Pip: There are days when only a strong moral principle stands between you and knocking someone’s hat off in the street. Fr. John opens with Melville, and somehow ends up at the Holy Trinity.
Mara: This episode follows that journey — from Moby Dick to Pentecost, from the veil between Heaven and Earth to what the Holy Spirit actually does inside a human soul. Let’s start with the gift itself.
Sermon: Pentecost and the Gift of the Holy Spirit
Mara: The central question here is one most people quietly carry: if the Kingdom of Heaven is real but unreachable, how do we actually touch it? That’s the tension this sermon sets out to resolve.
Pip: The setup is a Venn diagram — God and the Kingdom in one circle, us in the other — and the sermon asks what lives in the overlap. The anchor quote comes from Richard of St. Victor’s De Trinitate: “Love not only tends to another person, but also tends to sharing love. When two persons mutually love each other, they can love and be loved and communicate their riches, but they cannot share their love. For that, still another person is required, a companion of love. Thus, love can be realized by a duality of persons, but it can only be completed by a trinity of persons.”
Mara: So the Trinity isn’t an abstract theological puzzle — it’s the structural requirement for love to be complete. The Father and Son need the Spirit the way a shared joy needs someone to share it with.
Pip: And that architecture has a practical consequence. God didn’t create us because He needed a hobby. The sermon is clear: He created us to love us with the same love that moves within the Trinity, which means a conduit had to be built — something that runs both directions, Heaven to Earth and back.
Mara: That conduit arrives in two steps. First, the Son. Then, as the Eucharistic Prayer puts it, “he sent the Holy Spirit, his own first gift for those who believe, to complete his work in the world, and to bring to fulfillment the sanctification of all.”
Pip: The phrase “first gift” does a lot of work there. Not a consolation prize for the ascension — the intended completion of it.
Mara: Saint Cyril of Alexandria makes that explicit: the Spirit doesn’t substitute for Christ’s presence, it is his presence, dwelling inwardly where the incarnate Christ could only stand alongside. The sermon calls this ongoing — not a single Pentecost flame but a continuous exchange between the soul and God.
Pip: Which loops back to Melville. The Holy Spirit is, among its many offices, what keeps a person from methodically knocking people’s hats off. Useful work.
Mara: The sermon closes on Romans 8 — nothing in creation can separate us from the love of God — and frames Pentecost not as anniversary but as present tense. That inward, unbreakable connection is the gift being celebrated.
Pip: And if the Spirit is the conduit that holds Heaven and Earth together, the next question is what that looks like when we try to live it outward.
Mara: The thread running through all of this is proximity — the Kingdom closer than it looks, the Spirit already inside the veil.
Pip: The soul of God’s children, each one of us, is the address where the gift, the Holy Spirit, gets delivered.
For many, the idea of Heaven or a paradise after death is just a child’s fantasy. Something we tell ourselves so life has some purpose beyond mere survival. For others, Heaven is the reason for life itself, and they have given it a great deal of thought. Although not one who put much credibility in the faith, Mark Twain did, at times, share his views on Heaven, and, as you can imagine, they came with a side of humor.
“Heaven goes by favor. If it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in. – Mark Twain, a Biography
“I don’t like to commit myself about Heaven and Hell, you see, I have friends in both places.”
Dying man couldn’t make up his mind which place to go to — both have their advantages, “heaven for climate, hell for company!” – Mark Twain’s Speechs, 1910 edition, p. 117.
When I reflect upon the number of disagreeable people who I know have gone to a better world, I am moved to lead a different life. – Pudd’nhead Wilson’s Calendar
It seems to me that for many, even if they believe in Heaven, their thoughts don’t go much further than wondering whether they’ll get in and how large their mansion will be. So today, I thought we would begin by taking a deeper look at Heaven.
First, what is it like? Throughout scripture, there are vivid visions and descriptions of Heaven. Daniel tells us,
“As I looked,
thrones were placed, and the Ancient of Days took his seat; his clothing was white as snow, and the hair of his head like pure wool; his throne was fiery flames; its wheels were burning fire.
A stream of fire issued and came out from before him; a thousand thousands served him, and ten thousand times ten thousand stood before him; the court sat in judgment, and the books were opened.” (Daniel 7:9-10)
That sounds exciting, but John, in his Revelation, surpasses them all. There is the throne room with a throne of jasper and carnelian, the sea of glass, and the four living creatures. Then, toward the end, John tells us he saw Heaven descending. It has twelve gates, each made of a single large pearl, streets of gold, and so many other amazing features.
