Tag: Christianity

Posted on

Sermon: Proper 11 RCL C – “Home for the Holy Spirit”

A woman decided to have her portrait painted. She said to the artist, “Paint me with diamond rings, a diamond necklace, emerald bracelets, a ruby brooch, and a gold Rolex.”

“But you are not wearing any of those things,” the artist replied.

“I know,” she said. “It’s in case I should die before my husband. I’m sure he will remarry right away, and I want his new wife to go crazy looking for the jewelry.”

The Golden Jubilee Diamond is the world’s largest cut and faceted diamond. It weighs 545.67 carats and is roughly the size of a golf ball. Its market value ranges from $4 million to $12 million, depending on the market. However, due to its color and clarity, it is not the most expensive diamond. That honor belongs to the Pink Star Diamond, which weighs 59.6 carats and sold for $71.2 million. Both diamonds were cut to maximize their carat weight.

When it comes to cutting diamonds, the round brilliant cut offers the most sparkle, with 57 or 58 facets. 57 if the bottom tip remains pointed, and 58 if the point is cut away. These facets are added to help the stone reflect and refract light, creating, in diamond terms, scintillation. 

Perhaps a lot of unnecessary detail, but the point is that our Gospel reading today—the story of Mary and Martha—appears only in Luke’s Gospel and, when studied, proves to be scintillating in all its facets. There are many ways to interpret it, most of which are true, while some are just silly.

One facet, and perhaps the most apparent one, is the difference between the busy and the prayerful life. Martha is rushing around, taking care of all the chores, while Mary sits at Jesus’ feet, listening to His words. Jesus says that Mary has chosen the better way, so we might say that a contemplative life is preferable to a busy one. It’s a good message, and I have preached it before. However, it does not capture the fullness of what is transpiring. 

To start with, if we claim that life is all about the contemplative, then no work gets done. We end up sitting around all day singing Kum ba Yah, letting someone else handle everything. That was similar to what happened in the time of Paul. Do you know what he said? “If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat. For we hear that some among you walk in idleness, not busy at work, but busybodies. Now, such persons we command and encourage in the Lord Jesus Christ to do their work quietly and to earn their own living.” (2 Thessalonians 3:10-12) When Jesus says that Mary chose the better, he’s not saying that Martha chose the wrong. Something more is happening.

Another facet has us viewing this through a feminist lens, and I’m not being disrespectful when I say that. During the time of Jesus, within the Jewish home, there were only two places where men and women would mingle: outside or in the marital bedroom. The main public room—think of it as the living room—was the gathering place for visitors, but it was for men only. It was in this public room that Jesus was speaking. Yet, even though it was reserved for men, Mary was there, sitting with the men—the little hussy. She is not fulfilling her duty as a woman by cooking and cleaning. Not only that, she is also sitting in the place of a man. Yet, when Martha complains, Jesus says that Mary has chosen the better part. For some, this interpretation highlights how Jesus leveled the playing field for men and women. It can be viewed as a type of liberation for women, placing them on equal ground with men. Another good sermon, and one I’ve preached before, but even though it makes a good point, it doesn’t capture the bigger picture.

Another facet would be to take this same idea and apply it to how Jesus crossed all boundaries. By making the Gospel accessible to Mary and speaking to her so openly, it can go further to suggest that Jesus is willing to cross all boundaries—ethnic, social, political, cultural, and more—in order to bring the message of God’s love and redemption to everyone. An excellent point, and I’m sure at some point, I’ve preached it.

The ideas of elevating women or crossing boundaries are both valid understandings and teachings, but they are both lacking because they don’t address all aspects of what is happening.

One of the silly interpretations comes from some who suggest that Martha and Mary were deeply in love with Jesus, and that Martha’s jealousy stemmed from Mary’s physical closeness to Jesus. Just for the record, that is not a facet, I haven’t preached it, and I’m never going to. 

As you examine these events, you’ll discover various other facets, but they are simply that, facets. So, this week, as I kept trying to grasp the message, I never felt truly satisfied with my understanding. I kept focusing on the individual characters—Mary, Martha, Jesus, the disciples—and realized I had been approaching it all wrong. Instead of seeking understanding through the facets, I needed to pull back and view the diamond as a whole. 

I believe that this is what Luke was pointing to in the opening sentence: “As Jesus and his disciples went on their way, Jesus entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home.” To understand, we don’t focus on the individual characters; instead, we consider the home and what is inside.

There is Jesus, our King and Redeemer. Like Mary, we are called to sit at His feet, learn from Him, and allow Him to guide our lives. At the same time, we are to be like Martha — tending to our individual callings, whether that means being a homemaker, a priest, a clerk, a nurse, or whatever else Jesus has assigned us. In doing so, we find balance. Too much work and we neglect time with Jesus. Although sitting with Jesus is the best choice, we can’t spend all our lives just sitting; we must also do the work. Does that mean we’ve abandoned Jesus? No. He is still in the house. He is still available to us. He is working alongside us.

In the Gospel of John, at the Last Supper, Jesus speaks to the disciples and says, “Whoever has my commandments and keeps them…” (John 14:21). Clarification: What are Jesus’ commandments? He gave them to the disciples just a few minutes earlier: “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” (John 13:34-35)

So, “‘Whoever has my commandments and keeps them—that is, whoever loves—he is the one who loves me. And he who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I will love him and manifest myself to him.’ Judas (not Iscariot) said to him, ‘Lord, how is it that you will manifest yourself to us and not to the world?’ Jesus answered him, ‘If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him.’” (John 14:21-23)

The events that occur in Martha’s home are an embodiment of Jesus’ words in the Gospel of John. 

Our bodies and our souls are a home. Within our home, we work, play, rest, and pray. We live. If we keep the commandment of Jesus to love one another, He and the Father, that is, the Holy Spirit, will come to us and become part of our home. There, guided by the very Spirit of God, we will live a life that is pleasing to Him.

