Tag: Christianity

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Sermon: Proper 25 RCL C – “Truthfulness”

On a Sunday afternoon, an elderly man sat on the back porch of the parsonage, talking to the young priest, and said, “Father, I’ve got something to tell you. I’ve never told this to a soul; it’s extremely difficult to tell you now, but my wife and I have had a fight almost every day for the past 30 years of our marriage.”

The priest was surprised and looked away. He nervously sipped his coffee, unsure of what to say. The young priest asked, “Every day?” “Yes, just about every day.” “Did you fight today before coming to church?” “Yes.” “How did it end?” “She came crawling to me on her hands and knees.” “My goodness, what did she say?” “Come out from under that bed, you coward, and fight like a man!”

Jesus tells a parable about two men who “went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.” The Pharisee was very knowledgeable about God’s teachings. The tax collector, not so much. Plus, the tax collector was generally seen as a plague on society. So, after their prayer, you might think the Pharisee would be the one justified before God, but that’s not the case. When he prays, he believes he knows the mind of God, how things work—he’s not just on the team, he’s the star quarterback, so he is all puffed up. When he prays, he says to God, “You know me and I know you. We’re tight, and thank heaven I’m not like that poor schmuck over there. You and me, we’re good.” He sees himself as a righteous dude because he thinks God views him as a righteous dude.

On the other hand, the tax collector could not even look up toward heaven when he prayed. In the temple, he stayed as far away as possible, keeping his head bowed. He didn’t consider himself worthy, so he prayed, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” And Jesus said, “I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.”

What was the key difference between the two? If I had to pick one word, I would say truthfulness — not with the world around them or even with God, but truthfulness with themselves.

In The Brothers Karamazov, Fyodor Dostoevsky writes, “And, above all—don’t lie… Above all, don’t lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to such a pass that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others.”

The tax collector, despite feeling miserable about himself and his sins, was at least honest with himself. He had no illusions about being a good man, so instead of trying to justify himself before God, he cast his soul on God’s mercy. He prayed, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”

As for the Pharisee, he couldn’t see past his own self-deception to repent for any wrongdoing. He stood before God, having lied to himself so completely that, in Dostoevsky’s words, he could not “distinguish the truth within him, or around him.”

Unfortunately, I believe that more people are like the Pharisee than the tax collector. They deceive themselves into thinking they are justified and righteous before God. Why? Several reasons come to mind.

First, looking inward and facing the truth about ourselves can sometimes be quite painful. For example, if you have a long work history, jumping from one job to another, it’s easy to blame others. “Well, the boss didn’t like me.” “At this job, they didn’t appreciate me.” “There, the employees were always after me.” Each of those statements could be true and reason enough to leave, but if you are honest with yourself and those circumstances, you might ask, “What is the common denominator? What do each of those positions have in common?” The answer: you. That doesn’t mean you were the problem, but it’s a question you need to ask. If, in asking that question honestly and realizing it was you, well, that can be a painful revelation, and we don’t like pain—whether physical, emotional, or spiritual—which leads to another reason for self-deception: fear of change.

In those jobs you held, you were honest with yourself, you discovered that you were the one who was the issue, and even though it was a painful revelation, you still must make a choice. Will you remain the same, or will you work to change and improve yourself? Everyone talks about how change is a good thing, and I believe that it is, right up to the point where I’m the one who has to do the changing; then change is very, very bad.

If we choose to overcome the pain and change, we must also face another part of being honest with ourselves—letting others see and understand who we truly are and that we were wrong. Oh, the humanity! Pride is a harmful trait.

In the end, if we overcome these and other fears of being truthful with ourselves and with God, I believe there is one more reason why we will continue to deceive ourselves: we don’t believe we have the capacity or the tools to do anything about it. We say, “I am who I am, and there’s nothing to be done about it in Heaven or on Earth.” O woe is me, but that is just another lie we tell ourselves so we don’t have to do the work.

The Psalms we read on Sundays are usually very pleasant and easily consumed. From the Psalm today, praising the Lord.

“Happy are they who dwell in your house!
they will always be praising you.”

However, if you explore the Psalms beyond our Sunday readings, you will notice there is quite a focus on enemies. Take Psalm 63, for example. When we read it, we see verses one through eight. It begins,

“O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.”

Nice and comforting, but when we only read verses one through eight, we never get to verses nine and ten.

“But those who seek to destroy my life
shall go down into the depths of the earth;
they shall be given over to the power of the sword;
they shall be a portion for jackals.”

Hoorah! But who are these enemies that seek my life? Who is it that will be put down by the sword and fed to jackals?

Some may have a person or group they consider an “enemy” (I would suggest you rethink that), but what if, instead of a person or group, we interpret the enemies in Psalms as the self-deceptions and sins within us? What if we see the enemies as those parts of our lives that we need to rid ourselves of, to fight so that we can conquer, in order that we might change and be transformed into the image of God? What if we say we must defeat the pain and fear of change and put the pride under our feet? Think about these ideas and consider them in the context of a portion of Psalm 118.

For who is God, but the Lord?…
He trains my hands for war,
so that my arms can bend a bow of bronze.
You have given me the shield of your salvation,
and your right hand supported me,
and your gentleness made me great.
You gave a wide place for my steps under me,
and my feet did not slip.
I pursued my enemies
—I pursued my sin and self-deception—
and overtook them,
and did not turn back till they were consumed.
I am running a few minutes late; my previous meeting is running over.
I thrust them through, so that they were not able to rise;
they fell under my feet.
For you equipped me with strength for the battle;
you made those who rise against me
—those enemies within—
sink under me.
You made my enemies turn their backs to me,
and those who hated me I destroyed.
They cried for help, but there was none to save;
they cried to the Lord, but he did not answer them.
I beat them fine as dust before the wind;
I cast them out like the mire of the streets.