Once past the description, we wonder where it might be located. Given all that we read in scripture, we know the general direction is up. In the Old Testament, we read how Elijah was carried up in a fiery chariot (2 Kings 2:11), and Jacob dreamed of a ladder upon which the angels of God ascended and descended (Genesis 28:10-19). Both of these lead us to believe Heaven is up.
The New Testament also points upward. Jesus said, “For I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will but the will of him who sent me” (John 6:38). And, as we read today, “a cloud took [Jesus] out of [the disciples’] sight.” Later, Paul, referring to himself, says, “I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven—whether in the body or out of the body I do not know, God knows. And I know that this man was caught up into paradise” (2 Corinthians 12:2-3a). John also indicates this in his Revelation (Revelation 4:1).
So, we have this glorious description and a general location—up—but then Jesus comes along and says something that muddies the water. A Pharisee had asked Him about the coming of the Kingdom of God, and Jesus answered, “‘The kingdom of God is not coming in ways that can be observed, nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There!’ for behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you.” (Luke 17:20-21) To complicate matters further, the phrase “in the midst of you” can also be translated “within you” and “among you.” I suspect that if you asked Jesus which it is—in the midst of, within, or among—He would answer, “Yes.”
There is no solid consensus among the Church Fathers on the topic of Heaven, but most would agree that there is a location, though it isn’t the most important aspect. For them, the place is only the setting. The important part is that God is there and that we will have communion with Him, and this communion is not limited by time or space.
So, where does this leave us? Theologian J.I. Packer sums up our knowledge nicely: “We know very little about heaven,” he said, “but I once heard a theologian describe [Heaven] as ‘an unknown region with a well-known inhabitant,’ and there is not a better way to think of it than that. Richard Baxter expresses the thought in these lines…
‘My knowledge of that life is small, The eye of faith is dim, But it’s enough that Christ knows all, And I shall be with him.’”
Further, if you need one of our own for confirmation, N.T. Wright wrote, “‘Heaven’ is, in fact, one of the most misused religious words around today, with the possible exception of the word ‘God’ itself.” (Source)
Do you remember what God said when Moses asked, “If I come to the people of Israel and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what shall I say to them?” God said to Moses, ‘I am who I am.’ And he said, ‘Say this to the people of Israel: ‘I am has sent me to you.’” (Exodus 3:14-15) The Name “I AM” is beyond explanation. Say whatever you will, you will fail to describe God. I believe the same is true of Heaven. If we ask God, “What is Heaven?” He will answer, “It is.”
“What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him.” (1 Corinthians 2:9)
Heaven is a mystery, yet it is much closer than you think.
Why all this talk of Heaven? Today we celebrate the Ascension of Our Lord. We read about it in the Acts of the Apostles, and it is affirmed in the Nicene Creed:
“We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ… He suffered death and was buried. On the third day He rose again in accordance with the Scriptures; He ascended into Heaven And is seated at the right hand of the Father.”
Forty days after Easter, Jesus ascended into Heaven. This is the exaltation of humankind, for now Heaven is not only the home of God and the angels but also home to one of our own—a flesh-and-blood human being. The significance of this cannot be overstated.
As Jesus ascended into Heaven in His body, He took us—the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve—with Him, for He is the Head and we are His body. Yet just as we are with Him there, He is with us here. A longer passage from N.T. Wright helps explain. “Heaven is God’s space, which intersects with our space but transcends it. It is, if you like, a further dimension of our world, not a place far removed at one extreme of our world… and the God who lives there is present to us, present with us, sharing our joys and our sorrows, longing as we are longing for the day when his whole creation, heaven and earth together, will perfectly reflect his love, his wisdom, his justice, and his peace.” (Source)
I’m not sure I like the word “dimension” in this context. Perhaps I’ve heard the opening credits of The Twilight Zone one too many times. Instead, I understand it as a veil that separates us from Heaven. This aligns with the Church Fathers. The veil is as near to us as our skin, yet we cannot see or pass through it in this lifetime. Still, just on the other side is our God and the Kingdom of Heaven.
Jesus prayed that we might be one with Him, the Father, and one another. He then prayed, “Father, I desire that they also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory that you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world.” (John 17:24) He prayed not only that we be where He is when we’re dead, but also that we might be with Him now. And we are, because He is as near to us as the skin on our bodies, just on the other side of the thin veil.