Pitting Mary against Martha is the wrong approach when admiring this diamond. The former archbishop of Turin expressed it well: “In our house, there is room for Martha and room for Mary, and we must occupy both places. We must be Mary because we are welcoming the Word, and we must be Martha because we are receiving the Son of Man.” We need to be Mary to learn about God’s love, and we need to be Martha to express that love to others. It’s not Mary or Martha, but Mary in Martha (cf. Sanctify Your Daily Life by Stefan Cardinal Wyszynski, p.100), and vice versa, with the Holy Spirit working in both.

When inviting the Holy Spirit into your home, don’t just give it access to the “spiritual” aspects of your life, but instead, allow it to roam freely throughout every room, so you will have access to and benefit from this Gift from God.

Let us pray: Come, O Divine Spirit, fill our hearts with Your heavenly fruits: charity, joy, peace, patience, long-suffering, kindness, goodness, faith, meekness, modesty, self-control, and chastity, so that we may never grow tired in serving God. Through continued faithful submission to Your inspiration, may we be found worthy to be united forever with You in the love of the Father and the Son. Amen.

Posted on

Sermon: Aquila and Priscilla

This past Sunday, we read in our Gospel the words of Jesus: “The Lord appointed seventy others and sent them on ahead of him in pairs to every town and place where he himself intended to go. He said to them, ‘The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.’”

In discussing this, we found that the Lord was appointing ambassadors. Those seventy and the disciples can be considered the first generation of ambassadors. Today, we honor Aquila and Priscilla, husband and wife, as second-generation ambassadors.

Around 40 A.D., Claudius was emperor, and at that time, disturbances erupted between the Christian-Jews and the Gentile Christians over the Messiahship of Jesus. The Roman historian Suetonius, lumping the two groups together, wrote that the Jews “were rioting on account of someone named Chrestus.” Emperor Claudius, caring nothing about the argument, resolved it by expelling all the Jews from Rome, two of them, Aquila and Priscilla. After the expulsion, they traveled about 750 miles to Corinth, where they continued their trade of tent making. 

Perhaps because they heard him preach or because they shared the same trade of tent making, Priscilla and Aquila came into contact with Paul and became close companions in the work of the Gospel. Eighteen months later, the three traveled to Ephesus to continue God’s work, and shortly after, Paul went on to Antioch, but the couple remained in Ephesus. In writing to the Church in Corinth, Paul says in his closing, “The churches of Asia send you greetings. Aquila and Priscilla, together with the church in their house, send you hearty greetings in the Lord.” By mentioning them by name, Paul demonstrates the great esteem he had for them, and also tells us that Priscilla and Aquila started a church in their home. This was typical, as churches did not begin meeting in dedicated buildings until the third century.

The Acts of the Apostles also describe Aquila and Priscilla’s encounter with the Alexandrian Jew, Apollo. “He had been instructed in the way of the Lord. And being fervent in spirit, he spoke and taught accurately the things concerning Jesus, though he knew only the baptism of John.” So, after hearing him preach, Aquila and Priscilla “took him aside and explained to him the way of God more accurately.” Aquila and Priscilla were second-generation Christians, and by teaching Apollo, they helped raise up and train the next generation.

President Ronald Reagan said, “Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn’t pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same, or one day we will spend our sunset years telling our children and our children’s children what it was once like in the United States where men were free.” Replace the word ‘Freedom’ with ‘Christianity’ and you’ll have another truth.

Aquila and Priscilla returned to Rome, where they were eventually martyred for their faith, but they did not allow their faith to die with them. They serve as an example of what it means to be an apostolic church—a church that passes on the teachings and practices to the next generation, ensuring the faith of our fathers and mothers remains alive for all future generations.

Aquila and Priscilla are like the seventy Jesus sent out as ambassadors. So are we. Pass on your faith to the next generation so that the light of the Gospel may continue to shine in this dark world. 

Posted on

Sermon: Proper 9 RCL C – “Travel Light”

Photo by Shawn Augustine on Unsplash

A lady was heading to London from New York to visit her kids and grandkids who lived there. When she reached the airline counter to check her bags, she presented her ticket to London. As she gave the agent her luggage, she said, “I’d like you to send my green suitcase to Hawaii and my red suitcase to Budapest.”

The confused agent said, “I’m sorry. You’re going to London. We can’t do that.”

Really? I’m so relieved to hear you say that because that’s exactly what you did to my luggage last year!

Traveling. There really is an art to traveling, and it’s not something you can easily learn from reading or watching a video on. You’ve just got to get out there and go, and see what the world has to offer.

Some of you may remember one of my first big trips to Portugal. There I was, standing in the bathroom with an espresso in one hand and a hairdryer in the other, attempting to dry my shirt. I’ve learned a few things since then, and packing as little as possible is one of the most important lessons.

For my last trip, I carried a light backpack that was about a third full and a small carry-on bag only three-quarters full. That was for ten days. I see people at airports and in hotels schlepping two large pieces of luggage and backpacks that are stuffed to zipper-popping extremes, and I wonder why. A travel blogger tries to answer that question.

“It all starts with fear. No, really. According to psychologists, overpacking is often rooted in loss aversion — our brain’s sneaky way of saying, ‘What if you need that third pair of heels in rural Tuscany?’” (Source)

Now, I’m happy to report that I’ve never even needed a single pair of heels, but you get the point. When we start packing, we think about the trip and then attempt to plan for every possible scenario, then pack accordingly. In the end, you end up with two steamer trunks and a hernia. Plus, you have all those belongings to maneuver through airports and on trains. There’s the worry of keeping up with it all, especially if you’re traveling alone, not to mention, will the green suitcase go to Hawaii and the red suitcase end up in Budapest. Ultimately, all that stuff and the worries that come with it are a huge distraction from the actual trip. The same travel blogger writes, “Packing light is a mindset shift, not a packing hack. It’s about choosing to be present, adaptable, and open to the unknown.” All the energy you save can then be used to enjoy the trip. You are free to be aware and open to what you set out to experience.

