Tag: Faith

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Sermon: Advent 2 RCL C – “Song of the Soul”

A violinist noticed that his playing had a hypnotic effect on his audience. They sat motionless as though they were in a trance. He found he had the same impact on his friends’ pets. Dogs and cats would sit spellbound while he played. Wondering if he could cast the same spell over wild beasts, he went to a jungle clearing in Africa, took out his violin, and began to play. A lion, an elephant, and a gorilla charged into the clearing stopped to listen, and sat mesmerized by the music. Soon, the clearing was filled with every kind of ferocious animal, each one listening intently. Suddenly, another lion charged out of the jungle pounced on the violinist, and killed him instantly.

The first lion, bewildered, asked, “Why did you do that?”

The second lion cupped his paw behind his ear. “What?”

If you ask the experts, they will tell you that a digital recording produces better sound quality than a vinyl record. If you ask me, I’ll tell you vinyl produces better quality. Why? For whatever reason, I can hear it better, and for someone who does not hear so well, that is reason enough to spend a few more dollars on the music I genuinely enjoy. 

When you look at a record, you can see it has grooves/lines that the needle settles into. However, when you put a vinyl record under a microscope, it looks like a mountain range: ridges, valleys, bumps, wiggles, and all. When you play a CD, it is reading a digital code made up of ones and zeroes. When you play a vinyl record, the needle (stylus for all you aficionados) reads all those ridges, valleys, bumps, and wiggles, converting them into electrical signals that are then played through the speakers. If all goes well… beautiful music, but you have to take care of records.

A scratch on a CD may or may not damage the sound quality, but even minor scratches on a vinyl record will produce a popping sound. Why? You’ve added a new element to the ridges and valleys, and the needle reads it. It may pop, but if the scratch is bad enough, the needle may jump out of the groove and skip part of the song.

Today, our Gospel reading begins with a list of who’s who. Luke, by providing all these details, isn’t dropping names. Instead, he is setting the timeframe for those who would read his Gospel. So, with the info provided, we know it is about 29/30 AD. (FYI: many believe that AD means “after death,” referring to the death of Jesus. However, it is an abbreviation for Anno Domini, meaning “the year of our Lord.”) What is Luke setting the timeframe for? The ministry of John the Baptist.

John, we are told, went about the region surrounding the Jordan River “proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” Luke then states, “as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah.” In other words, Luke tells us that John’s ministry is a fulfillment of prophecy. 

“The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:

‘Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.’”

That is Isaiah 4:3, but who is speaking those words? To learn this, we have to read the first two verses of Isaiah 40.

“Comfort, comfort my people, says your God.

Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
    and cry to her
that her warfare is ended,
    that her iniquity is pardoned,
that she has received from the Lord’s hand
    double for all her sins.”

“Comfort, comfort my people, says your God.” Isaiah records the words, but it is as though he is sitting in the room with God, for it is God Himself speaking. God is calling for the comfort of His people. Why? 

You’ll remember from last week, we discussed the Babylonian Captivity—when the Israelites were taken slaves in Babylon following the sacking of Jerusalem. God is speaking comfort because that captivity is nearing its end. The people will soon be set free and allowed to return home, and it is God who will lead them. A few verses on, the Lord says,

“He will tend his flock like a shepherd;
    he will gather the lambs in his arms;
he will carry them in his bosom,
    and gently lead those that are with young.”

(Isaiah 40:11)

So, putting that all together, the Lord says that He will lead his people out of captivity and that the way ahead shall be made ready and made easy. As though calling on His Holy Angels, the Lord says to them, 

“Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.
Every valley shall be filled,
and every mountain and hill shall be made low,
and the crooked shall be made straight,
and the rough ways made smooth.”

So, if Isaiah was talking about the release of captivity from Babylon, why then was Luke applying this passage to the ministry of John? Answer: the people are still being held captive. However, this time, it is not by some foreign adversary (although the Romans occupy the land); instead, they are being held captive by their sins.

John  came “proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” The call to “Prepare the way of the Lord” is not about preparing smoother roads. It is about preparing the soul. 

You were created in the Image of God, an image that is perfection. An image that was never meant to decay or even know death. People will say that “death is natural.” No, it is not. It is the most unnatural thing we do. We were created for life eternal, but through sin, death entered in—the Image of God that is within us became distorted.

