Tag: Christianity

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Sermon: Lent 1 – “The Scourging”

In 2004, during my last semester in seminary, Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ was released in theaters. A group of us and one of our professors went to a Sunday matinee. Our professor, Father McGlynn, was dressed in his cassock and collar. As we exited the theater, someone waiting to enter asked, “Father, what did you think?” Father McGlynn replied, “It is what it was.” I agreed and still do. However, I did notice several scenes that did not correspond to the Gospel accounts, and I wanted to know the source of the information. Long story short, I discovered The Meditations of Anne Catherine Emmerich—The Dolorous (or Sorrowful) Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ.

It is a difficult read for several reasons, one of which is the fact that the text is as graphic as the movie. Still, I believe, “It is what it was,” and it is as fascinating as it is terrible, so I’ve read it a couple of times. I wanted to try to understand what Our Lord endured in those last hours of His life. Why? Because He did it for me, and if He did it for me, there must be something I’m meant to learn from His suffering.

During this Season of Lent, we are going to spend some time looking at this text in relation to the trials Our Savior endured. No, I won’t read the more graphic parts, but you will understand what is happening. The point is not to scare or cause you grief but to discover what Jesus, even in His suffering, was trying to teach us. 

Finally, the prayer at the conclusion of each sermon comes from On the Passion of Christ: According to the Four Evangelists, written by my friend, the 14th-century monk Thomas à Kempis. At times, those prayers are a bit longer than usual, but as this is Lent, we’ll be OK praying.

So, in the opening words of The Imitation of Christ by Thomas à Kempis, let us “meditate on the life of Jesus Christ.” We begin with the scourging that followed the trial before Pilate.

Blessed Catherine writes, “Jesus put his arms round the pillar, and when his hands were thus raised, the [soldiers] fastened them to the iron ring which was at the top of the pillar; they then dragged his arms to such a height that his feet, which were tightly bound to the base of the pillar, scarcely touched the ground. Thus was the Holy of holies violently stretched, without a particle of clothing, on a pillar used for the punishment of the greatest criminals; and then did two furious ruffians who were thirsting for his blood begin in the most barbarous manner to scourge his sacred body from head to foot. The whips or scourges which they first made use of appeared to be made of a species of flexible white wood, but perhaps they were composed of the sinews of the ox, or of strips of leather.”

Jesus endured such suffering, and we want to learn from it. But what can we possibly hope to learn from such senseless brutality that leads to so much agony? The answer is twofold: It teaches us about how we must endure our own suffering and how we are to see others in their trials.

As for us, we find the answer throughout the New Testament. St. Peter teaches that Christ “suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps. He committed no sin, neither was deceit found in his mouth. When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly.” (1 Peter 2:21-23)

This speaks specifically to suffering for righteousness’ sake, but the Church has long held that it also applies to the hardships we face in the world and our bodies. The lesson is that in His suffering, Jesus entrusted “himself to him who judges justly.” In His suffering, Jesus entrusted Himself to the Father. 

When we suffer, we sometimes do the opposite, or, even worse, instead of turning to the Father, we blame Him. Jesus’ final words teach us the correct response, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!” (Luke 23:46) 

In the scourging of Jesus, for ourselves, we learn that we are not to look down or inward, cursing the world or God. Instead, we are to turn our faces toward Heaven and commit our lives—the good, the bad, and the ugly—to He who loves us and calls us his own.

That is what Jesus can teach us about our own suffering, but how can we learn from Jesus when witnessing the suffering of others?

In his book, The Wounded Healer, Henri Nouwen shares a tale. It’s too much reading for a sermon, but I’m going to read it anyway.

One day a young fugitive, trying to hide himself from the enemy, entered a small village. The people were kind to him and offered him a place to stay. But when the soldiers who sought the fugitive asked where he was hiding, everyone became very fearful. The soldiers threatened to burn the village and kill every man in it unless the young man were handed over to them before dawn. The people went to the minister and asked him what to do. 

The minister, torn between handing over the boy to the enemy or having his people killed, withdrew to his room and read his Bible, hoping to find an answer before dawn. After many hours, in the early morning his eyes fell on these words: “It is better that one man dies than that the whole people be lost.” 

Then the minister closed the Bible, called the soldiers and told them where the boy was hidden. And after the soldiers led the fugitive away to be killed, there was a feast in the village because the minister had saved the lives of the people. 

But the minister did not celebrate. Overcome with a deep sadness, he remained in his room. That night an angel came to him, and asked, “What have you done?” He said: “I handed over the fugitive to the enemy.” Then the angel said: “But don’t you know that you have handed over the Messiah?” “How could I know?” the minister replied anxiously. Then the angel said: “If, instead of reading your Bible, you had visited this young man just once and looked into his eyes, you would have known.” (The Wounded Healer, p.31-2)

What can we learn about others from the suffering Jesus endured? We can learn that within the soul of each and every person is the Image of God, the Messiah. We can learn that when they suffer, regardless of race, creed, or religion, He suffers. In this knowledge, we can remain as bystanders, simply watching the suffering as those who watched Jesus’ scourging did, or like Jesus showed us throughout His life and ministry, we can work to ease the suffering of the world around us, one soul at a time.

Witnessing Christ’s scourging wrecks our souls, and hearing the lashes with the ears of our hearts can bring us to our knees. Yet, Jesus did not endure such pain for us to turn from it or block it out. He endured it so that, in the midst of our own trials, we might learn to entrust our lives to the Father. He also suffered through the lashes so that we might see in Him and respond to the suffering of others. 

“By His stripes, we are healed.” Through witnessing His stripes and His suffering, we become like Him.

Let us Pray: Lord Jesus Christ, I praise and glorify you with endless gratitude for your barbarous scourging, for every stinging blow and piercing wound to your most holy and tender body.

O holy son, my God’s beloved Son, what have you done to deserve such dire treatment? Nothing, of course. But I? I am as one who is lost, for I am the cause of all your sorrows and distress. The enormity of my sins has brought this misery upon you, and to forgive my sins it was necessary for the Son of God to pay by suffering these bitter torments.