What if, like the Psalmist, when our enemies come against us, we don’t crawl under the bed, but instead say, “Bring it!”—trusting completely in the words of the Lord, “No weapon that is fashioned against you shall succeed” (Isaiah 54:17a).

If we will, then we know that we can and must stand against the enemies and self-deception, so that when we come before the Lord, we don’t pretend as though nothing is wrong. We don’t stand there like a Pharisee saying, “Oh, look how perfect I am,” but instead, we are in a place where we can humbly pray, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” And in doing so, like the tax collector, be justified, be made right before the Lord. Jesus said, “All who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.

In his first epistle, the Apostle John wrote, “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness (1 John 1:8-9).” If we will humble ourselves by being truthful with ourselves and with God, then we will be justified in God’s eyes.

Let us pray: God, the author of peace and lover of concord, to know you is eternal life and to serve you is perfect freedom: Defend us, your humble servants, in all assaults of our enemies; that we, surely trusting in your defense, may not fear the power of any adversaries; through the might of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

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Sermon: Teresa of Avila

If I told you the number 218, what do you think it would represent? It is roughly the number of times St. Paul speaks the name “Jesus” in his writings. This number doesn’t include the times Paul uses “Christ” instead—just Jesus.

Consider the beginning of Paul’s greeting in his First Epistle to the Corinthians.

“Paul, called to be an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, and our brother Sosthenes, 

To the church of God in Corinth, to those sanctified in Christ Jesus and called to be his holy people, together with all those everywhere who call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ—their Lord and ours:

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.”

He clearly stated from the start who he would be discussing—Jesus.

It is this frequent use of the name Jesus that St. Teresa of Avila, whom we celebrate today, noted in her writing (this is a longer selection).

“If Christ Jesus dwells in a man as his friend and noble leader, that man can endure all things, for Christ helps and strengthens us and never abandons us. He is a true friend. And I clearly see that if we expect to please him and receive an abundance of his graces, God desires that these graces must come to us from the hands of Christ, through his most sacred humanity, in which God takes delight.

“Many, many times I have perceived this through experience. The Lord has told it to me. I have definitely seen that we must enter by this gate if we wish his Sovereign Majesty to reveal to us great and hidden mysteries. A person should desire no other path, even if he is at the summit of contemplation; on this road he walks safely. All blessings come to us through our Lord. He will teach us, for in beholding his life we find that he is the best example.

“What more do we desire from such a good friend at our side? Unlike our friends in the world, he will never abandon us when we are troubled or distressed. “Blessed is the one who truly loves him and always keeps him near. Let us consider the glorious Saint Paul: it seems that no other name fell from his lips than that of Jesus, because the name of Jesus was fixed and embedded in his heart. Once I had come to understand this truth, I carefully considered the lives of some of the saints, the great contemplatives, and found that they took no other path: Francis, Anthony of Padua, Bernard, Catherine of Siena. A person must walk along this path in freedom, placing himself in God’s hands. If God should desire to raise us to the position of one who is an intimate and shares his secrets, we ought to accept this gladly.

“Whenever we think of Christ we should recall the love that led him to bestow on us so many graces and favours, and also the great love God showed in giving us in Christ a pledge of his love; for love calls for love in return. Let us strive to keep this always before our eyes and to rouse ourselves to love him. For if at some time the Lord should grant us the grace of impressing his love on our hearts, all will become easy for us and we shall accomplish great things quickly and without effort.”

She wrote, “Love calls for love in return—Jesus’ love for us calls out our love for Him; therefore—Let us strive to keep this [love] always before our eyes and to rouse ourselves to love him.”

How do we accomplish this? As with Teresa, Paul, Catherine, Francis, and so many others, keep the name of Jesus always before you. In all whom you see, in all that you do, speak His Name, and you will rouse yourself to love Him and others.

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Sermon: Proper 22 RCL C – “Give thanks”

Three local pastors teamed up for a local revival. After the tent was taken down and the dust had settled, they met for coffee to discuss how things went. 

The Methodist minister said, “I want to give thanks for this revival. Through our efforts, the Methodist Church gained four new members. It was awesome.”

The Presbyterian preacher grinned and said, “I want to add my thanks to yours, praise God. Through our revival, we gained six new members.”

The Episcopal priest, grinning from ear to ear, sat silent, then said enthusiastically, “I’m just as excited as you both! Between the two of you, you gained ten new members. That is wonderful news. For us at the Episcopal Church, I couldn’t be any more thankful. Through our work together, we managed to get rid of our ten biggest troublemakers! Alleluia.”

The Apostle Paul tells us, “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18) And I suppose losing the troublemakers is something worth giving thanks for, not that I would ever do anything like that. 

Even though Paul encourages us to give thanks in all circumstances, there are moments when even God might roll His eyes. There was a funny meme with an image of Jesus. The look on Jesus’ face says it all—“Are you stupid?” The caption read, “Jesus’ face after you give thanks and then ask Him to bless twenty chicken nuggets, two Big Macs, two large fries, and an extra-large Coke as nourishment unto your body.” Besides that, we should give thanks to God for His providence in our lives. Without it, we wouldn’t even exist.

So, we give thanks to God and we give thanks to others. We feel gratitude and express it. American author Gertrude Stein said, “Silent gratitude isn’t much to anyone.” And it’s true. 

