Sermon: Good Friday

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And God held in his hand a small globe.
Look, he said.
The son looked.
Far off, as through water, he saw a scorched land of fierce color.
The light burned there, crusted buildings cast their shadows
a bright serpent, a river uncoiled itself, radiant with slime.
On a bare hill a bare tree saddened the sky.
Many people held out their thin arms to it,
as though waiting for a vanished April to return to its crossed boughs.
The son watched them.
Let me go there, he said.

That is the poem “The Coming” by R.S. Thomas. It speaks of Jesus’ willingness to come to this world in order to save the people of God and it expresses a love that goes beyond our ability to comprehend. It also sets the stage of where we are today.

I can give you the details of the crucifixion, the process of nailing Jesus to the cross and all that. The blood. The agony. The cruelty of the crowd that gathered to watch. But today, instead of looking, I want you to listen to the sounds surrounding that event.

There would be the voices of all those gathered: the guards, people moving around, some weeping, the groans of those crucified alongside Jesus. But the only sound I want you to hear is the heavy labored breathing of Jesus as he hangs upon his cross. And then he speaks one last time, “It is finished.” Then there is a great silence.

Although it is painful, we must remember that it was the sins of the world, including ours, that put Jesus on the cross. We are as responsible as the ones who hammered the nails.

So, I want you to imagine when Jesus breathes his last and that great silence falls, you suddenly hear a voice. Even though there are many gathered around you, you know that voice is speaking to you and it is the voice of God the Father.

In that moment and in that silence, knowing that you are responsible for the death of Jesus, what would you imagine the voice of God saying to you?

I think that it would be easy to hear anger in that voice: “Look what you have done!” “What have you got to say for yourself?” “I’m so disappointed in you.”

I believe there would be such sadness. The horrible screams of a parent who has lost a child: “My son. My son.”

Finally, I can imagine words of rejection, “Get out of my sight!” “You make me sick!” “I never want to see you again.”

I can imagine these responses, because they are very human responses. They are the words that come from our mouths in times of great anger and sadness, but the voice of God that speaks in the silence of your heart after the death of his one and only son never even thinks, much less says, anything of this nature.

Instead, God the Father would speak words of comfort: “Everything is going to be OK now.” “This had to happen just as I planned.” “Don’t be afraid.” “Remember what my son said, ‘In three days this temple will be raised.’”

There would also be words of love and acceptance: “This act of obedience by my son has bridged the gap between you and I.” “My love for you extends beyond eternity.” “We will be together forever. I will be your God and you will be my child.”

Scripture records no such words from God at that moment when the silence fell, but no words needed to be spoken. The cross and the lifeless body of Jesus declared it all. “For God so loved the world….”

In just a few minutes, as we approach the veneration of the cross, allow yourself to hear the voice of God speaking to you. Understand that the cross is not brought before you as a means of beating you into submission or of making you feel guilty. It is brought in, venerated, and adored because it is God’s way of speaking and showing his love for you. It is the means by which true joy came into the world, for as the closing words of the anthem will declare, “We venerate your Cross, O Lord: and praise and glorify your holy Resurrection: for by virtue of the Cross joy has come to the whole world.”

Sermon: Community Good Friday Service

Crucifixion_019A popular monk in the Middle Ages, revered by all the townspeople, was known for his godliness and his love. One morning He said, This evening at vespers I’m going to preach on the love of God. The townspeople were excited. As the sun began to set, the people gathered at the great cathedral. They came to hear the monk preach the love of God. The last rays of sunlight glistened through the stained glass windows. Darkness began to creep into every corner. Total darkness engulfed the cathedral and the people were still waiting for the monk. Then they saw candlelight, a tiny little light came from the side room. It was the monk–He walked over to the great crucifix. The old monk held the candle and put it to the forehead where the artist had painted in red the symbol of the blood. The monk didn’t say a word and the people waited. Then he brought the candle down to the torn hands that symbolized love. He still didn’t say a word. They waited. The candle moved to the soiled feet. Finally, he brought the candle to Christ’s side. The artist had captured torn flesh of the Savior’s side. There wasn’t a sound, except for soft crying. The old monk then said, “This is my sermon on the love of God. In His head, in His hands, in His feet and in His side. For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son that who so ever believeth in Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.” He concluded by saying, “This is my sermon on the love of God.”

