Tag: bible

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Sermon: Epiphany Last RCL A – “Becoming”

Have you heard of the up and coming rock-n-roll star Larry Underwood? His rising single is Baby, Can You Dig Your Man.

“Bay-yay-yaby you can tell me if anyone can,
Baby, can you dig your man?
He’s a righteous man,
Tell me baby, can you dig your man?”

It gets stuck in your head once you’ve heard the tune, but it is also a fictional song from my favorite novel, The Stand, by—you guessed it!—Stephen King.

No spoilers here, but I can tell you that at the beginning of the book, Captain Trips, a souped-up version of the flu, kills about 98% of the world’s population. Larry and a woman named Rita Blackmoor are in New York City, and they decide it’s best to get out of the city, which has essentially become a morgue. Very uplifting story, I can tell you. Circumstances lead them to the Lincoln Tunnel, which will take them to New Jersey.

For an even more pleasant scene, the Lincoln Tunnel is a parking lot. So many had the same idea of escaping the city, but the tunnel got jammed, and people simply died in their cars, with no one to clean up the aftermath. Even so, Larry and Rita must get through. They set out. Their only source of light was Larry’s Bic lighter. Note to self: if it is the end of the world, don’t forget your flashlight.

“It was much blacker inside than [Larry] had imagined it would be. At first, the opening behind him cast dim white light ahead and he could see yet more cars, jammed in bumper to bumper (it must have been bad, dying in here, he thought, as claustrophobia wrapped its stealthy banana fingers lovingly around his head and began to first caress and then to squeeze his temples, it must have been really bad, it must have been… horrible).” Larry enters the tunnel, and we are told that as he “negotiated the first slow, banked curve, bearing gently to the right, the light grew dimmer until all he could see were muted flashes of chrome. After that the light simply ceased to exist at all.”

Further on, “The solid darkness provided the perfect theater screen on which the mind could play out its fantasies,” of all that was going on around him. However, they push on. Stumbling in darkness over all sorts of terrors—you really should read this one—then, after struggling for what seemed hours, “Rita stopped short. ‘What’s the matter?’ Larry asked. ‘Is there something in the way?’ ‘No. I can see, Larry! It’s the end of the tunnel!’ He blinked and realized that he could see, too. The glow was dim, and it had come so gradually that he hadn’t been aware of it until Rita had spoken. He could make out a faint shine on the tiles, and the pale blur of Rita’s face closer by.” They had made it through the blackness and the terror. Larry is so excited that he reports, “New Jersey never smelled so good.”

Every year, on the Sunday before Ash Wednesday, our Gospel reading is the account of the Transfiguration. Back in the day, when I really didn’t know what I was doing as a priest (I still don’t, but I’m much better at faking it… please don’t tell the Bishop), but before, I thought of this day as the Feast of the Transfiguration. However, one year in early August, I realized we were celebrating it again. We don’t do that. August 6th is the fixed day for the feast, so I got to wondering why we read about it today. The answer is two-part. The first part is because of what lies behind us—the events in the life of Jesus that are considered at the Epiphany and the season after, which today is the last.

The Epiphany, January 6th, is the revelation of Jesus to the Gentiles through the visitation of the wise men. In the season after the Epiphany, we continue to encounter the person of Jesus and who He is.

There is Jesus’ presentation and later teaching in the Temple when He was a young boy. This is followed by the Baptism of Jesus, when the Spirit descends, and God speaks, “This is my Son, whom I love; with Him I am well pleased.” Later comes the temptation in the wilderness and the first miracle at the wedding in Cana. We also have the Confession of Peter, “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.” All of these are revelations—revealings of who Jesus is. So the Transfiguration is another revealing moment, perhaps the most dramatic, for it shows Jesus in all his glory. Origen, writing in the third century, said, “He was transfigured before them. It is not that He then became what He was not before; rather, He showed to His disciples what He was, opening their eyes and giving sight to the blind.”

Up to that moment, the Jesus the disciples knew was walking around as though wearing camouflage. His true nature was hidden. At the Transfiguration, He took off the camouflage and revealed his true self. It was the greatest and most exact of the epiphanies, and it was what all the other epiphanies were leading up to. Like the disciples, we can now see Him transfigured, which helps us understand the second reason the Transfiguration occurs now. Luke’s Gospel helps us begin our understanding.

Very soon after the Transfiguration, Luke tells us, “The days drew near for [Jesus] to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem” (Luke 9.51). Following the Transfiguration, Jesus began His final journey to Jerusalem and the cross.

The Transfiguration, placed at this point in Jesus’s life and ministry, was intended to encourage the disciples, for the days ahead were about to turn very dark. St. John Chrysostom tells us that Jesus “brings them to the mountain and shows them His glory, that when they should see Him crucified, they might not be troubled.” In the Transfiguration, Jesus was saying to the disciples, “This is who I truly am,” but in order to accomplish the work the Father has set before me, I must first pass through the darkness, this tunnel where there is no light. Only then will I again be able to attain the glory I once had. What you disciples are about to witness will be scary, surrounded by death, but remember this moment. Remember this light and be encouraged.

For us today, liturgically, the Transfiguration, assigned to this Sunday, offers reassurance of Jesus’ ultimate victory over death. After all, we are about to walk that dark tunnel with him. We will see so many turn against him, betray Him, and abuse Him. We will watch as He is arrested, flogged, and crucified. We will witness His death and His being placed in the tomb. We know how the story ends, but if we didn’t, how awful all this would be. We would be like those first disciples, huddled in the upper room, afraid of everything and everyone. However, with the knowledge of the Transfiguration, we may be in the bowels of that dark tunnel, but we will have the residual glow of that moment on the mountain, which will give us hope. That is Jesus’ true nature, and no amount of darkness will overcome Him. We have hope; yet the liturgy of the church year points to something even greater. It is pointing to our very lives.