There’s a strange little debate about saying, “Thank you.” It involves store cashiers. Question: After they ring you up, should you thank them or should they thank you? On the one side, some cashiers argue that they’ve provided a service and that the right thing for the customer to do is say, “Thank you.” On the other hand, some customers say they shopped at the store, and because the cashier is paid to do their job, they should thank the customer for shopping there. I agree with both sides, although it does seem less common these days for a cashier to thank a customer. It also feels like we get into some ridiculous arguments.

What got me to thinking about all this “Thank you” business was the second part of our Gospel reading. It was short, so I’ll share it again—“Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, ‘Come here at once and take your place at the table’? Would you not rather say to him, ‘Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink’? Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, ‘We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!’”—and it made me reflect on the nature of gratitude and obedience.

Nowadays, we don’t like talking about masters and slaves, but this is the text we’re given, so let’s work with it.

Put yourself in the place of the master. You own the land, the house… everything. You also own the slave. In Jesus’ time, slaves had some rights but were expected to do what they were told. As the master, you don’t ask your slave to go and plow the field; you tell them to do it, and you expect it to be done. Additionally, as the master, you expect your needs to be met before the slave cares for themselves or others.

If, on the other hand, you were in the place of the slave, then you know that if the master says, “Fix me supper,” you had better jump to it. And as the slave, after you’ve fixed supper and placed it on the table in front of the master, you don’t expect the master to say, “Thank you.” Why? Because, as a slave, you’ve done nothing more than what you are supposed to do. You did it—not because you were being nice, not because you were trying to earn brownie points or favor, and not because you thought you would earn a bonus—you did it because you are a slave, and your obedience is not requested; it is expected. And, as much as we may not always like it, it is this spirit we are to have toward God’s commandments. For example, 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.” 

The way we sometimes act may lead us to read that as some good advice applicable in certain situations, but Jesus said, “A new commandment I give to you.” A commandment is not something that is being requested of you. Like a slave, a commandment is something that is expected of you. On the day of judgment (Lord, Lord, what is this coming to… talking about commandments, obedience, and judgment!) On the day of judgment, God is not going to come up to us and say, “I want to thank you for loving others when it was in your best interest or when you felt like it or when you were in a good mood.” No. Instead, God will say, “I thought I told you to love one another. Why didn’t you?” When we love one another, we are not doing so so that God will pat us on the head and tell us what good boys and girls we are. Instead, when we love one another, we should say, “We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!”

Now, here’s the interesting thing: when we say we are slaves, we are not diminishing ourselves, but are in fact raising ourselves up. As St. Paul tells us, “Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a slave, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:5-8)

For us as followers of Jesus, being slaves and obedient is not about simply following this rule and that rule. Besides, we can see in the Israelites, who had the Law of Moses, that we aren’t so good at keeping rules. Also, being a slave isn’t about being a doormat or being oppressed. Instead, in God the Father’s eyes, our obedience, like that of slaves, is about transformation. Being obedient like a slave involves being transformed into the very image of Christ Jesus. Like Jesus, it means being obedient and taking up our cross. Like Jesus, this obedience isn’t about our own will but the will of the Father. This shows us that such obedience isn’t driven by force or duty. It’s an obedience of love. If you are obedient to God because you’re afraid of going to hell, then you’re acting out of fear of punishment. However, as St. John tells us, “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love. We love because he first loved us.” (1John 4:18-19) 

We were slaves to sin, but when we became obedient to God, we began to resemble Jesus. By becoming like Him, we no longer need to be afraid but are set free to experience God’s love. However, in the words of that TV pitchman, “But wait! There’s more!” For as Paul tells us, “When the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as God’s children. And because you are His children, God has sent the Spirit of His Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!’ So you are no longer a slave, but a child, and if a child, then an heir through God.” (Galatians 4:4-7) Somebody say, “Amen.” 

As slaves in this world, no one will thank you. However, by becoming obedient slaves of God, you will become His children. Not only will you then be set free to love one another and to love God, but you will also gain the freedom and joy to experience God’s true love for you. 

Let us pray: Our obedient Lord Jesus, You obeyed the will of Your Father in Heaven to perfection. Through this obedience, You not only experienced the full love and joy of the Father in Your human nature, but You also set for us a perfect example and model for holiness. Help us to see the areas of our lives in which we need to be more obedient, so that we, too, will share in Your holy life and that of the Father’s. Jesus, we trust in You and we give You praise and thanks. Amen.

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Sermon: Proper 21 RCL C – “Dives in Hell”

Some of the old-timey Gospel music can be fun to listen to. Dr. Ruby Holland sang,
“Get back Satan, I’m running late
Get back Satan, I’m running late
Well I’ve got to get to Heaven, before they close the gate
Get back Satan, I’m running late.”

And Bishop Neal Roberson pleaded,
“Don’t let the devil ride,
Don’t let the devil ride,
Oh if you let him ride, he’ll want to drive…
Please Don’t let him drive your car…
Don’t do it, Don’t do it, Don’t do it!”

A simple theology—Jesus never complicated the message! That’s one of the wonderful things about musicians, artists, writers, and poets using their talents to express God’s truths. However, there are some—much like theologians—who go even deeper, creating works that require great skill and intellect to understand. Today, especially, I’m thinking about Dante Alighieri.

Dante wrote the epic poem The Divine Comedy, which consists of three major parts: Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso (Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise). I’ll be honest and tell you that I have attempted it, but have not yet made it far. My sister-in-law recommended a translation to me, and it is on the way, so I plan to try again. Keep you posted. 

For the opening verse of the first part, Inferno, Dante wrote,

“Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.”

For Dante, who acts as both the narrator and poet, finding himself in the dark forest means he has found himself in a place of sin and spiritual confusion. While searching for a way out, he meets the poet Virgil, who will serve as his guide through the nine levels of the Inferno, hell. 