The Gospels are much easier to read when we hear about the events surrounding Jesus’ birth with the manger and angels or with the feeding of the five thousand or the healing of the sick. These events bring us joy and give us a sense of awe. However, when the message turns from a cute little baby to the brutality of the Cross, we tend to want to turn away. But like those folks who watched as the monk illumined each of the wounds, we too are witnesses to these same wounds of Christ.

As we contemplate these events, we are often so overwhelmed that we fail to understand what is taking place, but the wise old monk helps us to see more clearly.

We hear that the side of Jesus was pierced and in our minds we see death. We hear that the curtains of the Temple were torn in two and we witness the anger of God and the destruction of His holy place. However, by being consumed with the horror of these images we miss the greater point, for both of these events point to God’s great love for his people.

In the shedding of his blood Jesus declares, “I love you enough to die for you.” In the curtains of the temple being torn, God the Father declares, “I will no longer limit access to my love, but will instead pour it out on all flesh, so that you may be a part of me and I might be a part of you.”

These mighty events show us how far God – the Creator of the Heavens and Earth – will go in order to love us. Therefore, if this is how far God is prepared to go to love us, what must we do in return? There must be something. Some type of payback.

Maybe we should make sacrifices? Isaiah 1:11 – “What to me is the multitude of your sacrifices?,” says the Lord; “I have had enough of burnt offerings of rams and the fat of fed beasts; I do not delight in the blood of bulls, or of lambs, or of goats.”

Maybe, then, we should keep the law? Romans 3:20 – “For ‘no human being will be justified in his sight’ by deeds prescribed by the law, for through the law comes the knowledge of sin.”

So what must we do? Pray more? Give more? Try harder?

In No Man is an Island, Thomas Merton wrote, “The wise man has struggled to find You in his wisdom, and he has failed. The just man has striven to grasp You in his own justice, and he has gone astray.

But the sinner, suddenly struck by the lightning of mercy that ought to have been justice, falls down in adoration of Your holiness: for he had seen what kings desired to see and never saw, what prophets foretold and never gazed upon, what the men of ancient times grew weary of expecting when they died. He has seen that Your love is so infinitely good that it cannot be the object of a human bargain.”

So again, what must you do in order to receive God’s love? The love he poured out on all flesh? The answer: accept it. That’s it. All you have to do is accept it. If you refuse, this is all in vain. Accept the love of God. It is what makes this Friday good.

Sermon: Wednesday in Holy Week

darknessA riddle for you. See if you know the answer:
“It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,
Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt,
It lies behind stars and under hills,
And empty holes it fills,
It comes first and follows after,
Ends life, kills laughter.”

Bilbo Baggins, in The Hobbit, knew the answer: Dark.

Bad things can happen in the dark. You can stump your toe on the coffee table, step on the dog, and even be attacked by the monster under the bed. So we naturally reach for anything to dispel the darkness. If not the flip of a switch, then there are candles, flashlights, or the glow of a cellphone.

Yet, even though we do not like the darkness in the physical world, there are times that we prefer it in the spiritual. There are times when we try to hide in the recesses of our souls and minds, believing that we are safe from any observation.

In his Gospel, John uses the analogy of a physical darkness to point to this far worse spiritual darkness. Writing in chapter three, John says, “And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed.”

It is this darkness, both physical and spiritual, that we see in our Gospel reading today. Judas received the piece of bread from Jesus and it is then that Satan enters him. Following this, John wrote, “after receiving the piece of bread, [Judas] immediately went out.” It seems to simply be indicating the time of day, but John adds, “And it was night.”

Judas, following the path of his own choosing, turned from God and entered the night, the darkness of his own soul. He believed that God was unaware, yet Jesus’ statement to him demonstrates that nothing was hidden, “Do quickly what you are going to do.”

We can deceive ourselves in a similar manner. We can wander off into the dark recesses of our souls, thinking that our deeds and thoughts are hidden from the eyes of God, yet, as the Psalmist says:

If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light around me become night,”
even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is as bright as the day,
for darkness is as light to you.

God has separated the darkness from the light. The darkness is no place for the children of God. We must allow the full light of Christ to shine on all our thoughts and works, revealing those hidden things that cause us to stumble.