King David prayed,
“Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, who alone does wondrous things.
Blessed be his glorious name forever; may the whole earth be filled with his glory! Amen and Amen!” (Psalm 72:18-19)
The life of a Christian is to live in such recognition of and reliance on the nearness of Heaven and the Risen Lord, this oneness with Jesus, that others can see it and be drawn into it. In doing so, the Kingdom of God, Heaven itself, is expanded until it fills the whole Earth, and the prayer of David is fulfilled.
You have the ability to do this great work within you because you are not working alone. All of Heaven is by your side, and the Church works alongside you. Together, we work to bring to fulfillment another great prayer:
“Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, On Earth as it is in Heaven.”
At the Ascension, Jesus didn’t float away to some far-off place and now only looks down to see who has been naughty or nice. Instead, He is very near to us all, continuing the work He began in us until its final completion (cf. Philippians 1:6).
Let us pray: The light of God surrounds us, The love of God enfolds us, The power of God protects us, The presence of God watches over us, Wherever we are, God is, And where God is, all is well. Amen.
Today we are celebrating the Eve of the Ascension. In his preaching on the Ascension, St. Augustine of Hippo states: “Today our Lord Jesus Christ ascended into heaven; let our hearts ascend with him. Listen to the words of the Apostle: If you have risen with Christ, set your hearts on the things that are above where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God; seek the things that are above, not the things that are on earth. For just as he remained with us even after his ascension, so we too are already in heaven with him, even though what is promised us has not yet been fulfilled in our bodies.”
“Christ is now exalted above the heavens, but he still suffers on earth all the pain that we, the members of his body, have to bear. He showed this when he cried out from above: Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me? and when he said: I was hungry and you gave me food. Why do we on earth not strive to find rest with him in heaven even now, through the faith, hope, and love that unites us to him?”
Augustine is teaching us about two ‘states’ of the Ascension as they relate to our union with Christ, and he bases this teaching on what we learn from St. Paul’s writings to the church in Corinth: “For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ.” (1 Corinthians 12:12) What does this mean for us?
We are the Body of Christ, and Christ is the head of the Body. So no matter where he is, he is with us always unto the end of the age, because we are one. Through his death and resurrection, we become members of him. Therefore, since he has ascended into heaven, we too have ascended into heaven. If we are on earth and we suffer, he is on earth, suffering with us. We see Christ in everyone we meet, because he is in everyone we meet. We worship him as he sits at the right hand of the Father, because he is there as well.
Bottom line: the Ascension is a mystery. That said, this is probably some sort of heresy, so just forget it after I’ve said it. As I was thinking about this, I remembered Jacob and his ladder. You’ll recall that Jacob lay down, fell asleep, and had a dream: “There was a ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven. And behold, the angels of God were ascending and descending on it! And behold, the Lord stood above it and said, “I am the Lord, the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac.” He then speaks to Jacob about the land that is promised and then says, “Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land. For I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.” When Jacob woke, he said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.”
Jesus said, “I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved. They will come in and go out, and find pasture.” Jesus also says, “Truly, truly, I say to you, you will see heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.”
This is the possible heresy bit: it seems to me that the Ascension is the permanent placement and perfection of Jacob’s ladder, granting everyone access to the Gate of Heaven, to Jesus, after his departure. And it is through this ladder that we have access to the head of the Body, Jesus, and to the very throne room of God. Maybe something to think on… or maybe not.
A new priest came to town. On the first Sunday, he preached one of the best sermons folks had ever heard. Everyone was excited, believing things were looking up for their church. They all complimented him on his wonderful, inspiring words. The following Sunday, the new priest preached the exact same sermon, to the letter. Folks looked a bit bewildered, but since it was so good, they all thought it was worth hearing a second time, just not two Sundays in a row. However, since he was new, no one said anything other than that they enjoyed the sermon. The third Sunday, once again, the priest preached the exact same sermon. The Sr. Warden didn’t think they could take a fourth Sunday, so after everyone had exited the church, he had a word with the priest. “Father,” he said, “that’s a good sermon you preached.” “Thank you,” he replied. “However,” continued the Senior Warden, “you have preached the same sermon three times now. We’ve all heard it and were wondering when you were going to go on to a different subject.” “Sir,” he responded, “when you all start acting like you’ve heard it, I’ll preach something else.”