The deeper the level, the more heinous the sin. Level one includes the unbaptized and virtuous pagans. Level six is guarded by demons and reserved for heretics. Level nine is the home of Satan, where he chews on the worst traitors, including Judas Iscariot and Brutus, as in, et tu Brute? 

For many centuries, Christians held a vivid and imaginative view of hell, but as we became more “enlightened,” that understanding gave way to doubt and disbelief. Now, for many, hell is nothing more than a myth that we tell children to keep them in line on rainy days. The author of the book, The Hell There Is, which we recently discussed at our Saints Book Club, states, “What is more common today, at least among the faithful, is not the outright denial of hell but a kind of practical denial of it by concluding, contrary to Scripture, that very few, if any, go to hell.” (p.2-3) He explains that individuals come to this conclusion because they don’t believe a loving God would condemn anyone to eternal punishment. However, for the author, God is not the one condemning people; rather, they are choosing hell themselves. To demonstrate this, the author references the parable of Lazarus and the rich man (also known as Dives, the Latin word for rich or wealthy). So, how does the parable show the man choosing hell over being condemned to it?

To begin (and I’ll refer to the rich man as Dives), Dives was very well aware of Lazarus’ condition. Lazarus was not sitting at the city gates where he might have occasionally been seen by Dives; instead, Lazarus was sitting at the gates of Dives’ house. Dives would have seen Lazarus every single time he went outside, yet Dives chose to ignore him. Dives did nothing directly against Lazarus, but sin isn’t limited to actions. We pray in the confession, “Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone.” Sins of commission are the wrongs we do, and sins of omission are the good we fail to do, even when we know we should act.

Countless times throughout the history of God’s people, even before the time of Jesus, God called on His people to care for the poor. For example, Deuteronomy 15:11 states, “There will always be poor people in the land. Therefore, I command you to be openhanded toward your fellow Israelites who are poor and needy in your land.”

Disobeying this command, Dives, fully aware of Lazarus’ needs, committed a great sin of omission. He was not compelled to ignore him but chose to. Dives did not choose the ways of God; he chose the ways of self and the devil, making a conscious decision to prefer hell over heaven. Further proof of this choosing is that once there, Dives’ attitude does not change.

In Hades and in torment, Dives looks up and sees Abraham and Lazarus in Paradise. He calls out, “Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.” 

That is the same attitude he had toward Lazarus while he was alive. Lazarus is a non-person to him. He does not ask Abraham to send Lazarus down to where he is so that he can beg for forgiveness. No. Instead, Dives asks for Lazarus to be sent down to serve him. “Abraham, tell that wretch to run this little errand for me.” Neither does Dives ask if he might come up to Heaven so he might escape his torment. He is neither willing to confess nor ask for forgiveness for his sins, which demonstrates that, despite the torments he is currently experiencing, he is still happy with the choices he has made. It is one of those situations where your only regret is that you got caught. Dives chose his current state, and he would rather remain in hell than walk in the ways of God. Do people truly make such an insane choice?

You are familiar with Jesus’ words in John 3:16—“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son…,” and John 3:18 tells us, “Whoever believes in Him [Jesus] is not condemned, but whoever does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God.” Then Jesus says something quite remarkable in verse 19, “And this is the judgment: the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil.” (John 3:19) “This is the judgment,” may also be translated as “This is the condemnation.” So, if we rephrase 3:19, we could say, “This is the condemnation: Jesus came into the world, and people chose the darkness—they chose hell—rather than Jesus, because they preferred their evil ways over the ways of God.” 

Yes. The author of the book is correct in his assertions—God does not condemn a person to hell; they choose it. What makes this choice so woeful is that after death, there’s no second chance. When Dives asked for that cool drop of water, Abraham told him that he had received his reward while alive and ignored the needs of another person. Additionally, Abraham tells Dives, “Between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.” Death is not a threshold we cross. Death is a chasm that, once crossed, cannot be breached.

The author writes, “Think of wet clay on a potter’s wheel. If the clay is moist and still on the wheel, it can be shaped and reshaped, but once it is put in the kiln, in the fire, its shape is fixed forever. So it is with us that when we appear before God, who is a holy fire, our fundamental shape will be forever fixed, our decisions will be final. This is mysterious to us, and we only sense it vaguely, but because heaven and hell are eternal, it seems reasonable to conclude that this forever-fixed state is in our future.” (p.76)

With that understanding, I have some good news for you and I have some bad news for you. Let’s start with the bad news—“All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,” (Romans 3:23) and “the wages of sin is death.” (Romans 6:23) We have sinned and we are dead in our sin; therefore, we are already on the wrong and unbreachable side of the chasm. We are dead in our trespasses and sins because we too have not followed the ways of God. (Cf Ephesians 2:1-3) That’s the bad news. The Good News is this—like the clay on the potter’s wheel, we have not yet been placed in the kiln. Our final shape, our forever-fixed state, is not yet set. There is still time to make another choice—a better and eternal one—and that is what Jesus offers us all. Jesus has created the one and only way by which we can cross the unreachable chasm, and that Way is through Him. “Jesus said to him, ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’” (John 14:6)

“Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.”

Certain actions we take and choices we make can lead us into that same dark forest where we lose the straightforward pathway. If we persist, then, in the end, the consequences of those actions and choices bring us to that Inferno which is forever fixed. If, however, we choose the Way that Christ Jesus has established, then we are gifted an eternal dwelling place with God in the New Jerusalem. My advice then is this,

Don’t let the devil drive your car.
Don’t do it, Don’t do it, Don’t do it!