St. Paul writes to the Ephesians, “For once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. Live as children of light— for the fruit of the light is found in all that is good and right and true.”

You are children of light. Allow that light to shine on all your thoughts and deeds.

Sermon: Sunday of the Passion / Palm Sunday RCL B

hand-reaching-outCharlie Brown is sitting under a tree talking to Peppermint Patty, who asks him, “What do you think security is, Chuck?” His answer: “Security is sleeping on the back seat of the car when you’re a little kid, and you’ve been somewhere with your mom and dad, and it’s night, and you’re riding home in the car, asleep. You don’t have to worry about anything—your mom and dad are in the front seat and they do all the worrying. They take care of everything.” To which Peppermint Patty responds, “That’s real neat!” Charlie Brown comments, “But it doesn’t last! Suddenly, you’re grown up, and it can never be that way again! Suddenly, it’s over, and you’ll never get to sleep in the back seat again! Never!” Peppermint Patty asks: “Never?” “Absolutely never,” Charlie Brown says. Peppermint Patty pauses for a moment, then says, “Hold my hand, Chuck!”

Robert Fulghum, the author of All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten said, “When you go out into the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands, and stick together.”

I invite you to join in as we walk through this Holy Week. The week that changed the world. There are times during this week when it will be joyful, and even though we know how the story ends, there are also times that can be scary and still others times that will break our hearts. Therefore, Peppermint Patty’s request and Fulghum’s advice – holding hands and sticking together – seems appropriate.

Together, with our Lord, we enter Jerusalem, go to the upper room, and then to the garden where he will be arrested. We will watch as he is put on trial, mocked, beaten, and hung on a cross. We will hear his final words and then for three days we will wait.

The words and liturgy we share are not a history lesson, but are instead a “making present” of those mighty acts, meaning that not only do we hear and see what took place, but that we also participate in them.

Today it begins. Together, let us enter into the events of our salvation.

Sermon: Lent 5 RCL B – “We Would See Jesus”

lookingA police officer pulled a driver aside and asked for his license and registration. “What’s wrong, officer,” the driver asked. “I didn’t go through any red lights, and I certainly wasn’t speeding.”

“No, you weren’t,” said the officer, “but I saw you waving your fist as you swerved around the lady driving in the left lane, and I further observed your flushed and angry face as you shouted at the driver of the Hummer who cut you off, and how you pounded your steering wheel when the traffic came to a stop near the bridge.”

“Is that a crime, officer?”

“No, but when I saw the ‘Jesus loves you and so do I’ bumper sticker, the I “Heart” Jesus window decal, not to mention the “Clergy” license plate bracket on the car, I figured this car had to be stolen.”

The gift of sight is truly something most of us probably take for granted. A visit with someone who is losing or lost their sight or perhaps has never been able to see is a true reminder of what a blessing vision is. However, vision is not just about functioning eyes. An ophthalmologist from New York reports, “The eye doesn’t see. The brain sees. The eye just transmits. So what we see isn’t only determined by what comes through the eye. What we see is affected by our memories, our feelings, and by what we’ve seen before.” (http://www.humansofnewyork.com/post/88035814941/were-eye-doctors-whats-something-about-the)

From our Gospel reading today: “Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, ‘Sir, we wish to see Jesus.’”

The life, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus occurred about 2,000 years ago, yet today, people are still making that same request. “We wish to see Jesus,” but when they ask, they aren’t asking Philip and Andrew to show them Jesus, instead they are asking you. “___, we wish to see Jesus.” “___, we wish to see Jesus.” We are each identified as followers of Christ, disciples of Jesus, therefore when the world wishes to see Him, they look to us. So, who do they see? What do they learn of Jesus by looking at us? Remember the words of the ophthalmologist said, “What we see is affected by our memories, our feelings, and by what we’ve seen before.” What do they see of Jesus when they think of us or what kind of response do they have when they recall an encounter with us?

Brennan Manning states, “The greatest single cause of atheism in the world today is Christians, who acknowledge Jesus with their lips and walk out the door, and deny Him by their lifestyle. That is what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable.” And it was D. L. Moody who wrote, “Of one hundred men, one will read the Bible; the ninety-nine will read the Christian.”