Our Gospel reading from last week began, “When the days drew near for Jesus to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem.” Jesus is headed to Jerusalem, and shortly after He arrives, He will be arrested and crucified, so He knows that He will not be coming this way again. So, today’s Gospel tells us that He appointed seventy others to go two-by-two to the places He would be passing through. He is asking them to prepare the groundwork so that when He arrives, He can get straight to work because time is short. 

For their journey, Jesus gave them specific instructions, which began, “Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road.”

Jesus is sending ambassadors, and these are very similar instructions to those given to the twelve when He sent them out. “Carry no purse.” Do not carry any money with you. You are bringing a message of salvation, and those who hear and believe will provide for you. “Carry no bag” relates to this because Jesus is referring to the kind of bag often carried by beggars. They are not to be beggars; they are to be givers of God’s message. “Carry no sandals.” You are not to carry money, beg for money, or appear to have money. You are to be my ambassadors; therefore, you will go as I do. 

These ambassadors of Jesus would appear very different from the Roman ambassadors people were accustomed to seeing. Roman ambassadors traveled with an entourage, including other officials, servants, and slaves. When they moved around, they rode in ornate carriages and dressed to the nines, wearing large rings as signs of their status and authority. 

Jesus is sending these seventy to be His ambassadors, but He does not want them looking anything like these other ambassadors. He wants them to look like Him and travel light.

Following the resurrection, the Apostles continued this practice. In the Acts of the Apostles, Peter and John are walking to the Temple when a crippled man asks them for alms. Peter said to him, “I have no silver and gold, but what I do have I give to you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk!” (Acts 3:6) Commenting on this, St. Ambrose writes, “It is as if he were saying, ‘You see in me a disciple of Christ, and you ask me for gold? [Jesus] gave us something much more valuable than gold, the power to act in his name. I do not have what Christ did not give me, but I do have what he did give me: In the name of Jesus Christ, arise and walk.’” And the man did. 

The mission of the Apostles and the seventy, Jesus’ ambassadors, was always centered on the message of peace. Peace between God and His creation. Today, we are His ambassadors. We are the ones who are to bring this message to the world, and in doing so, we should also travel light.

In taking our trips and traveling light, the travel blogger tells us that we are “choosing to be present, adaptable, and open to the unknown.” The same idea applies to traveling light as Jesus’ ambassadors. We are not in it for the money. We are not seeking to gain anything for ourselves. Instead, relying solely on God, we seek to be present to a hurting world in all its circumstances and issues. We do this so that we might fulfill our roles as ambassadors of bringing God’s message of peace. This brings us to the last part of Jesus’ travel instructions—“Greet no one on the road.”

Whenever I sit down to write a sermon or a story, I usually manage fine with small interruptions that come along—someone dropping by, the phone ringing, or a text message or email coming in. However, I reach a point where I need to concentrate solely on the words. If I don’t, I lose the thread of what I’m trying to say. What to do? I pop in my headphones, play some instrumental music, and set my phone to DND—do not disturb. It’s not that I’m being rude and don’t want to have to deal with anybody, it’s just that when I do these things, all that remains are the words. 

When Jesus told the seventy to “greet no one on the road,” He wasn’t asking them to be rude to those around them. He was saying, for a time, they needed to focus solely on one thing—the message of peace. If they got distracted, they would get sidetracked and eventually lose the thread of what He asked them to do.

Of all the issues the Church faces today, I believe this is one of the most significant. We are ambassadors for Christ. We have been given our mission, but we often get sidetracked and lose the thread of what we are supposed to be doing.

We are told, “The seventy-two returned with joy, saying, “Lord, even the demons are subject to us in your name!’ And he said to them, “I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven. Behold, I have given you authority to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy, and nothing shall hurt you. Nevertheless, do not rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.” Rejoice that you have attained the Kingdom of God because you were obedient and fulfilled God’s purpose for your life—doing what you were supposed to be doing.

We are called to be the ambassadors of Christ, therefore, we are to look like Him and do the things He did in the way He did them. We are to remain focused and not get distracted by the various things happening around us. Finally, wherever we are, we are to announce God’s peace and bring the message, “The kingdom of God has come near to you.” Then, we create space, so that Jesus may enter, not just to announce peace but to bring peace—reconciliation with God.

Let us pray: O God, you have made of one blood all the peoples of the earth, and sent your blessed Son to preach peace to those who are far off and to those who are near: Grant that people everywhere may seek after you and find you; bring the nations into your fold; pour out your Spirit upon all flesh; and hasten the coming of your kingdom; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Posted on

Sermon: Proper 8 RCL C – “How to Play God”

Photo by Artur Aldyrkhanov on Unsplash

You know him, but you probably don’t know him by name—Jonathan Goldsmith. A few facts about his life: his passport requires no photograph, his business card simply says ‘I’ll Call You,’ and he brought a knife to a gunfight—just to even the odds. He is The Most Interesting Man in the World, and from 2006 to 2016, he was often heard saying, “I don’t always drink beer, but when I do, I prefer Dos Equis.” Of course, the internet got hold of that, and the memes continue to explode.

I don’t always live dangerously, but when I do, I press send before proofreading.

I don’t always pass slow drivers, but when I do, I check to see if they look as stupid as they drive.

I don’t always “Whoop,” but when I do, there it is.