Let us pray: Loving Father, faith in Your Word is the way to wisdom. Help us to think about Your Divine Plan that we may grow in the truth. Open our eyes to Your deeds, our ears to the sound of Your call, so that our every act may help us share in the life of Jesus. Give us the grace to live the example of the love of Jesus, which we celebrate in the Eucharist and see in the Gospel. Form in us the likeness of Your Son and deepen His Life within us. Amen.

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Sermon: Padre Pio

Yesterday was the feast day of St. Padre Pio. His life was remarkable for many reasons. He was a Capuchin Franciscan monk. He received the stigmata, losing a cup of blood per day; he heard thousands of confessions, and countless miracles have been recorded through his intercessions, both during his life and after his death. In 1947, he heard the confession of a young priest. In 2002, Padre Pio was canonized as a Saint by that same man, now called Pope John Paul II. He died in 1968 at the age of 81. 

Today, I want to share just a few of the sayings of Padre Pio, but I’m going to reserve a bit of my time until after the Eucharist, because I want to share a prayer he wrote that is to be prayed at that time.

We are only capable of doing a little good. But God, in His goodness, has pity on us, is content with very little, and accepts the preparation of our hearts …. God is infinitely greater than our heart and this overcomes the whole world.

The demon has only one door by which to enter into our soul: the will; there are no secret doors. No sin is a sin if not committed with the will. When there is no action of the will, there is no sin, but only human weakness.

Remember that man has a mind, that he has a brain which serves him for reasoning, that he has a heart for feeling, he has a soul. The heart can be commanded by the head, but not the soul, so there must be a Supreme Being who commands the soul … it is impossible to exclude a Supreme Being.

The desire to be in eternal peace is good and holy, but you must moderate this with complete resignation to the divine will. It is better to do the divine will on earth, than to enjoy Paradise.

In a word: obedience is everything to me.

Before you sanctify others, think about sanctifying yourself.

And what man consider his most famous quote is one worth remembering—Pray, hope, and don´t worry. Worry is useless. God is merciful and will hear your prayer.

After Communion… 

Stay with me, Lord, for it is necessary to have You present so that I do not forget You. You know how easily I abandon You.

Stay with me, Lord, because I am weak and I need Your strength, that I may not fall so often.

Stay with me, Lord, for You are my life, and without You, I am without fervor.

Stay with me, Lord, for You are my light, and without You, I am in darkness. Stay with me, Lord, to show me Your will.

Stay with me, Lord, so that I hear Your voice and follow You.

Stay with me, Lord, for I desire to love You very much, and always be in Your company.

Stay with me, Lord, if You wish me to be faithful to You.

Stay with me, Lord, for as poor as my soul is, I want it to be a place of consolation for You, a nest of love.

Stay with me, Jesus, for it is getting late and the day is coming to a close, and life passes; death, judgment, eternity approaches. It is necessary to renew my strength, so that I will not stop along the way and for that, I need You.

It is getting late and death approaches, I fear the darkness, the temptations, the dryness, the cross, the sorrows.

O how I need You, my Jesus, in this night of exile!

Stay with me tonight, Jesus, in life with all its dangers. I need You.

Let me recognize You as Your disciples did at the breaking of the bread, so that the Eucharistic Communion be the Light which disperses the darkness, the force which sustains me, the unique joy of my heart.

Stay with me, Lord, because at the hour of my death, I want to remain united to You, if not by communion, at least by grace and love.

Stay with me, Jesus, I do not ask for divine consolation, because I do not merit it, but the gift of Your Presence, oh yes, I ask this of You!

Stay with me, Lord, for it is You alone I look for, Your Love, Your Grace, Your Will, Your Heart, Your Spirit, because I love You and ask no other reward but to love You more and more.

With a firm love, I will love You with all my heart while on earth and continue to love You perfectly during all eternity. Amen.

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Sermon: Hildegard of Bingen

Scivias I.6: The Choirs of Angels. From the Rupertsberg manuscript, folio 38r by Hildegard of Bingen.

Today, we celebrate Hildegard of Bingen, born in 1098. She was highly sought after for her advice and corresponded with kings, queens, abbots, abbesses, archbishops, and popes. She undertook four preaching tours across northern Europe, practiced medicine, authored treatises on science and philosophy, composed remarkable music and liturgical dramas, and was quite the artist. What makes this even more impressive is that in the 12th century, these roles were typically reserved only for men.

Along with her many achievements, she was also someone who had visions, which started to appear to her when she was just three years old. She would later describe them as “The Shade of the Living Light.” She wrote, “These visions which I saw—I beheld them neither in sleep nor dreaming nor in madness nor with my bodily eyes or ears, nor in hidden places; but I saw them in full view and according to God’s will, when I was wakeful and alert, with the eyes of the spirit and the inward ears.”

Here is an example of her writing:
It is easier to gaze into the Sun than into the face of
the mystery of God.
Such is its beauty and its radiance.
God says:
I am the supreme fire; not deadly, but rather,
enkindling every spark of life.
I am the reflection of providence for all.
I am the resounding WORD; the It-Shall-Be
that I intone with mighty power
from which all the world proceeds.
Through animate eyes I divide the seasons of time.
I am aware of what they are.
I am aware of their potential.
With my mouth I kiss my own chosen creation.
I uniquely, lovingly embrace every image I have
made out of the earth’s clay.
With a fiery spirit I transform it into a body to serve
all the world.

To me, she shows a genuine understanding of God’s love. Not as we might view God from a theologian’s point of view, but from a human perspective (not that theologians aren’t human).

In our Gospel reading today, John wrote those beautiful words, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” In Hildegard’s poem, it seems she was expressing that same idea: God is saying, I am aware of who they are, their potential. I lovingly embrace them, transform them, and give them my Son to show them this great love I have for them so that they may be where We are.