O most adorable Jesus, who endured that most painful scourging for me, the worst of sinners, grant that with a sorrowful heart I may gaze on each of your wounds and kiss them with a deep burning love. From them I breathe the perfume of life and partake of the medicine of eternal salvation. Inflame me with the fire of your infinite love, for you have indeed manifested that love for me—your servant worthy of being condemned—by enduring so many stripes from the scourges in your tormentors’ hands. Whenever I am faced with trials, send me your grace to bolster my weakness, lest under the weight of these afflictions, I become unduly dejected and agitated, and may I be mindful of your unjust scourging and meekly submit myself to all such ordeals.

Allow me a share in your sufferings and arouse in me the desire to amend my life by taking discipline, and, being thus humbly chastised, I may present myself as being more pleasing to you in the present life and rejoice with you more gloriously in the next, where all the saints, with all fear of evil gone, rejoice in everlasting contentment. Amen.

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Sermon: Matthias

The second string and benchwarmers are never good enough to have their names in light or pictures on the cover. It’s always the superstars that get all the press, while the rest of the team goes largely unnoticed. It is true in many different arenas.

Before the symphony begins, the stage is crowded with all the musicians warming up, except for the first-string violinist. Just as the performance is about to begin, they come out to the applause of the crowd, followed only by the conductor. It is as though all the other positions are there only to serve these two. Even so, Leonard Bernstein, who conducted the New York Philharmonic from 1958 to 1969, said, “Second fiddle. I can always get plenty of first violinists, but to find one who plays second violin with as much enthusiasm . . . now that’s the problem. And yet if no one plays second, we have no harmony.”

The “second fiddle” of the San Francisco Symphony said, “Playing second fiddle may connote being second best, but the preparation for playing first or second violin is exactly the same.”

When I was playing football in junior high, I was a benchwarmer who dreamed of one day making it to the second string. However, when I went to practice, the coach didn’t say, “You first stringers, give me 50 sit-ups, and you second stringers (or less) give me 25.” When it was time to practice, we all went at it the same way. On game day, we all suited up and were ready to play.

Following the death and resurrection of Jesus and prior to Pentecost, the disciples were gathered in Jerusalem. They had fellowship, prayer, and began establishing a plan for moving forward. In the process, they believed there needed to be twelve disciples, as Jesus had, so the first order of business was to replace Judas, the disciple who betrayed Jesus.

Peter said that the new apostle should be “one of the men who have accompanied us during all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us, beginning from the baptism of John until the day when he was taken up from us—one of these must become a witness with us to his resurrection.”

After discussion, it came down to two. Scripture then says, “Then they prayed and said, ‘Lord, you know everyone’s heart. Show us which one of these two you have chosen to take the place in this ministry and apostleship from which Judas turned aside to go to his own place.’ And they cast lots for them, and the lot fell on Matthias; and he was added to the eleven apostles.”

The second string just got their shot at the big league.

Back to my football career, the coach occasionally let me in the game for a few plays, but that was about it. Some fellas were quite a bit better than me, so I understand now why I didn’t get to play much, but I think another problem wasn’t necessarily my lack of talent but the fact that I never believed I would be called up. I never felt that I could actually make first string. I don’t think it was an intentional act not to try harder, but, looking back, I don’t think I was intentional about improving either. I was just happy to be on the team, get to wear a letter jacket, and muddle along.

Perhaps that is OK in Jr. High football and even the symphony, but Matthias teaches us that when it comes to being a disciple of Jesus, we should constantly seek to improve ourselves and maintain our highest level of commitment, for we never know when God will call us into a greater responsibility.

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Sermon: Epiphany VII – “Not ‘If'”

Photo by Igor Omilaev on Unsplash

I’ve complained to you once before about the headlines for newspaper articles. The situation has not improved. One newspaper reports, “Woman missing since she got lost.” I don’t know if the city or the newspaper is the rocket scientist on this one, but “City unsure why the sewer smells.” No concerns about the education system as “Hispanics ace Spanish tests.” Nothing offensive here, “Midget sues grocer, cites belittling remarks.” And in keeping with the politics of the day, “Ex-Minister breaks silence, says nothing.” And if you think those are idiotic, try these goofy phrases on for size.

“Love your enemies.”

“Do good to those who hate you.”

“Bless those who curse you.”

“If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also.”

And the clincher, “Do to others as you would have them do to you.”

The headlines are ridiculous, but when people start talking like this, I generally begin to think that some sort of rehab is in order.

Last week, we read that Jesus came to a level place with His disciples, and a great crowd gathered around them. Jesus then began to teach, saying, “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.” He gave them the beatitudes. Today’s Gospel reading is a continuation of that same sermon, and the things Jesus says are radically the opposite of how people believed God operated and even more so on how the world operates.

For example, take the one mentioned, “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.” The Old Testament does not directly say you are cursed if you are poor, but it does say the opposite. Proverbs 10:22, 

“The blessing of the Lord makes rich,
    and he adds no sorrow with it.”

Deuteronomy says, “You shall remember the Lord your God, for it is he who gives you power to get wealth, that he may confirm his covenant that he swore to your fathers.” (Deut. 8:18)

The Old Testament does not say you are cursed if you are poor, but for many, these texts imply it. If you are rich, then God is blessing you. If you are poor, you must have done something wrong to anger God. All the points Jesus made in our reading today are just as startling.

“Love your enemies.” We never seem to recall hearing this in the Old Testament because the opposite is so prevalent. Remember the Edomites and the Babylonians. They did not play well with others, and the Israelites saw them as bitter enemies. The Psalmist made that point quite clear. 

“Remember, O Lord, against the Edomites
    the day of Jerusalem,
how they said, “Lay it bare, lay it bare,
    down to its foundations!”

O daughter of Babylon, doomed to be destroyed,
    blessed shall he be who repays you
    with what you have done to us!

