Category: Sermons

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A fella reports that his grandmother, a staunch Southern Baptist, had marched him off to Sunday school and church regularly. So when he switched to the Episcopal church after marriage, she challenged him: “What’s wrong with the Baptist Church, son?”… ”Well,” he explained, “my wife and I flipped a coin to see if we would go to her church—the Episcopal Church—or mine, and I lost.” … ”Serves you right,” said his grandmother. “Good Baptists don’t gamble.”

I am not a good Baptist, but I am a good Episcopalian, which means I don’t mind putting a few dollars on a pony, but I won’t gamble away the paycheck; however, there are some who will stack up all their chips and shove them into the pot, hoping for the big payday. When it comes to hard earned money, that is not for me. When it comes to living my life… well, let’s just say I’m a bit conservative, although I have been loosening up a bit here recently. But what about when it comes to faith—a relationship with God? Well, as a good Episcopalian, I would wager that even if we were 100% certain of our faith, there was solid proof of God’s existence, the pearly gates, and all that… If we were 100% certain, I would wager that most of us would still hold back some for ourselves, unwilling to give our entire life to God.

Everyone that knows me knows that I have a wealth of information about sports. For example, I know that Lebron Jones was a running back for the OKC Heat. Great hockey team. That said, I recently read a fascinating article about Shelly Pennefather who was a huge basketball star for Villanova during the mid-1980s. Following college, she could have signed a contract worth $200,000 a year with the national league in Japan, which would have made her one of the highest paid women athletes. Yet, in June of 1991, she drove to the Monastery of the Poor Clares in Alexandria, Virginia where she would be received as one their members, no longer known as Shelly Pennefather, but as Sister Rose Marie of the Queen of Angels.

Unlike many monasteries where the nuns or monks are allowed to go out into the world, the one Sister Rose Marie is a member of is a cloistered community. The reporter writes: “The Poor Clares are one of the strictest religious orders in the world. They sleep on straw mattresses, in full habit, and wake up every night at 12:30 a.m. to pray [for those suffering in the world], never resting more than four hours at a time. They are barefoot 23 hours of the day, except for the one hour in which they walk around the courtyard in sandals… [Sister Rose Marie] gets two family visits per year, but converses through a see-through screen. She can write letters to her friends, but only if they write to her first. And once every 25 years, she can hug her family.” (Source) The occasion of the article was the 25th anniversary of Sister Rose Marie’s entrance into the monastery. On that day, she renewed her commitment and hugged her family and friends, she also hugged her 78-year-old mother for the first time in 25 years, realizing that her mother would need to live until she was 103 in order to hug her again.

Not only is the story fascinating, but I was also struck by the reporter, Elizabeth Merrill, who was struggling with understanding why someone with so many gifts would give it all up to… pray. Perhaps it was Sister Rose Marie’s friend, Father John Heisler who stated it best: “It’s a mystery to me too about why [the Poor Clares would] take somebody so talented, so giving, so energetic. She could help so many other young ladies to be women … to be strong, too, in their identity. Why should she be so hidden now? I’ve been really thinking … about the mystery of the stars. They’re so distant, yet they’re so beautiful.” The reporter couldn’t understand the “Why?” of Sister Rose Marie’s decision and neither could her friend, a priest.

I said I would wager that even if we were 100% certain of God that most of us would still hold back some for ourselves. We would be unwilling to give our entire life to God. So what was it that compelled a young woman with the promises of fame and riches to give it all up and lock herself away so that she could spend the remainder of her life praying for humanity? The answer is discovering that love is not about a Hallmark card, but about God, the Word that became flesh, and lived among us. And on this night, that love can be found wrapped in swaddling clothes, and lying in a manger.

There are people like Sister Rose Marie who encounter that love in such a manner that nothing else matters. To them, that love is life itself, and in order to have it, to be near it and experience it, and to share it, these individuals will sacrifice anything and everything, for there is nothing greater. These are willing to say with my friend St. Josemaría Escrivá, “How little a life is to offer to God!”

Tonight, I’m not asking you all to run off and join a monastery. That life is not for everyone, but I would ask, what are you prepared to sacrifice in order to experience more fully the babe in the manger? What would you give for this love of God? And I ask, what would you do, what would you give, because although this love is freely given, it does not come without transformation. You are loved as you are, but God does not expect you to remain as you are. That wonderful poet and writer, Kahlil Gibran, wrote in The Prophet:

“When love beckons to you follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.”

So, what would you do, what would you give, to experience this transforming love? What will you “gamble”? My recommendation to you is to not rely on yourself, your own strength and courage to make such a decision. My recommendation to you is to humbly kneel before the baby in the manger, Jesus, and allow the love that saved the world to bring new life to you. In doing so, you will discover what Sister Rose Marie discovered who said at the end of her once every twenty-five years visit with family and friends: “I love this life. I wish you all could just live it for a little while just to see. It’s so peaceful. I just feel like I’m not underliving life. I’m living it to the full.” Kneel before the manger. Be transformed. Live life to the full.

Let us pray: Lord our God, with the birth of your Son, your glory breaks on the world. Through the night hours of the darkened earth, we your people watch for the coming of your promised Son. As we wait, give us a foretaste of the joy that you will grant us when the fullness of his glory has filled the earth, who lives and reigns with you for ever and ever. Amen.