In the opening words of our Gospel lesson, Jesus said something curious: “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” Earlier, He said, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. For truly, I say to you, until heaven and earth pass away, not an iota, not a dot, will pass from the Law until all is accomplished” (Matthew 5:17-18). What is curious is that we are also taught that we are no longer under the law or its commandments. St. Paul, in his letter to the Romans, said, “While we were living in the flesh, our sinful passions, aroused by the law, were at work in our members to bear fruit for death. But now we are released from the law, having died to that which held us captive” (Romans 7:5-6a).
So, what’s it going to be, law or no law? The answer, of course, is both, and the reason this sermon may sound like a repeat of so many others I’ve given is that the only way the answer can be both is if the solution is love. Therefore, I can stop preaching on love if we all start acting as if we’ve heard it. The problem is, one quick glance around the world today tells me I’ve got to continue preaching on the topic. So, with that, how is the answer “both”? How can we be under the law and not under the law? Jesus provides the answer when He was questioned by a lawyer who asked Him, “Teacher, which is the great commandment in the Law?” Jesus’ answer, I hope you all know by heart: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets” (Matthew 22:36-40).
We understand this to mean that behind the law lies a single guiding principle: love. Love is also the defining mark of a Christian. Jesus said, “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:34-35). You know this as well. Together, these point back to the first line of our Gospel, “If you love me, if you are My disciples, then you will keep this summary of the law, which is to love God and to love one another.”
Here endeth the sermon. Go and love God and your neighbor. Amen? You should be so lucky. It would be that easy if we actually knew what it means to love like this, to love as Jesus loves us. But our idea of love often comes from a cherub named Cupid and a greeting card company with estimated revenues of about $5 billion, neither of which teaches us to love as Jesus loves. Let’s see if we can begin to sort it out. We’ll start by looking at a law: #10 of the top ten—“Thou shall not covet.”
To covet has two sides. The first is a lack of gratitude. When we covet, we are not satisfied or thankful for what we have. There is a constant need for more and more. Second, to covet is to become jealous of another for what they have and to want it for ourselves. To covet a thing or person is to desire it, and—whether we would define it as such—the things we desire are the things we love. Yet this love is disordered, because in it there is no love of God or of neighbor. In that disordered love, we become angry, anxious, and restless. Our souls are in turmoil over a desire, a love that cannot be fulfilled. Therefore, St. Augustine was correct when he wrote, “Our hearts are restless until they rest in God.”
To love instead of covet is to be thankful for the blessings and things God has provided us with, and to give thanks for the blessings others have. In your eyes, it may not seem fair that so-and-so has such-and-such, but that is not your concern. If they have sinned in order to gain what they have, that is between them and God. Don’t allow their sin to cause you to sin. If God, out of His goodness, has chosen to bless them, then be happy for them. You, you are to follow the commandment and love.
If that makes sense, then we understand that we don’t love as we should because our love is disordered. Our desire is elsewhere rather than on God, and this is sin in its most basic form. This disordered love has been with us since the very first day, when Adam and Eve desired a piece of forbidden fruit more than they loved God. It is also this disordered love that Jesus came to heal. The Lord said through the Prophet Ezekiel, “I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to obey my rules” (Ezekiel 36:26-27). The healing that Jesus brings to our souls fulfills this great work. In doing so, Jesus gives us freedom from the law, because we are no longer trying and failing to obey a set of statutes. Instead, we are living a transformed life. No longer will we say, “I can’t do ____ or I’ll go to hell.” Instead, we say, “I want, I desire to do or not do this, because I love God and I love my neighbor.”
In John’s first epistle (John is the great preacher of love), he writes, “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God” (1 John 4:7). Preaching on this and the verses that followed, St. Augustine said some radical things: “Love, and do what you will: whether you hold your peace, through love hold your peace; whether you cry out, through love cry out; whether you correct, through love correct; whether you spare, through love do you spare: let the root of love be within, of this root can nothing spring but what is good” (Homily 7.8 on the First Epistle of John). “Love, and do what you will.” That sounds very permissive. “I loves you, baby, and I can do whatever I want.” No. That is not what Augustine is saying. He is saying, “If—and that is a mighty big ‘if’—if my love is rightly ordered, if I truly love God, and if I truly love my neighbor as Jesus has loved me, then I am free from the law, because in my heart I will desire to do the right thing—I will fulfill both the law and the commandments of Jesus.” No longer will I have to do something. I’ll want to do it out of my love of God and neighbor.