Blessed shall he be who takes your little ones
    and dashes them against the rock!” (Psalm 137:7-9)

Not quite the love we were hoping for. Yet, Jesus says we are to love our enemies. In the Sermon on the Mount, He even expanded on this by saying, “I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” (Matthew 5:43) 

We can look at this and everything that Jesus said and understand how radical His teachings were at the time—how controversial they must have been. Fortunately, that’s no longer the case. We love our enemies and never curse anyone. We always turn the other cheek and never strike back. We don’t judge or condemn, and we are incredibly forgiving. Am I right? 

I don’t always pull out the Greek Interlinear Bible (it provides a literal translation of the text), but I did with the passage. I was checking on a particular word—“if.” The translation we read says “If” in a few places, but it is not in the original Greek. Therefore, Jesus is not saying, “If you have enemies… if someone curses you… if someone strikes you… if someone steals from you and so on.” Instead, Jesus is saying, “You will have enemies; there will be those that curse you, someone will strike you, and others will steal from you. It will happen, but you are not to treat them like they treat you. You are to treat them the way you want them to treat you.” 

I would like to get up every morning and say my Stuart Smalley (Saturday Night Live) affirmations, “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me.” I would also like to believe that’s true; however, I may be good enough and smart enough, but not everybody likes me. I’m just not their cup of tea. I don’t think the way they think, believe what they believe, hold to the same politics as they do, or any number of other points of contention. The same is true for all of us. It may seem that everyone is giving you a thumbs up, but don’t be fooled; some are giving you a thumbs down (if not worse), so the question is not whether or not you have these people in your life. You do. The question is, how do you treat them? How do you respond to them? 

Jesus told us how, and St. Peter reaffirmed it in his first Epistle. He writes, “All of you, have unity of mind, sympathy, brotherly love, a tender heart, and a humble mind. Do not repay evil for evil or reviling for reviling, but on the contrary, bless, for to this you were called, that you may obtain a blessing.” He then quotes a portion of Psalm 34. “For

‘Whoever desires to love life
    and see good days,
let him keep his tongue from evil
    and his lips from speaking deceit;

let him turn away from evil and do good;
    let him seek peace and pursue it.’

We are called to be a light unto the nations, but when we act like everyone else, we only bring more darkness. N.T. Wright says that this type of behavior is “Another victory for the hostile world: when Christians ‘give as good as they get,’ repaying slander with slander, they are colluding with the surrounding world, just as surely as if they went along with immorality or financial corruption.” Therefore, our response is that which Jesus calls us to. That is, to behave and respond in a way that is radically the opposite of the world. We are to love instead of hate. Bless instead of curse. Give instead of take. Forgive instead of holding grudges. And this is not easy; even worse, it is not our natural inclination. Most people just aren’t that nice. Therefore, it must be an intentional way of life and a practiced one. 

If you want to love your enemies instead of hating them, you must make a conscious decision to love them and then practice it. If you are going to bless instead of curse, you will have to decide this before you even get out of bed, then you must put it into action. And we must do these things, not just with our lips and actions, but also in our hearts. If you are only washing the outside of the pot and the inside is still filthy, what good is that to you? 

One final note: Jesus said, “The measure you give will be the measure you get back.” But keep in mind that the measure you “get back” is not from this world. It is from your Heavenly Father. Therefore, not everyone is going to like you, and not everyone is going to play according to the same rules you’ve set for yourself. You may turn the other cheek, but you may also get smacked on that one as well. Yet, don’t let that stop you from living the life God has called you to.

The headlines are ridiculous, and the news behind them is often even more ludicrous and incomprehensible. Yet, amid the insanity of it all and in our personal lives, we are called to a different way of life. Will it be easy? No, and no one ever said it would be. Regardless, “be strong and courageous” and live this radically countercultural life Jesus calls us to.

Let us pray. (This is a prayer from Mother Teresa, and I’ve shared it with you before. Perhaps it is not as much a prayer as a commissioning.)

People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered; forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives; be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies; succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you; be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight; build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous; be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow; do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough; give the world the best you’ve got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your God;
It was never between you and them anyway.

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Sermon: Epiphany 5 RCL C – “New Horizons”

Photo by Joshua Earle on Unsplash

What gameshow would you be on if you were in a studio audience filled with people in the wildest costumes, all holding up goofy signs and enthusiastically shouting? Let’s Make a Deal. You’ve got the audience, Jay, the man with the table, pretty Carol Merrill pulling back curtains and striking dramatic poses in front of “A brand new Chevy Vega,” and, of course, Mr. Gameshow host himself, Monty Hall.

I remember watching Let’s Make a Deal as a kid but not really understanding it. Now, you can watch all the episodes on the Internet, and they are funny.

Monty would pick one of the crazy-dressed audience members and offer them $300, or they could make a deal. That’s when Jay would appear, carrying his table with a box sitting on it. You could keep the $300 or trade it for the unknown. The audience member would hem and haw, then make a choice, and it would run from there. One deal after another until the big prize. Some people won big; others may walk away with an ox pulling a cart. However, in the end, for the grand prize finale, Monty makes the final deal. You could keep what you had or have what was behind door number three—and there would be the lovely Carol Merrill posing before the hidden prize.

You’ve got $5,000 in hand, or you could make the deal, give it all up, and see what was behind door number three. What do you do?

The Event Horizon Model describes a phenomenon related to how we categorize memories. For example, consider your time in school.

Your entire experience is of the education process, but that process consists of distinct phases, such as elementary school, high school, college, and graduate school. These represent your education, and you have memories that are stored and sorted within and in the context of each phase. Think of it as a library. In a library, you’ve got the fiction section, non-fiction, biography, etc. In the Event Horizon Model, your memory has a section for grade school, high school, etc., and your memories are filed according to those various events. The current or most recent phase holds the clearest memories, while those from the past are a bit hazy. You’re not forgetful; instead, the information from earlier events is less relevant, so it gets set aside or even offloaded.

Throughout our lives, we have various events. Perhaps it is our schooling. It might also be stages of life—child, teenager, adult, married, married with children, and so on. That is a fairly typical progression. However, have you noticed that when you go from one to the next, it often feels as though you are starting over?

