My favorite William Temple quote is: “Humility does not mean thinking less of yourself than of other people, nor does it mean having a low opinion of your own gifts. It means freedom from thinking about yourself one way or the other at all.”
Temple is relatively new to our calendar of saints. He died in 1944 after serving as the Archbishop of Canterbury for only a few years. He was described in a poem by Ronald Knox:
A man so broad, to some he seem’d to be Not one, but all Mankind in Effigy. Who, brisk in Term, a Whirlwind in the Long, Did everything by turns, and nothing wrong. Bill’d at each Lecture-Hall from Thames to Tyne, As Thinker, Usher, Statesman, or Divine.
Although he was successful at many things, it is for his teaching and preaching that he is best known. It is reported during one service that he led a congregation in singing the hymn “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross” by Isaac Watts. In the last verse, Temple asked the congregation to stop, saying, “Now, if you mean [the words] with all your heart, sing them as loud as you can. If you don’t mean them at all, keep silent. If you mean them even a little and want to mean them more, sing them very softly.” The organ began to play the final verse, and two thousand voices whispered:
Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were an offering far too small; Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my soul, my life, my all.
In our Gospel reading today, we read, “The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.” The Word became flesh, and true love was born into the world in the person of Jesus Christ. What Isaac Watts states in that last verse is that if the universe and all that is in it were his, it would still not be enough—it would be too little to give—in exchange for the love that is Jesus, and therefore demands everything of him: his soul, his life, his all.
Therefore, William Temple was challenging his congregation with those words. If you give your all for God, holding nothing back, not even life itself, then boldly sing out those words. If you do not intend to give any part of your life for the love of Christ, keep your mouth shut, however, if you want to mean them. If you’re trying to mean those words, then whisper them. It’s a bit like Archbishop Michael Ramsey said regarding prayer. There will be days when you can pray, but there will also be those days when you can’t, so on those days, pray that you can pray. Temple is saying that if we are not giving our soul, our life, and all our life for the love of Christ, but you want to, you desire to, then whisper the words.
Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were an offering far too small; Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my soul, my life, my all.
I think we would all like to sing out that verse boldly, but I suspect for many of us, it is only with a faint whisper that we can join in. My prayer for you and me is that tomorrow, we might all just be able to whisper them a bit more loudly. In the meantime, we must rely on grace to cover the difference.
The human body is a fantastic creation, yet most of us don’t give it a second thought until something breaks. It’s a bit like what Jerry Seinfeld said, “The human body is like a condominium. The thing that keeps you from really enjoying it is the maintenance.” Outside of the maintenance, when we do think of it, we are primarily concerned with the outward appearance. Am I fit? How’s my hair? Do I have blemishes? “Honey, does this dress make me look fat?” That sort of thing. However, as interesting as all that can be, what goes on below the surface of the flesh is mindblowing—a few examples.
Did you know that when you listen to music, your heartbeat changes and attempts to mimic the beat? It is why soothing jazz slows you down, and that old-time rock-n-roll gets your blood moving.
The fastest-moving muscle in your body is the one that controls the contractions in your eye, helping you to focus. It does its job in 1/100th of a second.
Every second, you produce 25 million new cells.
If you live to 70, your heart will beat about 2.5 billion times; it is the only muscle that never gets tired.
The one fact that seems beyond belief is the circulatory system. A newborn’s circulatory system—all the arteries and veins—if stretched end to end, is 60,000 miles long. When you are an adult, it reaches 100,000 miles.
All this and more is happening, but when we look at another person, we see none of it.
If you’ve seen any of my travel pictures, you probably picked up on the fact that I haunt churches. The churches are the number one places to see when I visit a new city. I don’t know much about architecture or art, but I love the feel of them—how you can sit quietly and be surrounded by the centuries of prayers, sense the individuals who walked through and learn of the great history that took place in and around those walls. And most of all, to simply be there. Inside, you experience the awe and reverence that spills from your soul as the church’s grandness speaks of the greatness of God.
When I’m visiting one, I never think about everything that is going on behind the scenes. I don’t think about the choirmaster toiling away in a back office seeking the perfect hymn to fit with the upcoming services or the organist, who spends hours practicing so that the music is perfect. I don’t think about the individuals who polish the floors or pay the bills. When I see an ornate pulpit, I don’t necessarily think of the priest—I say to myself, “Man, I sure would like to preach from there.” It never crosses my mind that they may have a new refrigerator that makes a weird banging sound, but they can’t get anyone out to look at it, so they must call repeatedly. I can’t imagine someone there spending a couple of hours researching how to get the oxidation off the big red doors so that they aren’t the big pink doors. I don’t think about any of those things and so many other details. I am allowed to experience the greatness of God and His majesty and to worship when I am there. Why? Because I may not be thinking about or doing all those things, but someone is.
The pictures of the pyramids are on the front of your bulletin. I was looking at something and came across the one on the right. The pyramids are in the distance, with the city at the forefront. I wondered where that was. As it turns out, it is the exact same location as the picture on the left. That image on the left is how I always thought of the pyramids—isolated from the world, surrounded by the beautiful sands of the desert, the clear blue sky, and the remarkable symmetry of the structures, but it is only the angle from which you are looking. I had no idea. If we were there, facing the pyramids from the angle of the picture on the left, that is what we would see. If we turn 180°, the city is right there in all its chaos!
Walking into this church, I have the benefit of being able to see it from many angles. This—looking out at you—is my favorite view. It is like seeing the pyramids in all their glory—beautiful sand, blue sky, perfectly ordered—but if I change the angle and “look behind me,” it can be wild. Everything that had to take place and get done so that we could be here at this very moment, experiencing God together. However, what is even more fascinating is all that occurred in the past so that we could be here in the first place.