On days when I know I have a service or will be out and about doing priesty things, I wear my cassock and collar. It really does change the way people look at me and respond. When I’m dressed in regular street clothes, most folks just pass by. When I’m in the cassock and collar, most will speak. The cassock and collar identify me with the church, faith, and hopefully, God. I believe it’s important and helps people see “the church” in the world. The other day, I made a hospital visit, so I was in cassock and collar. On the way back to my car, a mom, a dad, and their four children were heading in. One of the boys looked over at me and then shouted, “Dad, it’s the Pope!” His dad corrected him and told him that I was a priest, but it made me think, “I don’t always wear a cassock and collar, but when I do, people think I’m the Pope!” How you doin’?

There are certain individuals, organizations, and ideas that hold a place of honor in our lives. When we see or think about them, we want to be associated with them. If we can’t necessarily be in a relationship with them, then we will seek ways to be identified with them. Can I just say, “Go, Thunder!” Score of 103-91. A few years ago, I attended an OSU basketball game, but it and the final against the Pacers were the only basketball games I’ve seen in at least a decade, if not more. Yet, when the Thunder won, I—and I’m sure every other Oklahoman—didn’t say, “The Thunder won!” Instead, it was, “WE won!” We won the national championship. Yes, indeed. The most difficult thing I did that entire evening was feeding myself, but WE won. We celebrate in the parade, we wear our gear, and we boast that we are champions.

No, I don’t believe that I’m the Pope, but I do closely associate and am aligned with the Church. My identity is deeply tied to it. This association, I pray that this connection also reflects my relationship and identity in God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. 

Being associated and finding identity with the Church, God, and even the Thunder isn’t a bad thing. It brings joy, happiness, and, for the Church and God, a sense of purpose. It fulfills me. However, such connection and identity can sometimes lead to undesirable effects and actions.

In Luke’s Gospel, leading up to our reading today, the Apostles witnessed and experienced many exciting and miraculous events. They saw Jesus calm the storm, feed the 5,000, cast out demons, and heal the sick. Peter declared Jesus to be the Christ, and together with James and John, they witnessed the Transfiguration. Additionally, Jesus sent them out to do the same works He was doing: preaching, healing, and casting out demons. When they return, they report their successes. Because of their association and identification with Jesus, they also began to see themselves as closely linked with the One Jesus identified with—the Father. This, in itself, is a very good thing. They begin to understand that they are truly God’s children; however, after the Transfiguration, things take an unpleasant turn. 

The Apostles begin to think that if they were with Jesus, they could sit in the seats of honor in the coming kingdom, which they still only understood as an earthly kingdom. They start arguing about who is the greatest, so that they can rule, not only over the kingdom but also over each other. Going even further, now that they were in so tight with Jesus and, through association, to the Father, they begin to see themselves having the same rights and powers that belong exclusively to God. When the Samaritan village turns away from Jesus, “James and John saw it, they said, ‘Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?’” 

Remember Abraham’s nephew, Lot. God had enough of the wickedness of Sodom and Gomorrah, so the “Lord rained down burning sulfur on Sodom and Gomorrah—from the Lord out of the heavens. Thus, he overthrew those cities and the entire plain, destroying all those living in the cities—and also the vegetation in the land.” When Abraham looked down from the mountains, “he saw dense smoke rising from the land, like smoke from a furnace.”

James and John believed they had the right to judge as only God can judge. They not only wanted to be associated with and identified with Jesus and the Father, but they also sought God’s power. They wanted to judge, rage against those they saw as God’s enemies, and exact vengeance on them. They wanted to play God. 

I’m not surprised that the Scriptures tell us Jesus rebuked them, but I am actually quite surprised that the Scriptures didn’t say, “And Jesus looked at them in dismay and said, ‘Are ya stupid? Nobody can call down fire from Heaven. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.’” Why didn’t He say that? Because maybe we can’t burn a place or person down like what happened at Sodom and Gomorrah, but we can and do call down fire in other ways.

We put on our Jesus gear. We’ve got the crosses we wear and the clothes with messages that proclaim our faith. We talk openly about our faith. We post messages on social media for all the world to see. And if there were a Jesus parade, we’d jump in and want to ride on the float. We want to be associated and identified with Jesus and our faith. Good. Keep it up. There are many ways to proclaim the Good News. But, like the Apostles, we can take this too far.

We can come to believe that because we are with Jesus, we are holy or even holier than others. We can come to believe that if someone opposes our beliefs, they are opposing God, and therefore must be silenced because they are wrong and evil. We may believe that if they fail to keep our standards (even though we fail to do so ourselves), they are weak and unloved by God. We can look at others and then to Jesus and ask, “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” When we do this, we take on the exclusive powers of God, playing God ourselves. In doing so, our sins become greater than those we judge, and we are the ones who need rebuking.

However, there is a way for us to play God, and in doing so, we take on not just what we understand as the power of God, but God’s true nature, as witnessed in Jesus. For if we have seen Jesus, we have seen the Father. What do we see in Jesus? St. Paul summed it up for us in his letter to the Galatians that we read this morning. We see in Jesus “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” Through the Spirit of God, we have the power to live this life.

William Temple was the Archbishop of Canterbury in the early 1940s. He writes,

“It is no good giving me a play like Hamlet or King Lear and telling me to write a play like that. Shakespeare could do it—I can’t. And it is no good showing me a life like the life of Jesus and telling me to live a life like that. Jesus could do it—I can’t. But if the genius of Shakespeare could come and live in me, then I could write plays like this. And if the Spirit [of God] could come into me, then I could live a life like His.”

Children may think I’m the Pope, but I’m smart enough to know I’m not even close. However, I desire to be so closely associated with and identified with Jesus that I begin to resemble Him. This transforming work is accomplished through the Spirit of God living within, and the fruit of this work is “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” Therefore, we must invite God’s Holy Spirit to take up residence in our soul, in our entire being, so that we may be as He is.

If you want to play God, bring peace. If you want to play God, remain faithful. If you want to play God, show kindness. In this way, you will not only be associated with and identified with the Lord, but you will also become like the Lord.