I was in school for a while, then I graduated and started to work. A new event and a new beginning. I decided to get married. I stopped being single and started being a spouse. Another event, but also the process of starting over. It really is a bit like saying, “Monty, I think I’ll take what’s behind door number three.” Everything we think we know is taken from us, and we embark on this new thing, and, for the most part, we’ve no idea what we are doing. This can cause anxiety, confusion, and any number of other negatives that impact our lives.

In situations like this, what is needed is something constant and stable that travels with us from one event to the next. We may choose what lies behind door number three—it’s not a bad thing—but we need a place to stand—a place of grounding.

The scene from our Gospel reading today occurs very early in Jesus’ earthly ministry. Jesus had a meal at Peter’s house, but the disciples didn’t seem to be traveling with Him just yet. On this day, Jesus returns to Bethsaida, Peter’s hometown, and the crowds gather. To address them all, He gets into Peter’s boat and asks him to push out from the shore a bit so that He can see and speak to everyone gathered. Afterward, He instructs Peter to push out into the deep water and fish.

Peter says, “We’ve been doing this all night, but if you say so, we will.” They do, and we have the miraculous catch of fish. Peter doesn’t know what is going on, but he knows he is afraid. This Jesus is a holy man, and he doesn’t feel worthy to be near Him, but Jesus says, “You think this is amazing? Stick with me; I’ll show you something special.”

We can interpret this scene in many ways, but today, I would like you to consider it as a representation of your life.

Peter’s boat is more than just his livelihood. His ability to eat and feed his family, to care for them, and to provide for their other needs revolves around that boat. Peter’s boat is more than his livelihood; it is his life, and Jesus steps into it. Jesus steps into Peter’s life. This is an “invasion of grace.” Jesus, God has not taken away Peter’s free will, but through these actions, Jesus is saying to Peter, “I want to be a part of your life.”

This is also a doorway leading to a new event in Peter’s life. He was a fisher of fish. He is becoming a fisher of men. Going from one thing to the next, and the anxiety is setting in, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” But Jesus tells him, “Do not be afraid. I will be with you. Always. To the end of the age. I will be with you from one horizon to the next. I will be your place to stand.”

Jesus says the same to us, but He is promising more than simply being present. In the context of this episode, I came to understand this at 1:04 a.m. Wednesday morning, and had to get up and write it down.

Jesus instructed Peter to head out into the deep water and cast his nets. Peter followed his advice, and they experienced a miraculous catch of fish—“They caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break.” Question: What do you think Jesus was doing while all this was happening?

I always imagined Jesus sitting back and watching, but now I believe quite differently. I think He was right there with Peter. I think He rolled up his sleeves, grabbed hold of the net, and started hauling it in with all the rest. I believe He got soaking wet and stunk of all those fish, right along with Peter and the others. I think He joined His voice with Peter’s and shouted for the others to come and help. He laughed with them when James and John’s boat began to sink under the weight of all those fish. Jesus not only stepped into Peter’s life and turned it upside down, but He stepped into Peter’s life and lived it with him. Not as a bystander or judge to see how Peter would do but as a faithful friend. One who wanted the very best for Peter and the others and wasn’t afraid to step in and get dirty. And One who would be with them as they crossed the new horizons of their lives, providing them a firm place to stand, regardless of what was taking place.

Jimmy Buffett wrote a song—Door Number Three. The third stanza:

And I don’t want what Jay’s got on his table
Or the box Carol Merrill points to on the floor
No, I’ll hold out just as long as I am able
Until I can unlock that lucky door
Well, she’s no big deal to most folks
But she’s everything to me
Cause my whole world lies waiting behind door number three.

Some events in our lives are choices like going for what’s behind door number three. Other events are just life. You are in a phase of life where you are healthy, but life walks you through a doorway that leads to sickness. You are secure in your position then you find yourself unemployed. A relationship goes from good to awful. All these various events, where you pass through the doorway, and a new horizon lies before you, bringing the unknown, the destabilizing, the anxiety. However, if we have a place to stand, if we’ve allowed Jesus to step in our boats, invading our lives with His grace, then He will be with us regardless of the circumstances or the outcome. As with Peter, Jesus will be a faithful friend who is not afraid to get involved in the messiest parts of our lives, and along the way, He will provide that firm place for us to stand as we cross from one horizon to the next.

Jesus has climbed into your boat and asked you to put out into the deep. Do what He asks. Take what’s behind door number three.

Let us pray (pray this one for yourself as I read):
Father, I abandon myself into Your hands;
Do with me whatever You will.
Whatever You may do, I thank You.
I am ready for all, and I accept all.
Let only Your will be done in me,
And in all Your creatures.
I wish no more than this, O Lord.
Into Your hands, I commend my spirit;
I offer it to You, Lord,
and so need to give myself,
to surrender myself into Your hands,
Without reserve and with boundless confidence,
For You are my Father.
Amen.

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Sermon: Martyrs of Japan

St. Francis Xavier first arrived in Japan in 1549 with other Jesuit missionaries and proclaimed the Kingdom of God. They achieved success with an estimated 300,000 converts, but the large number of adherents to a new religion alarmed the Shoguns—How do we deal with them?—leading to a ban on Christianity and the beginning of persecutions. The first martyrs we remember today were six Franciscan Friars and twenty of their converts. They were all crucified. The ban on Christianity lasted 250 years, but it was not until after WWII that true religious freedom arrived in Japan.

The persecution and ban could have easily ended the faith in Japan, but instead, they drove it underground. So today, as we remember those first martyrs, I thought we might look at their legacy, one that remains even today: they are known as the Kakure Kirishitan, or “Hidden Christians.”

Following the ban and the persecutions, those who wished to maintain their Christian faith began to worship in Buddhist and Shinto temples to ‘hide’ among the crowds (Shinto involves the worship of ancestors and nature spirits). Since there were no Christian priests to continue teaching the faith, a rather interesting synergy of Christianity, Buddhism, and Shintoism emerged. Not only did it combine these different practices, but the texts used for worship are a blend of Portuguese, Latin, and Japanese. Today, although they might recite the Our Father, Hail Mary, and other Christian prayers, it is believed they lack a true understanding of their meaning. I do not think this implies unfaithfulness on their part. If anything, I would argue it demonstrates an even greater faith, for even though their understanding may be limited, they have not failed to deny themselves and take up their cross. In no way did they… do they—for a small number still exist today—in no way were they ashamed of the Gospel; they simply carried it on as they understood it.