There’s a great film, Lucy, with… hubba hubba, you guessed it… Scarlett Johansson. In one scene, she sits in an office chair in Times Square in New York. Then, she swipes her hand and begins a rapid rewind of time. She stops the rewind; it is still Times Square, but it is being built. She swipes again; the city is gone, and she is seated in front of several Native Americans. Again, she swipes and continues to go further and further back. Through the process, she sees all that had to take place for her to be in that present moment. What if we could do the same with St. Matthew’s? What would we see? Not just what took place in the past week for us to be here but what took place over the centuries for us to be here. We would see the Bishops and the clergy and the people and would see the Land Run. Further back, we would see the establishment of the Anglican Church in the New World, and further and further until we see Jesus standing in front of a tax collector, saying to him, “Follow me.”
During all that 2,000-year history, you will discover many great women and men who made it possible for us to be here today. They are the ones we celebrate on this All Saints Day, but as I was thinking about them, I thought again about sitting in Scarlett’s chair and not swiping back, but instead swiping forward—into the future. If we did, what would we see in this place?
James Lloyd Breck is one of the saints of our Church. He was a great missionary and, in 1842, founded Nashotah House, the seminary I attended. He died in 1897, and on a gray autumn day in October, the people gathered at Nashotah House to lay him to rest. In attendance were Bishop Daniel Sylvester Tuttle, the first missionary Bishop of Montana, and Bishop Francis Key Brooke, the first Missionary Bishop of Oklahoma. Bishop Tuttle spoke at the graveside.
“There was a Grecian race in which the runners were charged to care not for themselves, nor indeed for each other, but for the torch they bore. As one and another, wearied and overcome, fell by the way, he held aloft his torch, handing it to a comrade who seized it quickly and sped on. So, with the torch borne by the Christian man. It has a triple flame: God’s truth, Christ’s love, men’s good. We are to hold it up and pass it on. One or another of us is soon to fall in the hard-trodden, dusty path. But never mind us, it is dust to dust, though it may be sacred dust that falls, and God will take care of it. Do not mind us; seize the torch, we pray you, and push on to the blessed goal.”
Those who went before us, all the Saints and that Great Cloud of Witnesses, carried that torch, and when they fell, someone else picked it up. And so, it is now our turn. We must pick up the torch with its triple flame, “God’s truth, Christ’s love, men’s good,” and carry it into the future so that when we fall back into dust, there will be someone new to pick it up and carry on.
It is a gift to be able to gather in this place, to be concerned with nothing other than the worship of the One True God, and to have fellowship with one another. It is a gift, but we must all turn and understand what makes this gift possible.
Like the saints that have gone before us, we have the responsibility to pick up that torch with its triple flame and carry it so that when the next generation picks it up, it is burning all the brighter.
How are we able to carry it? We carry it through our service to one another and the church—our attendance and participation in corporate worship, volunteering, helping in the various ministries, going out into the community and proclaiming the Gospel through word and deed, and financially supporting the Church as we are able.
We celebrate All Saints Day to honor those who have gone before us and to remind ourselves of who we are to become.
So, if you sit in Scarlett’s chair and fast forward into St. Matthew’s future, what do you want to see? When you see a vision of that future, ask yourself, “How can I help create that?” Then, in faithfulness and obedience, commit yourself to God, pick up that torch, and carry on.
Let us pray: Almighty ever-living God, by whose gift we venerate in one celebration the merits of all the Saints, bestow on us, we pray, through the prayers of so many intercessors, an abundance of the reconciliation with you for which we earnestly long. Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God, for ever and ever. Amen
“In politics, stupidity is not a handicap.” ― Napoleon Bonaparte
“Corrupt politicians make the other ten percent look bad.” ― Henry Kissinger
“The trouble with practical jokes is that very often they get elected.” ― Will Rogers
“When they call the roll in the Senate, the Senators do not know whether to answer ‘Present’ or ‘Not Guilty’.” ― Theodore Roosevelt
“Politicians and diapers must be changed often, and for the same reason.” ― Mark Twain
’Tis the season, but what does politics have to do with All Saints Day? The Saints, throughout the history of the Church, have stood up against those who call themselves rulers/politicians, whether they be kings or queens, presidents or emperors. In many cases, it cost the Saint their life, but they still stood firm.
Shortly before he was put to death for denying Henry VIII, Thomas More said, “I die the King’s good servant but God’s first.” As he stood firm during the Spanish Civil War, Josemaria Escriva told those with him, “Remain faithful. As for the rest, what does it matter?” Standing up to another English king, Thomas Becket said, “The more I loved the king, the more I opposed his injustice until his brow fell lowering upon me.” Joan of Arc stood before tyrants and declared, “To sacrifice what you are and to live without belief, that is a fate more terrible than dying.”
Rulers and elected officials have always pandered to the Church, seeking favor, endorsement, and—more importantly—votes. And, to its detriment, the Church has frequently allowed itself to be drawn in. Yet, the Saints teach us another way. The Saints teach us God’s way. A way that is contrary to that of the world.
Eugene Peterson writes quite a bit for clergy. I don’t remember if I’ve shared this piece with you before. It is from his book The Contemplative Pastor.
He begins one chapter by saying, “As a pastor, I don’t like being viewed as nice but insignificant. I bristle when a high-energy executive leaves the place of worship with the comment, ‘This was wonderful, Pastor, but now we have to get back to the real world, don’t we?’”