You see, the Transfiguration is not just revealing who Jesus is. It is also revealing who we are to become. St. Paul tells us, “We all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another” (2 Corinthians 3:18). The Church Fathers have understood this to mean that “Jesus was made man, that we might be made god.” Not the all-powerful divinity, like Jesus, but transformed into the Image of God. Yet, this is only possible if we are willing to walk through the same dark tunnel that Jesus walked before us. Jesus said, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” (Matthew 16:24-25). We take up our cross that we might be crucified with Christ, so that we might travel where He has led the way.

Larry Underwood had his Bic lighter to help guide him through the Lincoln Tunnel. What will we have? Answer: “The true light, which gives light to everyone” (John 1:9). We will have Jesus and the light He revealed to us at the Transfiguration. It is that light which will guide us and encourage us.

Think of it this way: the Transfiguration took place on Mount Tabor. The crucifixion took place at Golgotha, a hill outside Jerusalem. Connecting these two places is not a path of light but a tunnel of darkness. As with our friend Larry, that is a fearful place. It is a place of death, yet to reach the other side, we must pass through it. As we go, with the hope of the light of the Transfiguration, we pray, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me (Psalm 23:4).”

As we stand on the threshold of another Lent, another reminder of the path we all must eventually travel, look to the Transfigured Lord and see the glory of your future. I promise you, it is even better than New Jersey.

Let us pray: Loving Jesus, You were transfigured on the Mountain, showing Your Disciples as much of Your glory as they could hold. Let Your eternal light shine also upon us sinners, through the prayers of the Mother of God, O Giver of Light, glory to You. Amen.

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Sermon: Scholastica

Most would agree that twins share a very special bond, and our Saint for today, Scholastica, helped prove that point. Her twin and only brother was none other than Saint Benedict.

They grew up in a wealthy family, yet early on they both felt a calling to a more austere, holy life. Benedict was the first to leave home and would eventually form a monastery based on his Rule—the Rule of St. Benedict. Witnessing such a life, Scholastica sought and received approval to form a convent, following the rule established by her brother. It was the first Benedictine Convent and was located about five miles from her brother’s monastery. 

I’m certain they exchanged many letters, but as close as they were—in proximity and relationship—they only met once a year. Pope Saint Gregory the Great records their last meeting. 

“Scholastica, the sister of Saint Benedict, had been consecrated to God from her earliest years. She was accustomed to visiting her brother once a year. He would come down to meet her at a place on the monastery property, not far outside the gate.

“One day she came as usual and her saintly brother went with some of his disciples; they spent the whole day praising God and talking of sacred things. As night fell they had supper together.

Their spiritual conversation went on and the hour grew late. The holy nun said to her brother: “Please do not leave me tonight; let us go on until morning talking about the delights of the spiritual life.” “Sister,” he replied, “what are you saying? I simply cannot stay outside my cell.”

“When she heard her brother refuse her request, the holy woman joined her hands on the table, laid her head on them and began to pray. As she raised her head from the table, there were such brilliant flashes of lightning, such great peals of thunder and such a heavy downpour of rain that neither Benedict nor his brethren could stir across the threshold of the place where they had been seated. Sadly he began to complain: “May God forgive you, sister. What have you done?” “Well,” she answered, “I asked you and you would not listen; so I asked my God and he did listen. So now go off, if you can, leave me and return to your monastery.”

Reluctant as he was to stay of his own will, he remained against his will. So it came about that they stayed awake the whole night, engrossed in their conversation about the spiritual life.

“It is not surprising that she was more effective than he, since as John says, God is love, it was absolutely right that she could do more, as she loved more.

“Three days later, Benedict was in his cell. Looking up to the sky, he saw his sister’s soul leave her body in the form of a dove, and fly up to the secret places of heaven. Rejoicing in her great glory, he thanked almighty God with hymns and words of praise. He then sent his brethren to bring her body to the monastery and lay it in the tomb he had prepared for himself.

“Their minds had always been united in God; their bodies were to share a common grave.”

St. Paul begins his famous passage on love by saying, “If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing… Love never fails.” And it did not fail Scholastica. She said, “I asked you [Benedict] and you would not listen; so I asked my God and he did listen.” 

Through the pure love of God and her brother, Scholastica asked that God hear her prayer. God did. When you pray, ask yourself, “Am I asking out of pure love, or do I have some other motive?” I would suggest that by answering that question, you have a very good chance of knowing how God will answer your prayer.

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Sermon: Manche Masemola and Other Martyrs

Today, Thursday, and Friday, we celebrate three martyrs. Today, we remember Manche Masemola, an Anglican woman from South Africa who, in 1928, was put to death by her parents at age 15 for converting to Christianity and refusing to renounce her faith. She was unbaptized, but she declared she would be baptized in her own blood. Tomorrow is the Feast Day of St. Agatha, who, in 251 AD, was put to death at age 19 for refusing to renounce her faith and marry a Roman prefect. Shortly before her death, she prayed, “You Lord, who have created and guarded me from my childhood, and made me to act with manly strength, have taken from me the love of the passing world, who kept my body from contamination, who made me overcome the torments of the executioner, the iron, the fire, and the chains, who gave me in torment the virtue of patience! Please accept my spirit now, for it is already time that I should leave this world by your command and reach your mercy.” She is the patron saint of breast cancer patients, which points to some of the torture she endured. And, finally, Friday is the Feast Day of St. Paul Miki and his companions, who were missionaries in Japan in the 1500s and were put to death for proclaiming the Good News. Before he died, he said, “The only reason for my being killed is that I have taught the doctrine of Christ. I certainly did teach the doctrine of Christ. I thank God it is for this reason I die.”

