Tag: Episcopal

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Sermon: Lent 4 – The Nails in His Feet

On the first Sunday of Lent, I shared that the movie The Passion of the Christ was heavily inspired by the text we’ve been meditating on for the past three weeks—The Dolorous Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ by Anne Catherine Emmerich. One of the scenes in the movie, which is not found in Scripture, originates from Chapter 39.

I apologize in advance for reading too much to you today.

In the movie, the cross lies on the ground while Jesus is nailed to it. A hole has been dug at the base of the cross to allow it to stand upright. Now, with ropes tied to it, the soldiers are lifting the cross so that it will settle into the hole. When the cross is finally vertical, it drops violently a few feet into the prepared hole.

In chapter 39, Catherine speaks of this sudden violent dropping, the sound of it, and the result.

The cross was “raised up in the midst of the vast concourse of persons who were assembled all around…. The air resounded with acclamations and derisive cries when they beheld it towering on high, and after vibrating for a moment in the air, fall with a heavy crash into the hole cut for it in the rock. … When the solemn sound of the fall of the cross into the hole prepared for it in the rock was heard, a dead silence ensued, every heart was filled with an undefinable feeling of awe—a feeling never before experienced, and for which no one could account, even to himself; all the inmates of hell shook with terror, and vented their rage by endeavouring to stimulate the enemies of Jesus to still greater fury and brutality; the souls in Limbo were filled with joy and hope, for the sound was to them a harbinger of happiness, the prelude to the appearance of their Deliverer. Thus was the blessed cross of our Lord planted for the first time on the earth; and well might it be compared to the tree of life in Paradise, for the wounds of Jesus were as sacred fountains, from which flowed four rivers destined both to purify the world from the curse of sin, and to give it fertility, so as to produce fruit unto salvation.

The eminence on which the cross was planted was about two feet higher than the surrounding parts; the feet of Jesus were sufficiently near the ground for his friends to be able to reach to kiss them.”

In the New Testament, the Simon we are most familiar with is Simon Peter; however, there is another Simon, Simon the Pharisee, who we hear about in Luke’s Gospel.

Simon invites Jesus to dinner. While there, “A woman in that town, who lived a sinful life, learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee’s house, so she came there with an alabaster jar of perfume. As she stood behind him at his feet, weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them, and poured perfume on them.”

Simon, aware of this woman’s reputation, believes that if Jesus truly is who he claims to be, He would recognize that this woman is wicked. Understanding Simon’s thoughts, Jesus then told a parable. 

“Two people owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he forgave the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?”

Simon replied, “I suppose the one who had the bigger debt forgiven.”

Simon receives the gold star. Jesus then says, “Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little.”

To the woman, Jesus says, “Your sins are forgiven…. Your faith has saved you; go in peace.” (Luke 7:36-50)

Gathered around Jesus as He hung upon His Cross were soldiers, religious leaders, gawkers, and followers. However, Catherine tells us that others were present—demons who cheered on those committing these evil acts and souls in Limbo, witnessing the coming of their salvation. Heaven, Hell, and all of creation witnessed the King upon the Cross, which we can break down into their respective categories. However, in the end, there are really only two categories, and Jesus identified them earlier in His ministry. He stated, “Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters.” (Matthew 12:30)

Gathered around the Cross were those who were either with Jesus or against Him. Present were those whose sins were forgiven and those who stood condemned. There is no gray area. Those who were forgiven, out of the deepest gratitude and adoration, came forward and, like the woman in Simon’s house, kissed the feet of Jesus. Like the Prodigal Son, they were the ones who knew they had been lost but also understood that they had been found, forgiven, and would be received into the Kingdom of God as sons and daughters. 