He says that when he hears this, he wants to assert his importance, but “Then,” he says, “I remember that I am a subversive. My long-term effectiveness depends on my not being recognized for who I really am. If he—high-energy executive—realized that I actually believe the American way of life is doomed to destruction, and that another kingdom is right now being formed in secret to take its place, he wouldn’t be at all pleased. If he knew what I was really doing and the difference it was making, he would fire me.
“Yes, I believe that. I believe that the kingdoms of this world, American and Venezuelan and Chinese, will become the kingdom of our God and Christ, and I believe this new kingdom is already among us.”
Yes, politics and All Saints Day go very nicely together because the Saints were revolutionaries. In their times, they believed, lived, and died for what Peterson’s subversive pastor declares. And it is why you and I should not get all riled up about what happens next Tuesday or next year or whenever. Yes, it is important, and yes, we should vote, but in doing so, we also know that the outcome—whether we like it or not—is according to the will of God and will serve His purposes, not for some earthly kingdom, but for God’s Kingdom.
Regardless of the outcome, we, the Church, the new saints of God, will do what we’ve been doing for the last 2,000 years—stand up against those who oppress God’s people and care for those in need. We will continue going about the work of our One True King, and no earthly weapon or politician will prosper against Him.
We, the people, have nothing to fear. However, those who seek authority over us should take heed, for our God says,
Therefore, you kings, be wise; be warned, you rulers of the earth.
Serve the Lord with fear and celebrate his rule with trembling.
Kiss his son, or he will be angry and your way will lead to your destruction,
for his wrath can flare up in a moment. Blessed are all who take refuge in him.
We are the children of the King, and He loves us. Be faithful and fear not. Stand with the Saints and be true.
The poet Robert Frost is reported to have said, “A jury consists of twelve persons chosen to decide who has the better lawyer.” With that in mind, I’ll let you judge if these lawyers won their case.
Q: “Now, Mrs. Johnson, how was your first marriage terminated?” A: “By death.” Q: “And by whose death was it terminated?”
Q: “Have you ever thought of committing involuntary manslaughter?”
Q: “Any suggestions as to what prevented this from being a murder trial instead of an attempted murder trial?” A: “The victim lived.”
Q: What was the first thing your husband said to you when he woke up that morning? A: He said, “Where am I, Cathy?” Q: And why did that upset you? A: My name is Susan.
Q: “Was it you or your younger brother who was killed in the war?”
Q: “Do you recall the time that you examined the body?” A: “The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m..” Q: “And Mr. Dennington was dead at the time?” A: “No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an autopsy.”
When it comes to asking questions, preschoolers take the prize. They average 300-390 questions per day. By the time children are nine, that number drops to about 140. As adults, I suppose we think we know all the answers because we only ask 25-30 questions per day.
Answers to some questions range from one word—yes/no—to entire volumes dedicated to a single answer. Other questions range from rhetorical to simple inquiries. For example, “Does Father John have a point?” Answer: Yes!
If you combine the texts of the New Testament, you’ll discover that Jesus asked a total of 307 questions. Today, he asked Bartimaeus, “What do you want me to do for you?” At other times, His questions become more difficult. “What are you looking for?” (John 1:38) “Why do you notice the splinter in your neighbor’s eye yet fail to see the wooden beam in your own eye?” (Matt 7:2) “Why are you terrified?” (Matt 8:26) “Why do you harbor evil thoughts?” (Matt 9:4) “Could you not watch for me one brief hour?” (Matt 26:40) “What are you thinking in your hearts?” (Luke 5:22) “What are you discussing as you walk along?” (Luke 24:17) Each of those is asked in a particular context, but even alone, in the context of our faith, they are good questions and not always so easy to answer.
On the other side, Jesus was asked 183 questions. Care to guess how many He answered? Three. You should think about that the next time someone seems to have all the answers.
Jesus asks us questions, and we ask Jesus questions, but I suspect that most of our questions fall in the category of requests for favors or healing. However, at the root of all we are asking, perhaps even subconsciously, is a more important question, and it is the same question we heard a few weeks ago in our Gospel reading—“Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Even our craziest requests come back to this. “Jesus, will you help me pick the right numbers to win the lottery?” That sounds materialistic on the surface, but below the surface, it is a request for stability, fulfillment, the meeting of needs, and so on, all of which will be given on the last day—eternal life with God.
Jesus said, “Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life. He does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life.” Jesus also said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.”
So, we have a question that is being asked by believers and unbelievers, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Fortunately, we have the answer: faith in the Son of God, Jesus. And we have a command: “Go and share this Good News.
The Church has many secondary missions, but this going and proclaiming the Good News—that is, proclaiming the cross, the death and resurrection of Jesus, repentance, the forgiveness of sins, and eternal life, all of which can be summed up in those few words, “For God so loved the world”—this going and proclaiming the Good News far outweighs all the secondary missions/ministries combined, but… and there it is… we can preach by words all day long, yet, unless we also proclaim the Good News through those secondary missions/ministries, through our actions, then the message goes largely unheard.
You know the Scripture: “What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him? If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace, be warmed and filled,’ without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that? So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.” (James 2:14-17)
Bottom line: we, the Church, must proclaim the Good News of Jesus Christ by word and deed. We can all agree on this, but there is a catch. To those who receive what we are offering, there is no charge. There is no cost for the message we share, and we do not charge for the works we perform; however, for us—the Church—the act of proclaiming by word and deed is not free.