Those are three of the estimated 70 million Christian martyrs since the time of Christ. Even today, 5,000 to 10,000 people are estimated to be martyred each year—people who died for the same cause as Manche, Agatha, and Paul Miki.

On her feast day, Saint Methodius of Sicily spoke of Agatha. The words he shared are true for Agatha and for all who have stood upon the solid rock of their faith in Christ Jesus. Methodius writes, “The woman who invites us to this banquet is both a wife and virgin. To use the analogy of Paul, she is the bride who has been betrothed to one husband, Christ. A true virgin, she wore the glow of pure conscience and the crimson of the Lamb’s blood for her cosmetics. Again and again she meditated on the death of her eager lover. For her, Christ’s death was recent, his blood was still moist. Her robe is the mark of her faithful witness to Christ. It bears the indelible marks of his crimson blood and the shining threads of her eloquence. She offers to all who come after her these treasures of her eloquent confession.

“Agatha, the name of our saint, means “good.” She was truly good, for she lived as a child of God. She was also given as the gift of God, the source of all goodness to her bridegroom, Christ, and to us. For she grants us a share in her goodness.

“Agatha, her goodness coincides with her name and way of life. She won a good name by her noble deeds, and by her name she points to the nobility of those deeds. Agatha, her mere name wins all men over to her company. She teaches them by her example to hasten with her to the true Good. God alone.”

My prayer is that none of us ever has to experience what these and so many others have gone through. My prayer is that if we do, we can stand as firmly in our faith as they did. My prayer is that we can look to their lives and their deaths and find the courage to live our faith in the smallest of details. As St. Josemaría Escrivá tells us, “‘Great’ holiness consists in carrying out the ‘little duties’ of each moment.” (The Way, #817)

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Sermon: Epiphany 4 RCL A – “God’s Wisdom”

The study of wisdom in Scripture is fascinating, and I’d like to delve into it more deeply, but at its core is the fact that wisdom is a grace given to us by God in order to live according to God’s will. However, wisdom is only knowledge until it is applied. For example, “Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is knowing not to put it in a fruit salad.” As author Terry Pratchett noted, “Wisdom comes from experience. Experience is often a result of a lack of wisdom.”

Our readings for today provide an excellent lesson on the application of wisdom and its absence, beginning with our Old Testament lesson. I’ll share with you a different translation of the lesson from Micah, as it will help clarify what is being said. The Lord says,

“Come, present [My] case before the mountains,
And let the hills hear you pleading.
Hear, you mountains, the case of the LORD
You firm foundations of the earth!
For the LORD has a case against His people,
He has a suit against Israel.
“My people!
What wrong have I done you?
What hardship have I caused you?”

Why is God pleading a case against His people, accusing them? Micah has outlined three major offenses elsewhere: social injustice and the oppression of the poor, the corruption of religious and political leaders (who were essentially the same people), and the worship of false gods. Micah cries out against all these sins, all of which arise from the people looking to their own understanding and wisdom and choosing what they believe is better over the wisdom of God and what God said is better. Therefore, God is not happy, and He is making a case against His people. At this point, God even challenges the people to make a case against Him, but before they attempt such a foolish endeavor, He reminds them of what He has already done for them, saying,

“Testify against Me.
In fact,
I brought you up from the land of Egypt,
I redeemed you from the house of bondage,
And I sent before you
Moses, Aaron, and Miriam.
‘My people,
Remember what Balak king of Moab
Plotted against you,
And how Balaam son of Beor
Responded to him.
[Recall your passage] From Shittim to Gilgalb—
And you will recognize
The gracious acts of the LORD.’”

We are familiar with the events in Egypt—how the Israelites were held in captivity for 400 years. Yet when God heard the cries of His people, He came to their rescue. He sent them “Let My People Go, Moses.” There were the ten plagues, the release, and the parting of the Red Sea. Then, at Mount Horeb, God gave them the Law, He gave them His wisdom, so they would know how to live and do so without excuse. This was God’s wisdom spelled out for the people; however, they sinned because they still relied on worldly wisdom, which cost them dearly, and they spent the next 40 years wandering in the desert. Finally, God allowed them into the Promised Land.

As they were going, they encountered many obstacles, including King Balak and the Moabites that Micah mentioned.

Balak had witnessed the Israelites’ progress through the lands and seen how they conquered all, and he was terrified. In an attempt to defeat them, he applied his version of wisdom and sent emissaries to Balaam. Balaam was a sorcerer of sorts, renowned for his ability to bless and to curse. Although not an Israelite, he could speak to God.

The emissaries of Balak came to him and asked him to curse the Israelites so that Balak’s armies could defeat them. Balaam spoke to the Lord, but the Lord said, “Don’t even think about it.” Two more times the emissaries asked Balaam to curse, and two more times God said, “No.” However, wanting to get paid and relying on his own wisdom, Balaam set out anyway, riding his donkey, to see these Israelites. It turned out the donkey was far wiser than Balaam.

As they were going, the donkey saw an angel of the Lord holding a sword that blocked their path, and the donkey turned aside. Balaam, unable to see the angel, beats the animal. After the third time and the third beating, donkey turns to Balaam and, impersonating Eddie Murphy, says to Balaam, “I just know that before this is over, I’m gonna need a whole lot of serious therapy.” (Shrek, 2001)

No, that’s not it. The donkey essentially says, “Fool, can’t you see that angel standing right there?” At which point the angel reveals himself. Long story short, Balaam blesses the Israelites instead of cursing them. He wises up for at least a moment. It is believed that Balak was later killed in battle, and we know that Balaam was executed for his treachery.