I will have to preach a variation of this sermon time and time again. Why? Because we’ve been trying since day one to get it right, and only One, only Jesus, has succeeded. However, in Him and through Him, we are learning. And with the help of the Holy Spirit, whom Jesus has sent, we will continue to do so.
Are you loving as Jesus loves? No? If you work on only one thing in your life, work on that. By doing so, you can’t help but walk closer with God.
Let us pray: Grant, almighty God, that we may celebrate with heartfelt devotion these days of joy, which we keep in honor of the risen Lord, and that what we relive in remembrance we may always hold to in what we do. Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God, for ever and ever. Amen.
Hearken to my voice, O Lord, when I call; have mercy on me and answer me. You speak in my heart and say, “Seek my face.” Your face, Lord, will I seek.
I love to read, but I’ll occasionally go through a phase when I don’t even want to pick up a book, so I’ll end up binge-watching something on TV for a few weeks. Then I’ll get tired of that and go back to reading. It’ll happen with other things as well, but… the Psalmist said, “You speak in my heart and say, ‘Seek my face.’ Your face, Lord, will I seek.” Have you ever gone through a phase when you just didn’t feel like seeking His face? I’m not going to ask you to raise your hand if you have, because that is not the kind of thing good Christian folk like to confess, but do you occasionally find yourself a bit tired of seeking Him, wondering about His will, and all that? As I said, I won’t ask you to confess, but if you say you’ve never experienced those feelings, I would say you need to go to confession for fibbing. It is something we all experience at times, and in those moments, our faith is truly demonstrated.
A mature Christian will continue in their faith and practices, knowing that these are times of wilderness rather than abandonment by God. However, others will begin to drift away, and perhaps one of the first things to go is prayer. When it seems we’re filling the air with words that are unheard and accomplish nothing, why bother? But it is the prayers in the wilderness that will see us through, because it is through them that we maintain the relationship with the Father.
Julian of Norwich, whom we celebrate today, spoke about this in the second part of her fourteenth revelation, contained in her Revelations of Divine Love. “Our Lord is very glad and happy that we should pray, and he expects it and wants it… for this is what [the Lord] says, ‘Pray earnestly even though you do not feel like praying, for it is helping you even if you do not feel it doing you any good, even if you see nothing, yes, even if you think you cannot pray; for in dryness and in barrenness, in sickness and weakness, then your prayers give me great pleasure, even if you feel that they are hardly pleasing to you at all. And it is so in my sight with all your trustful prayers.’” Julian says, “God accepts the good intentions and the effort of those who serve him, whatever we are feeling.” (p.100)
To us, it may seem fruitless, but in a time of barrenness, when we feel the absence of God, stopping prayer is to break off from the relationship. So, regardless of how we feel, we must stay engaged because it is through our faithfulness and this engagement that we will once again feel the presence of God.
If you say, “I just don’t feel like praying. I don’t have anything to say,” then take the good advice of Archbishop Michael Ramsey, “Pray that you could pray,” but don’t stop praying.
Do you think God ever looks down from heaven, shakes his head, and asks himself, “You know I buy them books and send them to school, so why are they still doing foolish things?”
In our gospel reading today, when Jesus catches up to the two on the road, he declares the same thing, ”Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?”
The Gospels do not explain why the two are traveling to Emmaus, but I am willing to make an educated guess.
As the two walk along the road, Jesus joins them and asks what they are discussing. Not realizing that it is Jesus who has asked, they answer him as if he had spent the last three days in a cave or something. They tell Jesus that the greatest prophet Israel ever knew, the long-awaited Messiah who was going to deliver the people, had finally come, but the chief priests had him put to death. All their hopes and dreams crumbled with his death. In other words, they say, “O woe is us. All is lost.”
Why are the two headed to Emmaus? They are going home. In their minds, they are defeated, and there is no point in hanging out in Jerusalem any longer. Even the direction they are traveling is telling. Emmaus is almost directly west of Jerusalem, the sun is setting, the day is ending, and the sun has set on the Messiah. Where they once walked in the light, now everything is turning dark. Then Jesus speaks, “Stop being so foolish and let me explain it to you. Let me show you how you are wrong,” and he proceeds to reveal the truth about the Savior, about himself, and he does so in two very important ways.
