’ll happen with other things as well, but… the Psalmist said, “You speak in my heart and say, ‘Seek my face.’ Your face, Lord, will I seek.” Have you ever gone through a phase when you just didn’t feel like seeking His face? I’m not going to ask you to raise your hand if you have, because that is not the kind of thing good Christian folk like to confess, but do you occasionally find yourself a bit tired of seeking Him, wondering about His will, and all that? As I said, I won’t ask you to confess, but if you say you’ve never experienced those feelings, I would say you need to go to confession for fibbing. It is something we all experience at times, and in those moments, our faith is truly demonstrated.
A mature Christian will continue in their faith and practices, knowing that these are times of wilderness rather than abandonment by God. However, others will begin to drift away, and perhaps one of the first things to go is prayer. When it seems we’re filling the air with words that are unheard and accomplish nothing, why bother? But it is the prayers in the wilderness that will see us through, because it is through them that we maintain the relationship with the Father.
Julian of Norwich, whom we celebrate today, spoke about this in the second part of her fourteenth revelation, contained in her Revelations of Divine Love. “Our Lord is very glad and happy that we should pray, and he expects it and wants it… for this is what [the Lord] says, ‘Pray earnestly even though you do not feel like praying, for it is helping you even if you do not feel it doing you any good, even if you see nothing, yes, even if you think you cannot pray; for in dryness and in barrenness, in sickness and weakness, then your prayers give me great pleasure, even if you feel that they are hardly pleasing to you at all. And it is so in my sight with all your trustful prayers.’” Julian says, “God accepts the good intentions and the effort of those who serve him, whatever we are feeling.” (p.100)
To us, it may seem fruitless, but in a time of barrenness, when we feel the absence of God, stopping prayer is to break off from the relationship. So, regardless of how we feel, we must stay engaged because it is through our faithfulness and this engagement that we will once again feel the presence of God.
If you say, “I just don’t feel like praying. I don’t have anything to say,” then take the good advice of Archbishop Michael Ramsey, “Pray that you could pray,” but don’t stop praying.
When I travel, especially by myself, I don’t always have a set agenda. There are places I want to see, but I’m not rushing from one to the next just to tick them off a list, and I don’t try to fill every moment. For me, that makes things more relaxing and leaves time to fit in the unexpected. I learned about one unexpected place while taking a cab from the airport in Luxembourg to my hotel (I quickly learn to use public transportation because it’s much less expensive, but when I’m schlepping bags, it’s just easier to take the cab).
When the cab driver learned I was an American, he said, “You know, your General Patton is buried here.” I didn’t know that, so I added it to my list of possibilities. A few days later, when one of the places I wanted to visit was closed, I decided to take the trip out to the Luxembourg American Cemetery. General Patton is there, set apart from the others, but he is only one of many, and his grave marker is the same as all the others.
What I never expect when entering places like this is the emotional response. Even before you walk through the main gates, it starts to hit you, so I was intentional about not looking up until my heart was ready… and then I did.
There is General Patton’s cross, and then there are 4,958 other crosses for known individuals, 371 crosses for the unknown, and 119 Stars of David. Of those buried there, you will also find 22 sets of brothers. It is a sea of white markers for those who died near that place.
At one point, I was the only person in the entire cemetery. As I slowly passed among the markers, I read the names, but I was specifically looking for anyone from Oklahoma. I found Roy W Roe, Private First Class, 319th Infantry, 80th Division. He died on March 15, 1945. Based on what I’ve learned so far, he was twenty-four years old and married to Marion.
As I stood looking at his marker, I said to him, “Today, I see you.” For me, that meant, “I see you as a person, as a young man who had a life ahead of him but died so far from home, and as someone so very young. I see you, not as a memory or a marker, but as a person.”
As I continued to walk among them, I read their names and told each of them, “I see you.” I don’t know if that makes sense to anyone, but it did to me. It was the only way I had to honor them and the sacrifice they made.
In truth, all of us like to be seen, maybe not in the spotlight, but acknowledged. Being seen validates who we are as human beings and affirms that our existence counts for something, even if only to a very few. However, knowing that we will be seen raises an important question: When someone sees us, who or what do they see? There, I saw brave men and one woman who gave so much, but what do others see when they see me? What do others see when they see you?