Hildegard was one who intimately knew of this transforming love of God and was able to express it through music, preaching, poetry, and art, surpassing the boundaries of her time. Perhaps such intimacy with God is not something everyone can achieve, but it is something everyone should strive for. In doing so, we can also become living testimonies, breaking through our own limits.

There is an exceptional German movie about her life, “Vision,” and I recommend it if you don’t mind subtitles (or speak German).

In 2010, Pope Benedict XVI said, “Let us always invoke the Holy Spirit, so that he may inspire in the Church holy and courageous women like Saint Hildegard of Bingen who, developing the gifts they have received from God, make their own special and valuable contribution to the spiritual development of our communities and of the Church in our time.” In 2012, Benedict named her a Doctor of the Church, among thirty-three at the time, with only three being women.

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Sermon: Holy Cross

Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw, known as “Sam Bahadur,” served in the Indian Army for forty years and was the first to attain the rank of Field Marshal. His nickname was Sam Bahadur—Sam the Brave. Highly decorated and highly respected. When asked whether he had a fear of death, he replied, “If a man says he is not afraid of dying, he is either lying or is a Gurkha.”

Gurkha refers to the Brigade of Gurkhas, a rifle regiment of the British Army composed of men from Nepal. Of them, Field Marshal Viscount Slim wrote, “The Almighty created in the Gurkhas an ideal infantryman, indeed an ideal Rifleman, brave, tough, patient, adaptable, skilled in fieldcraft, intensely proud of his military record and unswerving loyalty.” However, despite all this praise, at one point, a British Commander asked for volunteers from a unit of 200 Gurkhas to join the Airborne Division—those who parachute into enemy territory. Of the 200, only five volunteered; the rest shook their heads. Hearing of their bravery, he asked the Gurkha commander why so few were willing to join. It was then that the misunderstanding was uncovered—the Gurkhas knew they would be jumping from an airplane, but they didn’t know anything about parachutes.

From that, it’s easy to understand why so few volunteered, but let me ask you this: what the heck was going through the heads of those five who said, Yes? 

Today, we celebrate the Feast of the Holy Cross. It is a day to remember and honor the Cross of Jesus and to commemorate the day when the true Cross was discovered. 

That story begins on May 3, 326. Helena, the mother of Constantine, the first Christian Roman Emperor, is said to have found the true cross in Jerusalem.

Helena went on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem to visit the most important sites in Jesus’ life. After talking to many people, she found out that Jesus’ cross, along with the crosses of the two criminals crucified on either side, had been buried to hide them. Some reports say that when she unearthed the crosses, the one belonging to Jesus still had the sign Pilate had ordered put on it: “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” Other reports say that at first, they couldn’t tell which cross was which. So, they brought a dying woman to the site of the three crosses and laid her on each one. Then, St. Macarius, the Bishop of Jerusalem, said a prayer. 

“O Lord, who by the Passion of Thine only Son on the cross, didst deign to restore salvation to mankind, and who even now hast inspired thy handmaid Helena to seek for the blessed wood to which the author of our salvation was nailed, show clearly which it was, among the three crosses, that was raised for Thy glory. Distinguish it from those which only served for a common execution. Let this woman who is now expiring return from death’s door as soon as she is touched by the wood of salvation.”

Upon touching the wood of the true cross of Jesus, she was restored to health. True or false? Some might say such stories are nothing more than foolishness. Maybe. But St. Paul tells us, “For 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.” (1 Corinthians 1:18)

A few weeks ago, we talked about Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, the author of The Gulag Archipelago. The book describes the ten years he spent in a Russian prison. But before he was imprisoned for speaking out against the Communists, he was actually a supporter. Early in his life, he drank the Kool-Aid and became an atheist. That was what most young Russians were doing as they bought into the system. So, when he went to prison, he was an atheist, but when he got out, he rediscovered the faith of his childhood.

The prison was in Siberia. He was cold, hungry, and feeling defeated there. The story describes a day when he was working outside. The wind was howling, and he felt miserable. Standing there, leaning on his shovel, he finally lost all hope. He simply did not care what would happen to him.

He saw a nearby bench, so he dropped his shovel, walked over, and sat down. As he sat there, he fully expected to be beaten to death by a guard for his actions. It is what happened to any prisoner who was disobedient. 

After a short while, he heard someone approaching. He thought it was the guard, but it wasn’t. It was another prisoner—an old, very thin man. The man said nothing to Solzhenitsyn. Instead, he knelt in front of him and, with a small stick, scratched out the sign of the cross in the dirt. Then he got up and hurried back to work.

Solzhenitsyn looked at that crude cross, and some part of the true light of God reached him through it. In that moment, he realized that he did not have to face these terrors alone and that he did not have to survive on his own strength. “With the power of the cross, he could withstand the evil of not just one but a thousand Soviet empires.” (The Sign of the Cross, Gezzi, p.3-4)

Listen to these words of the theologian Stanley Hauerwas.

“The cross is not a sign of the church’s quiet, suffering submission to the powers-that-be, but rather the church’s revolutionary participation in the victory of Christ over those powers. The cross is not a symbol for general human suffering and oppression. Rather, the cross is a sign of what happens when one takes God’s account of reality more seriously than Caesar’s. The cross stands as God’s (and our) eternal no to the powers of death, as well as God’s eternal yes to humanity, God’s remarkable determination not to leave us to our own devices.” (Resident Aliens: Life in the Christian Colony, p.47)

These days, when you sit down to watch TV or the news, you see a great deal of violence. Some of the violence appears in the TV shows or movies we watch. And now, a lot of the violence is in the news. I remember a time (showing my age here) when news reporters would say something like, “Due to the nature of the material, you may want to have your children leave the room.” Not anymore. Now, they just throw it out there, and we all have the opportunity to struggle with PTSD. The concern with this bombardment of violence is that we are becoming desensitized to it. It no longer affects us. What we see on the news might as well be a video game because it all looks the same.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “For the great and powerful of this world, there are only two places in which their courage fails them, of which they are afraid deep down in their souls, from which they shy away. These are the manger and the cross of Jesus Christ.” (God Is in the Manger: Reflections on Advent and Christmas) This used to be true, but I believe, like the violence around us, we have become desensitized to the manger and the Cross of Christ. They no longer influence our thinking, our actions, or our way of life. We see the Cross everywhere—jewelry, T-shirts, 100-foot statues beside the road, all the way down to being stitched and bejeweled across the backside of a pair of jeans. It no longer has the power to strike a holy fear in the hearts of those who see it, but it should.