Our bodies and souls were created to play the most beautiful music. Music that was in perfect harmony with our Creator. Yet, through the sin of Adam and Eve, we received our first “scratch.” Over time, and through our disobedience, we became even more damaged so that the music we now play contains discord—pops, skips, and missing pieces; therefore, John’s proclamation for repentance is still valid. Luke’s call to fill in the valleys and smooth the rough ways is a way of saying we need to repair the scratches so that we may again play beautiful music. How do we do this? 

Isaiah told those in captivity that God would lead them. Remember his words: “He will tend his flock like a shepherd.” God will also lead us. God, the Good Shepherd—Jesus—will lead us. It is He who leads us out of the captivity of our sins and restores the Image of God within us. In the next chapter of Luke, we hear Jesus also quote Isaiah.

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
    because he has anointed me
    to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives
    and recovering of sight to the blind,
    to set at liberty those who are oppressed,

to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.

And he rolled up the scroll and gave it back to the attendant and sat down. And the eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. And he began to say to them, ‘Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’” (Luke 4:18-21)

Jesus will restore the image of God within, but just as we must protect and care for a vinyl record, we must also protect and care for our souls. This is not because Jesus will get tired and just quit repairing the scratches. Through grace, He never will, but to sin is to willingly place ourselves back into the captivity we were set free from. St. Paul also asked this same question.

“What shall we say, then? Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase? By no means! We are those who have died to sin; how can we live in it any longer?” A few verses on, he says, “Sin shall no longer be your master, because you are not under the law, but under grace… Thanks be to God that, though you used to be slaves to sin, you have come to obey from your heart the pattern of teaching that has now claimed your allegiance. You have been set free from sin and have become slaves to righteousness.” (Romans 6:1-2, 14, 17-18) 

We are not those who willingly submit ourselves to captivity and the slavery of sin. Sin shall not be our master and defile the beautiful song of our souls. Instead, we submit ourselves to God and allow His ways to rule in our lives so that the song of our souls may once again be in harmony with the Lover of our souls.

St. James tells us, “Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you…. Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up.” (James 4:7, 10)

Submit yourself to God so that the Image of God within you may be restored.

Let us pray: Merciful God, who sent your messengers the prophets to preach repentance and prepare the way for our salvation: Give us grace to heed their warnings and forsake our sins, that we may greet with joy the coming of Jesus Christ our Redeemer; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

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Sermon: Advent 1 RCL C – “Liminal Space”

Photo by ANTIPOLYGON YOUTUBE on Unsplash

A man approached a little league baseball game one afternoon. He asked a boy in the dugout what the score was. The boy responded, “Eighteen to nothing—we’re behind.”

“Boy,” said the spectator, “I’ll bet you’re discouraged.”

“Why should I be discouraged?” replied the little boy. “We haven’t even gotten up to bat yet!”

In the year 605 BC, Nebuchadnezzar (five points if you can spell it correctly) became King of Babylon, and Babylon was a force to be reckoned with. Through a series of battles, Judah, with Jerusalem as its capital, became a vassal state of Babylon. In other words, as long as Judah did what the Babylonians told them, Judah could pretend it was a sovereign country. 

The Babylonian grip on Judah held for several years, but then Egypt defeated the Babylonians in a significant battle, so everyone began to think that Egypt was the rising power, including the King of Judah. So, he cast off the shackles of Babylon and took up the shackles of the Egyptians. This did not go over well with the Babylonians, who stormed back on the scene and put everyone back in their proper place. In addition, Nebuchadnezzar handpicked the next King of Judah, Zedekiah. 

Zedekiah was a good boy for a while but then became too big for his britches. He rebelled against the Babylonians. At this point, Old Nebuchadnezzar had had enough of this troublesome fly and again laid siege to Jerusalem. Enter the Prophet Jeremiah.

