Tag: Episcopal

Posted on

Sermon: Proper 15 RCL B – “Desires”

There was a frog that absolutely knew his destiny was to turn into a handsome young prince. But for confirmation, he decided to visit a fortuneteller. The fortuneteller brought the frog in and gazed into her crystal ball. She said, “Oh, I see something. You are going to meet a beautiful young woman.”

The frog gets very antsy, “Yes, I knew it. I’m going to become a prince.”

The fortuneteller continues, “From the moment she sets eyes on you, she will have an insatiable desire to know all about you. She will be compelled to get close to you—you’ll fascinate her.”

The frog is very excited. It is everything he has ever desired. He asks, “Where am I? At a party? A restaurant? A palace?”

The fortuneteller gazes even deeper into her crystal ball, then, looking up, answers, “No, Biology class.”

The things we desire. Author Jackson Brown, Jr. said, “I’ve learned that if you give a pig and a boy everything they want, you’ll get a good pig and a bad boy.” (Live and Learn and Pass it On) There’s a good bit of wisdom in that. Wisdom that Herod could have benefited from.

Today’s Gospel reading is one of the few in our lectionary that does not include the words of Jesus. Instead, we have an incident from the life of Herod and his dealings with John the Baptist.

John the Baptist had condemned Herod for marrying his brother’s wife, Herodias. Was John correct in this condemnation? Yes. From the Law of Moses, “If a man takes his brother’s wife, it is impurity.” Herod may not have minded so much, but Herodias, his wife, took it personally and held a grudge against John. So, when the opportunity arose, it was probably she who convinced Herod to arrest John. 

One day, while John is in prison, Herod throws himself a great birthday party and invites all his little minions to tell him how great he is. To impress them, we are told that he asked his “daughter Herodias” to come in and dance. This is a case of Daryl, his brother Daryl, and their brother Daryl. Herod’s wife is Herodias, and his stepdaughter is Princess Herodias, also known as Salome. Salome comes in and dances. Herod is so impressed with the dance that he makes an outlandish offer to the girl, “Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it. Whatever you ask me, I will give you, even half of my kingdom.” Salome is a child and has no idea what to ask for, so she runs to Momma and asks her. Having her grudge against John the Baptist, Momma asked for John’s head, probably because she feared her husband would eventually release John because he liked him. Having made the outlandish offer to the girl in front of all those guests, Herod had to make good on his promise to give her whatever she asked or lose face. Bottom line: John was beheaded.

There’s much we can learn from this, but one of my questions was, why did Herod promise up to half his kingdom to Salome? The answer, or at least part of it, is desire. The girl was young and beautiful, and the dance was provocative. Herod saw something he desired, and that desire drove him to lust for the girl, make outlandish promises, experience pride in his unwillingness to reverse course, go against his conscience, and ultimately to even greater sin in ordering the death of John. All of that because of desire.

There is a healthy desire for something. Such a desire leads to motivation, imagination, hope, and more. But so often, the things we desire are either of no consequence in the larger picture or, like with Herod, sinful.

Think of something you desire or want that falls outside the healthy category. Sometimes, the object of our desire is so elusive or outside the realm of possibility we know we will never be able to obtain it—perfect example: Scarlett Johansson. Never going to happen. You know it, and I know it, and if she knew I even existed, she would know it, but what if I didn’t? What if I became one of those weird, obsessive stalkers? What would that lead to other than a lengthy prison sentence? I would covet what others could have, and in that, I would become disappointed, angry, and frustrated. My actions would probably resemble something of Herod’s or the frog pinned down in a biology class.

At other times, we have the means to obtain those things we desire. Lucky you. However, how many times have you desired something in an unhealthy way, actually ended up getting it, but then being less than 100% happy with it, even disappointed? Sometimes, that’s a bit like reading a good book and hearing they’re making a movie out of the book. You get all excited, await the release date, watch the previews with anticipation, and then… eh. In other cases, when you finally obtain the object of your desire, you ask, “Now what?” “What is there to look forward to?” “What am I supposed to do?” “Is this all there is?” In those cases, instead of being happy, we start wanting something else, and the cycle repeats itself time and time again.