Let us pray (by St. Augustine): Breathe into me, Holy Spirit, that my thoughts may all be holy. Move in me, Holy Spirit, that my work, too, may be holy. Attract my heart, Holy Spirit, that I may love only what is holy. Strengthen me, Holy Spirit, that I may defend all that is holy. Protect me, Holy Spirit, that I may always be holy. Amen.

Posted on

Sermon: Josemaría Escrivá

On October 6, 2002, one of the largest crowds ever to gather at the Vatican (with estimates reaching as high as 500,000) came to witness the canonization of one of my friends, Josemaría Escrivá. He is listed in our calendar of saints, but he is mine. His official feast day is tomorrow, June 26.

Pope John Paul II conducted the service and spoke fondly of the Saint and his close friend. 

“Outstanding in the founder of Opus Dei was his love for the will of God. There is a sure criterion of holiness: faithfulness in fulfilling the divine will to its ultimate consequences. The Lord has a plan for each one of us; he entrusts each one with a mission on earth. The saint cannot even think of himself outside of God’s plan: he lives only to fulfill it.

“St. Josemaría was chosen by the Lord to proclaim the universal call to holiness and to indicate that everyday life, ordinary activities, are the way of sanctification. It might be said that he was the saint of the ordinary.

“In fact, he was convinced that for anyone who lives from the perspective of faith everything offers an opportunity for encounter with God, everything becomes a stimulus for prayer. From this point of view, daily life reveals an unsuspected grandeur. Holiness appears truly within the reach of all.”

“St. Josemaría was profoundly convinced that the Christian life entails a mission and an apostolate: We are in the world to save it with Christ.

“He loved the world passionately, with a redemptive love. Precisely for this reason his teachings have helped so many ordinary members of the faithful to discover the redemptive power of faith, its capacity to transform the earth.

“This is a message that has abundant and fruitful implications for the evangelizing mission of the Church. It fosters the Christianization of the world ‘from within,’ showing that there can be no conflict between the divine law and the demands of genuine human progress.

“This saintly priest taught that Christ must be the apex of all human activity. His message impels the Christian to act in places where the future of society is being shaped.

“From the laity’s active presence in all the professions and at the most advanced frontiers of development there can only come a positive contribution to the strengthening of that harmony between faith and culture, which is one of the greatest needs of our time.”

I’ve read what many consider his most popular book, The Way, a collection of 999 sayings, multiple times. Also, through the internet, I’ve heard him speak at various events. What stands out to me is the difference between the two. When he speaks to others, he is compassionate and supportive, but many of the sayings in The Way can be quite harsh at times. Regarding charity, he writes, “Your charity is presumptuous. From afar, you attract; you have light. From nearby, you repel; you lack warmth. What a pity!” (#459)

Many others are similar, and all the writings are clear and bold, which makes me think that The Way (and I have no way of proving this) was originally a collection of sayings to himself. Words he spoke to himself to bring correction to his own life in areas he thought necessary, and it is that type of self-examination/self-evaluation that would make a Saint. Ever seeking to improve in the eyes of God. Such honesty with oneself can sometimes be quite painful, but as the Proverbs tell us, “Iron sharpens iron” (27:17), and we can all use honesty in our own self-examination and evaluation so that we too become the saints God has called us all to be. 

Posted on

Sermon: Proper 7 RCL C – “Pigs”

[Place pig on front pew]

Last week, we discussed how we are bombarded with so much information—74 GB every day. It’s no wonder we can never find our keys. Their location gets pushed out to make room for something else.

This week, I would like to talk about stuff. Not in general kind of stuff, but the stuff that fills our houses. I came across some amazing facts on the topic.

I don’t know who collects this kind of data, but the LA Times reports that the average American home contains 300,000 items. This is probably why one out of every ten American homes rents off-site storage and why another 25% of those with two-car garages can’t fit even one car in them.

3.1% of the children in the world live in the USA, but they are responsible for 40% of worldwide toy sales, averaging 238 toys per child.

When it comes to shopping, we spend more on shoes, jewelry, and watches than on higher education. Women in the USA and Europe will, on average, spend 8 years of their lives shopping.

Currently, the 12 percent of the world’s population that lives in North America and Western Europe accounts for 60 percent of private consumption spending, while the one-third of the world’s population living in South Asia and sub-Saharan Africa accounts for only 3.2 percent. Of that consumption, Americans spend $1.2 trillion on nonessential items—things we don’t need.

We have all this and desire even more for ourselves, but what’s funny (not haha) is the fact that even with all we spend, on average, we only donate 1.9% to charitable organizations. (Source for above statistics)

You might say, “None of that is true.” However, if you’ve ever had to move or clean out someone else’s house, you know it’s pretty much spot on.

You all know that my dad died last summer, and we had to go in and clean out his apartment. Throughout his life, he lived in larger places, and each time he moved, he collected more and more stuff. Later in life, he had to downsize. As a result, the number of items he had collected over the years became fewer and fewer. In the years before he died, he had a small but comfortable apartment, and all that stuff was distilled down to what he cherished the most— a piece of art or a picture of him walking on the beach with my niece.

At first, the task of cleaning out was overwhelming. What to do with this or that? Eventually, my brother and I decided that everyone could take what they wanted, and we would give the rest to Goodwill. In the end, my brother had about a shoebox full of things, and I made it up to a paper box along with some pictures. Other family members did the same. When we finished, at least 95% of what my dad valued went to Goodwill. It held value for him but not for anyone else, and that’s OK.

It’s not that we didn’t love our dad; it’s just that he valued things that weren’t important to us. I know that when I’m gone, the same thing will happen. Someone will come and clean out my place. There may or may not be anything that anyone wants to keep. If I’m in Enid, I suspect 98% of what I consider valuable will end up at one of the thrift stores. It’s all just “stuff.” 