Jeremiah begins to prophesy against Zedekiah. In his first message, Jeremiah says, “Thus the Lord said to me: ‘Make yourself straps and yoke-bars, and put them on your neck.’” (Jeremiah 27:2) Straps and yoke-bars were signs of people being carried off into slavery. Through Jeremiah, the Lord then says, “Now I have given all these lands into the hand of Nebuchadnezzar, the king of Babylon, my servant, and I have given him also the beasts of the field to serve him. All the nations shall serve him and his son and his grandson, until the time of his own land comes.” (Jeremiah 27:6-7a) The Lord is saying that unless Zedekiah and the Israelites repent of their sins, He is going to use Nebuchadnezzar and the Babylonians to punish them. How did it end? Zedekiah “did what was evil in the sight of the Lord his God. He did not humble himself before Jeremiah the prophet, who spoke from the mouth of the Lord.” (2 Chronicles 36:12) Zedekiah did not obey, and Jerusalem was sacked, and the Temple of God, the First Temple, was destroyed. In addition, the Israelites were taken as slaves of the Babylonians. (This is known as the Babylonian Captivity.) 

Fortunately, the Babylonians would not have the last word. Jeremiah will prophesy again. We heard it in our first reading. “The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah. In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety.” (Jeremiah 33:14-16a) The Lord is saying to His people, “Don’t be discouraged. We haven’t even gotten up to bat yet!”

I told you once before that when I first really began reading the Bible, I started with the Book of Revelation. I don’t remember exactly why, but I do remember that even to begin to understand parts of what is being said, you more or less have to read the entire Bible. Perhaps because of that first read, I enjoy going back through it, not trying to sort out the end of the world. I find it fascinating. I’ve just about completed another read through it and have been doing so with the help of a commentary by Bishop N.T. Wright. You get passages of incredible beauty and passages that are straight-up Stephen King. That latter bit draws in most readers, but you quickly realize that most of the imagery is beyond our understanding. I am of the opinion that when the things spoken of in Revelation begin to occur, anyone and everyone will be able to say, “So, that’s what it means.”

As we read through it, we discover dragons, falling stars, cups of God’s wrath, and plagues upon humanity. Many believe Christian believers will not endure any suffering during that time. I say, read it again. Perhaps the believers won’t have to endure the plagues, but there is more than enough persecution going on that will affect everyone. It is one catastrophe after another, and they are horrifying. And, in reading the messages and prophecies, many say they are being fulfilled today. Perhaps they are, but keep in mind, since Revelation was written, there have been those who believe what is being spoken occurred in their lifetime.

Without going into the argument for or against, the Gospel reading we have today from Luke is something of a two-paragraph summation of all that John reports in Revelation.

Jesus said, “There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory.” That is all in Revelation; just expanded there.

Jesus says there will be great signs in the heavens and on the earth. People will be terrified. Revelation tells us that they will be under so much duress and fear they will beg for death, but it will not come to them. Then Jesus says, “Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads because your redemption is drawing near.” Jesus says, “Stand up. Pay attention. It is our turn to go to bat.”

It is fascinating, yet for many, their response is, “I hear you, Father John, but to be honest, I got my own problems. There may be wars and rumors of wars, but have you been to my house lately? There’s a few wars going on there, too. There may be signs in the heavens, but there’s a sign on a piece of mail I just got, and it reads, ‘Past Due.’ How does all this apply to me today?” 

My time on social media goes in spurts. Sometimes, I’ll scroll too much; other times, I forget it is out there. When I scroll, I have a few favorite pages, one of which has to do with liminal spaces. One article defines liminal spaces.

“Liminal spaces are transitional or transformative spaces that are neither here nor there; they are the in-between places or thresholds we pass through from one area to another.

“These spaces often evoke feelings of eeriness or discomfort because they are not meant for staying, but rather for passing through, such as empty parking lots at night, hallways, stairwells and abandoned malls.” (Source)

Think of it as passing through a doorway from one room to the next. The liminal space is the doorway, the threshold. That is where we are in the unfolding of God’s plan—standing in the doorway. Through His death and resurrection, Jesus has already won the victory, but it is not yet His turn to bat, so we are in the space in between. At times, it is disorienting and uncomfortable. At times, we still experience the pain and anxiety of the room we just left. The next room is our true home, but we are not there yet, which is why Jesus gives us very specific instructions as we stand waiting in the doorway.

“Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day catch you unexpectedly, like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth. Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.”