In all of these cases, what did it cost you? Time? Energy? Money? Joy? Peace? Happiness? What did it cost the people around you? Did you even consider them? Was it worth it? In seeking it out, how did you sin? Who did you hurt or neglect? How many blessings did you overlook or ignore because you were so singularly focused on this one desire? At that stage, perhaps we didn’t order anyone’s death, but we are no better than Herod, who desired a dancing girl.

So, again, think of something you desire, even those healthy desires, and replace it. Replace it with God. What if your desire for God was as great as your desire for things of this world? What if you were one of those weird obsessive stalkers, but the object of your obsession, of your desire, is God? Is that an unreasonable or unobtainable desire? No. The Lord says, “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” (Jeremiah 29:13) The Psalmist writes, “The Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth.” (Psalm 145:18) Once you have come into the presence of God will you say, “Now what? Is this all there is?” No. 

“‘Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!

‘For who has known the mind of the Lord,
    or who has been his counselor?’

‘Or who has given a gift to him
    that he might be repaid?’

For from him and through him and to him are all things.’” (Romans 11:33-36)

The knowledge, wisdom, love, and person of God and His Son Jesus Christ are inexhaustible. You will never delve the depths of God. There is always more, but unlike desiring more of this world, when you desire God, it never gets old or frustrating or boring. It only becomes richer and more exciting. 

St. Augustine wrote his autobiography, Confessions, around the year 400. In the first chapter, he states, “Thou hast formed us for Thyself, and our hearts are restless till they find rest in Thee.” Then he asks, “Oh! how shall I find rest in Thee? Who will send Thee into my heart to inebriate it, so that I may forget my woes, and embrace Thee my only good?”

Like the things of this world, desiring God will cost you time and energy, but as Augustine says, God is the only one—the only desire—that will give you rest, where peace and joy are in such measure that the cup of your soul is overflowing. It might mean that I don’t end up on a date with Scarlett Johansson, but hopefully, I won’t end up splayed out with my hands and feet pinned down in some biology class, either. 

King David wrote, “Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.” (Psalm 73:25) What of all the rest? Allow God to work these things out according to His good purposes, for as Jesus tells us, “Seek first—desire first—the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” (Matthew 6:33) 

Let us pray: Father in heaven, our hearts desire the warmth of your love, and our minds are searching for the light of your Word. Increase our longing for Christ our Savior and give us the strength to grow in love, that the dawn of his coming may find us rejoicing in his presence and welcoming the light of his truth. We ask this in the name of Jesus the Lord. Amen.

Posted on

Sermon: Benedict of Nursia

When I think of CEOs—Chief Executive Officers—of major corporations, I often think of men and women with a single focus, which all boils down to dollars. Perhaps that is why they are in the positions they hold, because it only takes one or two bad quarters, and the CEO is looking for another job that may or may not come with an office on the top floor. My guess is that many CEOs are singularly focused, but I suspect the really successful ones have found a balance in their lives.

Currently, Coca-Cola Enterprises is a company worth about $271 billion. Who knew a little red can was worth so much, but they are involved in far more than fizzy sodas. From 1986-1991, Brian Dyson was the CEO. Although not worth as much then as today, it was still a powerhouse. In 1996, Brian was invited to Georgia Tech to deliver the commencement address. Perhaps they were expecting him to speak on that singular drive for the golden ring, but instead, they got a lesson in leading a balanced life. Brian said:

“Imagine life as a game in which you are juggling some five balls in the air. You name them – work, family, health, friends, and spirit – and you are keeping all of these in the air. You will soon understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. But the other four balls – family, health, friends, and spirit – are made of glass. If you drop one of these, they will be irrevocably scuffed, marked, nicked, damaged, or even shattered. They will never be the same. You must understand that and strive for balance in your life.”

Benedict of Nursia wrote his rule, what we now know as the Rule of St. Benedict, in the 6th century. Towards the end of the prologue, Benedict writes:

Brothers and sisters, we have asked the Lord
who is to dwell in His tent,
and we have heard His commands
to anyone who would dwell there;
it remains for us to fulfill those duties.
Therefore we must prepare our hearts and our bodies
to do battle under the holy obedience of His commands;
and let us ask God
that He be pleased to give us the help of His grace
for anything which our nature finds hardly possible.
And if we want to escape the pains of hell
and attain life everlasting,
then, while there is still time,
while we are still in the body
and are able to fulfill all these things
by the light of this life,
we must hasten to do now
what will profit us for eternity.
And so we are going to establish
a school for the service of the Lord.