Here’s a test: If you were put on trial for being a Christian and you couldn’t say a word, would there be enough evidence to convict you, or would we all end up like the fella who got pulled over by the policeman who thought the car was stolen?

In Matthew’s Gospel Jesus says, “You are the light of the world… let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.”

St. Peter draws on this same thought in his first epistle, “You are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.… Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us.”

You are “the light of the world,” “a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession,” which means that your life is a testimony on the nature and goodness of God.

When the world comes to us and says, “We would see Jesus,” we are to show them God. And they’re not looking for lip service and a pat on the head. They’re looking for a God that parts the sea, feeds the 5,000, gives sight to the blind, and heals the sick. And if that weren’t enough, they are looking for the God that raises the dead. The really scary part is that when the world goes looking for that God, they’re going to look to you to show Him to them. So, what are you going to do about it?

Bill has wild hair, wears a T-shirt with holes in it, jeans and no shoes. This was literally his wardrobe for his entire four years of college. He is brilliant. Kinda esoteric and very, very bright. He became a Christian while attending college.

Across the street from the campus is a well-dressed, very conservative church. They want to develop a ministry to the students, but are not sure how to go about it. One day Bill decides to go there. He walks in with no shoes, jeans, his T-shirt, and wild hair. The service has already started and so Bill starts down the aisle looking for a seat.

The church is completely packed and he can’t find anywhere to sit. By now people are looking a bit uncomfortable, but no one says anything. Bill gets closer and closer and closer to the pulpit and when he realizes there are no seats, he just squats down right on the carpet. (Although perfectly acceptable behavior at a college fellowship, trust me, this had never happened in this church before!) By now the people are really uptight, and the tension in the air is thick.

About this time, the minister realizes that from way at the back of the church, a deacon is slowly making his way toward Bill. Now the deacon is in his eighties, has silver-gray hair, a three-piece suit, and a pocket watch. A godly man, very elegant, very dignified, very courtly.

He walks with a cane and as he starts walking toward this boy, everyone is saying to themselves, You can’t blame him for what he’s going to do. How can you expect a man of his age and of his background to understand some college kid that looks like a rag-a-muffin sitting on the floor in the middle of the aisle?

It takes a long time for the deacon to reach the boy. The church is utterly silent except for the clicking of the cane. All eyes are focused on the deacon. You can’t even hear anyone breathing. The people are thinking, The minister can’t even preach the sermon until the deacon does what he has to do. And now they see this elderly man drop his cane on the floor.

With great difficulty he lowers himself and sits down next to Bill and worships alongside him so he won’t be alone.

Fr. John, that’s a nice story, but you just told us that when folks come to us asking to see Jesus, they are going to want to see someone walking on the water. It’s true. They are. But when they come – and they will – you are going to show them something far greater than anything they could have ever imagined to ask for. You are going to show them the love of God. If God the Father needs you to walk on water, then you’re going to walk on the water, but what He needs from you more than anything else is for you to stretch out your hands in love to the world, just as he stretched out his hands in love on the hard wood of the Cross.

The miracle is not the water turning to wine. The miracle is the heart that turns to God and is transformed into His image.

Last week we concluded with these statements: First, Jesus declares, “Your sins are forgiven.” Second, when asked what those sins were, Jesus replies, “I don’t remember.” Finally, Jesus says, “I dare you to trust that I love you.”

To be the Light of the World is to show the world the love of God when they come to you and say, “We would see Jesus.” To be the Royal Priesthood is to say to them, “Your sins are forgiven. They are remembered no more. I dare you to trust that you are loved by God.”

Sermon: Lent 4 RCL B – “I Dare You”

i+dare+youThere is the story of a young peasant woman living back in the middle-ages who began to have visions.  The report of her visions spread far and wide, eventually reaching the ears of the Archbishop.  Not believing that a young peasant woman could possibly be having visions, he went to see her and asked her what she saw and she told him.  Still in disbelief he told her, “The next time you have visions of Jesus you ask him what I confessed at my last confession.  If you can answer that, then I will believe.”  Some months later the report reached the archbishop that the woman was again having visions, so he went to her again and asked if she had spoken to Jesus and asked the Lord about the archbishop’s last confession.  Her response, “yes.”  “Well then,” said the Archbishop, “What did he say?” Her response, “Jesus said, ‘I don’t remember.’”