The Cross was once an instrument of torture and death. However, through Christ, the Cross was transformed into—not just “a” symbol—but the very means of our salvation, our victory over Satan and death. St. John Vianney tells us, “The sign of the cross is the most terrible weapon against the devil.” And Thomas à Kempis states, “In the cross is salvation, in the cross is life, in the cross is protection from enemies, in the cross is infusion of heavenly sweetness, in the cross is strength of mind, in the cross is joy of spirit, in the cross is highest virtue, in the cross is perfect holiness. There is no salvation of soul nor hope of everlasting life but in the cross.”

Remember those five Gurkha soldiers—the ones who volunteered to jump out of the plane even before they knew about parachutes? They weren’t crazy. They weren’t blindly risking their lives like suicide bombers. Nor were they so naive that they had no idea what happens when someone falls from a great height. Instead, they had this courage—this faith in themselves and their abilities. Crazy as we might think them, they thought, “I can do that.” 

I’m not asking you to jump out of an airplane without a parachute, but I am asking you to have that kind of courage and put that kind of faith in the Cross of Jesus.

Going forward, when you see the Cross, don’t just look at it without recognizing what it represents, for it is nothing less than the power of God working in you, for you, and through you. 

I love that verse from Joshua when the Lord says, “Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9) The Lord our God “gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control,” (2 Timothy 1:7) and we can know and experience these things through the Holy Cross of Jesus.

Let us pray: Holy Cross of Jesus, be my true light! Holy Cross, fill my soul with good thoughts. Holy Cross, ward off from me all things that are evil. Holy Cross, ward off from me all dangers and deaths and give me life everlasting! Crucified Jesus of Nazareth, have mercy on me now and forever. Amen.

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Sermon: Proper 17 RCL C – “The Lord’s Possession”

A father told his daughter, “You graduated with honors; here is a car I bought many years ago. It’s quite old now. But before I give it to you, take it to the used car lot downtown and tell them I want to sell it to see how much they’ll offer.” The daughter went to the used car lot, came back, and said, “They offered me $1,000 because it looks very worn out.” The father then said, “Take it to the pawnshop.” The daughter went to the pawnshop, returned, and said, “They offered $100 because it is a very old car.” The father then asked his daughter to show the car at a car club. The daughter took the car there, came back, and told her father, “Some people in the club offered $100,000 because it’s a Nissan Skyline R34, an iconic car that’s highly sought after.” The father said, “The right place values you the right way. If you are not valued, don’t be upset; it means you are in the wrong place. Those who recognize your worth are the ones who appreciate you. Never stay in a place where no one sees your value.”

While he was in Corinth, the Apostle Paul wrote a letter to the church in Rome—The Letter to the Romans. He had not yet visited the city, but news of the church there had reached him.

Broken down, Romans provides guidance on several topics, but overall, Paul’s main concern is the conflict between Jewish Christians and Gentile Christians. This was actually a common issue in the early Church. 

We know that the Israelites are God’s chosen people. The word “chosen” is defined as “selected or marked for favor or special privilege.” That very much describes the Covenant God made with Abraham and explains why the Israelites were chosen. When making the Covenant, God said, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” (Genesis 12:2-3)

It is easy to see the “marked for favor or special privilege” in those words. And it is also easy to overlook why the Israelites were so marked, but it is right there in the middle—“And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing.”

Yes, God says, I am setting you apart for blessing and honor, but I am doing so for a very specific purpose. I am blessing you so that you will be a blessing to the world. The Lord stated it clearly through the Prophet Isaiah.

“It is too light a thing that you should be my servant
    to raise up the tribes of Jacob”

(The “tribes of Jacob” is understood to be all the Jewish people—the Israelites.)

“It is too light a thing that you should be my servant
    to raise up the tribes of Jacob
    and to bring back the preserved of Israel;
I will make you as a light for the nations,
    that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.” (Isaiah 49:6)

God selected the Israelites to be His chosen people so they could bless others, and in return, He promised to bless them. However, somewhere along the way, it seems that the Israelites focused more on being blessed than on blessing others. They viewed their chosen-ness as a privilege and a right to look down on those around them.

Following the death and resurrection of Jesus, many Israelites became Christians and brought their Jewish practices with them. This wasn’t a problem as long as they didn’t impose these practices on the Gentiles. However, they also carried with them a false idea of being chosen and privileged. So, in his letter to the Romans, Paul asks, “What then? Are we Jews any better off? No, not at all. For we have already charged that all, both Jews and Greeks, are under sin.” (Romans 3:9) A few paragraphs later, he asks, “Is God the God of Jews only? Is he not the God of Gentiles also? Yes, of Gentiles also, since God is one—who will justify” both by faith. (Romans 3:29-30) In other words, no one has any special privileges except those who come to God in faith. Therefore, Paul says in chapter 12 of Romans, “Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor.” (Romans 12:9-10) and “Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly.” (Romans 12:16a)

This theme recurs often in Paul’s letters. In his letter to the Philippians: “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.” (Philippians 2:3-4) To the Ephesians, he says, “I… urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.” (Ephesians 4:1-3)

This all connects back to and could have originated from the events in our Gospel reading today. 