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Three men, one from Texas one from Mississippi and one from Louisiana were sitting together bragging about how they had given their new wives duties.

The one from Texas had, of course, married a girl from Texas and bragged that he told his wife she was to do all the dishes and house cleaning. He said it took a couple of days but on the third day he came home to a clean house and clean dishes.

The man from Mississippi had married a girl from Florida and bragged how he told her she was to clean the house, wash the dishes and have his supper on the table when he got hone. By the third day things fell right into place, the house was cleaned, the dishes all washed and his supper was on the table when he got home.

The third man, old Boudreaux had married Chlotiel from Louisiana and boasted that he told her that her duties were to keep the house clean, dishes washed, and the lawn mowed and a hot meal on the table. The first day he didn’t see anything, the second day he didn’t see anything, but by the third day, most of the swelling had gone down and he could see a little out of his left eye, enough to fix himself something to eat, load the dishwasher, and telephone a landscaper.

Marriage is difficult and not all of us have been very successful at it, but can you imagine an angel of the Lord telling you that you are to marry the Lord’s chosen vessel and be the Son of God’s stepdad? It’s an old joke, but think of it: Joseph tells Jesus to do something and little Jesus puts his hands on his hips and responds, “You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not my real dad.” Seriously. What are you going to do with that? But God in his wisdom knew what kind of man Joseph was and God knew that if there was any one man that could be the earthly father to his One and Only Son, it would be Joseph. Therefore, as our Gospel reading stated, “When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took [Mary] as his wife.” They were married and yet, even though it is perhaps the most famous of all marriages, we know very little about their life together.

Following the birth of Jesus, they fled to Egypt to avoid Herod’s murderous nature, then returned to Nazareth where they led a quiet life, except for the time Jesus got left behind in Jerusalem. We know very little, but apparently the marriage of Mary and Joseph had a profound effect on Jesus, for he used the language of marriage throughout his ministry and teachings. For example, “Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.” Jesus spoke these words to the disciples, shortly before his death, but in a traditional Jewish wedding, these are the words that a groom would say to his fiancé. I’m going to prepare a place for us to live and when it is ready, I’ll come back for you and we can be married.

We also know that the language of the last supper is almost identical to the marriage covenant made between a man and a woman: “This cup is the new covenant in my blood.” These are the words of Jesus at the Last Supper, but the groom says similar words to the bride, out of love for you, if necessary, I will shed my blood, I will lay down my life, all of which points us to that greatest of all expressions of love: the cross and Jesus’ death.

Following his death and resurrection, the disciples continued to use the language of marriage to describe the relationship between Christ and the Church, the church being referred to as the Bride of Christ; and as the Church, this is something we confirm at the beginning of every wedding:

Dearly beloved: We have come together in the presence of God to witness and bless the joining together of this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony. The bond and covenant of marriage was established by God in creation, and our Lord Jesus Christ adorned this manner of life by his presence and first miracle at a wedding in Cana of Galilee. It signifies to us the mystery of the union between Christ and his Church, and Holy Scripture commends it to be honored among all people.”

Ask ol’ Boudreaux and he’ll likely tell you that he is prayin’ for an early death just to get out of his marriage, but in its perfected state, marriage “signifies to us the mystery of the union between Christ and his Church,” which is why marriage is not just about the happy couple. It is for us all, for on the last day, we are all the bride—the bride of Christ—therefore, as any bride would do, we make ourselves ready. From John’s Revelation:

“Let us rejoice and exult
and give him the glory,
for the marriage of the Lamb has come,
and his Bride has made herself ready;
it was granted her to clothe herself
with fine linen, bright and pure.”

And since we do not know the hour or the day of this great wedding feast, then everyday, we as the bride, must be prepared, we make ourselves ready, everyday; dressed in fine linen, bright and pure, because everyday has the potential of being our wedding day. Everyday there exists the possibility that we will see our Groom standing there, beckoning us to himself.

As the young woman says in the Song of Solomon:

The voice of my beloved!
Behold, he comes,
leaping over the mountains,
bounding over the hills.
My beloved is like a gazelle
or a young stag.
Behold, there he stands
behind our wall,
gazing through the windows,
looking through the lattice.
My beloved speaks and says to me:
“Arise, my love, my beautiful one,
and come away,
for behold, the winter is past;
the rain is over and gone.
…
Arise, my love, my beautiful one.”
…
“My beloved is mine, and I am his.”

Our beloved Christ Jesus calls to us: “Arise, my love, my beautiful one, for he is ours and we are his. Therefore, let us prepare ourselves for our wedding, to our beloved.

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.

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He stood at only four feet ten inches tall, but John of the Cross was a powerhouse.  A penitent writes, “Something shone through him or this witness saw something of God in him, lifting her eyes as it were beyond herself to look at and listen to him.  Looking at him she seemed to see in him a majesty beyond that given to men of this world.” (Source, p.144)  And our friend Teresa of Ávila said of him, he was “very spiritual and has great experience and learning.”  She declared him to be “the father of my soul.”   And writing to another nun, she says, “He is a divine, heavenly man.  I assure you, my daughter, since he left us I have not found another like him in the whole of Castile, nor anyone else who inspires souls with such fervor to journey to Heaven.  You would never believe how lonely I feel without him.” (Source, p. 145-6)  

Much of John’s writings and work deal with the progress of the soul toward perfection, so it is only fitting that our Gospel reading spoke of the Holy Spirit: Jesus said, “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come.”