I know that sometimes when we come together and pray the prayers we are fully present. We engage with the liturgy and the words we pray, but I also believe that there are times when we go through the motions, not fully participating in worship. Does that make us bad people? No. It just makes us human.

I also know that there are other times when we hear the words and truly engage with them, but simply don’t believe them. I have had more than one person come up to me and tell that they don’t believe everything that is said in the Creeds. They can’t quite get past the virgin birth or the idea of One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church or something else. However, the number one item folks have a hard time believing is this: “The Almighty and merciful Lord grant you absolution and remission of all your sins…” Or more simply put, they can’t believe it when Jesus says, “Your sins are forgiven.”

We get it in our heads that we are not worthy. We are not good enough. We’ve fallen so far short of God’s call on our lives we can no longer believe that he loves us or desires to have anything to do with us.

A line from the movie Usual Suspects, “The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.” I think that is probably true. I think Devil’s second greatest trick is convincing us that God can’t love us.

How many times have you heard the verse we read today?: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” We’ve heard it hundreds of times, yet so often we can hear those words and believe them to be true for everyone… but ourselves. Why is that?

Brennan Manning, wonderful teacher, was onto something when he quoted the French philosopher Blaise Pascal, “God made man in his own image, and man returned the compliment.” Manning therefore concludes, “We often make God in our own image, and He winds up to be as fussy, rude, narrow minded, legalistic, judgmental, unforgiving, unloving as we are.” Know what? That is also a lie.

Manning goes on to say that Jesus comes and sits right next to us and says, “I have a word for you. I know your whole life story. I know every skeleton in your closet. I know every moment of sin, shame, dishonesty and degraded love that has darkened your past. Right now I know your shallow faith, your feeble prayer life, your inconsistent discipleship. And my word is this: I dare you to trust that I love you just as you are, and not as you should be. Because you’re never going to be as you should be.”

The Devil whispers in our ears that we are unworthy of the love of the One True God and we believe it. Yet Jesus declares from the Cross, “It is finished!” In those words He declares, “There is nothing in Heaven or on Earth that separates you from the love of your God.” You were not worthy, but through the Blood of Christ – “the Blood of the New Testament which is shed for you, and for many, for the remission of sins” – you are made worthy. The only thing preventing you from experiencing that love is you, by refusing to accept it. Jesus’ word to you, “I dare you to trust that I love you.”

Karl Barth, big brain theologian, appeared on the cover of Time magazine back in 1962, wrote over 10,000 pages on various aspects of theology – get the picture – was once asked by a student, following a lecture, could he sum up his theology in one sentence. Barth replied, “Yes, I can. In the words of a song I learned at my mother’s knee: ‘Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.’”

And Jesus says, “I dare you to trust that I love you.”

Listen again to the words that the Apostle Paul spoke to us this morning in his epistle to the Ephesians, “God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ– by grace you have been saved– and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the ages to come he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.” That passage speaks of you! You are the one made alive. Raised up. Seated in the heavenly places. Shown the immeasurable riches of his grace. That’s you. Does that sound like one who is not loved? Rubbish. Pure nonsense.

Jesus declares, “Your sins are forgiven.”

When asked about those sins, Jesus replies, “I don’t remember.”

Jesus says, “I dare you to trust that I love you.”

Sermon: Lent 3 RCL B – “Minimum Requirement”

25f8174f79bfb813742a07528cf598d7Boudreaux and his brother Pierre were not the most religious folks in town, in fact they really only went to church twice a year so that they could be considered “members in good standing.” As they were leaving the Church, the priest said, “Boudreaux, it sure would be nice to see you and Pierre here more than once a year!” “I know,” replied Boudreaux, “but at least we keep the Ten Commandments.” “Well I suppose that’s a start,” the priest said. “I’m glad to hear that you keep the Commandments.” “Yep,” Boudreaux said proudly, “Pierre keeps six of them and I keep the other four.”

The Ten Commandments are the beginning of the Law handed down to Moses. From there it grows to a total of 613 laws outlined in the Old Testament. Everything from the first of the Ten, “you shall have no other gods,” to laws like Leviticus 11:12, “Anything living in the water that does not have fins and scales is to be regarded as unclean by you,” which means no more lobster, shrimp, crawdads, or Unagi (a tasty little morsel you can find at a sushi bar.) Breaking any of these laws comes with repercussions ranging from death by stoning to having to make a sacrifice.