Fewer than one percent of Japanese people are Christian and the Hidden Christians are gradually disappearing altogether.  Patrick Downes, editor of the Hawaii Catholic Herald, reviewed a short film titled Otaiya: Japan’s Hidden Christians by Christal Whelan in 2000.  Downes reports that Whelan “captured a unique Kakure Kirishitan funeral practice in which a small piece is cut from a centuries-old kimono which had belonged to a particularly holy Hidden Christian martyr. The two square inches of cloth is wrapped in paper and placed in the hands of the dead.

Today all that remains of the kimono belonging to one of the priests is a small piece of cloth kept folded in a box.

That kimono is a fitting metaphor for the Kakure Kirishitan a religion born of persecution, enfolded in the heavy mantle of Japanese culture, concealed over the ages in a dark lacquer box of secrecy, destined to disappear bit by bit by careful bit as each member passes into eternity.” (Source) https://www.catholiceducation.org/en/culture/catholic-contributions/kakure-kirishitan.html

It would be very easy to dismiss these Hidden Christians, descendants of early Christians and martyrs from Japan. We might say that they are not truly “Christian,” but this kind of judgment should be left to God, because these individuals—more so than many who identify as Christian—are genuinely seeking Him. And in the end, isn’t that what we are all trying to do?

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Sermon: Presentation of Our Lord RCL C – “Prayers and Actions”

I have one woman at home who rules my life—the Queen (a 9.2-pound feline)—but I also have two women who work for me 24/7. One is Alexa, and the other is Siri. Siri takes care of my personal life. She sets my calendar, wakes me in the morning, sends messages, and makes phone calls. She’s quite handy. Essentially, she runs my life (I’m very thankful that The Queen has not yet learned how to add to my calendar). The other woman is Alexa. Alexa is the house workhorse. She takes care of security, lights, temperature, and things of that nature. If I need to know what’s on my calendar for tomorrow, I ask Siri. If I need to know if the front door is locked, I ask Alexa.

At night, I don’t want any light in my room, so I don’t even have a clock. When I want to know what time it is, I ask, “Alexa, what time is it?” She’s always happy to tell me.

However, one night last year, I woke up and wanted to know the time. I said, “Alexa, what time is it?” But she did not answer me. I thought, OK, maybe I didn’t say it loud enough, so I said again, “Alexa, what time is it?” Still no answer. She was definitely falling down on the job. I said it one more time very loudly and in a kind of rude way (and let me just say that I’m not disrespectful to my AI helpers because I want to be on their good side when they take over the world). Still, I said it kind of loudly. “Alexa, what time is it?” No answer. I opened my eyes and discovered the problem. I was in Norway. Siri travels with me, Alexa does not.

As I laughed to myself about that, I wondered if, when we pray, do we treat God in a similar manner. “Hey God, I need you to take care of .” We wait a little while, and when there’s no answer, we say again, “Hey God, I need you to take care of .” When there is still no answer, we get up on our high and mighty and loudly pray, “God, I need you to take care of _.” When we wise up and open our eyes, we quickly realize that He is God and we are not. We need to remember our place in this relationship.

We must also remember that when we believe our prayer is not answered, God may simply be saying, “No. Not going to happen.” Even so, there are many times when we persist, and the more we want something, the louder and more frustrated our prayers become. It is that frustration that can lead us into trouble. How so?

Peaky Blinders. It is a TV show. I’ve never seen it, but I came across a quote from one of the episodes. I had to sit down and think about it. One of the characters says, “Someone once said to me, ‘The devil… he listens to your prayers too. Doesn’t always come with horns, you know. Sometimes, he looks like everything you ever wanted.’ That stuck.

You see, mate, the devil’s clever, yeah? He don’t come bangin’ on your door wearin’ horns, screamin’, ‘I’m here to ruin ya life.’ Nah, he’s subtle. Slips in quiet, dressed up like all your hopes, all your bloody dreams. Makes you believe he’s the answer you’ve been waitin’ for. But here’s the thing, right? The devil don’t take what you ain’t already offered. It’s a trade, innit? A shiny deal with the kind of cost you don’t see till it’s too late. So, be careful, yeah? ’Cause not every smile is salvation. Some are the first step to destruction.”

There is some debate on whether the devil actually hears our prayers, but all agree that he cannot do anything about them. I’m not swayed either way, but I am firmly convinced he can do nothing about them. However, when we become frustrated, our prayers can fall outside the realm of prayer and into the category of our will instead of God’s Will. These prayers originate from our more base passions—wants, desires, lusts. When this happens, I do believe the devil hears us and says, “Now, that’s something I can work with.”

Perhaps you get a new job. You give thanks for this job and pray that you will do it well. Over time, you begin to think, “I’m good at this; maybe I’ll get a raise or promotion?” At first, you pray rightly that you’ll do a good job and that, if it is God’s will, you will see a reward, but each time you are up for review, nothing happens. You continue to pray but then add, “Well, perhaps if I put in more hours, I’ll get noticed.” And guess what? It works. A raise and a promotion. Are you satisfied? Happy with where you are? For a time, but then… “I could make more money if…?” And the cycle repeats.

By the world’s standards, you are successful. You’ve got a good position making good money. However, in that scenario, there may be some questions you need to ask. When was the last time you spent quality time with your wife? Your children? Have you found yourself wanting more and more, never satisfied with what you have and how fat your bank account is? Are the people you associate with the type who encourage your life with Christ Jesus, or do you no longer have time for that sort of thing? You made a trade. You got a shiny deal, but you never stopped to consider the hidden costs.