To accomplish this life, the religious who lived within the walls of the school or monastery were to work toward a life of balance between prayer, work, study, and renewal or rest. Whether aware of it or not, this is the type of life that Brian Davis was trying to describe to that graduating class—a life of balance.

Considering our own lives, I suspect the rubber ball—that which we can occasionally allow to “drop”—is different for each of us. Unfortunately, whatever it may be, that aspect of our life is likely something that we view as one of our most dear “possessions,” for a possession is not only understood as a thing but also something we can control, like a job or even a hobby. This is why Jesus said, “None of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions”? Those things we possess—things we have or control—often end up possessing us. And, like the demons that possessed the sick, these possessions drive us from God and the other aspects of our lives. Therefore, if some part of your life possesses you, find ways to let it go for a time so that different parts of your life are not neglected.

Posted on

Sermon: for Andrew Allen

On Sunday, June 2nd, I was sitting at home in my comfy clothes with a tasty cup of coffee, and watching the service here at St. Matthew’s on Facebook live. Father Jim preached a fine sermon. As is our way, this was then followed by the Creed, the prayers, the confession, and the seventh-inning stretch—also known as the peace.

I watched and smiled as I saw you all greeting one another, imagining the pew hopping and all. Then, at the bottom right corner of the screen, in rolled Andrew, sitting in his wheelchair. He was all smiles. Elizabeth greeted him, then there was this steady stream of you all coming up and giving Andrew the Peace. Afterward, he rolled back out of view from the camera. The whole time I watched, it never once crossed my mind that this would be the last time I would see him. I suspect, for those who saw him that day, you never thought it would be the last time you would see him, either.

Today, we heard the words of the Psalmist, as he speaks to the Lord, 

“My frame was not hidden from you
    when I was made in the secret place,
    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.

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

All the days ordained for me were written in your book, including the very last. 

Just as we did not consider that it might be the last day for Andrew, we also do our very best not to consider our own last day. It is something we fight desperately against. However, Andrew was in a rather unique position. Like Job, who spent days considering the ways of God, Andrew also—in his trials—had the opportunity to consider the ways of God. Like any of us, he did not come to fully understand, but he did give it a great deal of thought. At some point, he sat down and put some of those thoughts to verse in a poem—A Word to the Lord.

Master of beauty, craftsman of the snowflake,
inimitable contriver,
endower of the Earth so gorgeous and different from the boring Moon,
thank you for such as it is my gift.

I have made up a poem to you
containing with deep feeling everything that most matters now.
“According to thy will,” the thing begins.
It took me off and on nearly a week.
It does not aim at eloquence.

You have come to my rescue again and again
in my impassable, sometimes despairing years.
You have allowed my brilliant and beautiful friends to destroy themselves,
and I am still here, severely damaged, but functioning.

Unknowable, as I am unknown to a guinea pig,
how can I “love” you?
I only as far as gratitude and awe
confidently and absolutely go.

I have no idea whether we live again.
It doesn’t seem likely
from either a scientific or philosophical point of view,
but certainly, all things are possible to you,
and I believe in the resurrection-appearances to Peter and to Paul
as I believe I sit here in this green-blue chair.
Only that may have been a special case
to establish their initiatory faith.

Whatever end you may have for me, accept my amazement.
May I stand until death forever at attention
for your least instruction or enlightenment.
I even feel sure you will assist me again,
Master of insight and beauty.

Yes. Andrew had considered his last day. In the end, he knew that he would not be able to understand it all, so instead of entrusting his life to his own means and understanding, he handed all things over to God. With Jesus, Andrew said, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!”

Perhaps we never will consider our own last day, but as long as we do the same—as long as we commit our spirit and our bodies to the loving hands of Jesus—then on our last day, Jesus will bring us into our Father’s house, into that place that has been prepared for us.