In His case against the Israelites, the Lord makes one final appeal to His wisdom and the good it brings when He says the people should remember what happened at their passage from “Shittim to Giglgal.” This is a reference to the miraculous crossing of the Jordan River, when the waters backed up, and the people crossed into the Promised Land on dry ground.

God accused the people because, using their own wisdom, they oppressed the poor, their religious and political leaders were corrupt, and the people worshiped false gods. God furthered His case by showing how good He had been to them by defeating those who would hold them captive, attempt to conquer them, or curse them. God demonstrated the foolishness of the “wisdom”—the wickedness—of these mortal kings and the people by showing how He had loved and protected them. How His way was so much better. Yet, the people were disobedient and sinned against Him and one another. The wisdom of God far exceeded the wisdom of the Israelites and their enemies, but the people were not obedient.

All this was a demonstration of what Paul, quoting Isaiah, said to the Corinthians. “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart.” Note that Paul is being sarcastic about the wisdom of the wise and the discerning. He is laughing at the “wise” who apply earthly wisdom instead of God’s.

So Paul asks, “Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?” Paul answers his own question by telling us that God has flipped the script. Those who think they are wise, He shows to be fools. “God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are.” Just as He has always done, God is turning things upside down.

God chose a young peasant girl instead of the Emperor’s daughter. God chose a baby in a manger instead of a king in a palace. God chose 12 men—tax collectors, fishermen, ordinary sinners—instead of scholars to be His disciples. Finally, God chose to be enthroned on a cross instead of a throne of gold lined with soft cushions. God chose the foolish, the weak, the lowly, and the despised. The greatest act of foolishness was when God chose a Cross to defeat all His enemies. And, to the world around us, it is the greatest insanity when we do the same, choosing the cross so that we can defeat those who come against us, seeking to separate us from our God. How do we persevere in the face of this opposition? Micah explains,

“He has told you, O man, what is good,
And what the LORD requires of you:
Only to do justice
And to love goodness,
And to walk modestly with your God;
Then will your name achieve wisdom.”

We achieve true wisdom when we choose the wisdom of God, when we choose the Cross and the ways of God, as exemplified in Jesus Christ. This is not the wisdom of the world or our own. In fact, it is quite the opposite. For it is not the way of the rich, the fat and happy, or the powerful. No. The wisdom of the Lord says,

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
“Blessed…” and wise are those who live by these words of God.

“The message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved, it is the power of God.” We are blessed when we live according to the wisdom of God.

Today, where do you find wisdom? In other words, what or who do you trust and place your faith in?

Do you place your faith in people—political or religious leaders? The Lord says,

“Cursed is he who trusts in man,
Who makes mere flesh his strength,
and turns his thoughts from the Lord.”
(Jeremiah 17:5)

Do you put your faith in this world? Jesus says, “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal” (Matthew 6:19).

How about those idols of your own creation—your strength, your resources, position, talents? Jonah said,

“Those who pay regard to vain idols
    forsake their hope of steadfast love.” (Jonah 2:9)

You get the point. Blessed are the poor, the meek, the peacemaker. Blessed are those who seek and follow the wisdom of God. Jeremiah says,

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord,
    whose trust is the Lord.
He is like a tree planted by water,
    that sends out its roots by the stream,
and does not fear when heat comes,
    for its leaves remain green,
and is not anxious in the year of drought,
    for it does not cease to bear fruit.” (Jeremiah 17:7-8)

The world may view your trust and the wisdom you live by as foolishness, but it is the wisdom of God, given only to His beloved children. “Do not swerve to the right or to the left; turn your foot away from evil” (Proverbs 4:27), and choose the wisdom of God. It takes time to learn, but it is not hidden from anyone who seeks it. As St. James tells us, “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.” (James 1:5)

Let us pray: (from St. Thomas Aquinas)
Grant us, O Lord our God,
a mind to know you,
a heart to seek you,
wisdom to find you,
conduct pleasing to you,
faithful perseverance in waiting for you,
and a hope of finally embracing you.
Amen.

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Sermon: Epiphany 3 RCL A – “Talk or Fish?”

Someone asked me why I don’t tell Boudreaux jokes anymore. Answer: There are only so many of them, and the ones remaining aren’t necessarily suitable for church. Which leaves me today with having to tell you one I’ve already told you, but it is in my top five.

One summer, no one living along the bayou could catch any fish except old Boudreaux. Knowing Boudreaux, the game warden thought something might be up, so he asked him how he did it. Boudreaux told the game warden he would take him fishing the next day and show him. Once they got to the middle of the lake, Boudreaux took out a stick of dynamite, lit it, and threw it into the water. After the explosion, fish started floating to the surface. Boudreaux took out a net and started scooping them up. When he had them all gathered, he looked back at the game warden, who was just sitting there with his mouth open, too stunned to even speak. Finally getting his wits back, the game warden started hollering at Boudreaux, “You can’t fish like that. It is so illegal that I’m hauling you into jail this very moment.” Boudreaux sat there for a moment, then he took out another stick of dynamite, lit it, and handed it to the game warden, asking, “You gonna fish or you gonna talk?”

Today, we read about Peter and some of the other fellas out fishing, but I’m guessing they weren’t prepared for what happened either. How their lives could be so radically changed and so quickly. Perhaps, as they were hauling in the day’s catch, they were making plans for a family outing after Synagogue on Saturday or thinking they needed to renegotiate the price of fish due to the increased fishing tax. Whatever they were thinking, I can’t imagine it included hearing the words, “Follow me,” and then following after some itinerant rabbi.