I have joked with you about the two ways I can make you most uncomfortable. The first is for me to be silent. Silence makes us crazy. It shouldn’t, but it does. The second way I can make you uncomfortable and perhaps even have you tune me out is to talk about money and giving. Over the course of the last ten years, I’ve spoken to you many times about the need for silence in our lives, but I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve talked to you about money and giving. You have always been so generous with your gifts and pledges to the Church, and we are a financially healthy church, so I’ve never seen the need. Today, you are still as generous as always, and we are still a financially healthy church. That hasn’t changed. However, the needs of the world around us have, and they are greater than ever, and every indication is that it will only get worse. And it is to this world that we must proclaim through word and deed.
Not everyone has the gifts to proclaim by word, and many times, those who can proclaim by their deeds and actions are out working to provide for their own needs and the needs of their families. However, the Church is uniquely positioned to do both, but not without your financial assistance.
Our Presiding Bishop (for one more week), Michael Curry, is fond of saying we are the Episcopal Branch of the Jesus Movement. So, St. Matthew’s is the Episcopal Branch of the Jesus Movement in Enid, Oklahoma. Through our individual actions, we can do much, but through our collective actions, we have made and are making a considerable difference in our community. We feed people experiencing poverty, pay for student meals at the local schools, put books in the hands of children through our partnership with the Enid Public Library and the Dolly Parton Imagination Library, help build soccer complexes and tennis facilities that provide healthy activities for the youth of our community, and so much more. In addition, this year, we’re hoping to add the 5% Mission Tithe back into the budget so that our reach and proclamation of the Good News of Jesus Christ can be even greater. I don’t get really excited about asking you to help us pay the electric bill, but the ability to fulfill so many opportunities, to help so many individuals and organizations, and to proclaim the Good News in creative ways gets me going. However… we need your giving to help do these things.
Speaking through the Prophet Malachi, the Lord says, “Bring the full tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. And thereby put me to the test, says the Lord of hosts, if I will not open the windows of heaven for you and pour down for you a blessing until there is no more need.”
I am not preaching prosperity Gospel here; that is heresy, but the Lord says, “Test me on this. Bring your tithe into the church and watch what happens.”
Yes. This is the beginning of our annual pledge drive. Yes. You are going to hear more about giving, pledging, and tithing. Yes. You can tune it all out, but… don’t. Giving our time, talents, and treasures is as much a spiritual discipline as praying and worshipping. So, I ask you to read through the information that will be provided over the next week, then, next week, prayerfully consider and make your 2025 pledge. Together, in our community and maybe even further, we will proclaim the Good News and answer the question, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”
Let us pray: Gracious Father, the owner of all things, we pause in reverence, acknowledging that everything we possess ultimately belongs to you. We open our hearts to the profound reality that we are only temporary stewards of your eternal treasures. Help us to embrace the responsibility and privilege of managing your blessings with diligence and integrity. Amen.
I have some excellent yard maintenance skills. Except for a few shrubs, if it is green and grows in my yard… hit it with Roundup. It’s not that I don’t enjoy having flowers; I do, but I don’t want to waste money on plants that are going to die because I know that I’m not going to take care of them. I just really don’t enjoy working in the yard. However, back when the cousin lived in Enid, the yard had all kinds of flowers, and if I planted something, she would take care of it.
Of the few flowers I planted, the one I cherished the most was my John Paul II memorial rose. It was a glorious luminescent white when it bloomed. When that happened, a hundred different types of flowers could be blooming all around it, but that rose would be the only one I noticed.
Have you heard of the Saint we celebrate today, Thérèse of Lisieux, also known as the Little Flower of Jesus? Most say yes. She is often considered one of the greatest modern Saints, having died on October 1, 1897. We read her autobiography, Story of a Soul, for one of our Saints Book Club selections. She is a very “popular” saint. Do you know anything about Verissimus, Maxima, and Julia, or have you even heard of them? No? They are also Saints who share the same feast day as Thérèse—October 1st. All three were martyred in Lisbon, Portugal, under Emperor Diocletian’s persecution in 305 A.D.
When we consider them all together, Thérèse of Lisieux is the St. John Paul II memorial rose, while Verissimus, Maxima, and Julia are seen as little Lantanas or Impatiens.
Thérèse looked at things differently. She writes, “Jesus set before me the book of nature. I understand how all the flowers God has created are beautiful, how the splendor of the rose and the whiteness of the lily do not take away the perfume of the violet or the delightful simplicity of the daisy. I understand that if all flowers wanted to be roses, nature would lose her springtime beauty, and the fields would no longer be decked out with little wildflowers. So it is in the world of souls, Jesus’ garden. He has created smaller ones, and those must be content to be daisies or violets destined to give joy to God’s glances when He looks down at His feet. Perfection consists in doing His will, in being what He wills us to be.”
There are “big” Saints, and there are “little” Saints, but in the eyes of God, they are all Saints. All—whether we recognize their names or not—have submitted to the will of God and fulfilled His purposes; therefore, they reveal His glory in the world. So, if those are the Saints living their eternal lives in Jesus’ garden, where are we? Are we getting hit with the Roundup, or are we also in that garden? Are we those whom God looks lovingly upon as He passes by? You may not always believe it, but you are in that garden. You are one in whom Christ delights.
In our reading from Colossians, Paul said to us, “Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory.” (Colossians 3:4)
We may not always believe that we are worthy of being placed in Jesus’ garden with the likes of Thérèse, Verissimus, Maxima, and Julia, and, in our own right, we are not. However, by setting our hearts and minds on Jesus, as all the Saint have done, it is Jesus and His glory that will be revealed in us—that will bloom in us and make us worthy “to share in the inheritance of the saints in light.” (Colossians 1:12)
Part of the time I was in college, I worked at a kennel. During the week, we would be about half full, but on the weekend, the place was usually booked up—200+ dogs, 20 cats, and the occasional bird, snake, lizard, or other family pet. It could be interesting and loud (part of the reason I say, “Huh,” so much.)