What is particularly interesting is the fact that in the past 2,000 years, nothing has changed. There is our crucified Savior upon His Cross, and gathered around Him are Heaven, Hell, and all Creation. As before, we can categorize them into their respective groups—white/black, Republican/Democrat, male/female, rich/poor, Asian/European, etc., etc., etc. However, as before, there are only two categories—those who are with Jesus or those who are against Him. Sons and daughters of God Most High or condemned. Some will time and time again nail Jesus’ feet to the cross, while others will, out of the deepest sense of gratitude and adoration, come forward and kiss His bloodied feet. There are those who will hear Jesus say, “I never knew you; depart from me” (Matthew 7:21), and there are those who will hear Jesus say, “Your sins are forgiven…. Your faith has saved you” (Luke 7:50).

Have faith. Within your soul, come and kneel before the Cross of Jesus, and kiss the nail-pierced feet. He is the only One who can forgive and save, and He endured all of this for you. He is waiting for you.

Let us pray… Lord Jesus Christ, author of our salvation and most gracious Dispenser of pardon, and most patient in tolerating man’s wickedness, I bless and thank you for the great pain, the many stripes, and the bloody wounds inflicted on your tender and noble body. From the soles of your feet to the crown of your head there was no area without its injury or lesion.

O precious wounds, supreme signs of incomparable love, abounding with divine sweetness, it is from you that the sinner learns abiding trust.. otherwise his guilty conscience would cause him to despair. In these wounds we find the medicine for life, abundant grace, full forgiveness, unstinting mercy, and the gateway to promised glory. Whatever defilement I incur or whatever sins of the flesh I commit, it is in these fountains that I wash myself clean, and am purified, and again made new. 

Lord Jesus Christ, fountain of holiness and sweetness, I bless and thank you for your abundant love… Instill in my flesh a fear of you, lest I yield to carnal appetites; pierce my hands, lest I yield to sloth; transfix my feet that I may remain firm and courageously endure toil and sorrows. May your nails enter my heart’s center and there inflict a saving wound, as a consequence of which and because of my overwhelming contrition, may I shed tears and be lost in love of you. Fill me with wonder and increase my devotion, until nothing will be more pleasant or dearer to my heart than Christ Jesus and him crucified. Amen.

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Sermon: The Annunciation +1

The Annunciation – Giovanni Lanfranco

During the Season of Lent, there are only two significant feast days on our church calendar. One was last Wednesday, the Feast of St. Joseph; the other was yesterday, The Annunciation. Both of these days are fixed, meaning we cannot transfer them from one date to another. St. Joseph’s Day must be celebrated on March 19, and the Annunciation must be celebrated on March 25. Today is March 26, so today we are celebrating the day after the Annunciation when Mary was only a little bit pregnant.

Why must the Annunciation be celebrated on March 26? Math and biology. It is, after all, only 274 days until Christmas—that would be nine months—when we celebrate the birth of Jesus. Therefore, even though we are only days away from Jesus’ death on a cross outside of Jerusalem, we pause to remember the day that the angel of the Lord came to the Blessed Virgin Mary and told her she would conceive in her womb the very Son of God.

The feast of The Annunciation is a pivotal event in God’s plan of salvation for His people.

For centuries, the prophets had been speaking of the coming of a Savior. Perhaps the prophet whose voice we are most familiar with regarding the Savior’s birth is Isaiah.

The people walking in darkness
    have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of deep darkness
    a light has dawned….

For to us a child is born,
    to us a son is given,
    and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
    Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

The world looked for this child, this Savior, because as St. Paul wrote in his letter to the Romans: “The creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.”

The world is groaning under bondage and decay, but for the child to be born, Jesus can save it. However, all of this depends on the response of a young teenage girl.

The angel tells Mary, “You will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus.” He goes on to tell her about her cousin Elizabeth and then waits for Mary’s response. In the moment before Mary spoke, a deacon observed, “It was the moment when all creation held its collective breath.” (Source) St. Bernard of Clairvaux also wrote in his homily for this day, “You have heard, O Virgin, that you will conceive and bear a son; you have heard that it will not be by man but by the Holy Spirit. The angel awaits an answer; it is time for him to return to God who sent him. We too are waiting, O Lady, for your word of compassion.” (Source)

We know her response, but had we been present, we would also have held our breath. Will she say “Yes” or “No?” Will we be saved, or are we condemned forever?