When you consider those events, can you imagine doing the same? The Gospel says they “immediately” followed him. One second you are a fisherman, and the next you are a disciple, crisscrossing the country, living rough, snatching a piece of grain from a field you are passing to have something to eat, and going through a pair of sandals every week. Sure, you are meeting new people, and there are the miracles—my goodness, the miracles—and you are listening to teachings that, for the first time in your life, allow you to come to an understanding of God. But there are also the more difficult parts. Some truly hate the rabbi you are following. After a while, there is even talk among some of them about finding a way to have him arrested or even put to death. After all, they did try to throw him off the cliff that one time. Then there was the time you thought you were going to die out on the sea when that great storm came up out of nowhere. As you huddled in fear, the rabbi slept in peace. When you cried out to him in your fear, he chastised you, then he chastised the storm, and the seas were calm. Thinking back on the day you met him and he said, “Follow me,” probably more than once a day, you ask yourself, “What the heck was I thinking?”

Years later, after witnessing his death and resurrection, you find yourself in prison, awaiting your execution. In the hours leading up to it, you reflect once again on those first words, “Follow me,” but you no longer wonder what you were thinking. Instead, you know within your very soul why you were chosen, why you were called: to serve His purposes. To be a fisher of men and to assist in ushering in the very Kingdom of God.

If you think back on your life, many of you probably remember the time when Jesus spoke those same words, “Follow me,” to you. For many, including me, we don’t know why we responded as we did, immediately dropping our old life and following him. For me, I don’t remember the date and time, but I remember the moment, and I have no way to describe it. Yet—in the twinkling of an eye—I stopped everything and followed him.

Like you and those first disciples, I have seen miracles—oh, yes, I have—I have seen lives transformed, and I have begun to learn more deeply about the things of God. But things weren’t always so good, and then I stuck with you lot. There are still days when I ask myself, “What the heck were you thinking?” (I also direct that question to God!) But I still remember the moment he said, “Follow me,” and I’m still amazed that he chose me.

What does all this have to do with today? As I thought about those first disciples and us, I was reminded of how similar we are to them in our lives and experiences. Individually and together, we experience times of great joy and great sadness, times of need and times of abundance, faith and doubt. Through faith and the knowledge imparted to our souls, we sit on the hillside listening to Jesus teach. We look over His shoulder as He reaches out to bring life where there was death. We see those who love Him and those who deride Him. We witness His brutal death, and we wait in the upper room with the other disciples for those three days, then rush to the tomb after Mary Magdalene tells us He has risen. In all these ups and downs, we may once again ask, “What was I thinking?” But then we remember: we have been chosen and we have a purpose. “You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.” (1 Peter 2:9) We have been chosen for this time and this place to be the Church and to be His witnesses. Today, I ask you to remember that all we do is because we have been chosen to follow Jesus and to be a great light in the darkness. We are the Church, and we have all been called to be fishers of men to assist in ushering in the very Kingdom of God.

Take some time to consider this: Jesus said to you, “Follow me.” If you’re listening to me today, there is a very good chance you did just that. So if that is the case, why did He call you? To what purpose have you been called into service in the Kingdom of God? When you begin to discern that calling, engage with it. Live it. St. Paul said in his letter to the Ephesians, “We are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” (2:10) And again, he says in his letter to the Philippians, “It is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.” (2:13)

Thomas Merton said, “If you want to identify me, ask me not where I live, or what I like to eat, or how I comb my hair, but ask me what I am living for, in detail, ask me what I think is keeping me from living fully for the thing I want to live for.”

You have been called by Jesus. You have responded that you will follow. Now ask yourself, “What am I living for in Christ Jesus and His Kingdom?” Are you going to fish or talk? In the words of the Captain of the Starship Enterprise, Jean-Luc Picard, “Engage.” Start fishing.

Let us pray: O Lord, our God, You called Your people to be Your Church. As they gather in Your Name, may they love, honor, and follow Your Son to eternal life in the Kingdom He promised. Let their worship always be sincere, and help them to find Your saving Love in the Church and its Sacraments. Fill with the Spirit of Christ those whom You call to live in the midst of the world and its concerns. Help them, by their work on earth, to build up Your eternal Kingdom. May they be effective witnesses to the Truth of the Gospel and make Your Church a living presence in the midst of the world. Increase the gifts You have given Your Church so that Your faithful people may continue to grow in holiness and in imitation of Your Beloved Son. In His name we pray. Amen.

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Sermon: Agnes

When I was 12 years old, my biggest concern was whether I was going fishing or hunting. It didn’t matter much to me. When our Saint for the day, Agnes, was 12, her biggest concern was avoiding being married off. She was a very beautiful girl and from a wealthy family. It sounds wrong to us, but 12 was about the right age for young girls to be married in the 300s, when Agnes was alive.

Agnes, however, had different plans. She said, “I am already promised to the Lord of the Universe. He is more splendid than the sun and the stars, and He has said He will never leave me!” “Jesus Christ is my only Spouse.” That didn’t go over with the many suitors, some of whom were much older, and one eventually accused her of being a Christian before the governor, which was illegal. At age 12, Agnes was beheaded for her faith. St. Abrose remembers her in his treatise On Virgins.

“Today is the birthday of a virgin; let us imitate her purity. It is the birthday of a martyr; let us offer ourselves in sacrifice. It is the birthday of Saint Agnes, who is said to have suffered martyrdom at the age of twelve. The cruelty that did not spare her youth shows all the more clearly the power of faith in finding one so young to bear it witness.