Today, we mourn the loss of Andrew. Today, we also rejoice for Andrew, for he has been resurrected to eternal life. A life that is available to all who commit their bodies and souls to Jesus.

Posted on

Sermon: Great Vigil

Photo by zhang kaiyv on Unsplash

The words of the Exsultet, “This is the night, when…”

This is the night when the Church attempts to read all of Holy Scripture in one sitting.

This is the night when the choir and organist threaten to go on strike if I add one more piece of music.

This is the night when the parish administrator double-dog dares me to make one more change to the bulletin.

This is the night when the congregation asks, “Are we there yet?”

This is the night, the eve of our salvation when we enter into the darkness of the tomb and create a spark that becomes a flame that sets the whole world ablaze with the Light of Christ.  

This is the night when we baptize Nolan, and Crawford receives his first communion.

From the song, December, 1963, by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, “O, what a night!”

Of all the liturgies throughout the church year, this is the highest and most grand. It is the culmination of all the other days and festivals, from the Incarnation to the Transfiguration to Good Friday to Easter. On this night, we remember all that God has done for His people, we give thanks for what He has done for us, and we celebrate the bringing into the Kingdom those new members who receive the cleansing that comes through Baptism and the participation of others in Christ’s body by becoming one with Jesus through receiving the Holy Sacrament. O, what a night.

Tonight is a reminder that we are not alone in this world. It is a reminder that the Church Triumphant—those who have gone before us—and the Chruch Militant—we today—are bound together in love through baptism into Christ’s death and resurrection. That through Jesus’ giving of Himself, we truly become one with Him and each other.

I will not be long-winded tonight because everything you see and hear is a sermon. So, I’ll encourage you to be one in Christ Jesus. So many things seek to divide us, but the bonds of love are stronger than any of these, and the only way those bonds can be severed is if we intentionally cut them ourselves. 

You are Christ’s one holy catholic and apostolic Church. Let us receive Nolan into our family through her baptism and then participate with Crawford in his first communion. O, what a night.

“The candidate for Holy Baptism will now be presented.” BCP p.301.

Posted on

Sermon: Easter Sunday 2024

Doc Pierre decided that he wanted to get into the ranching business, so he went out and purchased himself a bunch of cows and put them out on the pasture. He also knew he would need a bull, so he called up one of his hands, Ol’ Boudreaux, and gave him the plan. 

“Boudreaux,” he says, “I’m going out to find the bull. Once I’ve purchased one, you hook the trailer to that pick ‘em up truck of yours and come fetch it.”

“How will I know?” Bou asks.

Doc Pierre says, “I’ll send a telegram,” and it was all set.

Doc Pierre goes out searching for the bull with $5,000 in his pocket. He finds one for exactly $5,000. Hoping to lower the price, he asks the rancher if that is the best offer. “Well, I suppose I could let it go for $4,999.” Doc Pierre thinks it’s a good deal and takes him up on it. Then, he heads to Western Union to send the telegram to Boudreaux, but it is there that he learns it’ll cost him $1 per word, and all he’s got left is a $1. He thinks on it a moment, then writes out a one-word message to Boudreaux.

The telegraph operator looks at it questioningly, then back up to Doc Pierre. Doc Pierre nods in understanding and explains, “Boudreaux don’t read so good, so he’ll have to sound it out first. He’ll get the message.” The telegraph operator said OK and sent the one-word telegram: “Comfortable.”

About an hour later, Boudreaux showed up with the pick ‘em up truck and trailer.

Doc Pierre sent, “Comfortable,” and Boudreaux had to sound it out, “Come.. for… da… bull.”

Have you heard of response latency? It is defined as “The interval of time elapsing between a stimulus and a response.” (Source) You may not have heard of it, but you may have just experienced it. I told you what I hoped was a good joke, and hopefully, you laughed! However, there was a short period of time between the punch line and you getting the joke and laughing. The time between is the response latency. It is the time when you have all the necessary information, but not quite yet understanding. It is the time leading up to a moment of clarity or an “Aha!” moment or epiphany. Response latency.