There’s quite a bit to do when caring for so many animals, but there are also times when not much happening—even the dogs like an afternoon nap. However, the owner of the place was not big on employees just sitting about, so he was always good at finding something for us to do. On one occasion, he decided that a two-story house on the property needed to be painted, and the job fell on me. I can paint, so no problem, but before I could get at it, I had to remove the thick vines that had grown and covered one entire side of the house.
I worked the lower levels with no problem, then hauled out the ladder and started on the upper level. It was in the middle of summer in Texas, and it was hot, dirty work, so I had peeled off my shirt, so I’m about fifteen feet up, wearing a pair of shorts and sneakers. This is when I yank on one particular vine, which erupts in a horde of yellow jackets. In my humble opinion, the yellow jacket is not one of God’s creations. It is of the devil, for sure.
I make it about three feet down the ladder before I get stung.
That little yellow cuss got me on top of the head, so I reached up to swat it—and this is where the real satanic powers of the yellow jacket kick in; unlike a honey bee, a yellow jacket can sting you as many times as it likes. So, when I swat it off my head, it stings me on the hand. When it stings me on the hand, I slap it to my chest, hoping to be rid of it, and, yes, it stung me on the chest. I’ve no idea how I managed not to fall the remaining twelve feet off the ladder.
I’ve had kidney stones, but I’m pretty sure those three stings were more painful. The pain is absolutely excruciating and all-encompassing. As many of you know, when a yellow jacket stings, you don’t just feel it at the site of the sting; your entire body is jolted, as with an intense electrical shock that courses all the way through.
St. Augustine (he died in the year 430) had a young friend and student, Alypius. Alypius had gone to Rome to study and attempted to keep himself from falling into traps on the seedier side of the great city, so he stayed away from many of the events, including the battles of the gladiators in the Colosseum. However, one day, his friends dragged him there. Alypius said to them, “You may drag me there bodily, but do you imagine that you can make me watch the show and give my mind to it?”
As if to prove they could, they hauled him in. The entire time, Alypius kept his eyes tightly closed, never peaking. However, a battle took place, and at one point, a great cry arose from the onlookers. It was too much. Augustine reports, “So Alypius opened his eyes, and his soul was stabbed with a wound more deadly than any which the gladiator, whom he was so anxious to see, had received in his body. He fell, and fell more pitifully than the man whose fall had drawn that roar of excitement from the crowd. The din had pierced his ears and forced him to open his eyes, laying his soul open to receive the wound which struck it down.
“When he saw the blood, it was as though he had drunk a deep draught of savage passion. Instead of turning away, he fixed his eyes upon the scene and drank in all its frenzy, unaware of what he was doing. He reveled in the wickedness of the fighting and was drunk with the fascination of bloodshed. He was no longer the man who had come to the arena, but simply one of the crowd which he had joined, a fit companion for the friends who had brought him.” (Confessions, VI.8)
The yellow jacket sting is all-encompassing, but after a short time, the pain subsides. When, like Alypius, we open ourselves, our eyes, and our bodies to sin, that “sting” is also all-encompassing, but the effects do not subside. Not only that, but the “sting” of sin infects and corrupts the body and the soul. Like Alypius, once infected, we want more. We get caught up in the madness that is so satisfying for a moment but will eventually kill us if we do not repent.
Matthew, Chapter Five is the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount. It starts with the Beatitudes—blessed are the meek, blessed are the merciful, blessed are the peacemakers—and then continues with a litany of teachings on anger, lust, retaliation, and enemies. While speaking on lust, Jesus says something quite startling, “If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body go into hell.” (Matthew 5:29-30)
Now, we know that Jesus does not intend for us to pluck out an eye or cut off our hands. These are deliberate exaggerations, but they are exaggerations that describe how ruthlessly we are to deal with our sins. No dabbling. Sinning a little bit is like being a little bit pregnant. No negotiations. I’ve shared it with you before: if you dance with the devil, the devil doesn’t change. The devil changes you. Be rid of it. Why? Because once you open your eyes to evil, once you touch that which should not be touched, once you begin to sin, it is all-encompassing.
You may have noticed that all this month, our New Testament lesson has been from the Epistle of James. He frequently speaks of this idea of the beginning of sin leading to all-encompassing sin.
In chapter two, James, speaking of the Mosaic Law, says, “You do well if you really fulfill the royal law according to the scripture, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself. But if you show partiality, you commit sin and are convicted by the law as transgressors. For whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become accountable for all of it.” (James 2:8-10) It starts small, showing partiality, but it leads to a complete abandonment of all the Law.
Further on, he writes, “How great a forest is set ablaze by a small fire! And the tongue is a fire. The tongue is placed among our members as a world of iniquity; it stains the whole body, sets on fire the cycle of nature, and is itself set on fire by hell.” (James 3:5b-6) How many relationships, be they between individuals, families, friends, and even nations, have been utterly ruined by the tongue? By hurtful words? James is saying, don’t let it start. Don’t give that sin a single spark; it may bring everything down.