“There was little or no room in that small body for a wound. Though she could scarcely receive the blow, she could rise superior to it. Girls of her age cannot bear even their parents’ frowns and, pricked by a needle, weep as for a serious wound. Yet she shows no fear of the blood-stained hands of her executioners. She stands undaunted by heavy, clanking chains. She offers her whole body to be put to the sword by fierce soldiers. She is too young to know of death, yet is ready to face it. Dragged against her will to the altars, she stretches out her hands to the Lord in the midst of the flames, making the triumphant sign of Christ the victor on the altars of sacrilege. She puts her neck and hands in iron chains, but no chain can hold fast her tiny limbs.

“A new kind of martyrdom! Too young to be punished, yet old enough for a martyr’s crown; unfitted for the contest, yet effortless in victory, she shows herself a master in valor despite the handicap of youth. As a bride she would not be hastening to join her husband with the same joy she shows as a virgin on her way to punishment, crowned not with flowers but with holiness of life, adorned not with braided hair but with Christ himself.

“In the midst of tears, she sheds no tears herself. The crowds marvel at her recklessness in throwing away her life untasted, as if she had already lived life to the full. All are amazed that one not yet of legal age can give her testimony to God. So she succeeds in convincing others of her testimony about God, though her testimony in human affairs could not yet be accepted. What is beyond the power of nature, they argue, must come from its creator.

“What menaces there were from the executioner, to frighten her; what promises made, to win her over; what influential people desired her in marriage! She answered: “To hope that any other will please me does wrong to my Spouse. I will be his who first chose me for himself. Executioner, why do you delay? If eyes that I do not want can desire this body, then let it perish.” She stood still, she prayed, she offered her neck.

“You could see fear in the eyes of the executioner, as if he were the one condemned; his right hand trembled, his face grew pale as he saw the girl’s peril, while she had no fear for herself. One victim, but a twin martyrdom, to modesty and to religion; Agnes preserved her virginity, and gained a martyr’s crown.”

A Saint that demonstrates that God’s love and grace can extend to any, even the very young.

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Sermon: Epiphany 2 RCL A – “Wonder”

Sermon Audio recorded live.

In a small town, it was T-Ball season. The kids were ages 5-6, and there were only enough to form two teams, each with 17 kids. Each child played at the same time, and it was a bit of madness, but great fun for all. 

A father tells about his son, who played on one team, and a girl named Tracy, who played on the other. Tracy wore Coke-bottle glasses and hearing aids. When she ran, her bad leg would lag behind her, and one arm would windmill wildly. Tracy wasn’t very good, but she had a lot of spirit. When she batted, she would hit the air, and she would hit the T, but very rarely would she connect with the ball. When she did, it might roll six inches. However, the coach and everyone else, on both sides, would yell, “Run, Tracy! Run!” And she did, but she would get thrown out at first. This was the case until the very last game of the season. Tracy got up to bat, and Tracy clobbered it, knocking it past all 17 infielders (the outfielders had gotten bored out there, as nothing ever made it to them). The stadium erupted, “Run, Tracy! Run!” She did. The other team could have easily thrown her out, but chose to fumble around with the ball so that Tracy could score an in-park home run. 

The coaches got her to first base, then second, then third, but… the father picks up the story.

“Tracy started for home, 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! It was a moment of complete, stunned silence.

“And then, perhaps, not as loud, but deeper, longer, more heartfelt, we all applauded as Tracy fell to her knees to hug the dog.” (Dangerous Wonder, p.60)

For me, that seemed like a very simple explanation of life. We have goals. We put in the work required to achieve them. We execute the plan. We set out.

For many, once the plan is in motion, there may be a few hiccups or interruptions along the way, but when we are truly focused or involved, these do not deter us from achieving the goal.

For Tracy, the goal was to hit the ball and score a run. In many ways, we are doing just that. However, unlike Tracy, when we are focused and achieving, we may notice the smiling dog along the third base line, but that is all. We will not stop to hug the dog. We will score. We will win. Over time, we will be like everyone else in the stadium that day—we will not notice the twelve-year-old geriatric mutt, lazily settled along the third base line. He will fade into the background, but that won’t matter. We will have met our goal and succeeded.

It is funny, in a sad way, how, as we grow older, we no longer notice many things like that. We say we don’t have time or that we can’t be bothered by such trivial things as a “smiling mutt” in whatever form it may take. Places to be. People to see. Things… very important things to do. 

Trouble is—at least how I see it—we spend our lives like that, always chasing something, then one day we wake up old, never having truly reached our preset goals and having missed so many opportunities to witness the wonders of this world because we were so intent on our goals that they faded into the background.

When was the last time you were brought to a dead stop in wonder? In amazement? When was the last time your heart paused at what was unfolding before you? If you have, instead of staying in the moment—taking time to hug the goofy dog—simply smile and move on to the next item on the agenda. Does the brief moment of wonder fade as quickly as it arrives?

Perhaps I’m just talking about my own life this morning, and I’m the only one caught in this trap, but I don’t like to think about the things I’ve missed because I was so focused on what I was chasing. I believe this is why I’ve started traveling over the last few years and want to continue doing so, which is largely a response to a quote attributed to Virgil: “Death twitched my ear, ‘Live,’ he says, ‘for I am coming.’” That was all the motivation I needed.

You say, “Well, Father John, that’s all nice and good, but what does that have to do with anything today?” My response is a story from the Gospels.