Mary speaks. ”Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” And all creation wept for joy.

How does that short prayer begin: “Hail Mary, full of grace.
 The Lord is with thee.
 Blessed art thou among women…”

Our Mother Mary is truly blessed. Her “Yes” to God allowed the birth of our salvation.

I wonder, what would your “yes” to God accomplish?

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Sermon: Lent 3 – The Nailing of Jesus’ Hands

From The Dolorous Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ by Anne Catherine Emmerich, Chapter Thirty-Eight: “The Nailing of Jesus to the Cross.”

“The executioners did not allow Jesus to rest long, but bade him rise and place himself on the cross that they might nail him to it. Then seizing his right arm they dragged it to the hole prepared for the nail, and having tied it tightly down with a cord, one of them knelt upon his sacred chest, a second held his hand flat, and a third taking a long thick nail, pressed it on the open palm of that adorable hand, which had ever been open to bestow blessings and favors on the ungrateful Jews, and with a great iron hammer….” 

You know how that is going to end.

In the beginning, after God created, Adam and Eve were free to live in the Garden, with only one stipulation—God said, “You may surely eat of every tree of the garden, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it, you shall surely die.” (Genesis 2:16-17) Did they listen? No, they reached out their hand, took, and ate the fruit. What was the first thing they realized afterward? They were naked. Break out the fig leaves. They believed that by eating, by reaching out, and taking what they wanted, even though it was contrary to God’s command, all things would be revealed to them. Instead, they and their sin were the ones revealed, and they became ashamed before God. Ever since, we’ve gone to great lengths to hide our nakedness, both physically (the worldwide fashion industry is worth $1.8 trillion) and spiritually. 

At the other end of Holy Scripture, in the Book of Revelation, we get our clothes—not ones we’ve made, but those gifted by God. Clothes that make known our faith in Jesus. John writes, “I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes.” (Revelation 7:9) When he asks who these people are, he is told, “These are the ones coming out of the great tribulation. They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.” (Revelation 7:14) It is only through Jesus that we are properly clothed, enabling us to stand before God. How did Jesus accomplish this great work?

As Jesus walked, a man with leprosy approached Him and fell down before Him. The leper said, “‘Lord, if you will, you can make me clean.’ And Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, saying, ‘I will; be clean.’ And immediately his leprosy was cleansed.” (Matthew 8:2-3)

While in Sidon, the people brought a man who was deaf and had a speech impediment and begged Jesus to help him. “Taking him aside from the crowd privately, [Jesus] put his fingers into his ears [He touched him], and after spitting touched his tongue. And looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, ‘Ephphatha,’ that is, ‘Be opened.’ And his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly.” (Mark 7:33-35)

One day, while Jesus was teaching, the ruler of the synagogue came and pleaded with him to save his daughter, who was near death. Jesus agreed, but by the time they arrived, the daughter was already dead. Jesus told them not to worry; the girl was only sleeping. The people laughed at Him. “Jesus put them all outside and took the child’s father and mother and those who were with him and went in where the child was. Taking her by the hand, he said to her, ‘Talitha cumi,’ which means, ‘Little girl, I say to you, arise.’ And immediately the girl got up and began walking.” (Mark 5:40-42)

Jesus and the disciples had fed the 5,000. Afterward, Jesus sent the disciples back across the lake in a boat while He went up a mountain to pray. A great storm began to blow. Jesus came to them, walking on the water, and impetuous Peter said, ‘Lord, if that is really you, tell me to come to you.’ Jesus replied, ‘Well, come on.’ Peter got out of the boat and also walked on the water, but “when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink, he cried out, ‘Lord, save me.’ Jesus immediately reached out his hand and took hold of him, saying to him, ‘O you of little faith, why did you doubt?’” (Matthew 14:30-31)

Jesus stretched out His hand, touched the leper, and healed him. Jesus stretched out His hand, touched the deaf/mute, and restored his hearing and speech. Jesus stretched out His hand, touched the dead little girl, and gave her life. Jesus stretched out His hand, grabbed hold of Peter, and saved him. 