It is the Holy Spirit that guides us into all truth, but what we must also remember is that Christianity exists within the community.  So, with regard to learning the things of God and the work of the Holy Spirit, when St. Paul tells us to “test everything,” (1 Thessalonians 5:21) he is not suggesting that we test everything against our own knowledge and understanding, but that we instead test it in the context of scripture, tradition and reason.  We test things within the context of the Church.  If we try and go it alone, if we try to practice our faith outside of the Church, then we are likely to deceive ourselves and fall into error.  That is something that John of the Cross understood.  He writes, “The virtuous soul that is alone and without a master, is like a lone burning coal; it will grow colder rather than hotter. Those who fall alone remain alone in their fall, and they value their souls little since they entrust it to themselves alone. If you do not fear falling alone, do you presume that you will rise up alone? Consider how much more can be accomplished by two together than by one alone.” 

This then points to the fact that attending church is not something we do when it is convenient or when we don’t have anything else going on.  For the safety of our soul, attending church and participating in corporate worship are essential.  It is also the fulfillment of the first promise we make at our baptism and confirmation: “Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers.”

At the moment, I’m preaching to the choir—you are all here, but this is something that we must all be reminded of and remind others of.  Billy Sunday said, “Going to church doesn’t make you a Christian any more than going to a garage makes you an automobile.”  That is a true statement, but going to Church will at least get you in the place where you might just encounter God, who will then accomplish the rest. 

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When he was fifty-one years old, he had romance with a nineteen year old nursing student who most authors simply refer to as “M.”  He also enjoyed sneaking off with friends and going out drinking.  Only problem: at the time of these events, he was a Trappist monk living in monastery.  Thomas Merton was not always as saintly as we would like to think and I do not believe that my friends Josemaría Escrivá or Thomas à Kempis would approve of his life, but what draws me to him, is that—unlike those two friends—I can relate to the humanness of Merton and the very real struggle that exists for us all.  That is, the struggle between our desire to follow God and our desires to experience the joys of being alive, which often appear—and most likely are—sinful.

We are currently reading the autobiography about Merton’s early life: The Seven Storey Mountain.  He wrote another autobiography which most are not so familiar with: The Other Side of the Mountain.  There are some who say, because of the sins of his later life and his studies into eastern religions, that we should not study anything that he has written—he was clearly not the person he led us to believe, while others simply excuse him, and still others attempt to understand what happened.  Mark Shaw falls into that latter group.  Shaw wrote Beneath the Mask of Holiness: Thomas Merton and the Forbidden Love Affair that Released Him.  During an interview, Shaw said of Merton,

“Becoming a monk was supposed to cleanse him of these sins, but from his own private journals, I knew this was not true. Instead, Merton’s failure to understand what loving, and being loved were all about caused him frustration, turmoil, and even depression. Beneath the mask of holiness, the plastic saint image promoted by the Catholic Church, was a sunken man who yearned for love while realizing he could never truly be one with God until he found it. Then, as I wrote in the book, the skies opened up and there was a gift, the love of a woman. It is no wonder Merton grabbed the chance to experience love despite the risks involved. And [“M”] taught him about loving, and being loved, opening up a path to freedom Merton never knew existed.” (Source)

I will never look for ways to justify my sins or anyone else’s, but I’m also not going to sit in God’s chair.  He is the One who judges and he will judge us all.  As Jesus said, “Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.”  In judgment, either for eternal life or eternal death, Jesus will draw all people to himself, but what we have to remember is that even for those who are judged for eternal life, the path by which they traveled is never straight, not even for the greatest of saints.

So, what are we to make of this sinful saint and his not so straight path?  In 1999, Nelson Mandela spoke at Rice University.  “Following his speech, Mandela took questions from the audience, including one from a 12-year-old who asked him how he wants to be remembered.  Mandela responded, ‘I never wanted to be regarded as an angel. I am an ordinary man with weaknesses.  I am not a saint, unless you think of a saint as a sinner who keeps trying.’” (Source)  Based on what I know of Thomas Merton, I think he would say, “Yes.  That’s me too.”  I also think that it is the best we can say of ourselves… but never use that as an excuse to sin.  Keep aiming to be a saint.

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Fear. Jerry Seinfeld says, “According to most studies, people’s number one fear is public speaking. Number two is death. Death is number two. Does that sound right? This means to the average person, if you go to a funeral, you’re better off in the casket than doing the eulogy.”

Fear is one of those excellent motivators. For most (not all), fear of losing your job is a motivator to work harder or at least update the resumé. Fear of being caught and punished is motivation enough for most to obey the law. Fear of not passing is a motivator for students to study. The list goes on. For others, fear / or a rush, motivates folks to go bungee jumping or perform dangerous stunts. However, I think most of us would like to limit our fear to a scary movie and not find ourselves or put ourselves in a position where true fear is a possibility.