Our Gospel reading this morning tells us that Mary Magdalene went to the tomb of Jesus, found the stone rolled away, and ran back and told Peter and John. Hearing this, the two disciples take off. John outruns Peter and arrives first. John stands just outside the tomb, but Peter—never really one for restraint—goes barging in. After gaining his courage, John follows. There, they discover the linen shroud that had covered Jesus’ body and the veil that had been over his face, but the body of Jesus is not there. 

The image on the front of your bulletin depicts the scene. The painting St. John and St. Peter at Christ’s Tomb (c.1640) is by the Italian artist Giovanni Francesco Romanelli. Peter, on the left, is pointing at the shroud and seems to be staring off, trying to understand, but for John,  the response latency is ending. The pieces are falling into place. It is like he is holding up his hands to tell Peter to be quiet so that he can think. The reading tells us that the disciple whom Jesus loved, John, “saw and believed.” Romanelli captured that moment.

The reading then tells us that the two returned home, but Mary, who must have followed behind the footrace, remained. She leaned into the tomb and saw and spoke to the angels, then turning, she saw the gardener, not knowing it was Jesus. 

Now, this is an interpretation on my part, but the gardener was there all along, watching. Maybe he was out of sight, or maybe, in all the excitement and rushing about, all three saw him but more or less dismissed him. Either way, I believe the gardener, Jesus, was there watching this entire scene unfold. And I believe Jesus anxiously anticipated the end of John’s response latency when all the pieces came together. When they did, Jesus smiled and said to Himself, “That’s my boy.” Working behind John’s understanding is God’s grace.

St. John later tells us, “We love because he first loved us” (1 John 4:19), and St. Paul tells us, “For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God” (Ephesians 2:8). Believing in Jesus is a grace—a gift from God. Jesus anxiously anticipated all the pieces falling together for John to believe, but the reason this could happen for John was because God first loved John—God’s grace was given to John so that he might believe.

Today, we are the ones standing in the tomb. We are the ones seeing the shroud and other linen. Like John, we have all the teachings of the Prophets and all the words and deeds of Jesus at our disposal. In addition, we have the teachings of the Apostles, the Saints, and the Church. We have all the information. Question: have they fallen into place for you, or are you still in that time of response latency? If yes, if they’ve fallen into place, then have a passion for souls and pray that others may receive the light of the Gospel. If not, then pray for God’s grace, so that He might give you understanding.

“Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark,” and before Mary Magdalene arrived at the tomb, Jesus rose from the dead—He is “the firstborn from the dead.” (Colossians 1:18) He did this out of His great love for us and accomplished it so that you and I might also be given eternal life with Him. 

This is your first day of the week. The empty tomb is before you. Pray that all the pieces, all the information falls into place and that God’s grace pours out upon you that you might believe and live.

In 1917, the Virgin Mary appeared six times to three young children near Fatima, Portugal. On the second appearance, she gave them a prayer that she asked to be added to the end of each decade of the Rosary. Whether you pray the Rosary or not, it is a prayer worth learning. It is known as the Fatima Prayer.

Let us pray: “Oh, my Jesus, forgive us our sins. Save us from the fires of Hell and lead all souls to Heaven, especially those in most need of Thy mercy. Amen.”

Posted on

Sermon: Holy Saturday

Christ’s Descent into Limbo by Andrea Mantegna and studio, c. 1470

Jesus “did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped. He emptied himself freely accepting death on a cross.” So, if Jesus died, where is He on this day? You know the words of the Creed: “He suffered under Pontius Pilate, crucified, died, and was buried. He descended into hell.” That’s why this Church seems so strangely empty. The one for whom it was built, whose presence draws us on Sunday, is not here. 

Crucified, he died and was buried; he descended into hell. Nineteenth-century Methodists removed that portion of the Creed, claiming it unbiblical. But it’s not. The First Epistle of Peter speaks of Christ’s descent into hell, called by the Church “The Harrowing of Hell.” Harrowing is a military term meaning to “make predatory raids or incursions.” Therefore, after Christ’s burial yesterday and through today, Satan’s territory is being invaded by the One who yesterday died upon the cross.

Following His death, when he breathed his last, Jesus descended to hell. Having preached to us, the living, he descended to the dead and is there proclaiming the Good News to those who lived and died before his coming. 