Jesus was invited to the home of a Pharisee to share a Sabbath meal. As we know, most Pharisees were not real fond of Jesus and were happy to let him know. Usually, when they had Him around, they looked for ways to trap Him. This time is no different. 

The Pharisees closely resembled the Jewish Christians of Paul’s time. They, more than any other Israelites, were called to be the priests—if you will, the light of the lights of the world. Instead, they became a burden to the people and saw themselves as superior. In their eyes, they were the truly chosen. Remember the Pharisee and the tax collector praying in the Temple, and how the Pharisee prayed, “God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.” (Luke 18:11-12) 

And, in the time of Jesus, this one-upmanship wasn’t limited to the religious leaders. Remember when James’ and John’s momma got into the mix? “Say that these two sons of mine are to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your kingdom.” (Matthew 20:21) Then there was the argument over who is the greatest. On and on and round and round. It all boils down to the same thing—they all wanted the best seat at the party or, at the very least, a place at the head table. 

You’re probably thinking, I know where he’s going with this one. He’s going to tell us how we wrongfully assign value to others based on influence, income, status, and similar factors. That’s a sermon I’ve preached before, but today, I want you to focus on yourself. What value do you place on your own soul? 

I know many people who believe their worth to the world doesn’t even reach 100 dollars—pocket change, if that. They think that not only are they unworthy of a good place at the table, but they shouldn’t even be invited to the banquet. Yet, Jesus the Good Shepherd would leave the ninety-nine to find you. No matter how you see yourself, Jesus looked at you and said, You are worth dying for. Each individual soul is of the utmost value to God. To paraphrase St. Augustine, “The whole universe, with all its good things, is not worth as much as the soul of one humble person.”

St. Paul said, “For none of us lives for ourselves alone, and none of us dies for ourselves alone. If we live, we live for the Lord; and if we die, we die for the Lord. So, whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s possession.” (Romans 14:7-8)

We are given the freedom to set aside concerns about which seat we hold at the table. Why? Because we are all the Lord’s possessions. He bought us with His very own blood. Therefore, our one and only concern should be whether or not we are living a life worthy of an invitation to the banquet. That is why Paul and Jesus both became upset about this argument. It was never about who was the greatest or who would sit at the head table. It has always been about who would be invited to the banquet—who would attain salvation. 

Jesus’ life, every word and action, proclaims to you, You are worth more to me than life itself. I invite you to the banquet. I have a seat set aside just for you. Here, He says, is your invitation. All you need to do is accept.

Let us pray: O God, source of all life and goodness, you fashion human lives in your image and likeness, and through your love, give each human life dignity, sacredness, and priceless worth; awaken in every heart new reverence for the least of your children, and renew among your people a readiness to nurture and sustain your precious gift of human life at all stages, and in all conditions. Amen.

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Sermon: Monica

We have discussed before that not all saints are born as the holiest of holy people, and many start out as quite sinful individuals. One such Saint is Augustine of Hippo. He is the patron saint of beer brewers because of his past habits before his conversion. Yet, he is now considered one of the preeminent Doctors of the Church, and it would be hard to find anyone who has influenced Christianity more than him outside of the Holy Scriptures. So, how did he go from a bad boy to a saint? There were many factors, but if you asked Augustine, he would probably say, “Momma.” We know her as Monica. However, Monica was not always a saint either.

She grew up in a Christian home, but not all the virtues seemed to be present in her life, and one area of concern ultimately led her to a deeper faith. She was responsible for going into the cellar to get the wine for family meals. As a child, she didn’t partake, but one day out of curiosity, she took a sip. Later, that sip became a cup, and eventually, she drank as much as she could. She was eventually found out by a servant who called her a “wine-bibber,” meaning a drunk. The comment made Monica so ashamed that she never drank liquor again, but she must have passed that taste onto her son Augustine.

At first, she would raise a fuss with him and scold him, but he simply ignored her pleas. However, with the help of a priest, she realized that this approach would only breed frustration and create a rift between her and Augustine. So, the priest suggested she try a different approach, which involved intercessory prayer, fasting, and vigils for her son. Later, she had a dream in which she was weeping over her son’s downfall, when suddenly an angel appeared and said, “But your son is with you.” When she told Augustine about the dream, he laughed and told his mother that they could be together if she would give up her Christianity. She replied, “The angel did not say that I was with you, but that you were with me.” That gave her the hope she needed, and she continued to pray. It took several years, but eventually Augustine converted and became one of the greats.

There is an incident in Mark’s Gospel where a young boy is said to have a demon that throws him down and harms him. The boy’s father brought him to Jesus’ disciples and asked them to heal his son. They tried, but were unsuccessful, so the man brought his son to Jesus, who was able to heal him. Later, in private, the disciples asked Jesus, “Why could we not cast it out?” He answered, “This kind can come out only through prayer and fasting.”

It would be wonderful if every time we offered intercessory prayers for healing, the person was healed immediately—and that can happen!—but more often, healing (which can take many forms: physical, spiritual, emotional) takes time. That was a lesson that both the disciples and Monica had to learn, and it is one we also need to be taught. In faith, we must believe that—regardless of the perceived outcome or lack of result—God is working, hearing the prayers of his people, and fulfilling those prayers according to his purposes.  

Monica did not become a saint because she performed great deeds or died violently as a martyr. Monica became a Saint because she prayed and she believed in God’s promises. That is a practice we can all follow. 

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