It has been a long day with Jesus and the disciples. After all, they have fed 5,000 men, plus women and children. Jesus sends the disciples on ahead while He stays behind to pray. The disciples get in the boat and begin to cross the sea, believing Jesus will do the same after a while. Scripture tells us, “The sea became rough because a strong wind was blowing. When they had rowed about three or four miles, they saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat, and they were frightened. But he said to them, ‘It is I; do not be afraid.’” Jesus was walking on the water.

Within your mind and within your soul, how do you feel about that—Jesus walking on the water? Does that create a sense of wonder at least as strong as Tracy’s when she saw the geriatric mutt, or do you just keep moving toward your goal? What if I told you that this same Jesus healed a man with leprosy, gave sight to a blind man, and, after a man had been dead for four days, raised him to life? Anything? How about this? Jesus, the very Son of God, was crucified, died, and was buried, then on the third day rose from the grave. Does that get your motor running, or have you heard it so many times that it has just become part of the background between third base and home plate?

We become so focused on achieving our goals that even the wonder and amazement of Jesus can fade into the background. We know those old stories by heart and we no longer give them the power to transform our lives or the world around us. The statement “Jesus rose from the dead” should level us, but instead we ask, “Got it. What’s next?”

Today in our Gospel reading, we have another scene with John the Baptist. Jesus is nearby, and John speaks of him. The next day, John is visiting with two of his disciples, Andrew and, although unnamed, we believe to be the Apostle John. The Baptist points to Jesus, and Andrew and John follow. Sensing them, Jesus turns and asks, “What are you looking for?” They respond, “Well, uh, we were, you know, a buh buh buy… where are you staying?” Jesus says, “Come and see.”

Jesus says, “You are searching for many things. You have goals in your life, things you want to accomplish. You’ve been working toward them, but stop. Come and see what I will show you.” Come and see what?

Defending the faith, St. Paul told the Corinthians what they would see.

“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)

Come and see the wonders of our God, given to us in Christ Jesus our Lord. Come and see lives transformed. Come and see the healing of bodies, minds, and spirits. Come and see God and participate in His Kingdom. Come and see, and the list goes on.

This is our Annual Meeting Sunday. It is a time when I seek to articulate where I would like to see us go over the course of the next year. This year, it is for us to come and see the great events of Jesus again. To be struck with such a sense of wonder that our hearts well up with a joy that brings us to an even greater love and deeper service to our God.

By all means, have your goals and aspirations, but do not let Jesus become just another part of the background. Bring Him to the forefront. Allow Jesus the opportunity to stop you in your tracks in wonder and draw you into a deeper relationship with Him.

Let us pray: God, our Father, You redeemed us and made us Your children in Christ. Through Him, You have saved us from death and given us Your Divine life of grace. By becoming more like Jesus on earth, may we come to share His glory in Heaven. Give us the peace of Your kingdom, which this world does not give. By Your loving care, protect the good You have given us. Open our eyes to the wonders of Your Love that we may serve You with a willing heart. Amen.

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Sermon: Christmas 1 RCL A – “Light”

Photo by Denny Müller on Unsplash

A group of women was talking together. One woman said, “Our congregation is sometimes down to 30 or 40 on a Sunday.”

Another said, “That’s nothing. Sometimes our congregation is down to six or seven.”

A maiden lady in her seventies added her bit, “Why, it’s so bad in our church on Sundays that when the minister says ‘dearly beloved,’ it makes me blush.”

With today being a low Sunday—especially after the wedding last night—I’m delighted to see you all here. Hopefully, you won’t regret your decision after hearing a few verses of this poem by Lord Byron. The title: Darkness.

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish’d, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill’d into a selfish prayer for light.

It goes on from there, and I can assure you it doesn’t get any cheerier. It describes a post-apocalyptic world where the sun and stars have “gone out,” and humanity consumes everything in an attempt to create light, but all is despair. In the dim light of their fires, famine overcomes them. The last remaining survivors come together and build a fire so they can see one another, but they die of fright when they do because of the horror they have become.

In the end,

The world was void,
The populous and the powerful was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless—
A lump of death—a chaos of hard clay.
(Source)


Can I just say “Merry Christmas”?

I’m not sure where Byron was in his head when he wrote that one, but the words of our Gospel kept coming to me as I read it. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

In the days leading up to the birth of Jesus, the world’s inhabitants lived in spiritual darkness. We know that there had not been a prophet in the land for over 400 years, and the oppression of the Roman legions was steadily increasing. It seemed that all of God’s promises had proved false. The Prophet Isaiah writes,

“Justice is far from us,
    and righteousness does not overtake us;
we hope for light, and behold, darkness,
    and for brightness, but we walk in gloom.
We grope for the wall like the blind;
    we grope like those who have no eyes;
we stumble at noon as in the twilight,
    among those in full vigor we are like dead men.”
(Isaiah 59:9-10)

The people were horrified by what had become of their lives and their dreams. Just as in the poem, a famine plagued the earth—the people were starving for God, for a Redeemer, a Savior. So they prayed, they prayed for the light to come.

And so it was, on a dark night, over the region of Judea above the City of David, which is called Bethlehem, that God once more said, “Let there be light,” and the Light of the World was given to us. It was God giving Himself to us in the form of a Babe, lying in a manger and wrapped in swaddling clothes.

“In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it…. The true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world.”

As we declare in the Nicene Creed, “For us and for our salvation he came down from heaven, by the power of the Holy Spirit he became incarnate from the Virgin Mary and was made man.”

The birth of Jesus, the Incarnation of God, was what this dark world had been waiting and praying for. Yet we often make the mistake of limiting the Incarnation of our Lord to a historical event—something that happened 2,000 or so years ago—and we fail to understand its power in this present dark world and in our lives. However, it is an error to limit the Incarnation to a specific time and place. The light that first shone in the world on that first Christmas still shines as brightly today as it did then. It still has the power to dispel the darkness and to bring about our redemption through the forgiveness of sins.