Jesus saved us all and made it possible for us to clothe our spiritual nakedness with white robes, making us worthy to stand before His Father by stretching out His hand one last time. When He did, they drove a spike through it. However, what the devil and all the others who opposed the will of God failed to understand was that the result this one last time would be exactly the same as it had always been. He stretched out His hand on the hard wood of the cross, and He healed, He restored, He gave life, and He pulled us from the grasp of the enemy. With the blood He shed, He washed our robes, and He washed our souls.

Too often, we follow the example of Adam and Eve—reaching out our hands and grabbing whatever we desire, regardless of God’s commands. Instead, we should follow the example of Jesus—reaching out to heal, restore, and show others how they might be raised to eternal life. Like the friends of the deaf/mute, we are to bring others to Jesus so that He might touch them.

When you see the outstretched hands of Jesus nailed to the cross, meditate on what those most sacred hands accomplished, and then commit yourself to continuing that work. Jesus said, “Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do, because I am going to the Father.” (John 14:12) May we stop always grabbing at the things we want and instead stretch out our hands to continue the healing, restoring, life-giving work of Jesus.

Let us pray… Lord Jesus Christ, most gracious Creator of man and Restorer of his wounded nature… I praise and glorify you for your ever-consuming love for our salvation, for your being so violently stretched out on the hard wood of the Cross, waiting there to receive you…. I praise you for the pungent piercing of your hands….

You allowed your hands to be transfixed by evil men, and in this way your sacred hands, while nailed to the Cross, paid back the heavy debt incurred by Adam, who had extended his deadly hands to the forbidden tree.  By your precious blood you wiped away that long-standing debt.

O faithful servant of Jesus, raise your eyes upward, and with a sad heart and grieving face, look upon your God and Redeemer hanging between the lofty arms of the Cross… He stretches out his most loving arms to you; he shows you his open wounds; he bends his head to kiss you; he is prepared to receive you in his favor and without any hesitation to forgive your every sin… Far be it for us to glory in anything but the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.

O good and gentle Jesus, beloved Son of God, in following your Father’s will you deigned to take unto yourself the substance of our flesh … and to offer it on the altar of the Cross for the world’s salvation. Have mercy on me, your servant, who now asks your forgiveness and grace.  Relying on your goodness and the infinite merits of your Passion, pardon all my sins committed against you, whether recent or old, knowingly or unknowingly.  Your merits far exceed mankind’s wickedness and your abounding atonement is much greater than all my iniquity, no matter how frequently committed. Knowing this, I come before you under the protection of the Cross and hope for still greater mercy. From the depths of my heart I ask and seek the remedy that will bring me to salvation. Amen. (On the Passion of Christ: According to the Four Evangelists, p.74-78)

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Sermon: Joseph

In our study of the Gospels, certain characters beyond Jesus always capture our attention. There is, of course, Jesus’ mother, Mary, the disciples, John the Baptist, and even some antagonists—Pilate, Herod, the religious leaders. However, it seems to me that one character often fades into the background: Joseph, Jesus’ earthly “step-father.” Perhaps that is where he prefers to be, in the background, but as the head of the Holy Family, he should be regarded as one of the primary figures in the life of our Savior.

What do we know about him? He was of the lineage of King David, which was quite special. He worked as a carpenter, an honest trade. He was older than Mary and likely respected in the community. I don’t think he was wealthy, but given his profession, he was comfortable. It seems that his life was probably uncomplicated right up until he discovered that Mary was pregnant. Since they were not yet married, everyone, including Joseph, assumed Mary had committed adultery; therefore, Joseph could have accused her, and she would have faced stoning. Instead, he decided to walk away quietly. However, the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” So, instead of walking away, Joseph followed the angel’s instructions.

It required a great deal of faith, but what Joseph did was truly sacrificial. He would have been justified in accusing her, but he chose not to. He would have had to swallow a bit of pride, yet it would have been even more convenient to just walk away; however, he looked upon Mary and took her as his wife. He regarded her with love. How much did he love her? He loved her enough to say that he would give up everything. He would sacrifice all he had for her. 