The Season of Advent, which we begin today, is approximately four weeks long, ending with the celebration of the Birth of Jesus. However, the Spirit of Advent is one that we live every day. It is a Spirit of patience and perseverance, of being alert and watching, of knowing the victory has been won but not yet complete. You and I stand on the threshold of the very Kingdom of God—the new Heaven and Earth. “Stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

Let us pray:Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which your Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the living and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

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Sermon: Christ the King RCL B – “Shadow”

I’ve no idea how I’ve ended up in the world of old radio programs—last week, it was Orson Welle’s broadcast of War of the Worlds—and this week, I’ve found another one. It began on July 31, 1930, as the Detective Story Hour radio program. Each episode starts with the narrator stating, “Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows!” Each episode concludes, “As you sow evil, so shall you reap evil! Crime does not pay…The Shadow knows!”

Later episodes reveal that Kent Allard is The Shadow but goes by many different aliases. His best-known alias is Lamont Cranston, a bit of a Batman/Bruce Wayne character. Living in New York, he is a vigilante with a vast network of assistants and informants and a trusty .45 Colt pistol that aids him in fighting crime. Through these, he can gain the information he needs to defeat the criminals. He is also where we get the phrase, “Only the Shadow knows.” (I actually had no idea what that meant until I started reading about it this week. It was just one of those things you said.)

In the end, The Shadow learned and knew what others did not. 

In our Saints Book Club this past week, we discussed Saint Catherine of Siena: Mystic of Fire—Preacher of Freedom. I think we all walked away, wanting to know more about her. Although uneducated and not learning to read or write until a later age, she was one who advised paupers and Popes. Very remarkable. In her writing, she also speaks of a shadow. Like the radio character, her shadow also learns and knows what others do not, but instead of it being about others, her shadow knows about herself. 

Catherine says, “Never leave the knowledge of yourself!” (p.41) What she is saying is that we need to know the shadow, our inner selves intimately, so that we can begin, in the words of St. Paul, to “work out [our] own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in [us], both to will and to work for his good pleasure.” (Philippians 2:12-13) 

How does it work? Someone can tell me, “You’re so kind and loving.” I can believe that and go on my merry way, but if I look at the shadow within, I know that is not really true. As David says in the Psalms,

“For I know my transgressions,
    and my sin is ever before me.” (Psalm 51:3)

Understanding your shadow means knowing yourself and rooting out even the slightest transgressions. This helps us temper the praise of others, which can build our ego to unmanageable levels and also keeps us from believing the lies we tell ourselves. It also keeps us humble and compassionate, for by recognizing our faults and weaknesses, we begin to understand the struggles that others are facing in their own lives. However, knowing your shadow comes with a warning.

When you discover the shadow within, those ugly bits about yourself, you start to believe what it says about you. Catherine writes, “[W]hen notions come into the heart that say, ‘What you are doing is neither pleasing nor acceptable to God; you are in a state of damnation.’ And little by little, after these notions have caused discouragement, they infiltrate the soul and point out a way disguised as humility, saying, ‘You can see that because of your sins you aren’t worthy of many graces and gifts’—and so the person stays away from communion and from other spiritual gifts and practices. This is the devil’s trick, the darkness he causes.” (p.60)

We can come to believe we are all that and a bag of chips based on what others say about us, but by understanding our shadow and the sinfulness within, we can also come to believe the devil, who tells us we are completely lost and outside of God’s redeeming work. Through self-condemnation, we become discouraged and may eventually walk away from God entirely, believing we will never be good enough. That is a lie of the devil, but what is the solution? The solution is recognizing that the shadow only distorts the image within you. The shadow is not who you truly are. To see the true you, you must look in what Catherine calls “the Gentle Mirror of God.” 

“In the gentle mirror of God,” Catherine writes, the believer when at prayer “sees her own dignity: that through no merit of hers but by his creation she is the image of God.” (p.47) 

The image of God within can reveal itself in a multitude of ways—how we give, how we serve, how we sacrifice ourselves—but for Catherine, all of these can be summed up in one word: fire.

Today, in our first lesson, Daniel relates a vision.