St. Paul confirms this in his second letter to the Corinthians: “For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” Through this shining into the darkness, God has qualified us—that is, enabled us—to share in the inheritance of the saints in light. He has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.” (Colossians 1:12-14) And, as St. John tells us, all who believe this and call on Jesus’ Name are given the right by God to become His children.

However, even with this understanding, we are still left with one very important question: Why? Why has God rescued us? Why has He forgiven us? Why has He given us power to become His children?

Why did God become incarnate? Holy Scripture gives one answer to these questions: “Because of his great love for us.” (Ephesians 2:4) Scripture says, “In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.” (1 John 4:9-10) God loves us so much that He sent His one and only Son into the world to die for us.

As we enter these celebratory times of the year, our hearts are lifted, we experience the joy of God, and this is a wonderful blessing from Him. Still, we can never separate the birth of Christ, His incarnation, from His crucifixion. It was for this reason—this ultimate expression of God’s radical love—that Christ the Savior was born.

In a sermon, St. Augustine said,
“The Lord was born in order to die;
he died in order that we might live.
The wood of the crib was a sign of the wood of the cross;
the narrow manger foreshadowed the narrow tomb.” (Sermon 196)

An elderly priest tells a story from his youth. He says, “I thought Christmas Day would never come, as it seemed like eternity, but the day finally arrived. After a night of tossing and turning, I awoke early in the morning, then ran to the tree and looked under it to see what was there. As I looked, I found nothing under the tree, so I turned to my Father and asked, ‘Where is the gift that you said you gave me?’ He told me that my gift was not under the tree but on it.” The priest reports, “As I looked up, I heard these words, ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.’ The gift was Jesus, looking down on me from that old rugged tree, the Cross, with love in his eyes.”

On a dark night, over the region of Judea above the City of David, which is called Bethlehem, God once more said, “Let there be light,” and through the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Light of the World was given to us. Mary wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger. For us, for our salvation, and for our sake, and because of his great love, God became one of us.

Give thanks, for the true light, which gives light to everyone, has come into the world.

Let us pray: God of love, Father of all, the darkness that covered the earth has given way to the bright dawn of your Word made flesh. Make us a people of this light. Make us faithful to your Word, that we may bring your life to the waiting world. Grant this through Christ our Lord. Amen.

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Sermon: Wedding – Kyler and Sophie

The Gospel reading from the fifteenth chapter of St. John’s Gospel takes place at the Last Supper. There, Jesus says, “My command is this: Love one another as I have loved you.” When the disciples heard this, they might have been taken aback at first, but after a while, they may have come to the conclusion that they could do it. “I can minister to the sick, as Jesus did.” “I can help feed the hungry as He did.” “I can preach the Gospel.” “I can even be a servant to all.”

However, that was the fifteenth chapter; in the nineteenth chapter of John, the day after the Last Supper, Jesus radically redefined the meaning of the command to love one another as He loved us. Jesus demonstrated that His love extended far beyond ministering, serving, and preaching — it extended all the way to Golgotha and His death on the Cross. 

What makes this such a great challenge for us today is that this radical commandment of Jesus—love one another as I have loved you—has crossed the centuries to us gathered here today. At first, we might be tempted to interpret it as the disciples did—“I can be a good person.” “I can take care of those in need.” “I can feed the hungry.” But we know, Jesus, just as He did with the Apostles, has much more in mind.

However, we might still want to dilute it to make it more acceptable. Simpler. We might say, “I will love you as much as you love me,” or “I will care for you as much as you care for me.” The issue with this is that this kind of love is based on our own strength, with all the conditions we set. Done in our own strength, it might sound good, especially on days like today, but it can also turn sour rather quickly, because “I will love you as much as you love me” can also mean “I will be as angry with you as you are angry with me,” or “I will forgive you when you forgive me.” We know, this is not what Jesus intended.

No. Jesus said, “Love one another as I have loved you.” There are no addenda, footnotes, or appendices to this statement, which means we are called to love one another sacrificially—to the Cross. How can we do this? I’m not sure it’s even possible, but maybe we can learn a few things from those who have tried.

About twenty years ago, I had the blessed opportunity to officiate at the renewal of wedding vows for Ronny and Bunny, who had been married for fifty years. Several days before the service, I received a letter from their daughter, who had asked her mom, “How is it that two people can stay in love for so long?” Her mom replied, “We chose to.” Bunny went on to say, “Every morning when I get up, I choose to be in love with your dad. And because I love and respect him so much, I don’t get angry with him. I couldn’t imagine hurting someone I care so much for or even making the least bit angry or uncomfortable. Don’t hold grudges. Instead, tell him when he makes you upset. It is just as easy to put the toilet seat down as it is to pick up socks. Hugs are a great way to dispel anger. And most importantly, the advice that makes the most sense is simply to choose to be in love.” Before the renewal of vows, I had the opportunity to visit with Ronny and ask him the same thing. His advice was basically the same. “Choose to be in love.”

When Jesus said, “Love one another as I have loved you,” I believe this is at least a beginning of what He had in mind. It involves dying to self so that we all can have life. As Bishop Barron often says, to love someone is to “will the good of the other”—to set aside our own desires so the needs of others are fulfilled.

Therefore, before God and these witnesses, I charge you, Kyler and you, Sophie, in the Name of Christ’s one holy catholic and apostolic Church to love one another as Christ Jesus has loved you. To build a loving home that the Lord may bless, to live your lives to the fullest, but to always remember that it can only be done through Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.

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