By the time of Jesus the religious leaders were experts at interpreting the Law and enforcing it on the people to such an extent that it became a form of enslavement. Perhaps this was not their intent, but through their zeal for adherence to the Law, they missed the point and sent the wrong message to the people.

A story tells of a frail old man who went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year-old grandson. The old man’s hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered. The family ate together at the table, but the elderly grandfather’s shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth. The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess. “We must do something about Grandfather,” said the son. “I’ve had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor. So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner.

Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl. When the family glanced in Grandfather’s direction, sometimes he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food. The four-year-old grandson watched all this in silence.

One evening before supper, the father noticed his four-year-old son playing with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the child sweetly, “What are you making?” Just as sweetly, the boy responded, “Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your food out of when I grow up.” The four-year-old smiled and went back to work.

Mom and Dad taught Jr. all about how to keep the china intact, the tablecloth clean, and how to maintain proper decorum at the supper table, but in the process they taught him nothing of grace, mercy, compassion, or love.

In Matthew’s Gospel Jesus says, “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices—mint, dill and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy and faithfulness. You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former.  You blind guides! You strain out a gnat but swallow a camel.” The religious leaders missed the point of the Law and enslaved the people, which brings us to one of the many lessons that can be gleaned from our Gospel lesson.

There was one of those funny cartoons that made the internet rounds a short while back. You’ve heard the question: What would Jesus do? WWJD? The cartoon stated, “The next time someone asks you, ‘What would Jesus do?,’ remind them that freaking out and flipping over tables is a viable option.”

The Temple was the place of sacrifice. For this there were very specific rules on how this was to take place. Only certain money could be tendered and only animals that were considered perfect could be used. Therefore, the religious leaders allowed a marketplace to be established to accommodate all the commerce. Yet they allowed this marketplace to be setup within the Court of the Gentiles – a section within the Temple complex – which was meant to be set aside as a place of prayer for non-Jews.

The religious leaders were following the letter of the Law, not violating a single statute. Proper money was used. Proper animals were used. The sacrifices were made exactly to the specifications of the Law. Yet in their zeal to fulfill the Law, they missed the point. It’s not about the blood of animals. It’s about prayer and a relationship with the One True God.

Long before Jesus, King David understood this. In the 40th Psalm, he wrote:

Sacrifice and offering you do not desire,
but you have given me an open ear.
Burnt offering and sin offering
you have not required.
Then I said, “Here I am;
in the scroll of the book it is written of me.
I delight to do your will, O my God;
your law is within my heart.”

Jesus, through his words and actions demonstrates that it is not through the fulfilling of the Law that we are made righteous. Instead it comes in allowing the Word of God to transform our hearts. What did we say after we read each of the Commandments in the Decalogue? “Lord, have mercy upon us, and incline our hearts to keep this law.” Incline our hearts to keep this law. What does that look like?

The Law says, “You shall not murder.” Yes, it means don’t kill, but written upon our hearts it also means that we should not destroy another person though lies and gossip. It means we shouldn’t neglect those in need, allowing them to suffer. It means we aren’t to tear one another down, but as Paul teaches we are to “encourage one another and build each other up.”

The Law says, “You shall not commit adultery.” In our hearts it means that we are not to see the other person as an object or a means, but to recognize every human being as a child of God, worthy of His love and ours. It means that we love a person, not for what they can do for us, but for who they are in Christ Jesus.

The Law says, “You shall not covet” and in our hearts we need to recognize that there is a point when enough is enough. Written on our hearts that law declares we do not need every new toy advertised on the TV. It asks you to “Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these.”

Do you see how that works? With Jesus, the Law is the minimum requirement. A starting place, but as the great Anglican poet George Herbert states, “he shoots higher that threatens the moon, than he that aims at a tree.”

What Jesus expects and teaches takes the Law to an entirely different level. Jesus says, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. … For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

When considering the Law or even just the Ten Commandments, don’t say to yourself, “Well, I didn’t kill anybody today, so I must still be right with God.” We must remember that fulfilling the Law as Jesus calls us to is much more difficult than simply not eating shrimp. It involves a transforming of our hearts and a renewing of our minds. Ask the Holy Spirit to be your teacher so that you can more fully understand God’s law as it is written upon your heart.