Throughout history, there have been a number of individuals who have struck fear in the hearts of many. From Genghis Khan to Dracula, these individuals have wreaked havoc on people’s blood pressure. Paul Harvey, that great voice of radio, also tells us of another who struck fear in the masses. In fact, this one’s name was enough to do the trick. Harvey tells:

“He was a professional thief… He terrorized the Wells Fargo stage line for thirteen years, roaring like a tornado in and out of the Sierra Nevada’s, spooking the most rugged frontiersmen. In journals from San Francisco to New York, his name became synonymous with the danger of the frontier. During his reign of terror between 1875 and 1883, he is credited with stealing the bags and the breath away from twenty-nine different stagecoach crews. And he did it all without firing a shot… Black Bart. A hooded bandit armed with a deadly weapon. What was his deadly weapon? One word, it was FEAR!”

The funny bit about Black Bart, is that he was nothing to be afraid of. According to Harvey, “When the authorities finally tracked down the thief, they didn’t find a bloodthirsty bandit from Death Valley; they found a mild-mannered druggist from Decatur, Illinois. The man the papers pictured storming through the mountains on horseback was, in reality, so afraid of horses he rode to and from his robberies in a buggy. He was Charles E. Boles – the bandit who never once fired a shot, because he never once loaded his gun.” (Paul Harvey’s The Rest of the Story, p. 117)

So, if we’re smart, we’ll be afraid of the right things and work to avoid them, or if we’re a bit goofy we’ll go looking for a certain amount of fear, and on occasion, the boogie man we all fear turns out to be a mild-mannered druggist from Illinois. Meanwhile, there’s God. St. Paul writes, to the Hebrews, “For we know him who said, ‘Vengeance is mine; I will repay.’ And again, ‘The Lord will judge his people.’ It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God,” yet—and this is the crazy bit—we may be afraid of getting a speeding ticket, but we’re no more afraid of being judged by the Creator of the heavens and the earth than we are of being afraid of a puppy. Why is that?

Michael Yaconelli, in his book Dangerous Wonder, provides us with a bit of insight into why: “We have become comfortable with the radical truth of the gospel; we have become familiar with Jesus; we have become satisfied with the church. The quick and sharp Bible has become slow and dull; the world-changing church has become changed by the world; and the life-threatening Jesus has become an interesting enhancement to modern life.” (p.113)

Take our Gospel reading from today: “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?… Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’… the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire….
He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire…. he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” Does that spark in fear in your soul? No. I’m guilty of it. I listen to those words, think how much I like John the Baptist’s style, and go home; never giving, “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire,” a second thought. “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.” Cool.

I’m not saying that we need the kind of fear that drives us to go running through the streets like we’re being chased by some rabid clown straight out of a Stephen King novel, but I do think we need to more closely consider who it is we serve. Once, Hugh Latimer had to preach to King Henry VIII and he reports that he said to himself, “Latimer! Latimer! Remember that the king is here; be careful what you say.” After considering this, he said to himself, “Latimer! Latimer! Remember that the King of kings is here; be careful what you do not say.”

Granted, as we draw closer to Jesus, it does seem that we should in fact be more comfortable with God, but consider the time that the disciples and Jesus were out on the sea when the great storm came up. The disciples feared for their lives, but Jesus was asleep in the bow of the boat. They cried out to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” They feared for their lives, so they called to Jesus, and Mark’s Gospel tells us that Jesus “awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, Peace! Be still!’ And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. He said to them, ‘Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?’ And they were filled with great fear and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” Jesus calmed the storm and the disciples “were filled with great fear.” They were with him, they knew him, they walked and ate with him, but they had not become comfortable with this Jesus and the things he did. They loved him and they knew that he loved them, and they would go on to follow him—literally—to their dying breath, but there was always this holy fear of what this Jesus, this God would do. And maybe, that points us to the real problem. Maybe we do fear God, but not with a holy fear. Maybe we’re simply afraid to wake him, because we are afraid of what he might do. We’re afraid of how he may change us and our lives. We’re afraid of what it will look like if we give ourselves to Him. We’re afraid of who we’ll become, which means we are afraid of being transformed into the person God created us to be.

I’m fairly certain it was the final installment of the Calvin and Hobbes comic strip: the scene is a blanket of heavy snow, Calvin is all bundled up, and Hobbes the tiger is carrying the sled. Calvin says, “Wow, it really snowed last night! Isn’t it wonderful?” Hobbes replies, “Everything familiar has disappeared! The world looks brand-new.” “A new year… a fresh clean start!” Calvin adds and then, “It’s a magical world, Hobbes, ol’ Buddy… let’s go exploring!”

What if in our relationship with God we let go of the familiar and entered into the words of Jesus, “Behold, I make all things new.” What if, in union with and in holy fear of our God, we went exploring… what if we went boldly into the world in anticipation and wonder of what our God might do? What if, during this season of Advent, as we read about the Son of God coming into the world we actually allowed him to come into our lives and transform us? What if…

Let us pray: Father, in the wilderness of the Jordan you sent a messenger to prepare people’s hearts for the coming of your Son. Help us to hear his words, so that we may clearly see the way to walk, the truth to speak, and the life to live for Him, our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Photo by Marina Vitale on Unsplash

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Boudreaux, Thibodeaux, and Hebert were sitting around talking one afternoon after enjoying a little crawfish boil, and the conversation turned to what they would like to have people say about them if they suddenly died. Hebert says, “Me, if I could hear what dey are saying while I’m laying in my casket is dat I was a great doctor and a good family man.” Thibodeaux says, “Me, I would like to hear dem say dat I was a good husband and a great teacher, and made a difference in de lives of hundreds of childrens.” Boudreaux thinks for a minute and says, “Mais, me, I would like to hear somebody say, ‘Look, he’s moving!’”