The love Joseph demonstrates is a sacrificial love. It is completely about and for another, regardless of whether there is any benefit for the one who loves; in fact, it may cost them a great deal. The purpose of such sacrificial love is to see Christ born in another. This is the sacrificial love that Joseph showed to Mary, and it serves as an example for us. We seek to follow Joseph’s example so that we, too, can see Christ born in another.

It’s not an easy question to answer, but what part of yourself would you sacrifice to witness God being born in another?  What is so important in you that you couldn’t sacrifice it? If that’s not enough, who would you be willing to sacrifice it for? Who wouldn’t you?

St. Josemaria Escriva writes, “This is the truth of a Christian’s life: self-giving and love—love of God and, for God’s sake, love of one’s neighbor—founded on sacrifice.” The life of St. Joseph exemplified both, as seen in his life of sacrifice. He may prefer to remain in the background, but in our Christian walk, we can look to him as a model for how we are to live and love.

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Sermon: Lent 2 – The Crowning with Thorns

This week, we continue our meditations on Chapter 26, “The Crowning with Thorns,” from The Dolorous Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ by Anne Catherine Emmerich. 

In the middle of the court—where Jesus had been scourged—there stood the fragment of a pillar, and on it was placed a very low stool which these cruel men—who had whipped Jesus—maliciously covered with sharp flints and bits of broken potsherds. Then they tore off the garments of Jesus, thereby reopening all his wounds; threw over his shoulders an old scarlet mantle which barely reached his knees; dragged him to the seat prepared, and pushed him roughly down upon it, having first placed the crown of thorns upon his head. The crown of thorns was made of three branches plaited together, the greatest part of the thorns being purposely turned inwards so as to pierce our Lord’s head. Having first placed these twisted branches on his forehead, they tied them tightly together at the back of his head, and no sooner was this accomplished to their satisfaction than they put a large reed into his hand, doing all with derisive gravity as if they were really crowning him king. They then seized the reed, and struck his head… they knelt before him, derided him, spat in his face, and buffeted him, saying at the same time, ‘Hail, King of the Jews!’ Then they threw down his stool, pulled him up again from the ground on which he had fallen, and reseated him with the greatest possible brutality.

Humility. It is something we all need to learn a bit more about. First, what it is not. Humility does not mean walking around believing you are such a lowly worm that the rest of the world shouldn’t even acknowledge your existence. Humility does not mean becoming a doormat or a punching bag for others. Perhaps C.S. Lewis summed it up nicely when he wrote, “Humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less.” What does that look like?

Many years back, a Black man walked through an affluent neighborhood of Tuskegee, Alabama, when a wealthy white woman approached him. She asked if he would like to earn a few dollars by chopping wood for her. With no urgent business at hand, the man smiled, rolled up his sleeves, and set about the humble task she had requested. When he finished, he carried the logs into the house and stacked them by the fireplace. The White woman did not know who the man was, but a little girl who passed by did and told her after the man had left. It was Booker T. Washington, professor, and president of the Tuskegee Institute.

The following day, the embarrassed woman visited Mr. Washington in his office at the Institute and apologized profusely. “It’s perfectly all right, Madam,” he replied. “Occasionally, I enjoy a little manual labor. Besides, it’s always a delight to do something for a friend.”

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus gave instructions on the core characteristics of humility. He said, “Blessed are the poor, those who mourn, the meek, those who thirst for righteousness, the merciful, the pure, peacemakers, and the persecuted.” However, Jesus did not only teach us through His words. As He stood in that courtyard, enduring the scourging, mocking, spitting, and the crown of thorns, He embodied all these qualities.

He was the King of Kings, yet He wore a crown of thorns. He stood there battered, bruised, and bleeding like one who had nothing or a common criminal. He mourned for those who persecuted Him and showed mercy toward them, later saying, “Father, forgive them.” His hunger and thirst for righteousness—not His own, but ours—was so great that He endured all these trials.