That pig right there represents the 98% of my stuff that will end up in the thrift store, but it holds value for me. What would I trade my stuff for? What would I not? Better question: Who would I trade my stuff for? Who would I not?

Our Gospel reading today is from Mark. (The image on the front of your bulletin depicts the same event, but from Matthew’s perspective. Mark says there was only one demoniac, but Matthew says there were two.) Jesus enters the lands of the Gentiles and encounters a man who lives in the tombs near the city. Upon seeing Jesus, the man cries out, “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg you, do not torment me.” What follows is the classic order of an exorcism. Jesus commands the demon to come out of the man, eventually gaining the demon’s name. The demon says its name is Legion. A legion in the Roman army consisted of 6,000 soldiers, so the man is possessed by many demons. Knowing that Jesus can cast them back into the abyss, they beg to be sent into a nearby herd of pigs. The demons had brought insanity and chaos to the man’s life, and they do the same to the pigs upon entering them. It drives them to madness, and they drown themselves.

The pigs might disagree, but this would appear to be a happy ending. The man is freed from his demons and asks to follow Jesus. However, the pig herders rushed to town to report what had happened. Upon hearing the news, the townspeople came out and essentially said the same thing to Jesus as the demon had, “What have you to do with us, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? We beg you, go away. We don’t want you here.”

Having witnessed such a miracle, why would the people not welcome Jesus? Why did they send Him away?

There are a number of fringe thoughts on this. Some say they recognized the divine in Jesus, and everyone knows you really don’t want your gods walking around among you. There’s no telling what they’ll do. Closely related to this is the fear of the supernatural. We fear what we don’t understand. Both of these fears are likely part of the answer; however, most people agree that they asked Jesus to leave because He had deprived them of their stuff. 

Mark said it was a “large herd of swine,” and Jesus had just inflicted a huge economic blow through their deaths. Notice that when the townspeople arrived, they didn’t give thanks for the recovery of the demon-possessed man. They didn’t even mention him. No, it was their pigs, which impacted their stuff, that they were upset about. They showed more concern for material possessions than for the soul of a man.

In our lives, we place value on people just as we place value on stuff. Family, spouses, and children are—or should be—at the top of the list. Next come close friends, and, in some cases, friends of friends—I think church family falls into those two categories. Then we have people we don’t even know but feel connected to, such as public figures, celebrities, and the like. These are followed by acquaintances and fellow countrymen (which is naturally divided by our biases: race, religion, creed, etc.), and finally, everyone else. The way we respond to each of these individuals and groups reflects the value we place on them. A child who is sick with a fever will receive far more thought, consideration, compassion, and support than, say, the 279 people who were killed in the Air India crash or the 500K who have been killed in Russia’s war on Ukraine. Stalin summarized this by saying, “One death is a tragedy. A million is a statistic.” It comes down to the way we’re wired, mentally and emotionally.

From that list, who would I trade my stuff for? Who would I not? What part of my stuff is the soul of a loved one worth? What part of my stuff is the soul of someone on the other side of the world worth? 

For someone we love, we’d likely give it all, but what about that person on the other side of the planet? You don’t know them. Maybe they’re Muslim or Hindu. They look very different from you—hair, skin color, clothes. What is the value of their soul?

St. John Chrysostom wrote, “I am not about to mourn over many cities, or whole nations, yet shall I mourn over a soul which is of equal value with many such nations, yea even more precious…. For it is not the overthrow of a city which I mourn, nor the captivity of wicked men, but the desolation of a sacred soul, the destruction and effacement of a Christ-bearing temple.” (Two Exhortations to Theodore After His Fall)

There are many ministries of the Church, but it is the salvation of souls that is our singular calling. So, I’m not going to chastise you over stuff, I don’t know that I’ve got 300,000 items, but I’ve got plenty. I’m not going to ask you to go on mission trips around the world, proclaiming the Good News. I’m not even going to ask you to give money to support the work of spreading the Gospel. Instead, I’m going to ask you to find one person, one soul, and do exactly what Jesus, in our Gospel reading, asks the demoniac to do: “Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you.” 

Within Judaism, there is a saying from the Mishnah, “Whoever saves a single life is considered to have saved the whole world.” (Mishnah Sanhedrin 4:5) Archbishop of Canterbury, Michael Ramsey, teaches us, “The one man, one woman, one child, are of infinite worth to God. … For the infinite worth of the one is the key to the Christian understanding of the many.” (The Christian Priest Today, 42)

“Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you,” for the one soul you speak to is of infinite worth to our God.

Let us pray: Heavenly Father, pour forth your Holy Spirit to inspire us. Stir in our souls the desire to renew our faith and deepen our relationship with your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, so that we might truly believe in and live the Good News. Open our hearts to hear the Gospel and grant us the confidence to proclaim the Good News to others. Pour out your Spirit, so that we might be strengthened to go forth and witness to the Gospel in our everyday lives through our words and actions. Amen.

Posted on

Sermon: Bernard Mizeki

This isn’t necessarily a sermon; it may be better categorized under the heading, “Things to Ponder.”

Our saint for today, Bernard Mizeki, was from Africa. In my readings about his life, I was reminded of the writings of another African clergy person, Bishop Desmond Tutu.

Bishop Tutu wrote a rather inflammatory book as far as some Christians are concerned—God is Not a Christian: Speaking Truth in Times of Crisis—a collection of sermons and lectures.

From a lecture in 1992, Bishop Tutu says, “Is God dishonoured that Mahatma Gandhi was a Hindu? Shouldn’t we be glad that there was a great soul who inspired others with his readings of satyagraha, who inspired the Christian Martin Luther King Jr in his civil rights campaign? Do we really have to be so ridiculous as to assert that what Mahatma Gandhi did was good, but it would have been better had he been a Christian? What evidence do we have that Christians are better? Isn’t the evidence often overwhelming in the opposite direction?