Sermon: Perpetua and Her Companions

taking-a-stand_t_nv-687x515On the coast of the Mediterranean in northern Africa, a young woman and her companions were put to death because of their faith in Jesus Christ. Their murderers were barbaric and their deaths are too brutal to describe. Sound familiar? Sound like something you may have read in the papers or seen on the news? Unfortunately, the answer is “yes,” but these murders that I’m referring to took place 1,700 years ago. It is the martyrdom of Perpetua and her companions.

At the time, Emperor Septimius Severus ruled and he decreed that all living in the empire should make sacrifices to the divinity of the emperor. This was not something that a Christian could do without denying their faith and Perpetua and her companions were among them.

Following their arrest Perpetua had a dream where she realized that she was not battling the evils of this world, but was instead battling the devil. She wrote, “And I awoke, understanding that I should fight, not with beasts, but with the Devil.”

He father came and pleaded with her to renounce the faith. Her response to him and others was quite simple, but carried the wait of her convictions, “I am a Christian.” I am a Christian. Soon afterward she was thrown in the pit with the wild beasts. She cried out to her companions, “Stand fast in the faith and love one another. And do not let what we suffer be a stumbling block to you.”

I made the mistake of watching one of the videos showing the atrocities that are taking place in the same part of the world where Perpetua and her companions were put to death. It has haunted me ever since. I can assure you I won’t be making that mistake again. However, I wondered ever since then, as I’m sure many others have, how would I respond? Could I have stood alongside Perpetua – or those today – or would I have fallen?

What Jesus said has proven to be true time and time again: “They will hand you over to be tortured and will put you to death, and you will be hated by all nations because of my name. Then many will fall away, and they will betray one another and hate one another.”

Then many will fall away… Could we stand or would we fall?

The answer is, “Yes,” we can stand firm; however, we must be prepared, and the day of preparation is not then, but now. The Apostle Paul wrote in his letter to the Ephesians, “Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power.  Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.  For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.  Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.”

Hear that last part again, “…put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground…”

My favorite 14th century monk and one you will hear me speak of quite often, Thomas à Kempis, said, “The present is very precious; these are the days of salvation; now is the acceptable time.”

Could you stand with Perpetua and her companions? Yes you can, but to face that day of trial – that day of evil – you must prepare today. We may never have to face something so horrible, but by being prepared in Christ Jesus, we will have no fear. We will stand with Perpetua and say, “I am a Christian.”

Sermon: Lent 2 RCL B – “Discover”

BB6259-001Athanasius, newly consecrated bishop of Alexandria, was determined to visit all the churches in his see, to make certain the orthodox faith was being proclaimed. On his journey he learned of three, old monks who lived alone on an island. Like the devoted bishop he was, Athanasius set sail to the island to shepherd, even if briefly, this small flock. He was greeted with great warmth and reverence by the monks. “Tell me,” Athanasius said to them after awhile, “how it is that you pray.” “Father, we are not learned men,” the monks replied. “We simply lift our hands to God and say, ‘We are three and you are three: Have mercy upon us.’”

“Ah, dear Fathers, this will never do,” said Athanasius. “I must teach you to pray as the church prays.” And for the next several days – the monks were slow learners – the new bishop taught the old monks the Lord’s Prayer. Satisfied at last that the monks knew how to pray properly, Athanasius set sail for Alexandria. That very night aboard his ship he noticed a glow in the distance, a glow getting brighter and rapidly approaching the ship. He looked and saw the three old monks running toward him on the water. When they reached the ship they simply stood on the water as on dry ground with holy light encompassing them. “Father Athanasius,” they said, “forgive our slowness, but we have forgotten again the words of the prayer you taught us. Please pray with us again.” “No, my fathers,” Athanasius said. “It is you who must pray for me.”

Being right all the time and always knowing what is best for others is quite the burden, but it is a burden that I bear with great humility.

I suppose there are times when we all know what is best for others and we don’t mind telling them. In some cases we may be right, but I suspect that much of the time we fall far short of the mark in the “advice” department.