It is inconceivable that only those who lived during Jesus’s time and afterward would benefit from the salvation He brought to the world, and all those who died before His coming would be excluded from that salvation. So, everyone who died before He came, all the way back to Adam and Eve, had the opportunity to receive His word of salvation.

He is there, doing what He does so well: preaching, teaching, touching, relentlessly seeking, persuading, inviting, healing, and announcing God’s love and mercy. As the Psalmist says, “Thou wilt not leave my soul in hell.” Even Byzantine art depicts Jesus in the jaws of hell, giving a hand to those who had died, lifting them out of the darkness.

And though He is down there and, therefore, not here, there is something to be said to those of us He has temporarily left behind—Because I am there, descended into the deadly darkness, confronting the enemy on the enemy’s turf, you have hope. 

If He is there, literally fighting for the souls in Hell, then we can know with all certainty that there is no darkness, sorrow, or pain we can experience that His loving presence cannot enter into. If He is willing and able to risk it all, to wade deep into the death we so fear and avoid, then what might He risk for us? 

Do you remember the stories Jesus told about God and the kingdom of Heaven—the good Shepherd who forever seeks the one lost sheep, the faithful father who awaits the return of the one lost son, and the relentless woman who does not rest until she finds the one coin? Jesus meant those things when He said them. He is willing to fight for our souls today and for the righteous souls who departed this world before His first coming.

On that first Saturday before the resurrection, the disciples, Mary, and the rest mourned the loss of their Savior, but He had not truly left them. He had only gone to continue His Father’s work.

Posted on

Sermon: Good Friday

Pilate said to the Jews, “Here is your King!” They cried out, “Away with him! Away with him! Crucify him!” Pilate asked them, “Shall I crucify your King?” The chief priests answered, “We have no king but the emperor.”  So the soldiers took him to be crucified.  It took Jesus six hours to die; then he breathed his last.

All this time, the people were gathered around or passing by.  Yes, there were a few followers, but mostly, it was the soldiers, the religious leaders, and those who had called out, “Crucify him!”  Thomas à Kempis describes this mass of unbelievers:

“Like mad dogs they huddled together to attack your innocence. With their mouths they barked like dogs, they gnashed their teeth like lions, and with their tongues they hissed like snakes. They cursed with their lips and their faces they turned into sneers; they clapped with their hands, their feet danced, and their hearts rejoiced, all because they saw you nailed to a Cross—one whom they did not want to see die without first being mocked and jeered. Those who passed by shook their heads like crazed, drunken men, and filled with bitterness, arrogance, and ill will, they shouted: Ah, there’s the man who destroys God’s Temple and rebuilds it in three days.” (On the Passion of Christ: According to the Four Evangelists, p. 91)

Creation itself shuddered and wept at the crucifixion of Our Lord, but those gathered around gawked, laughed, insulted, cheered.  All creation wept, but those passing by may have given a quick glance, but they didn’t linger, too afraid to be caught up in these upheavals.  All creation wept, but his clothes they gambled for were worth more than his life.  All creation wept, but for a few still gathered at his feet—who listened for one last word, who desired one last touch, who refused to let go, even when all appeared lost and without hope.  

On that day, two very distinct groups gathered around the cross. Today, those same two groups exist. Be a part of the smaller one—those listening and desiring a touch from the King of Heaven. Christ is upon the cross. Be one who is still hoping. 

Posted on

Sermon: Wednesday in Holy Week

Photo by David Werbrouck on Unsplash

The deadline for completing the construction of a skyscraper was near, so the crews worked around the clock. The night crew was hard at work on the twenty-first floor when unknown to the others, one of the welders went over the edge. 

Dropping everything, he flung his hands into the pitch-black and grabbed an edge. Hanging there, he yelled, screamed, and prayed that someone would come, but because of all the other construction noise, no one heard, and his grip began to slip. 

He let out a scream and fell… three feet, and landed on the scaffolding that was below him. Scaffolding he had not been able to see in the dark. 