Perhaps the Sermon on the Mount could be summed up in one phrase: “Blessed are you when you wear your own crown of thorns,” for that says, “Blessed are you when you are willing to give up what you see as rightfully yours for the sake of someone else.” Which, ultimately, is the very definition of love: “Willing the good of the other.”

Dutch Reform Pastor Andrew Murray wrote, “Humility is perfect quietness of heart. It is for me to have no trouble; never to be fretted or vexed or irritated or sore or disappointed. It is to expect nothing, to wonder at nothing that is done to me, to feel nothing done against me. It is to be at rest when nobody praises me and when I am blamed or despised.

“It is to have a blessed home in the Lord where I can go in and shut the door and kneel to my Father in secret and be at peace as in a deep sea of calmness when all around is trouble. It is the fruit of the Lord Jesus Christ’s redemptive work on Calvary’s cross, manifested in those of His own who are definitely subject to the Holy Spirit.”

When the pride within you begins to swell and you are feeling puffed up, or when you start to think of yourself as more successful or spiritual than your brothers and sisters in Christ, and something is said that stings your ego, meditate on our Lord Jesus Christ. Visualize the King of Kings and Lord of Lords standing before you with His crown of thorns tightly fitted around His head, and remember how He humbled Himself for your sake.

St. Paul teaches us, “Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:5-8)

Let us pray. “Lord Jesus Christ, glorious King of the saints and radiant Crown of eternal glory… with singular devotion and a heart full of compassion, I praise and glorify you for the brutal punishment you most patiently suffered in the crowning of your sacred head with thorns…. Your sacred head, the most blessed of all Nazarenes, was covered with thorns that pierced so deeply.

“What a sorrowful sight to see the Son of God, in whom no sin could be found, so shamefully and horribly crowned! Because of the soldiers’ raging madness, they did not in the least tremble as they pierced with many a sharp thorn so holy, so handsome, so noble, and so revered a head. They likewise dared to salute the King of angels by publicly ridiculing, striking, and mocking him.

“Most gentle Jesus, King most admirable, Crown of Confessors, Strength of the Church Militant, Delight of the Church Triumphant, and model of all who follow you, how shamefully you were treated, how cruelly tortured! While many a blow was outwardly delivered, you experienced great inward distress, and all this for my sake… to save me from eternal punishment in hell, to cleanse my heart from its vicious habits, and to crown me in heaven with undying glory and honor.

“Cleanse me, Lord Jesus, from the contagion of material possessions. Clothe me with true virtue and grant me to rejoice when I meet contempt. Let me not complain about those who laugh at me, or argue with those who reproach me, but by my remembering your crown of thorns may I calmly accept, for the sake of my salvation, whatever pain and affliction may come my way. Amen.” (On the Passion of Christ: According to the Four Evangelists, p.55-61)

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Sermon: Gregory the Great

Gregory the Great, whom we celebrate today, was elected Pope in 590 and is one of only four Popes to have received the title “Great,” alongside Leo I, Nicholas I, and John Paul II. 

Gregory accomplished much in his ministry, but significant to us is the fact that he sent Augustine, who would become the first Archbishop of Canterbury, on a mission to the Anglo-Saxons in the year 595. This action led the Venerable Bede to refer to Augustine as the Apostle to the English. 

In addition to his other work, Gregory was also a prolific writer. Perhaps one of his best-known works is the Book of Pastoral Rule, which provides guidance to clergy on how to shepherd their flocks. As Pope, he viewed himself as the “servant of the servants of God,” making it clear why much of this work emphasizes the service and instruction that clergy are to provide to those in their care. One passage that resonated with me says, “Therefore, it should be said to the humble that whenever they lower themselves, they ascend to the likeness of God. At the same time, it should be said to the proud that whenever they take pride in themselves, they fall into imitation of the apostate angel. And what could be worse than pride, which by holding itself above everything, so unwinds itself from the stature of true greatness? And what is more sublime than humility, which by lowering itself unites with the Creator, who is above all things?”