Where did you go wrong? You prayed, yes, but you added a bit that wasn’t really a prayer— “Well, perhaps if I put in more hours, I’ll get noticed.” The devil couldn’t do anything about your prayer, but that last bit… that last bit, the devil said, “Now, that’s something I can work with.”

Today is the celebration of the Presentation of Our Lord in the Temple, a fixed feast day forty days after Christmas. Why forty days? The Mosaic Law dictated that the firstborn should be dedicated to the Lord (Exodus 13:2), and after a woman gave birth, she was not to “touch anything sacred nor enter the sanctuary till the days of her purification are fulfilled.” (Leviticus 12:2-8) As part of our remembrance of these events, we light our candles to symbolize God’s Light coming into the world. As Simeon said,

“A Light to enlighten the nations,
 and the glory of your people Israel.”

In our readings, what struck me the most was Simeon and Anna’s faithfulness and prayer.

Simeon was devout, for the Holy Spirit rested on him. He watched day and night for the consolation of Israel. He prayed, and he believed God would fulfill what had been promised. He added nothing of his own. He gave the devil nothing to work with, and He witnessed the coming of the Lord’s salvation. He said,

“Lord, you now have set your servant free
 to go in peace as you have promised; 
For these eyes of mine have seen the Savior,
 whom you have prepared for all the world to see.”

The Prophetess Anna was at the Temple day and night, never ceasing in her worship and prayer. She sought God and watched for Him to fulfill His promises to the nations. She gave the devil nothing to work with but placed her cares in the hands of the One she knew to be faithful. She was not disappointed and proclaimed to all that redemption had come.

Their examples teach us that the coming, redemption, and salvation from Jesus should be at the center of our prayers. We pray this for all and also specifically for our lives. Instead of giving the devil something to work with from our passions, we remain focused on the One who knows our needs before they are even spoken. As King David wrote,

“Even before a word is on my tongue,
 behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.” (Psalm 139:4)

Therefore, going back to our example of the new job, in your prayers, instead of placing emphasis on doing a good job so that you can get a raise or a promotion, emphasize doing a good job so that you can bring glory to God. By doing so, you don’t give the devil anything to work with. St. James says we “ought to say, ‘If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that’” (James 4:15), and not just give that lip service, but truly practice it, not adding on any of those more base practices.

Like Anna and Simeon, in all things, in all endeavors, and all prayer, “seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” (Matthew 6:33)

When you light the candles that were blessed today, may their light be a reminder to you of the Light that has come into the world and your task of raising it high so that it may be seen and known by all. And, Deo volente—God willing. May our prayers, in accordance with the divine will of God, bring Him glory in all we do.

Let us pray:
The light of God surrounds us,
The love of God enfolds us,
The power of God protects us,
The presence of God watches over us,
Wherever we are, God is,
And where God is, all is well.
Amen.

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Sermon: Thomas Aquinas

Can you prove to me that there is a God?  Sounds easy enough, but when it comes down to it… not so much.  However, several have tried, and in the eyes of many, including the Church, have succeeded, one of which is our Saint for today, Thomas Aquinas.

Thomas was born in 1225 in Italy. His teachings and writings can only be compared to those of St. Augustine of Hippo when considering their effect on Christian thought (think of them as the Einstein’s of Christianity).  It was during Thomas’ life that the writings of the great philosopher Aristotle were ‘rediscovered,’ and it was Thomas Aquinas who took these writings of Aristotle and integrated them into Christian thought, which means that a new way of understanding God was brought into Christian thinking and that understanding was through the use of reason.  How so?  Think of the polarized views of today.

On one side, we have science.  Science is essentially all reason.  A bit like math: one plus one equals two.  That same reason has led some in the scientific fields or understanding to deny the existence of God; for example, the creation of the universe came about through the Big Bang; therefore, all that business in Genesis is just a fairy tale, and God doesn’t exist.  The other side is Sola Scriptura, which declares that the Bible is all that is needed to prove the existence of God.  Aquinas would say, “Not so fast,” to both groups.

In his greatest work, Summa Theologica, Aquinas puts forward five logical arguments (reasons) for the existence of God, the first of which is the argument of motion.  He begins by simply saying things move.  We can all agree on that.  From there, he says, for things to move, something had to make them move.  Think of a ball on a pool table: if that ball is going to move, something has to move it, whether it is the cue stick or gravity or even a ghosty; something made it move, but what made that something move?  You can chase that as far back as you want. Still, for Aquinas, you eventually have to admit that there was something entirely different that made the very first thing move: the ‘first mover,’ something that was the initiator of all other movement, so why not call that ‘first mover’ God?  That doesn’t reveal the God of Christianity, but it establishes some ‘higher power,’ as some refer to it today.  So, when it comes to creation and someone arguing the Big Bang started it all, Aquinas would ask, “Who made it go bang?”  To those who say Sola Scriptura, Aquinas would say, “God gave you a brain.  Use it.”  The one thing the argument of reason cannot answer is how we go from ‘higher power’ to the God of Christianity.  For Aquinas, that takes one more step: revelation.

Revelation goes back to our study of St. Paul’s Epistle to the Romans, where we understood that our belief in God is a grace given to us by God.  Because of this grace, this revelation, even though we cannot prove that the ‘higher power’ is the God of Christianity, we can have faith and believe.  This same grace, faith, revelation helps us discern the Holy Trinity, the Incarnation, and ultimately the ability to declare that Jesus is Lord, for as Jesus said to Simon Peter when Peter declared Jesus as Lord, “Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven.”  “Flesh and blood,” that is ‘reason’ did not reveal this to you, but the “Father,” that is ‘revelation’ did.

Confused?  It’s OK if you are.  Most of us are.  The important thing to note is that there have been and are really great thinkers of the Christian faith, like Thomas Aquinas, and through their work, we can learn that things like reason and science and faith are not incompatible opposites but work together in providing a more clear understanding of God as revealed in the person of Jesus Christ.

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Sermon: Epiphany 2 RCL C – “Water into…”

You all know that I make wine, and many of you know that my wine is good. My wine is so good that even former Baptists like it. Given that, I don’t mind telling you a couple of short wine jokes.