Athanasius believed that because these three monks did not know the Lord’s Prayer, they couldn’t possibly be praying correctly; therefore, in his great wisdom and innocence proceeded to teach them how to pray “properly” – “Our Father, who art in Heaven…” As it turns out the three monks were ignorant of the Lord’s Prayer, but they were in no way ignorant of the Lord, so much so that they radiated the glory of God, while walking on the water.

So often, what we want others to do is more directly related to what we want, instead of being what they need.

Take Jesus’ temptations in the wilderness. At the third temptation we read, “Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. ‘All this I will give you,’ he said, ‘if you will bow down and worship me.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Away from me, Satan! For it is written: “Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.”’”

That’s a fairly easy one given the two main characters, Jesus and the Devil. The Devil wants Jesus to renounce God’s will and follow his. He wanted Jesus to do what he – the Devil – wanted him to do and not what God had called him to.

A similar situation occurred in our Gospel reading today. Jesus was teaching his disciples about what was to come: the rejection, the suffering, and his eventual death. Peter refused to believe what he was hearing. It tore through him. “This will not be,” and he rebukes Jesus. And Jesus turns and rebukes him, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” Once again, the Devil wants Jesus to renounce the Father’s will and follow his, and once again Jesus rebukes him.

There is a right and a wrong, good and evil. Believe it or not, we know the difference. After Adam and Eve had eaten of the fruit the Lord said, “The man has now become like one of us, knowing good and evil.” And as Paul teaches in his Letter to the Hebrews, we can train ourselves “to distinguish good from evil.” However, even though we know and can distinguish good from evil, we are not always certain because of sin. Because of our own sin, there will always be this gray area, so when it comes to instructing others and even discerning for ourselves, we must remember that there are two sides that stand in complete contrast of one another. There is what the world wants and what God wants. Darkness and Light. Yet, in the middle – where we reside – there is often confusion. The etymology of the word confusion is to pour-together..

Most folks know that if you pour yellow and blue together you get green, but the confusion that comes from pouring good and evil together is not so simple and that is what the Devil is very good at. Blatant evil – darkness – is easy to spot, but this gray area, this confusion can be quite murky. Harry Truman said it best, “If you can’t convince them, confuse them.” The Devil is a master of this. So how are we to respond? How will we be able to separate the good from evil, the darkness from light, the way of God and the way of the Devil? It is never simple but there is a wonderful story in First Kings about the Prophet Elijah that will assist us in beginning to clear the murkiness.

Elijah is being pursued by those who will not tolerate his words. They seek to kill him, so he flees to the mountains. While there the Lord comes and speaks to him and asked, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” Elijah pours out all his problems. In his voice you can hear the confusion, the anxiety, the lack of peace in his soul. So the Lord tells him, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by.”

“Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.”

Then the Lord asked him the exact same question He had asked him before, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” Surprisingly, Elijah answers him with the exact same word, but this time you can hear the calmness in his voice and the lack of anxiety. You can hear the peace as he speaks with our God. Elijah could not understand the words of God while in the whirlwind or the earthquake or the fire. He couldn’t understand the voice of the Lord while in the confusion. It was only in the peace of that “gentle whisper” that he heard God, and it was then that God spoke very specific instructions to Elijah on how to proceed.

How will we be able to separate the good from evil, the darkness from light, to be able to come out of the confusion of those gray areas? Ultimately, how will we know the direction that will lead us to God?

This is what the Lord says, from Jeremiah 6, “Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.”

How will we know? The answer lies in the peace. In the gentle whisper, the still small voice.

You may think, “We have a priest now. Like Athanasius with the three monks, he will tell us what to do.” I hope you won’t be disappointed, but that is not my job. Instead, I pray that we will find that peace, that we will hear that gentle whisper, and that together we will stand at the crossroads and discover the ancient path – the good way – and together will walk in it.

What will we discover on that path? It won’t be the secrets to the universe or a formula for world peace or some narrowly defined agenda or any other grandly conceived scheme. No. Instead, we will discover love, but not the kind of love expressed in a Hallmark card. We will discover the kind of love that hangs upon a cross. A kind of love that unites us one to another and a kind of love that unites us all to our God.

“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?

Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’  This is the first and greatest commandment.  And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’  All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

If, together, we discover nothing else along the way, this will be more than enough.