First, He opens the scripture for them and explains it in such a way that their hearts burn within them. Second, he breaks bread with them just as he had done at the Last Supper. Jesus reveals the truth about Himself through His words, the explanation of Holy Scripture, and the sacrament—the breaking of bread. Through both word and sacrament, He reveals Himself to them, and in that instant, they knew Him.
It remains the same today, and there is only one place where we can find both: the church. Archbishop Rowan Williams declares, “The Church is the new creation, it is life and joy, it is the sacramental fellowship in which we share the ultimate purpose of God, made real for us now in our hearing the Word and sharing the Sacrament.”
My good friend Thomas a Kempis writes, “You have given me in my weakness Your sacred Flesh to refresh my soul and body, and You have set Your word as the guiding light for my feet. Without them, I could not live aright, for the word of God is the light of my soul and Your Sacrament is the Bread of Life.” These two life-giving and soul-lighting gifts are found only in the Church.
The two travelers on the road to Emmaus had lost hope, but Jesus revealed to them that He is present to all of us in word and sacrament, found only in Christ’s one holy catholic and apostolic church.
“Love is awful. It’s awful. It’s painful. It’s frightening. It makes you doubt yourself, judge yourself, distance yourself from the other people in your life. It makes you selfish. It makes you creepy, makes you obsessed with your hair, makes you cruel, makes you say and do things you never thought you would do.”
This is the moment when the camera shifts from the priest to two women in the congregation. The woman with black hair turns to the brunette and says, “There’s something wrong with your priest.”
Then the camera shifts back to the priest, who continues, “It’s all any of us want, and it’s hell when we get there. So no wonder it’s something we don’t want to do on our own. I was taught that if we’re born with love, then life is about choosing the right place to put it. People talk about that a lot, feeling right, when it feels right, it’s easy. But I’m not sure that’s true. It takes strength to know what’s right. And love isn’t something that weak people do. Being a romantic takes a hell of a lot of hope. I think what they mean is, when you find somebody that you love, it feels like hope.” (Credit: BBC’s Fleabag, written by Phoebe Waller-Bridge)
We know that Jesus was without sin. This is true, but He was a criminal; otherwise, why would He have been crucified? In his meditations, St. Bernard asked the same question: “What crime hast Thou committed that Thou shouldest have to be condemned to death, and that death the death of the cross? Ah, I will understand, replies the saint, the reason for Thy death; I understand what has been Thy crime: ‘Thy crime is Thy love.’ Thy crime is the too great love which Thou hast borne to men: it is this, not Pilate, that condemns Thee to die” (The Love of Jesus Crucified, p.20).
Jesus was a criminal, and his crime was “the superabundance of love” (Ibid.) that He holds for you—for us all. But how did Bernard and others come to such a conclusion?
It doesn’t take much imagination to picture the horrors Jesus endured after His trial and ending with His crucifixion. Authors have written about it, filmmakers have made movies, scientists and doctors have analyzed it, and historians have provided the facts. There are many ways to be put to death, but crucifixion ranks among the most gruesome and painful. Yet, the question that saints asked was “Why?” In asking this, they weren’t questioning from a theological perspective. They all knew Jesus was the only one who could save us. Instead, they were asking, “Why couldn’t a different, less horrific way be found?” (Ibid., 21) There are two parts to the answer.
In the first part, St. Alphonsus Liguori asked, “Would it not have sufficed for him to have offered to his eternal Father one single prayer for the pardon of man? For this prayer, being of infinite value, would have been sufficient to save the world and infinite worlds besides. Why, then, did he choose for himself so much suffering and a death so cruel?” (Ibid.) St. John Chrysostom asked the same question, but also provides the beginning of an answer: “A single prayer of Jesus would indeed have sufficed to redeem us; but it was not sufficient to show us the love that our God bore us: ‘That which sufficed to redeem us was not sufficient for love’” (Ibid.). Jesus did not believe that a simple prayer was enough to show us how much he loved us. Chrysostom continues, “This was the principal cause of the Passion of our Lord; he wished it to be known how great was the love of God for man,—of God, who would rather be loved than feared” (Ibid., 23). Jesus could have prayed, and we would have been forgiven and restored to God, but Jesus wanted to express His love for us in a way that would be beyond doubt. “This,” Jesus said from the Cross, “is how much I love you.” “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13).
The second part of the answer to “Why?” is more about us than about Jesus.