We heard today, “Those conflicts and disputes among you, where do they come from? Do they not come from your cravings that are at war within you? You want something and do not have it; so you commit murder. And you covet something and cannot obtain it; so you engage in disputes and conflicts.” (James 4)1-2a) Look at the wars in the world. What brings them on? Peoples or governments wanting what belongs to another. Whether it be land or oil or bragging rights. The same can happen to us if we seek to take what others have.
What is the solution? How can we work to avoid the “sting” of sin and the all-encompassing pain that begins with a single stick but consumes body and soul? Jesus’ exaggeration of plucking out an eye or cutting off a hand is defined for us in the words we heard from James this morning: “Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you.” (James 4:7-8)
Jesus said, “The light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil. For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his works should be exposed. But whoever does what is true comes to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that his works have been carried out in God.” (John 3:19-21)
We work at overcoming sin by resisting the works of darkness and the devil. Therefore, come into the Light and draw near to God, and the Light of God will draw near to you and embrace you.
“‘O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?’
The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” (1 Corinthians 15:55-57) Amen.
Let us pray: Holy Michael, the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do you, O Prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who wander through the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.
A guy is cycling through the country when he spots a sign that reads, “Talking Horse for Sale.” Intrigued, he goes to the stable to check it out. Not expecting much, he walks up to the horse and asks. “So, what have you done with your life?”
“I’ve led a full life,” the horse miraculously answers in a deep voice. “I was born in The Andes, where I herded for an entire village. Years later, I joined the mounted police force in New York and helped keep the city clean. And now, I spend my days giving free rides to underprivileged kids here in the country.”
The guy is flabbergasted. He turns to the horse’s owner and says, “This horse is a bonafide miracle! Why on earth would you want to get rid of such an incredible animal?”
The owner says, “Because he’s a liar! He never did any of that!”
“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” Albert Einstein
Are you a believer in miracles? Let’s find out. Take your red Book of Common Prayer and turn to page 461. What does it say at the bottom, next to the page number? “Ministration to the Sick.” Turn the page. Page 462. What does it say next to the page number? “At Time of Death.” Page 467. “At Time of Death.” And turn the page one more time. Page 468. What does it say? “Burial I.” If you believe in miracles, don’t you think at least one page between pages 467 and 468 is missing? One that says next to the page number, “Raising the Dead.” I’ve probably told you that before, probably about the same time I told you about the time there was a devastating drought in a farming community, so the town entire town gathered in a field to pray for rain, but only one little girl showed up with an umbrella.
Perhaps the biggest problem is that we believe in miracles but don’t really believe they happen. We doubt. So, today, I’m going to ask you to set aside any doubt you might have for just a short time and believe that miracles do happen, in particular, as they pertain to the Holy Eucharist, the bread and the wine, the Body and the Blood—the Blessed Sacrament.
Garabandal is a small village in northern Spain and the site of a Marian apparition to four children. One of the girls, Conchita, was told by an angel that on July 18, 1962, he would give her communion from Heaven. There is a very grainy film of the event, but many witnesses. Conchita was kneeling, with her tongue out to receive as she would from a priest. Nothing was on her tongue. Then, the next moment, a host—the bread—appeared. She held it on her tongue for several minutes so that all could see. Miracle or sleight of hand—or tongue? You can pull that one up on the internet and see the film.
There are three very well-documented occurrences—and many other similar events—where the host (the bread) was found to be bleeding. According to the reports, these were medically examined, and it was shown that not only was it blood on the host, but that the host, in two of those cases, was cardiac tissue from the heart’s interior. In each case, the blood, some of which had not coagulated, even after an extended period of time, was found to be AB+. Just for fun, would you like to take a guess as to the blood type found on the Shroud of Turin?
Some might just mark all this up as an ecclesiastical conspiracy theory, but remember, we’re setting aside our doubt for a short period and believing miracles really do occur.
Last week, we discussed the various understandings of what happens with the bread and wine during the Eucharist. There was memorialism, consubstantiation, and transubstantiation. With memorialism, we said that the bread and wine remain bread and wine—nothing happens. In consubstantiation, the bread and wine truly become the Body and the Blood, but they maintain the outward appearance of bread and wine. And with transubstantiation, the bread and wine truly become the Body and Blood, and, regardless of appearance, are flesh and blood.
You’ll also recall that when the bread and wine have been consecrated, they can be reserved in the Tabernacle. Our Tabernacle is the small cabinet under the red lamp. And some—myself included—believe it contains the Real Presence of Jesus. It is why we bow whenever we come before it.
In October 1995, St. John Paul II visited Baltimore. At one point during the visit, the Pope made a quick schedule change (I suppose being the Pope allows you to do that sort of thing.) Father Arthur Byrne wrote a brief article for the Garabandal Journal.
“On the evening of the last day of his October 1995 visit to the United States, John Paul II was scheduled to greet the seminarians at Saint Mary’s Seminary in Baltimore. It had been a very full day that began with a Mass at Oriole Park in Camden Yards, a parade through downtown streets, a visit to the Basilica of the Assumption, the first cathedral in the country, lunch at a local soup kitchen run by Catholic Charities; a prayer service at the Cathedral of Mary Our Queen in North Baltimore; and finally a quick stop at Saint Mary’s Seminary.
The schedule was tight, so the plan was simply to greet the seminarians while they stood outside on the steps. But the Pope made his way through their ranks and into the building. His plan was to first make a visit to the Blessed Sacrament [reserved in the Tabernacle in the chapel].
When his wishes were made known, security flew into action. They swept the building paying close attention to the chapel where the Pope would be praying. For this purpose, highly trained dogs were used to detect any person who might be present.