It’s funny how eight glasses of water a day seems impossible, but eight glasses of wine is a sign of a good meal. 

I’ve trained my dog to bring me a glass of red wine. It’s a Bordeaux collie.

I was having wine with my wife when she said, ‘I love you so much, you know. I don’t know how I could ever live without you.’ I said, ‘Is that you or the wine talking?’ She said, ‘It’s me talking to the wine.’

One of the funniest water-into-wine skits I’ve seen has Jesus and the disciples going to a fancy restaurant. The waitress comes up to the table and asks them what they’d like to drink, at which point they all start to giggle. Jesus elbows Peter to get him to stop, then says to the waitress, “We’ll just have water.” And then they all fall out.

In John’s Gospel, Jesus performs many “signs” and turning the water into wine at the wedding in Cana is the first. In looking at it more deeply, we can see that this one event defines Jesus’ mission and purpose—transforming the lesser into something greater—the fulfillment of its higher purpose. 

This week, during our Wednesday night study of the Pivotal Players of the Church, we learned about the life and teachings of the Venerable Fulton Sheen, and this idea of the lesser being transformed into the greater came up. It was summarized in the video, so I went looking for Sheen’s actual words, and I found them. Sheen writes, “The sunshine, the carbons, and the rain could never share the life of the plant unless they died to their lower existence and were assumed or taken up into plant life. Plants could never share the sensitive and locomotive power of animals, unless they died to their lower existence and were taken up by the animal. None of the things in lower creation could live in man, and share his arts, his sciences, his thinking and his loves unless they ceased to be what they were, submitting to the death of knife and fire.” (These are the Sacraments, 1962)

If the sunlight, elements, and rain are to fulfill their higher purpose, they must give themselves up and be absorbed into the vine and the grapes. If the grapes want to ascend into and fulfill their higher purpose, they must be picked and crushed. If the wine wants to achieve its higher purpose, it must be consumed by a person. 

So that the lesser can become greater, the lesser must die to itself and become a part of something else. So, then, how can we become greater and fulfill our higher purpose? St. Paul tells us, “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” (Galatians 2:20) I have been crucified with Christ—I have died to myself—and have become a part of Christ Jesus.

We fulfill our higher purpose not by living our best life but by giving up our life, participating in Jesus’s life, and serving His purposes. How do we do this?

These days, it’s a hard thing to “sell.” We have so many other options of things to do and see—books, movies, internet, sports, hobbies etc., etc., etc. All of these are our attempts to find true fulfillment in our lives. However, to fulfill our higher purpose, we must die to self and participate in the life of Christ. We do this by being filled with God’s Holy Spirit and then—and this is the hard sell—participating in the life and ministry of the Church, for the Church is Christ’s Mystical Body. 

In his book, The Mystical Body of Christ, Fulton Sheen says, “What now is this new Body which Christ assumed after He had ascended into His glory, to which He sent His heavenly Spirit, and through which He continues to exercise His office as Teacher, King, and Priest? If I said it was the Church, I would not be believed. I will therefore let St. Paul say it clearly and unmistakably: ‘Who now rejoice in my sufferings for you, and fill up those things that are wanting of the sufferings of Christ, in my flesh, for His Body, which is the Church.’ (Col 1:24)” (p.37) Paul rejoices in his suffering for he knows it is serving God’s purposes and Christ’s Body—the Church. To achieve his higher purpose, Paul knows that he must be caught up in the Body of Christ, the Church.

Remember when John was baptizing on the banks of the Jordan River? Following Jesus’ baptism, Jesus’ “popularity” began to eclipse John’s. Some came to John and asked him what he thought about this, to which John responded that he had told them all along that he was not the Christ, and there was another coming. His conclusion, “He must increase, but I must decrease.” (John 3:30) To fulfill our purpose, those words must become ours. “Jesus must increase, but I must decrease.” The Mystical Body of Christ—His Church—must, through our participation, increase, and for this to happen, we must decrease.

Today is our Annual Meeting. There’ll be good food, vestry elections, reports given, budget shared, all sorts of fun stuff. However, the meeting is ultimately about us and how we, as the Body of Christ in this place, are dying to self and fulfilling our purpose in God’s Kingdom on Earth. God will not force us. We are quite free to choose. Jesus turned water into wine, and the water had no say in the matter, but we do. Jesus could say He chooses to transform us into the very best, and we could respond, “Ya know… thanks, but I’m happy being water.” However, if we say, “We will die to self and decrease, so that You may increase in us,” we will become something extraordinary.

I believe we have already begun that transformational process—you’re already a pretty tasty Bourdeaux Collie—but there is always more “dying” that must occur. Therefore, as individuals, we must ask, “How might I decrease so that Christ Jesus can increase in me?” and, as the Body of Christ, we must ask the same.

We generally begin the Annual Meeting in the Parish Hall, but today, I would like to start it now so that our first action together is receiving the Body and Blood of our Savior in the Eucharist. This will nourish our spirits and help us continue on the path to achieving God’s higher purpose for our lives and His Church.

Let us pray: Almighty and everliving God, source of all wisdom and understanding, be present with those who take counsel in this Annual Meeting of St. Matthew’s for the renewal and mission of your Mystical Body, the Church. Teach us in all things to seek first your honor and glory. Guide us to perceive what is right, and grant us both the courage to pursue it and the grace to accomplish it; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

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Sermon: Christmas Eve RCL C (III) – “The Manger is You”

West of the Denver suburbs is the community of Indian Hills, home of the Indian Hills Community Center. The Center had a sign out front, but in 2012, they asked a volunteer, Vincent, if he could build them a larger one. 

The sign had the typical information you would expect from a sign until April Fools Day, which is when Vincent decided to have a bit of fun. I suppose the first message wouldn’t mean anything to those outside Indian Hills, but that community found it hysterical—“Indian Hills annexed by Morrison slow down.”