A lot of time and money goes into appearance—clothes, hair, fitness, etc.—but that is like the cover of a book. You can look like a million bucks and still be a Cruella De Vil. Yet when we are truly seen, who or what do people see? This is a question that relates to one of the many lessons in today’s Gospel reading.
Philip said to Jesus, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” You can hear the exasperation in Jesus’ voice as he responds, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me?”
Jesus’ answer provides part of the foundation for our understanding of the Holy Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. If you see Jesus, you see the Father. If you witness the works of the Holy Spirit, you witness the works of God, and so on.
In part of Jesus’ great priestly prayer on the night before He was crucified, He prays, “As you, Father, are in me, and I in you” (John 17:21). There are the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and although separate, they are one. See one, and you see the others. So, what about us? What about you? If I pass you on the street and say to you, “I see you,” who or what do I see? Who or what do you want me to see?
St. Paul says to us in his letter to the Galatians, “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me” (Galatians 2:20). If we are alive to Christ, we have died to ourselves; therefore, when I say, “I see you,” I should see Jesus. Question: Do I?
At the east end of the Sistine Chapel, on the altar wall, is Michelangelo’s great painting of the Last Judgment. At the top is the figure of Christ. With His right hand, He is calling the righteous up to the Kingdom of God, while with His left He is casting out the wicked. The righteous are escorted by angels, and the wicked are greeted by demons.
Since the painting’s unveiling in 1541, there has been high demand for copies and similar works. One of those who created a similar work was Raphaël Coxie (COKE-see). In his painting, the figures are near life size, so the painting is large, approximately ten feet by twelve feet. It hangs in the museum in Ghent, Belgium. However, as with many similar paintings of judgment, it originally hung in a courtroom as a reminder to the criminally inclined of the consequences should they continue down such a path.
Given the size and subject matter, it really caught my attention, but it was so large that it was difficult to focus on one thing. Still, after studying it, my eye fell on the figure on the cover of your bulletin. She is located at the bottom center of the painting—the woman with her jeweled tiara. Yet it wasn’t so much her as what she is holding. I looked at it for a good long while, then realized she was holding up a mirror and that there is a face in the mirror. However, unlike the other images in the painting, the image in the mirror is vague. It was then that I thought I understood. Coxie kept the image in the mirror vague because he wanted us to see ourselves.
Imagine you are on trial and you see this painting. You are reminded that some are called to Heaven while others are cast down into hell, and here is this woman, saying to you with her eyes, her expression, and her gesture, “Look in the mirror and judge yourself. Which one will you be? Called up or cast down?”
If we are alive in Christ, we have died to ourselves. When people see us, they should see Jesus. Do they? Well, answer this: When you look in Coxie’s mirror, who or what do you see? Do you see Jesus? Do you see someone being called up or someone being cast down?
Philip said to Jesus, “Show us the Father,” and Jesus replied, “If you have seen me, you have seen the Father.” If someone said to you, “Show us Jesus,” would you even in the smallest way be able to say, “If you have seen me, you have seen something of Jesus”? The scary part is that we should be able to say that. If that is not true, why did Jesus go on to say to Philip, “Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father”? If we are to do the same work Jesus did, we should look like Him. Right? When we look in Coxie’s mirror, we should see something of the Imago Dei, the Image of God. It won’t be perfect; only One was perfect, but Jesus should be recognizable in each of us.
When we look in a regular mirror, we look for all sorts of things—do I have something caught in my teeth, is my hair combed, am I getting old, etc.? I would challenge you to look in Coxie’s mirror and ask, “Do I look like Jesus? Will I be called up or will I be cast down?”
In seeing Jesus, we can see the Father. In seeing you, others should be able to see Jesus. Perhaps it is only as one sees in a mirror dimly, but there should be something of Jesus that is visible.
You are seen by others. Who or what do they see?
Let us pray: God, our Father, You redeemed us and made us Your children in Christ. Through Him, You have saved us from death and given us Your Divine life of grace. By becoming more like Jesus on earth, may we come to share His glory in Heaven. Give us the peace of Your kingdom, which this world does not give. By Your loving care, protect the good You have given us. Open our eyes to the wonders of Your Love that we may serve You with a willing heart. Amen.
Candle in a Cave 