The dogs are trained to locate survivors in collapsed buildings after earthquakes and other disasters. These highly intelligent and eager dogs quickly went through the halls, offices, and classrooms and were then sent to the chapel. They went up and down the aisle, past the pews, and finally into the side chapel where the Blessed Sacrament is reserved.
Upon reaching the Tabernacle, the dogs sniffed, whined, pointed, and refused to leave, their attention riveted on the Tabernacle until called by their handlers. They were convinced that they discovered someone there.”
Did those dogs sense the Real Presence of Jesus in the Tabernacle, or had they gotten their wires crossed? You can pull up the pictures of the event on the internet. The internet doesn’t lie, after all.
Now, set aside your doubts for just a few more minutes. Jesus said, “I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.”
“The bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” Setting your doubts aside… what if He meant it? What if each Sunday we come into this place where we worship and pray and then, right up there on the altar, witness a bonafide miracle? A miracle that at its very heart is our God saying to us, “I desire to become a part of you. A part of you spiritually, yes, but more importantly, a part of you physically, that we may be one.”
What if the words we speak during the Eucharistic Prayer aren’t just part of some ritual but are, in fact, Heaven—Jesus—breaking into this world? What if, when you come forward to receive communion, God is truly present—truly there, giving Himself to you? What if, when you receive Him in the Eucharist, He truly, physically becomes a part of you? Finally, if all those “what ifs” are true, then what are the implications for your life?
Eight days following the resurrection, Jesus appeared to his disciples in the upper room, and “Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side. Do not disbelieve—do not doubt—but believe.” I say to you, like Thomas when you put out your hands, you will touch Jesus. Do not disbelieve but believe.
Let us pray: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, Who, by the will of the Father, with the cooperation of the Holy Spirit, have by Your death given life to the world, deliver us by this Your Most Sacred Body and Blood from all our sins and from every evil. Make us always cling to Your commandments, and never permit us to be separated from You. Who with the same God the Father and the Holy Spirit, live and reign, world without end. Amen.
The report states that on Lake Isabella, in California, a couple were new to sailing. I’ve done a little sailing in the past and know that it requires a bit of instruction before you get out there on your own; however, with only a few hours, the couple purchased themselves a brand new 22-foot sailboat, invited friends, and headed out. Nothing went right. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t get the boat going. It was very sluggish in almost every maneuver, no matter how much wind was blowing or power they applied through the inboard motor. After about an hour of trying to make it go, they put into a nearby marina, thinking someone there could tell them what was wrong. A thorough topside check revealed everything was in perfect working condition. So, one of the marina guys jumped in the water to check underneath to see if perhaps the keel was not properly deployed or damaged. He came up choking on water, he was laughing so hard. Under the boat, still strapped securely in place, was the boat trailer! There was no problem with the boat. It was all operator error.
This is reportedly an urban legend, but a fella in Oregon says it really happened. The only difference, he didn’t have to get in the water. He could see the trailer’s license plate sticking up.
My friend St. Josemaría Escrivá wrote, “I never talk politics. I do not approve of committed Christians in the world forming a political-religious movement. That would be madness, even if it were motivated by a desire to spread the spirit of Christ in all the activities of men.” (Christ is Passing By, #153)
I happen to agree with that 100%. After almost a decade of preaching in this church, you may have noticed that I don’t fly anyone’s flag. If we were to fly a flag in this sanctuary, the only thing it would say is “Sinners in the hands of a Loving God,” because once you strip away all the rest, that is all that remains. As the Church and a Christian people, that is what we should be most concerned about. So today, I’m not planning on breaking my rule, but I would like to address how we engage in that realm of politics and what I believe the role of Christianity and the Church should be. If you all walk away unhappy with what I say, then I’ll feel like I did my job.
It begins by understanding truth. Is there such a thing as an ultimate truth? Yes. I’m sure some of you cross your fingers at specific points, but we speak what we believe as the ultimate truth when we confess our faith in the Creeds—“We believe in one God, the Father, the Almighty….” However, for many, the ultimate truth does not end there. We have what we believe are ultimate truths about everything from the abhorrent abomination of mint chocolate ice cream to questions of sexuality, end-of-life issues (euthanasia, assisted suicide, aging), immigration and refugees, the war in Ukraine, Israel, or Africa, etc.
The point is that we have the truth of our Creed, and then we have these other truths, which are often opinions or personal truths. This then leads to a great deal of the current strife we experience—if it is true for me, whether you agree with it or not, then it must unequivocally be true for you. If you disagree with me, which in many cases is the opinion or personal truth of the majority, you are a terrible person. When you say, “I’m going to remain silent,” well, then you are an evil person. This is also where Christianity comes in because Christians love this—someone will haul out the quote from Dietrich Bonhoeffer (even though he never said it): “Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.” Therefore, if I speak an opinion or personal truth and you either a) disagree or b) do not stand up in support of my personal truth, then you’re going to hell. I say abortion is evil. You say that not supporting women’s rights is evil. Some choose to remain silent, so we both say they are evil. Ultimately, by calling someone evil, we are saying that God is on our side and we are the righteous. It is this arrogance that leads to heresies like the one we see on the rise today—Christian nationalism.
One of the great contemporary Anglican theologians, N.T. Wright states, “Christian nationalism is impoverished as it seeks a kingdom without a cross. It pursues a victory without mercy. It acclaims God’s love of power rather than the power of God’s love.” He then references our Gospel reading for today when he writes, “We must remember that Jesus refused those who wanted to ‘make him king’ by force just as much as he refused to become king by calling upon ‘twelve legions of angels.’ Jesus needs no army, arms, or armoured cavalry to bring about the kingdom of God. As such, we should resist Christian nationalism as giving a Christian facade to nakedly political, ethnocentric and impious ventures.”