I’ve been working through a book recently, Dangerous Wonder, by Michael Yaconelli. It is one of those books you could easily read in a day, but I’ve been taking my time, because it seems that each chapter takes awhile to work into the system. During this Season of Advent, you’ll likely hear me reference it and talk about it more than once. In one of the early chapters, Yaconelli quotes Juan Carlos Ortiz who is an evangelist and pastor from Argentina. Ortiz writes, “The living Jesus is a problem in our religious institutions. Yes. Because if you are having a funeral, a nice funeral, and the dead person starts to move, there goes the funeral! And dear brothers and sisters, Jesus is moving!”

This is the first Sunday of Advent, the church new year. During these Sundays of Advent, we hear about the second coming of Jesus and his first coming. There are readings that call for us to be aware and to be awake. However, as we look for his second coming, we must also be aware of his current presence. Sounds a bit confusing, but we know that even though Jesus is coming again, he is also with us until the very end of the age, so in order for us to know him then, we must also know him now, for as he says, “The kingdom of God is within you… the kingdom of God is now.” Therefore, it seems that when Jesus says to us, “Keep awake” and “Be ready,” he is not only talking about being awake and ready for the great and terrible day of the Lord, but that he is also talking about being awake and being ready for this and everyday. Unfortunately, for any number of reasons our faith can become dry and sterile, and our daily lives with God and our corporate and personal worship of the Creator of the Heavens and the Earth begins to more closely resemble a funeral than it does a celebration. God becomes a backup plan and our worship is a job, something to check off the to do list. In his own life, Yaconelli tells us that it was because he was working so hard for God that he fell into this trap and forgot to see, to encounter God, and he realized this when he visited L’Arche Daybreak Retreat Center, the same place that Henri Nouwen went to live when he decided to give up all the writing and speaking and the “working” for God.

L’Arche is a place where severely mentally and physically handicapped individuals are sent, and in many cases, abandoned. Those who work there care for these individuals, where—due to the limitations of the individual—a small breakfast can take quite some time. Yaconelli tells that soon after his arrival he met Robert, a young man whose vocabulary was limited to a couple of hundred words. The first thing Robert said to Michael was a question: “Busy?” Michael responded, “Yes, Robert. I’m very busy.” “Too Busy,” Robert asked. “Yes, Robert. I’m too busy,” Michael answered. Robert’s questions and his answers got Michael to thinking: why am I so busy? He concluded: “Why was I so busy? Because I still was hanging on to the belief that God’s affection for me was measured by my activity for Him. The more things I did for God, the more He would love me.” Michael said that he had this “need to prove to God I was worth loving.”

Here is someone whose entire life was dedicated to the work of the Kingdom of God, but he could never truly experience God, because he was so caught up in trying to convince God to love him. If someone like Yaconelli can fail to truly see and encounter God, then it is no wonder that any of the rest of us, for any number of reasons, can and will do the same.

Jesus said, “You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.” We cannot encounter God today, because we keep thinking that the “unexpected hour” is off in the distance, when in fact, it is now. What did Paul say to the Romans in our reading? “You know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers; the night is far gone, the day is near.” The time is now…

T-ball or baseball for younger children. Prop the ball up on the jumbo golf tee and let the kids swing away. Everyone plays and everyone is a winner, but not all of them are athletes. Enter Tracy. She is described as as “not very good. She had coke-bottle glasses and hearing aids on each ear. She ran in a loping, carefree way, with one leg pulling after the other, one arm windmilling wildly in the air.” At bat, she might generate enough air around the ball that it fell off the tee or she would hit the tee and send the ball rolling forward, but she never got a proper hit until the last game of the season when the stars aligned perfectly. It wasn’t just a hit. She apparently clobbered it, sending the ball sailing over heads and then rolling between legs.

She windmilled her way to first base and the coach waved her on (by then, the entire opposing team was in the outfield, chasing the ball.) When she got to second, the third base coach called her on, so she ran some more. The ball finally made it back into play, but for some reason ended up along the first base line. At this point, the entire stadium of parents, on both sides, were going wild cheering for Tracy—this was going to be a home run for the girl who never even got a hit. The third base coach waved Tracy on and she was headed to home plate “and then it happened. During the pandemonium, no one had noticed the twelve-year-old geriatric mutt that had lazily settled itself down in front of the bleachers five feet from the third-base line. As Tracy rounded third, the dog, awakened by the screaming, sat up and wagged its tail at Tracy as she headed down the line. The tongue hung out, mouth pulled back in an unmistakable canine smile, and Tracy stopped, right there. Halfway home, thirty feet from a legitimate home run. She looked at the dog. Her coach called, “Come on, Tracy! Come on home!” He went to his knees behind the plate, pleading. The crowd cheered, “Go, Tracy, go! Go, Tracy, Go!” She looked at all the adults, at her own parents shrieking and catching it all on video. She looked at the dog. The dog wagged its tail. She looked at her coach. She looked at home. She looked at the dog. Everything went to slow motion. She went for the dog!” The crowd went completely silent, then broke into cheers of approval, as Tracy knelt down and hugged the dog…… Please do not tell the Bishop that Fr. John said Jesus was a twelve-year-old geriatric mutt with a goofy grin, but what if we had that the same spirit about encountering Jesus today as Tracy had in encountering that silly dog? What if, in the midst of all the world’s shouting, expectations, opportunities for success, even the encouragement of well intentioned individuals… we put a stop to it all and embraced Jesus instead?