Imagine that Jesus prayed, not from the Cross, but from the upper room, “Father, forgive them.” And suppose there was a voice from Heaven, unmistakably the Father’s, who responded, “My Son, their sins and the sins of the whole world are forgiven.” Then see Jesus as He turns to the disciples and to us and says, “Your sins are forgiven. See what great love I have for you.”
Perhaps I’ve become too cynical, but I think most people would say, “Thanks, but one little prayer… is that really love? I mean, yeah, I appreciate it and all, but how does that prove you actually love me?”
If for no other person, Jesus knew my cynicism and declared, “Not only will I tell you that I love you, but I will show you to what extent I am willing to go so that you will know, without question, that I love you so that you can be with me. St. Thomas Aquinas wrote, “‘By this—that is the Passion—man understands the greatness of the love of God to man.’ And St. John had said before, ‘In this we have known the love of God, because He hath laid down his life for us (1 John 3:16)’ (Ibid., 23).”
The priest’s words, “Love is awful. It’s painful. It’s frightening.” I think Jesus could have written something similar. “Love is awful,” He would say. “It is painful. It is frightening. It makes you say and do things you never thought you would do—offer your face to be spit upon, your brow for a crown of thorns, your back to be whipped, your hands, feet, side… your very life.” Jesus says, “It takes a lot of courage to love, but I look at you, and I know nothing but love. I look at you, and I have such great hope. Hope that you will believe and receive my love so that we may be one.”
Jesus was a criminal, but Jesus was also a romantic through and through, and as St. Bernard tells us, “The secrets of his heart are revealed through the wounds of his body” (Ibid., 24). However, the saint adds, “Such love, wholly claims for itself our love” (Ibid., 25). If Jesus loves you with such a superabundance of love, how will you love Him? And if this is how you have been loved, how will you love others?
During this past Season of Lent, we embarked on a study of the seven Heavenly Virtues. We learned that these include the four Cardinal Virtues and the three Theological Virtues. The Cardinal Virtues are fortitude (spiritual courage), justice (seeking the common good), prudence (establishing rules), and temperance (moderation and balance). The first two Theological Virtues are faith, which is the loving and protective relationship with the Father, and hope, which informs our souls that this relationship is eternal. Love is the third Theological Virtue. It is the essence of the relationship, for “God is love” (1 John 4:7). Supporting all seven virtues is humility. If humility is lacking, we will fail. Finally, St. Padre Pio reminds us, “Humility and love are the main supports of the whole vast building on which all the rest depends. Keep firmly to these two virtues, one of which is the lowest and the other the highest.” In our Christian walk, if we begin with humility and love, all these others will follow.
This is the Sunday of the Resurrection. It is the day that Jesus conquered death and gave us, through His love for us, eternal life. Live a life that writes your own sermon: “Love is awful. It is painful. It is frightening. Love gives me hope. Love gives me the power to love, not only my neighbor, but my enemy as well. Love gives me the strength to overcome my sins, faith that I might stand and be true, compassion that I may care. Love makes me do things that I never imagined I could do.” Jesus endured much so that you might know the great love He has for you. Receive that love, and then, like Jesus, be a criminal, be a romantic, and through your practice of the Heavenly Virtues, express that love to God and the world.
Love is awful. It’ll make you do some crazy things, but these days, the world can use that kind of crazy.
Let us pray: Our most sweet Lord, we desire to do whatever You ask of us. We pray, help us, and grant that we may please You entirely and continually, now and forever. Mary, our Mother, entreat Jesus for us, so that He may give us His holy love; for we want nothing else in this world or the next but to love Jesus. Amen.
Today, after the Solemn Collects, there is the Veneration of the Cross. Three times, the person presenting the Cross will chant, “Behold the hard wood of the Cross on which was hung the world’s salvation.” It is a time to meditate on these great acts.
I’m sure there are others, but I have read several different meditations on that scene. Thomas à Kempis, St. Alphonsus Ligouri, and Catherine Emmerich are among the authors who have stayed with me, but they are all quite graphic. You need to prepare your soul a bit before engaging with them. However, I wonder, have you ever truly considered what you would have witnessed, how it would make you feel, and, more importantly, how you would respond? It’s not an easy thing to do, but many saints point out that it is an edifying practice. As we have been studying the virtues during this Season of Lent, St. Bonaventure wrote, “He who desires to go on advancing from virtue to virtue, from grace to grace, should meditate continually on the Passion of Jesus. There is no practice more profitable for the entire sanctification of the soul than the frequent meditation of the sufferings of Jesus Christ.” So, without making you squeamish by sharing some of the other writings, consider these things.