“Don’t we have to be reminded too that the faith to which we belong is far more often a matter of the accidents of history and geography than personal choice? If we had been born in Egypt before the Christian era, we would have been perhaps worshippers of Isis, and had we been born in India rather than in South Africa, the chances are very, very considerable that we would have ended up being Hindu rather than Christian.” (p.15)

I believe in an omnipotent God, and I believe His word. The Psalmist declares,

“Your eyes [Lord] saw my unformed body;
    all the days ordained for me were written in your book
    before one of them came to be.”

(Psalm 139:16)

I believe the Lord knew us and our lives even before He began the act of creating; therefore, I believe He knew that I was going to be born in Louisiana and into a Christian upbringing. He knew that I would try to follow Him, and that, if it is His will, I will attain salvation through His Son, Jesus. I believe these things. However, with that said, does it also mean that I believe Gandhi was a really great guy and teacher, but because he was Hindu instead of Christian, he cannot attain salvation? That he is damned for eternity? There are plenty who will say, “Yes. He’s going to hell.” As for me, the answer is above my pay grade, but I do know that on the day of judgment, I do not want to be next in line behind Gandhi.

Jesus gave us the Great Commission: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” (Matthew 28:18-20) If we have one “job” on this planet, it is that; however, what happens to those we don’t reach with that message? What about those who lack the benefit of a Christian upbringing or any access to the Gospel of Jesus Christ? Is it their fault or ours, or did God simply choose who would be saved and who would not? I don’t have answers to these questions, but they are worth pondering, even if they may make us uncomfortable.

Bernard Mizeki was born in 1861 in what is now Mozambique. He later traveled to Cape Town, South Africa, where he came into contact with Anglican missionaries. He converted to the Christian faith and became a catechist in the church. He then obeyed the Great Commission and went out proclaiming. Many came to believe through his work, but in the end, some of those he was seeking to bring the message of God’s love to killed him, for they failed to understand the Good News.

Perhaps, when we ponder certain questions, we should not be overly concerned with “Who is in and who is out?” Perhaps our concern should be for souls. Who can we, like Bernard, proclaim the Good News of Jesus Christ to? From there, the work is and always has been God’s.  

Posted on

Sermon: St. Barnabas

In chapter four of the Acts of the Apostles, we find the following passage: “There was a Levite, a native of Cyprus, Joseph, to whom the apostles gave the name Barnabas (which means “son of encouragement”). He sold a field that belonged to him, then brought the money, and laid it at the apostles’ feet.” This is the first of many references to Barnabas, the saint we celebrate today.  

We know he was the one who introduced Paul to the other disciples and that he accompanied Paul on a missionary journey to Asia Minor. When the two entered the city of Lystra, they encountered a man who could not walk, so Paul healed him. Seeing this, the people declared, “‘The gods have come down to us in human form!’ Barnabas they called Zeus, and Paul they called Hermes, because he was the chief speaker. The priest of Zeus, whose temple was just outside the city, brought oxen and garlands to the gates; he and the crowds wanted to offer sacrifice.” Of course, Paul and Barnabas were horrified at this and proclaimed to them the Good News of the One True God, but such an event speaks to the charismatic appeal of both these men of God. Later, Barnabas went to Cyprus with Mark and is honored as the founder of the church there. According to tradition, due to his success in converting the people, he kindled the wrath of the Jewish religious leaders, who had him dragged outside the city and stoned to death.

There are many fascinating details about Barnabas’ life, but that moment of courage during his first encounter with Paul speaks of his great faith. As you may recall, the Apostle Paul was not always a believer in Christ. He was present at the stoning of Stephen and even describes himself as someone who persecuted Christians: “I persecuted this Way—that is the Christians—up to the point of death by binding both men and women and putting them in prison, as the high priest and the whole council of elders can testify about me.” For this reason, the Christians were very afraid of Paul, but as I mentioned, it was Barnabas who brought Paul to the other disciples in Jerusalem so that Paul might plead his case. So what convinced Barnabas that Paul had truly converted and wasn’t just playing some charade to get to the leaders of the Christians?

In our Gospel reading today, Jesus said, “See, I am sending you out like sheep into the midst of wolves; so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves.” When we hear this passage, we often think that we as Christians must be on our guard against those who wish to bring us harm or destroy our faith. While that is true, we sometimes get so caught up in hearing that part of the message that we miss the “innocent as doves” piece. The “wise as serpents” reminds us how to interact with the world, but the “innocent as doves” tells us that we are also to be like Jesus. We are to be on our guard, but we can never escape the fact that in the midst of it all—good and evil—we are to be like Jesus, willing to sacrifice it all for the sake of the Gospel.

Barnabas understood Paul’s reputation. He had good reason to fear him and what he might do, but he also knew Jesus and his message: “Your sins are forgiven.” By accepting Paul, Barnabas extended the same grace that he knew he had received himself.

Like Barnabas, we must be “wise as serpents,” but like him, we should never forget to be “innocent as doves.” Through this virtue, we reflect the nature of Christ.   

Posted on

Sermon: Easter 5 RCL C – “Love One Another”

Four Monks by Claudio Rinaldi

You won’t like this one.

There was a blind girl who hated herself because she was blind. In fact, she disliked everyone, except her loving boyfriend, who was always there for her. She used to tell her boyfriend, “If I could only see the world, I would marry you.”

One day, someone donated a pair of eyes to her. When the bandages came off, she was able to see everything, including her boyfriend, for the first time.

He asked her, “Now that you can see the world, will you marry me?”

The girl looked at her boyfriend and saw that he was blind. The sight of his closed eyelids shocked her. She hadn’t expected that. The thought of looking at them the rest of her life led her to refuse to marry him.

Her boyfriend left her in tears and days later wrote a note to her saying: “Take good care of your eyes, my dear, for before they were yours, they were mine.”