Gregory speaks about humility and pride, but he also addresses how we are to serve one another. When we humble ourselves in service to others, we take on the likeness of our Savior. Additionally, we should not ask, “What’s in it for me?” If we serve with the aim of gaining something for ourselves or trying to elevate ourselves over others, then we are not truly serving them; we are serving ourselves. Remember what Jesus said: “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High.” In our Gospel, Jesus said, “Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.” These are the ideas that Gregory had in mind when he referred to the role of Pope as being the “servant of the servants of God,” and it is our calling as well.

You and I are called to be humble servants to each other, just as Jesus was to us. When you serve, do so sacrificially. 

One of my favorite prayers by St. Ignatius of Loyola:
Teach us, good Lord,
to serve you as you deserve,
to give and not to count the cost,
to fight and not to heed the wounds,
to toil and not to seek for rest,
to labour and not to ask for any reward,
save that of knowing that we do your will.
Amen.

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Sermon: Lent 1 – “The Scourging”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Sermon: Ash Wednesday RCL C – “Sphragis”

Photo by Ilya Chunin on Unsplash

A man opened a zoo filled with the most amazing animals the world had ever seen, charging $300 per person for admission. However, nobody came, so he reduced the price to $200 per person. Still, there were no takers. This continued until he lowered the price to $10 per person, and when no one showed up, even then, he made entry free. On that day, the zoo was jammed with people. The man then locked the gates, let loose the lions, and charged a $500 exit fee. Everyone paid.

As I read that story, I thought, “That’s the way of the darker side of the world—placing all these temptations out there, enticing us with all sorts of tricks, and then locking us in with all the evil we’ve so often brought upon ourselves.” As St. Peter said in his First Epistle, “Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.” (1 Peter 5:8) 

How are we to fight such a formidable adversary?

In the ancient world, a shepherd would place a sphragis, a mark or brand, on his sheep. This sphragis was a sign to all that not only was a sheep that was marked the property of the shepherd but also one who was under the shepherd’s protection.

The early Church Fathers took this understanding of the sphragis and applied it to our Baptism and the sealing we receive when we are Chrismated at either Baptism or Confirmation. Chrismation is the signing of the cross on the forehead with the holy oil, and whether the words are said or not, the result is the same: “You are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ’s own for ever.” 

You have received the sphragis of Christ. You are His, but like a shepherd and the sheep, this does not imply you are His, as though you were a slave. It means you are His, and He will watch over you and care for you. He will lead you to green pastures and still waters. He will revive your soul. In short, it means He loves you.

Writing in the 4th century, St. Gregory Nazianzen says, “If you fortify yourself with the sphragis, and secure yourself for the future with the best and strongest of all aids, being signed both in body and in soul with the anointing… what then can happen to you and what has been worked out for you? … This, even while you live, will greatly contribute to your sense of safety. For a sheep that is sealed is not easily snared, but that which is unmarked is an easy prey to thieves.” (The Sign of the Cross: Recovering the Power of the Ancient Prayer, p.47)

We have been sealed as one of Christ’s own forever, so when the darker side of the world locks the gates and sets loose the lions, we have One, the Good Shepherd, who will be with us. However, even though Christ’s sphragis is placed upon us, we still have a responsibility. St. Paul tells us, “God’s firm foundation stands, bearing [this sphragis]/this seal: ‘The Lord knows those who are his,’ and, ‘Let everyone who names the name of the Lord depart from iniquity.’” 

We are under the Lord’s protection, but let us avoid putting ourselves deliberately in the lion’s mouth.

The ashes you receive today are a sign of penance and a reminder of where we are all headed—“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” The ashes remind us that we have sinned and that the penalty for sin is death. However, through our faith in Jesus, the ashes and what they represent wash away, and all that remains is Christ’s sphragis, His seal upon our bodies and souls.

During this Season of Lent, set yourself aside and submit to the Shepherd of your soul. Allow Him the opportunity to lead you into the safety of His pastures.

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Sermon: Matthias

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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