Jesus is coming, but the body is moving and Jesus is now. Seek him today, while he wills to found.

Our Collect of the Day read: Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which your Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the living and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal… but to close, I would like to change that bit, because we can cast away the darkness and put on the armor of light, not just on the last day, but today as well, for this is indeed a day that the Lord hath made…

Let us pray: Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which your Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; so that not only will we be raised with him on the last day, but so that we may be surprised by him today when we encounter him in the face of family, friends and strangers, that we may know him as we journey toward the manger, and that we will have the courage, despite the encouragement of world, to stop all our running and embrace him, even if he is standing along the third base line. This we pray in His Name. Amen.

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The podcast is available here.

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It seems that kids are getting creative when they don’t know the answer on a test. Examples:

“What did Mahatma Gandhi and Genghis Khan have in common?” — Unusual names.

“Name six animals which live specifically in the Arctic?” — Two polar bears and three… four seals.

“What is the highest frequency noise that a human can register?” — Mariah Carey

“What is a fibula?” — A little lie.

“What is a vibration?” — There are good vibrations and bad vibrations. Good vibrations were discovered in the 1960s.

Finally… “Briefly describe what hard water is.” — Ice.

All this goes to prove that the answer you are expecting may not necessarily be the one you get.

Today, we read, “Some were speaking about the temple, how it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God.” The temple. It was a magnificent structure. We know, they are still there today, that some of the stones that made up the walls and other structures, weighed up to 160,000 pounds—eighty tons! It was impressive in size and beauty. There are several descriptions of its beauty, one of which comes to us from the historian Josephus, who would have actually seen it. He writes, “The exterior of the building lacked nothing to astonish either the soul or the eyes. For being covered all over with massive plates of gold, as soon as the sun was up, it radiated to a fiery beam of light that it forced those straining to look at its emanations to turn away their eyes, as if from solar rays. To approaching strangers it appeared from a distance like a snow-clad mountain; for all that was not overlaid with gold was of the purest white.”

Yet, as those with Jesus are gazing upon this beautiful structure, “Jesus said, ‘As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.’”

And so they asked him a question, “Teacher, when will this be, and what will be the sign that this is about to take place?’” I’m guessing that the answer they received was not the one they expected: “Beware that you are not led astray… The time is near!… Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom… they will arrest you and persecute you.” And, of course, it all came to pass.

The Israelites had been in rebellion against Rome and controlled the Jerusalem for four years and in 70 a.d., the Romans had finally had enough. They laid siege to Jerusalem and on August 30, 70 a.d. broke through the walls and sacked the city. Not only did they destroy the city, but, as Jesus prophesied, set fire to the temple and destroyed it. Josephus records the events: “As the flames shot into the air the Jews sent up a cry that matched the calamity and dashed to the rescue, with no thought now of saving their lives or husbanding their strength; for that which hitherto they had guarded so devotedly was disappearing before their eyes.” (Source) The description of what occurred next is not suitable for a Sunday morning, suffice it to say, those who tried to fight the fire were put to the sword by the Romans soldiers.

The only thing that I think would really compare to this for you and I is the bombing of the World Trade Center in New York. We all stopped. We all watched. We were all horrified. And there was nothing to be done about it.

Following what we heard today in our Gospel reading, Jesus continues with his discourse on the horrors to come: “When you see Jerusalem being surrounded by armies, you will know that its desolation is near. Then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains, let those in the city get out, and let those in the country not enter the city.” There is talk of signs in the heavens and all sorts of other calamities. What makes this relevant for us today, is that not only do we understand these words of Jesus to be speaking about the destruction in 70 a.d., but we also understand him to be speaking about the end of days, when he shall come again. These events—destruction, end of days, wars, signs, persecution—these events are going to occur again, and just as the Israelites could not prevent them in their day, there is nothing we can do to prevent them from occurring in ours. People say that the world is in a terrible mess, that it can’t get much worse, and I just want to say, “Your kidding, right? Have you read about what is to come?” But here’s the thing: we can get in this mindset, many do, about looking for these signs and we can fall into a place of depression, fear, and dread. Why? This sermon is a perfect example of why. We get so focused on ‘all this’, that we miss the words spoken of our salvation. We hear of insurrections, death, earthquakes, persecutions, but in listening to these words of Jesus, did you hear of your salvation? It was right at the end: “But not a hair of your head will perish. By your endurance you will gain your souls.”

Yes. The teachings about the end are important and we should pay close attention to them. On hearing these words, as our collect for the day said, we should “hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them,” but not so that we can fall into that place of dread, but so “that we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life.” So that in the midst of the ugliness, we might endure.