We have so many different ways of communicating these days—in person, via text messaging, through video calls, emails, and more. When you think about it, you realize that each form of communication involves some aspect of time, which can be summed up in that workplace complaint, “I survived another meeting that should have been an email.” If you have time, an in-person or video call is fine, but if you are rushed, then fire off a quick email or text message. This applies not only to work but also to our personal relationships.

I remember watching a movie where one of the ladies said, “If I want to spend an hour with my husband, I have to call his secretary and make an appointment.” Maybe it was a book, but some character requested an hour of someone’s time. The response was, “No one gets an hour.”

We’re so busy these days that no one gets an hour, and if they do, they’re going to have to make an appointment and pay for it.

Perhaps it’s not all that bad, but there are days that seem like it. Days when, even though you live in the same house with someone, the best you can hope for is to wave at each other as you come and go.

Given these circumstances, which I believe are true for many, it got me to wondering about the phrase, “I love you.” No one gets an hour. No one gets that much of our time, so when we say, “I love you,” to someone—be they our children, spouses, etc.—when we say, “I love you,” what do we mean? What message are we trying to convey, or is it just a nice way to conclude the interactions we have with one another as we pass each other in our comings and goings? 

Text message: “Don’t forget to pick up eggs. Thanks. I love you.” In that message, what is more important—the eggs or the love?

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying you don’t mean it when you say, “I love you,” but do you actually think about it when you say it? Is it something that grabs you down here in your gut, or is it an afterthought at the end of the day?

Today, in our Gospel reading, Jesus said, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” Three times: love one another. Love one another. Love for one another. 

Maybe I’m just making an observation, or I could be completely off base. But if this is true, if no one gets an hour and we are just shouting out “I love yous” as we pass one another, then how do we, as a community of believers, express love to one another as Jesus has called us to? Put another way, Jesus said, “Everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” Will those around us know that we are Jesus’ disciples based on what they witness between us?

A story is told about a pastor traveling with a Brazilian seminary student studying in the US. Along the way, the pastor asked the student if he would like to stop for a cup of coffee. The student said, “I would be honored.” So the pastor swung into a Starbucks and went through the drive-thru. 

Once on their way again the student was very quiet and when pressed about his silence he said, “I thought you were asking me to be your friend. I thought we were going to sit together and share life.” (From a sermon by Monty Newton, The Making of a Compelling Christian Community)

If the world is to know that we are Jesus’ disciples, then it is more than a coffee on the go. We must sit together and share life. We must be committed to one another. I’m not saying that you are not already doing this, but like the “I love you” tagline at the end of a text message can become something that is just said but doesn’t really carry much weight, so can our commitment to one another in a Christian community. We may be there in our minds, but do our relationships reflect it?

St. John wrote in his first epistle, “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God. Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love…. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.” (1 John 4:7-8, 11)

Reflecting on this passage, N.T. Wright said, “The Christian faith grows directly out of, and must directly express, the belief that in Jesus the Messiah the one true God has revealed himself to be-love incarnate. And those who hold this faith, and embrace it as the means of their own hope and life, must themselves reveal the self-same fact before the watching world. Love incarnate must be the badge that the Christian community wears, the sign not only of who they are but of who their God is.” (The Early Christian Letters, p.169)

To be committed to one another and to be that community of believers requires more than simply waving at each other on Sunday mornings. We like to wear our shirts with little alligators or polo players stitched on them, but we must exhibit our love for one another even more boldly. How do we accomplish this?

The Abbot of the monastery wanted the community he led to be much more committed to one another. Needing advice on the subject, the Abbot visited his good friend Jeremiah, a wise old Jewish rabbi. After hearing the Abbot, Jeremiah asked if he could share an experience. “Please do,” responded the Abbot. “Anything you can offer.”

Jeremiah told the Abbot that he had received an important vision: the Messiah was among the ranks of the monks. The Abbot was flabbergasted. One among his own, living in the monastery, was the Messiah! The Christ! Who could it be? He knew it wasn’t himself, but who? He raced back to the monastery and shared this exciting news with his fellow monks.

The monks grew silent as they looked into each other’s faces. Was this one the Messiah? Or that one? From that day forward, the atmosphere in the monastery changed. No one wanted to miss the opportunity to be with the Messiah. If harm was done, they immediately sought forgiveness. The monks began serving one another in ways they had never considered, looking out for opportunities to assist and seeking healing and companionship.

As travelers found their way to the monastery, word soon spread about the remarkable spirit of the place. People took the journey to the monastery and found themselves renewed and transformed. All because those monks knew the Messiah was among them. All because the visitors recognized that those monks were true disciples of Jesus. All because those monks were loving one another as Christ had loved them.

Please don’t think that I’m saying you are not committed to one another. I believe you are committed in a rather remarkable way, but we must always seek ways to strengthen the bonds between us and to bring others into our community. Not so that we can have a bigger church, but so that we can have a stronger, more faithful, and more committed church. So that everyone will know that we are Jesus’ disciples. So that everyone will know that Jesus is in our midst.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer stated in Life Together, “We must be ready to allow ourselves to be interrupted by God. God will be constantly crossing our paths and canceling our plans by sending us people with claims and petitions.” 

Love one another by allowing God to interrupt you. Give each other an hour. Sit together and share life. Along the way, you will discover that the Messiah is among the members of our church. Along the way, you will love one another as Christ loves us.

Let us pray: 

Heavenly Father,

look upon our community of faith

which is the Church of your Son, Jesus Christ.

Help us to witness to his love

by loving all our fellow creatures without exception.

Under the leadership or our Bishop

keep us faithful to Christ’s mission

of calling all men and women

to your service so that there may be

“one fold and one shepherd.”

We ask this through Christ, our Lord.

Amen.

Blog at WordPress.com.