After that first message, the sign took on a life of its own, being changed regularly, and the punny messages became a town favorite. “Of course, I’m an organ donor. Who wouldn’t want a piece of this?!” “I’ll take the high road; you take the psycho path.” “Past, present, and future walked into a bar. It was tense.” “It’s easy to get back on your feet. Just miss two car payments. “My relationship with whiskey is on the rocks.” And my Stephen King favorite, “If clowns attack, go for the juggler.” The sign now has a Facebook page and many followers.

Signs are everywhere. Some are more complicated than others, but many have been used so much that we no longer need words to tell us what they mean. They have become simple symbols. You see a red octagon, and you know it means stop (unless, of course, you live in Enid, then it is a suggestion to stop). You see a cigarette with a red circle around it and a red slash, the prohibition symbol; you know it means no smoking. And, if you were to replace the cigarette with a penguin, you would know that you can’t take your pet penguin along.

Just as there are many signs around us, there are just as many symbols. The more complicated symbols are those that point to something beyond themselves. Take, for example, the American flag.

In some respects, the American flag is a simple symbol—it represents the United States. Easy enough, but when you ask people what that flag means, it takes on greater meaning—patriotism, honor, freedom, and so on. However, if you were to ask someone outside of the United States what the American flag represents, you would likely get a very different answer—opportunity, wealth, hope—but not all those who see it would have such positive responses. Others would see the American Flag as a symbol of oppression, imperialism, greed, the Great Satan, and more.

The American flag is, therefore, a simple symbol, but it is also very complex and nuanced. It points to something beyond itself—an idea.

Within our life with God and in Holy Scriptures, there is another kind of symbol—the prophetic or religious symbol. We can find many examples in both the Old and New Testaments. 

In the Book of Jeremiah, there was a time when the Lord was angry with the people for their disobedience. To demonstrate how angry He was, God told Jeremiah to get a clay pot and go before the leaders and inhabitants of Jerusalem. Jeremiah is then to say, “Hear the word of the Lord… I am bringing such disaster upon this place.” Then Jeremiah is to take the clay pot and throw it to the ground. The Lord, speaking through Jeremiah, says, “Thus says the Lord of hosts: So will I break this people and this city, as one breaks a potter’s vessel, so that it can never be mended.”

The clay pot was used as a religious symbol. It is a symbol that points beyond itself, but it is a religious symbol because a) it points to an action of God that b) will affect the people and change them in some way.

From there, the religious symbol can become even more—a sacrament. Water is one such symbol.

Sometimes, water is just water, but throughout Scripture, water can be so much more. In the beginning, the Spirit of God hovered above the waters. With Noah, the earth was again covered by water, destroying almost all God had created. The people, being led by Moses, were saved through the waters of the Red Sea when the waters were parted, and all passed through safely, but then those same waters crashed down on the Egyptian army, killing both horse and rider. The waters are home to the great sea monster, the leviathan.

All together, this tells us that the waters are not necessarily a safe place. In fact, the water became a religious symbol of chaos and death. Then, along came Jesus, who stood before John the Baptist and was baptized by him. Jesus was pressed into the water, the chaos and death, and then pulled back up. Jesus did not need to be baptized, but He gave the water and these actions to us as a religious symbol, a sacrament. Together, they signify to us that at our baptism, we go into the waters, we go into chaos and death, but we come back up, washed, cleaned, restored, and once again made holy in the eyes of God. As St. Paul tells us, “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.”

Water, a symbol that became a religious symbol, which, through Jesus, became a Sacrament. It is partly how we gained our definition of a Sacrament in the Catechism—“The sacraments are outward and visible signs of inward and spiritual grace, given by Christ as sure and certain means by which we receive that grace.”

Our Gospel reading from John begins with the words, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God.” In that statement, the Word is more than a person; yet, it is also speaking, in part, of the person of Jesus, so we can say, “In the beginning was Jesus, and Jesus was with God, and Jesus was God. Jesus was in the beginning with God.”

Jesus confirms this later in John’s Gospel. One of the Disciples, Philip, says to Jesus, “Lord, show us the Father, and it is enough for us.” Jesus answers him, “Have I been with you so long, and you still do not know me, Philip? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.”

In the beginning, Jesus was with God, and Jesus was God. Jesus says to Philip, ‘If you see Me, you see God the Father.” Jesus is not just a religious symbol of the Father. Jesus is the Sacrament—the outward and visible sign—of God the Father. Jesus’ nature shows us the very nature of God. For example, one aspect of God’s nature is love. Jesus said, “Just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another.” Jesus’ love for us is an outward and visible sign of God the Father’s love for us, for “God is love.” 

Jesus is the Sacrament of God. 

If it ended there, we could all go home, but there is one more step. Remember, a religious symbol is pointing to an action of God that will affect the people and change them in some way. Therefore, John told us, “To all who received [Jesus], who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.”

If you receive the Sacrament of God, Jesus, He gives you the power to become like Him—a child of God. In other words, if you receive Jesus, you become a Sacrament of Jesus—an outward and visible sign of God’s inward and spiritual grace.

On a night like tonight, we are surrounded by symbols. The star which beckons us. The angels that call us. The shepherds who seek Him. Mary, who said “Yes” to Him, and Joseph, who is obedient and faithful. However, perhaps the symbol that most represents this night is the manger, where Jesus is to be born. Like all other religious symbols, the manger is a symbol pointing to something more, and in this case, and on this night, it is pointing to you. 

Within each of us is a manger. It can remain commonplace, storing all parts of an ordinary life. Or we can clear it out and make a place for the Christ Child to be born. A place where the Sacrament of God—Jesus—can be born in us and affect such change in our lives. The transformation of the commonplace into a holy and extraordinary place. A place where not only is Christ Jesus born but also where we are reborn as children of God—ourselves becoming sacraments—Sacraments of Jesus.

On this night, allow Christ Jesus to be born within the manger of your entire being and become a Sacrament—an outward and visible sign to all those around you of God’s great love for His Children.

Let us pray: Almighty God, you have given your only-begotten Son to take our nature upon him, and to be born of a pure virgin: Grant that we, who have been born again and made your children by adoption and grace, may daily be renewed by your Holy Spirit; through our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom with you and the same Spirit be honor and glory, now and for ever. Amen.

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