Someone or some group begins to believe that they know the absolute truth, so they demand that this truth be not only believed by everyone but legislated and imposed on everyone. To make their case even more potent, they break the Second Commandment by taking the Lord’s Name in vain, claiming God is on their side.
In the end, if we continue on this course, we will successfully destroy the nation and, worse, the Church. It is the hard lesson the German Lutherans learned as the Nazis began to rise to power—Christianity and government do not go together. It is why Jesus fled when they tried to make Him king. As the state is on the rise, it will make certain concessions to the Church to gain support; however, once the state has full power, it will expect the Church to make concessions to it, ultimately bringing the Church to a point where it will either compromise the Faith or be persecuted by the state they helped to build. You may be thinking, “Father John, you’ve been reading too many dystopian novels.” Maybe, but that’s not where this line of thought originates. It is coming from history. When the Church gets into bed with the state, it is always the Church that ends up getting short-sheeted.
Enough of that. What’s the point? If this is a problem, then what is the solution?
The short version of a popular quote, generally attributed to G.K Chesterton, “We are all in the same boat.” The long version of that quote is, “We are all in the same boat in a stormy sea, and we owe each other a terrible loyalty.” However, today, it is popular to say, “We are all in the same storm but not the same boat.” It is then explained that some are in a little dingy without a paddle, others are on super yachts, and others ride around in aircraft carriers. At first, this appears to be a valid point, but it is also a lie. We are all in the same boat, but we’ve forgotten what Chesterton said, “We owe each other a terrible loyalty.” There is nothing wrong with the boat we are in, but someone forgot to detach the trailer. Our boat is good, but operator error is wreaking havoc, and we are the operator.
Whether in the Church or society, it is true (not opinion!), “The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I don’t need you!’ And the head cannot say to the feet, ‘I don’t need you!’” (1 Corinthians 12:21) Our boat is fine, but so many seem to be under the impression that they’re the only ones in it.
The storm on the rough waters has always been interpreted as life, and the boat has always represented the Church and our faith. The fantastic thing about that boat is that it has always accommodated and made room for everyone, including those who aren’t even Christian. Why? Because this boat is not of our making. It is of God’s making, and there is not a single person—not one—that our God desires to perish. Every person we allow in is a way of allowing Jesus in. You might not like them, you may disagree with everything they say, you may not want anything to do with them, but let them in the boat. Let Jesus in the boat. They are a child of God and you owe them a terrible loyalty.
When the disciples saw Jesus walking on the water, they were terrified. Jesus said to them, “It is I; do not be afraid.” Some who walk up to the boat may be so different from us that we become afraid, but Jesus says the same thing to us, “Do not be afraid. Let them on the boat and we will all get safely to the other side.”
Let us pray: Lord Jesus, Son of God, our brother and our savior, we give you glory. Protect your Church and make us one. Send your Spirit to guide us and to lead us back to unity and love. Lord Jesus, we praise your holy name forever. Amen.
The first Holy Communion of the Church of England was held in 1607 in Jamestown, Virginia. It was a slow start, but the church began to take hold and was quite successful; however, because of its ties to England, that changed following America’s independence. According to Powell Mills Dawley in Our Christian Heritage, “the American Revolution left the Anglican parishes shattered, stripped of most of their financial support, weakened by the flight of many clergy and thousands of members, with a number of buildings destroyed and property lost.”
Not only did the citizens of the new United States abandon the church, but in a very real sense, the Church of England did as well. The primary issue was that we had no American Bishops. As you know, a Bishop is required to Confirm, ordain clergy, and it takes three Bishops to consecrate a new Bishop. Therefore, if a person wanted to be ordained a priest, they had to make the long and perilous trip to England.
To remedy the situation, a few devoted men took up the cause. Among them were Samuel Seabury, Samuel Provoost, the person we celebrate today, William White, and James Madison – all four of which made the journey to England to be consecrated. Then, having enough American Bishops, Thomas Clagget was consecrated Bishop in New York, and the Church in America could function separately from the Church of England. In 1789 – the first General Convention – under these men’s leadership, specifically William White, the American Episcopal Church was fully organized.
William White served as our first and fourth presiding Bishop in 1789 and from 1795 to 1836. In addition, he served for 57 years as the rector of St. Peter and Christ Church in Philadelphia. He died in 1836.
A lengthy obituary devoted to Bishop White appeared in the National Gazette and Literary Register. In part, it described his character, “…[T]he duties of the several important relations in which he stood to society were performed with undeviating correctness and suavity; he possessed the rare merit of winning the respect and love of an entire community to which he was an ornament and a blessing. His piety was deep and unfeigned; his walking humble yet dignified; his acquirements profound; in his mind the welfare of the Christian church was always the prominent consideration…He was one of those examples of steady virtue sent upon earth by Divine Providence, as if to prove how near the great pattern of perfection it is permitted to approach.”
In our Gospel reading today, Jesus asked St. Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” This was the restoration of St. Peter after he denied Jesus three times the night before Jesus was crucified. It is also a command given to all who would be followers of Jesus – “Feed my sheep.” In those three words, God calls us all, lay and ordained, to care for those we encounter. To care for them in both their physical and spiritual needs. For us in the Episcopal Church, William White is an exemplary role model for us to emulate. When you consider what it means to be true and faithful to the Church, you need only consider him to find the “great pattern of perfection” that leads to becoming a faithful servant to God and His One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church.
Candle in a Cave 