Jack Canfield tells about a young high school student whose father was a horse trainer. Because the family had to follow the horse-racing season, the young boy had to change schools throughout the year. During his senior year he was asked to write a paper about what his dreams for the future were. His paper described his dream of owning a 200-acre horse ranch with stable and tracks, and a 4,000-square-foot home. He even drew a diagram of the property and the design of his house. He turned the paper in…and two days later it came back with an “F” on the front and note to see the teacher. After class, the teacher explained to the boy that his dream was “unrealistic.” The teacher said that if the boy rewrote the paper with a much more realistic dream, he would reconsider the grade. The boy went home and asked his father what to do. “It’s your decision,” said the father. Dad knew this was a very important decision. The boy kept the paper for a week and then returned it to his teacher after class. “Here” the boy said, “you can keep the ‘F’ and I’ll keep my dream.” (Source, p.25-26)

We as a Christian people can become so jaded and discouraged by the world around us. We look at the world and see all its failures and we understand what is to come, we watch others suffer and we experience our own pain and loss, we see the temple standing in all its glory and we visualize the final destruction, we see the “F” on the page and we wonder what is to be done. It is then that Our Father in Heaven tells us, “It’s your decision. I have told you that not a hair of your head will perish eternally, so you can either drown in the ugliness that is or you can hold onto the dream… the promises I have made to you.” What are those promises? Jesus said, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.” As we learned in our study of Romans: “Those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, ‘Abba, Father.’”

When the world begins to question you, “Isn’t all this a waste of time? Is there any real sense carrying on?” Give them an answer they don’t expect: “You can keep your failures and your ugliness and I’ll keep my dream. I’m holding to the promises of my God, my Abba, my Father, who is faithful and true. He is making all things new.”

Let us pray:
Father in Heaven,
ever-living source of all that is good,
keep us faithful in serving You.
Help us to drink of Christ’s Truth,
and fill our hearts with His Love
so that we may serve You in faith
and love and reach eternal life.
In the Sacrament of the Eucharist
You give us the joy of sharing Your Life.
Keep us in Your presence.
Let us never be separated from You
and help us to do Your Will.
Amen.

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The podcast is available here.

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Simon Peter said to Him, “Lord, where are You going?”

Jesus answered him, “Where I am going you cannot follow Me now, but you shall follow Me afterward.”

Peter said to Him, “Lord, why can I not follow You now? I will lay down my life for Your sake.”

Jesus answered him, “Will you lay down your life for My sake? Most assuredly, I say to you, the rooster shall not crow till you have denied Me three times.”

A few hours later…

“One of the servants of the high priest, a relative of him whose ear Peter cut off, said, ‘Did I not see you in the garden with Him?’ Peter then denied again; and immediately a rooster crowed.”

You are all familiar with that passage. The event took place on the night before Jesus was crucified. Peter’s denial.

On the night before the crucifixion, had you been in Peter’s place, what would you have done? It would be very easy for me to stand up here and say, “Peter needed to have more faith. Courage, man!” But it was Socrates who said, “Know thyself,” and I do, at least a bit. The part I know says that I would have stood beside Peter and boldly declared, “I will never deny you” and would also have ended up alongside Peter in torment over my failure.

Yet, for each of our failures, Jesus comes to us and restores us to himself just as he did Peter. From our Gospel, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” “Feed my lambs.” “Do you love me? Feed my sheep.” And again, “Do you love me? Feed my sheep.” Three times Peter denied him and three times Jesus restored him.

What I find interesting about this event is that in restoring Peter to himself, you would think that Jesus would not have asked Peter, “Do you love me?,” but would have instead said to him, “Peter, I love you.” This seems that it would have been much more soothing to Peter’s soul, but then again, Jesus had already shown Peter how much he loved him. As we pray during Morning Prayer, “Lord Jesus Christ, you stretched out your arms of love on the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within the reach of your saving embrace.”

Because of his failure, Jesus knew that Peter was doubting his love for him. So, Jesus knew that it wasn’t he who needed to convince Peter of his love by saying, “I love you. I love you. I love you.” Jesus had said that as loudly and clearly as he possibly could from the hard wood of the Cross. What Peter needed was to convince Peter – himself – that he loved Jesus. Only then could Peter go out and do as Jesus had commanded him to do and feed his sheep.

The great Anglican priest and one of the co-founders of the Church Missionary Society, Charles Simeon (d. 1836), who we celebrate today wrote, “We shall do well ever to remember, that Christianity is not a mere speculative theory that is to inform the mind; but a great practical lesson, to renew the heart, and to bring us back to the state from whence we are fallen.”

Many times, like Peter, we will stumble and fall and deny Christ by our words and actions. It is through God’s grace and love that our hearts are renewed and we are restored to that state from where we have fallen. Through the Cross, Jesus has proven his love to us, and the greatest barrier to receiving that grace is not God or the world – it’s us. Through the Cross Jesus has said, “I love you.” He then asks each of us, as he did Peter, “Do you love me?”

The podcast is available here.

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A young lady was soaking up the sun’s rays on a Florida beach when a little boy in his swimming trunks, carrying a towel, came up to her and asked her, “Do you believe in God?” She was surprised by the question but she replied, “Why, yes, I do.” Then he asked her: “Do you go to church every Sunday?” Again, her answer was “Yes!”

He then asked: “Do you read your Bible and pray everyday?” Again she said, “Yes!” By now her curiosity was very much aroused. The little lad sighed with relief and said, “Will you hold my quarter while I go in swimming?”