There is a physical darkness, but we also know that there is a spiritual darkness, and it is this spiritual darkness Paul tells us we do battle against it. “Our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.” (Ephesians 6:12)  Therefore, Jesus tells us, “The light (He is the way, the truth, and the light)… the light is with you for a little longer.  Walk while you have the light, so that the darkness may not overtake you.  If you walk in the darkness, you do not know where you are going.  While you have the light, believe in the light, so that you may become children of light.” (John 12:35-36a)  And it is through Jesus, as Paul teaches us again, that we “are all children of light and children of the day.” (1 Thessalonians 5:5a)

Our Gospel tells us, “When Jesus had dipped the piece of bread, he gave it to Judas son of Simon Iscariot.  After he received the piece of bread, Satan entered into him.  Jesus said to him, ‘Do quickly what you are going to do.’” (John 13:26b-27) Then, “after receiving the piece of bread, Judas immediately went out.  And it was night.” (John 13:30)  As he turned from Jesus and left, Judas entered the darkness, both physically and spiritually.

Later that evening, “Judas brought a detachment of soldiers together with police from the chief priests and the Pharisees, and they came there with lanterns and torches and weapons.” (John 18:3) “They came there with lanterns and torches”—they came there in the dark and carried out the works of darkness, the works of the “spiritual forces of evil.”

For Judas, there was a threshold, both literally and spiritually, that he crossed when he went out. He intentionally stepped out of the light of the room where Jesus and the others were gathered—the Light of Christ—and, in a similar manner, he intentionally stepped into the spiritual darkness and was lost.

For Judas and for us, the threshold between the light and the dark is the place of testing. It is the place of free will, where we choose light or dark. The biggest mistake we can make is to think there can be a compromise.  “I won’t go so far into the night that I can’t see the threshold leading back into the light.”  That’s like a woman saying she’s only a little bit pregnant.  There is not a little bit of darkness. We either walk in the dark or we walk in the light. Therefore, walk in the light and believe in the light so that you may remain children of light.  This is God’s plan for us; through the guidance and strength of his Holy Spirit, we can be obedient.

Posted on

Sermon: Palm Sunday – “Romance”

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

Most of you are aware that not only do I enjoy reading a good story, but I also like trying to write them. Like with any endeavor, it can be helpful to read how others work, and fortunately, some of my favorite authors have written books on writing. Neil Gaiman, author of Caroline, Good Omens, and other books, in the introduction to his book, Fragile Things: Short Fictions and Wonders, Gaiman talks about stories. He writes,

“Stories, like people and butterflies and songbirds’ eggs and human hearts and dreams, are also fragile things, made up of nothing stronger or more lasting than twenty-six letters and a handful of punctuation marks. Or they are words on the air, composed of sounds and ideas—abstract, invisible, gone once they’ve been spoken—and what could be more frail than that? But some stories, small, simple ones about setting out on adventures or people doing wonders, tales of miracles and monsters, have outlasted all the people who told them, and some of them have outlasted the lands in which they were created.” 

Stories, whether fictitious or factual, hold our attention and mold our perception of the world. Whether a believer or not, the story we hear on this day has long outlasted the people who told it and has been changing peoples’ views for over 2,000 years. No other story has affected the world more. My question for you today is this: What kind of story is it?

Most of us can agree that it is non-fiction, but even in that category, we can classify it as a particular genre. Some might say it is history, while others might categorize it as a thriller or even a horror story. There are good arguments for all these, but the one category that probably would not come to mind when reading the Passion Narrative is romance.

In their definition of a romance novel, the RWA, Romance Writers of America, says, “Two basic elements comprise every romance novel: a central love story and an emotionally satisfying and optimistic ending.” (Source) In the reading of the Passion Narrative, do you hear anything of a love story? Is there an optimistic ending? 

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” (John 3:16) 

What we read on this day is the greatest romance, the greatest love story ever written—ever lived out. What we read today is Jesus looking down at you from the Cross and saying, “I love you. I love you and am enduring this so that you may be with me in My Father’s house for all eternity.” The Passion of Our Lord is many things, but at the heart, it is pure romance.

Today, I invite you to experience this romance, this love of God. To not only hear the story but to write yourself into it and become a child of God—the beloved of God. 

Blog at WordPress.com.