The head of Jesus was often lifted to look into the crowds as He taught them about the things of God. And, perhaps as often, it was bowed in prayer, talking with His Father. Now, it is pierced with the thorns of the crown that the soldiers so roughly pressed upon Him.
The hands of Jesus—how many people did He touch and heal? Imagine Him reaching down and making the mud He would use to give sight to the man born blind. How gentle He was with the child that He picked up and placed in His lap. See Him writing in the dust, turning back those who accused and wanted to stone the adulterer. See them raised as He gave thanks over the few loaves of bread and fish that would then feed thousands. Now, they are pierced with two nails and fixed to the Cross.
His feet were washed by the hands of the unclean woman, and later anointed with costly perfume by Mary of Bethany. Those same feet walked on the waters and traveled many miles, bringing God’s message of love to a dying world. Yet, like His hands, those feet are now nailed to the Cross.
We could look upon Him, seeing His back, born to carry the sins of the world, now whipped and bruised, or His chest, where within that most Sacred Heart beats with the fire of the Spirit, is now pierced. Christ is upon the Cross. St. Alphonsus Liguori wrote, “Behold Jesus, at length, actually dying. Behold him, my soul, how he is in his agony amid the last respirations of his life. Behold those dying eyes, that face so pale, that feebly palpitating heart, that body already wrapped in the arms of death, and that beautiful soul now on the point of leaving that wounded body. The sky shrouds itself in darkness; the earth quakes; the graves open. Alas, what portentous signs are these! They are signs that the Maker of the world is now dying.”
Seeing these things isn’t easy, but seeing is necessary. As difficult as it is to witness, don’t turn away. Stay with Him for a while and see with your eyes and your soul. This is God’s love story. St. Thomas Aquinas once asked Bonaventure which book he used to learn about the great love of Jesus. Taking a crucifix from the wall, Bonaventure replied, “This is my book whence I receive everything that I write; and it has taught me whatever little I know.”
Jesus tells us, “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). You are Jesus’ friend and His love. The Cross is the love story Jesus wrote. He wrote it for you, and He wrote it in His own Blood.
Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions. Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin. For I know my transgressions, and my sin is always before me. Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight, so that you are proved right when you speak and justified when you judge. Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me. Surely you desire truth in the inner parts; you teach me wisdom in the inmost place. Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.
King David was on the roof of his house, looking out over the city and the land he ruled. As his eyes scanned the scene, he saw a woman on her roof—Bathsheba—who was naked and bathing. Watching her, he felt desire for her, and even though she was married, he devised a plan to have her.
Her husband, Uriah, was one of his soldiers, so he sent him to the front lines of a fierce battle where he would certainly be killed. He was, and after the appropriate mourning period, David had Bathsheba brought to him and married her.
The Lord saw David’s wickedness and sent Nathan the prophet to rebuke him for his sin. David confessed, and it is believed that David wrote the Psalm I shared with you during his time of penance. He cried out to the Lord, “Wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.”
From the very beginning of human history, when Adam and Eve were banished from the Garden of Eden, this cry has crossed the lips of all God’s children: “Wash me. Wash me from my sins so that I might be whiter than snow. So that I might be cleansed of my sins.”
It’s always been this way; however, on the day ordained by God, Jesus opened the gates to a new path. On that day, Jesus began by taking on the role of a slave and washing the disciples’ feet. Peter objected, but Jesus insisted, “If you are to be a part of me, if you are to be where I am going, then you must allow me to wash your feet. You must allow me to cleanse you.”
Following the foot washing, scripture says, “While they were eating, Jesus took bread, gave thanks, broke it, and gave it to his disciples, saying, ‘Take and eat; this is my body.’ Then he took the cup, gave thanks, and offered it to them, saying, ‘Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.’”
It is fair to say that the disciples failed to understand the significance and connection between these two events, but after his crucifixion, they would come to realize that the footwashing was symbolic of the washing of their souls through the body and blood of Christ.
Jesus—God—humbled Himself to the role of a slave and washed their feet so that they might be outwardly clean. Jesus—God—humbled Himself to death on a cross so that their souls might be cleansed.
Today we celebrate the gift of the most Holy Eucharist. The symbolism of washing the feet points to the washing of our souls, and it is the answer to our cry, “Wash me, Lord. Wash me and I will be whiter than snow.”
Candle in a Cave 