Apparently finding a person honest enough to hold your quarter is a difficult task.

According to a Gallup poll, a number of factors go into how we will perceive a person’s level of honesty, one of which is their profession. Who do we judge as the most honest profession? Nurses. The least honest? Well that one’s not hard—members of congress. Heck, even telemarketers did better than them. Surprisingly (or maybe not so much), clergy came in eighth place, just below funeral directors. (Source) All this talk on honesty to say: this morning, let’s be honest.

As we were saying/singing the Psalm, did you actually pay attention to the words? Listen to this bit again… it begins:

“Hear my plea of innocence, O Lord;
give heed to my cry…”

And then a verse on:

“Weigh my heart, summon me by night,
melt me down; you will find no impurity in me.
I give no offense with my mouth as others do;
I have heeded the words of your lips.
My footsteps hold fast to the ways of your law;
in your paths my feet shall not stumble.”

Honestly… I know that I was lying when I said those words. Honestly, there are more than a few impurities in me, I do offend with my mouth, I don’t always heed the words of the Lord, and honestly, my footsteps take me down some less than holy paths. Yet, when we die, according to what Jesus said to the Sadducees who were quibbling with him this morning, when we die we “are like angels and are children of God, being children of the resurrection.” Honestly, how that occurs is a miracle in itself, but I still have to wonder how it happens. In the end, it is a great mystery, but given the nature of God—God is Love—we may have a clue.

Franz Kafka, author of the novella that many have struggled through, The Metamorphosis, died at the age of forty-one from tuberculosis. A story about him began to circulate following his death that is reported to have taken place in the last year of his life.

It tells of Kafka walking through a park when he encounters a young girl who is distressed and crying, she has lost her doll. Kafka agrees to help her look and when they are unable to find it, volunteers to come back the following day and help her look some more. That evening, Kafka went home and wrote a letter. A letter from the doll to the little girl. In it, the doll says to the girl, “Please do not mourn me, I have gone on a trip to see the world. I will write you of my adventures.” Over the course of the next several weeks, Kafka delivers numerous letters to the little girl from her doll, all telling about her adventures. At their last meeting, Kafka presents the girl with a new doll. It looks nothing like her original, but she accepts it with gratitude.

Years later, the girl, now a woman, discovers a letter that she did not know existed, tucked away in the sleeve of the dolls dress. In the closing paragraph of that letter, the doll stated, “My travels have changed me. Everything that you love, you will eventually lose, but in the end, love will return in a different form.”

My impurities, my offensive mouth, my wandering footsteps—my travels… in me, these are the things that I love, but as I continue to travel, not alone, but with He who created me, I begin to… not necessarily lose, but set aside those things that I love, because a true Love has entered in. My travels with Jesus begin to change me. Not to the point that I can in good conscience declare the Psalm, fully vindicated, but I have begun. It is as St. Paul teaches us, “The Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.” (2 Corinthians 3:17-18) We “are being transformed into his image.” Not there yet, but getting there, so that on the last day, the day of the resurrection of the dead, we will truly be transformed into the children of God. You see, we are all Kafka’s doll, traveling this earth, being changed by Love. Changed by the One who is Love. Therefore, we may not be able to fully declare the words of the Psalmist, but we can declare with Job what we read:

“I know that my Redeemer lives,
and that at the last he will stand upon the earth;
and after my skin has been thus destroyed,
then in my flesh I shall see God,
whom I shall see on my side,
and my eyes shall behold, and not another.”

Now, don’t tune me out here, because you’re going to think that I’m changing the subject on you, but I’m not: this sermon that I’m preaching to you, this is the big pledge sermon. The sermon where I ask you to financially support the church. You should receive your pledge card on Monday. When we think of the pledge drive, we most often think of paying bills and salaries. But I have to be honest with you, paying bills doesn’t do much for me. Does not motivate me. I even occasionally forget to do it, just ask my landlord. And if I were to ask you to give so that we could pay the bills… well, I wouldn’t expect you to be excited or motivated about it either. But the thing is, I’m not asking you to pledge simply so that we can pay bills. I’m asking you to pledge, because as I said a minute ago, we are all Kafka’s doll—not just those of us in this sanctuary, but all, everyone created in God’s image is Kafka’s doll, and we, through the work and ministry of this church, have the capacity to show the world true Love—not just so they can experience the outward expression of love through our works, but more importantly so that they can encounter Love in the person of Jesus Christ.

When I’m honest with myself, I know who I was and and I know who I am today after traveling with Jesus for awhile. I think if you are honest with yourself, you also know the same difference. Not yet perfected, but drawing ever closer with each step. I firmly believe that your pledge does the same for others. As one Kafka doll to another, who has been transformed by Love, I ask that you will prayerfully and faithfully participate in this journey with your pledge to St. Matthew’s.

Let us pray:
O my Divine Saviour,
Transform me into Yourself.
May my hands be the hands of Jesus.
Grant that every faculty of my body
May serve only to glorify You.
Above all,
Transform my soul and all its powers
So that my memory, will, and affection
May be the memory, will, and affections
Of Jesus.
I pray for You
To destroy in me
All that is not of You.
Grant that I may live,
But in You, by You and for You,
So that I may truly say,
With St. Paul,
“I live – now not I –
but Christ lives in me”.
Amen.