As I watched,
thrones were set in place,
 and an Ancient One took his throne,
his clothing was white as snow,
 and the hair of his head like pure wool;
his throne was fiery flames, 
and its wheels were burning fire.
A stream of fire issued
and flowed out from his presence.
(Daniel 7:9-10a)

Catherine is very much aware of the shadow within herself, but as she looks in the gentle mirror of God, she begins to understand the nature of God and, in so doing, understands her own nature, which is the image of God within her. Speaking to God, who she refers to as boundless Love, she says, “In your nature, eternal Godhead, I shall come to know my nature. And what is my nature, boundless Love? It is fire, because you are nothing but a fire of love.” (p.47) St. John says, “God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him.” (1 John 4:16b) God is love, and for Catherine, this love is revealed as fire. A fire that reveals the defects of the shadow and a fire that, through its love, restores us to the true Image of God.

She writes, “For just as you can better see the blemish on your face when you look at yourself in the mirror, so the soul who in true self-knowledge rises up with desire to look at herself in the gentle mirror of God… sees all the more clearly her own defects because of the purity she sees in him.” (p.47) 

This is not an easy process. It can be painful at times because recognizing the defects of your own shadow is recognizing the not-so-nice bits about yourself. However, it is also “sweet” because by identifying the defects of the shadow, you can begin to do something about them.

Today is Christ the King Sunday. The day we celebrate the Kingship of our Lord. Liturgically, this is the last Sunday of the Church year. Next Sunday we begin the Season of Advent, which will lead up to the birth of the Christ Child. Much like the Season of Lent, the Season of Advent is a time of preparation. In Advent, we prepare our hearts, minds, and souls to receive the great gift of our salvation given to us through the birth of Jesus. One of the ways that we can prepare is by doing as Catherine encourages—knowing the shadow within as revealed by the fire we see in the gentle mirror of God.

You can stop there, but there are times when it must be spoken to release a thing’s power. Catherine says, “When [evil] thoughts or strong temptations regarding some specific thing (no matter how ugly) come into your heart, never keep them inside, but reveal them to the father of your soul…. We mustn’t be afraid, but must reveal our every infirmity to the doctor of our soul.” (p.92) Don’t shoot the messenger, but she is talking about confession. There are times when, in order to release the power of sin, the sin must be spoken, and the Church provides the Sacrament of Reconciliation/Confession for this specific purpose.

The Book of Common Prayer teaches us, “[I]f, in your preparation, you need help and counsel, then go and open your grief to a discreet and understanding priest, and confess your sins, that you may receive the benefit of absolution, and spiritual counsel and advice; to the removal of scruple and doubt, the assurance of pardon, and the strengthening of your faith.” (BCP 317) No. Confession is not the Church’s way of learning about all the ugliness of your shadow. Instead, it is the Church’s way of helping the fire of God’s love within you burn away sin so that you might be set free. It is as simple as that.

“Only the Shadow knows.” The shadow within you knows your inner self. Get to know it, then get to work on it. Allow the fire of God… allow Jesus to set you free, which is true freedom. For as Jesus teaches, “If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.” (John 8:36)

Let us pray: (Prayer 12: My Nature Is Fire)

In your nature, eternal Godhead,
I shall come to know my nature.
And what is my nature, boundless love?
It is fire,
because you are nothing but a fire of love.
And you have given humankind
a share in this nature,
for by the fire of love you created us.
And so with all other people
and every created thing;
you made them out of love.
O ungrateful people!
What nature has your God given you?
His very own nature!
Are you not ashamed to cut yourself off from such a noble thing
through the guilt of deadly sin?
O eternal Trinity, my sweet love!
You, light, give us light.
You, wisdom, give us wisdom.
You, supreme strength, strengthen us.
Today, eternal God,
let our cloud be dissipated
so that we may perfectly know and follow your Truth in truth,
with a free and simple heart.
God, come to our assistance!
Lord, make haste to help us!

Amen.

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Sermon: Elizabeth, Prnicess of Hungary

The English historian Robert Blake in 1982 wrote about one of the English monarchs: he “was a tyrannical monster. His rule echoed Caligula’s and prefigured that of Hitler or Stalin. Parliament was his collective accomplice: it blotted out his debts, it carried acts of attainder which deprived his enemies or imagined enemies of land, title and life without even the form of trial, it altered the succession, it allowed the king to bequeath the Crown by will, it gave his proclamations the force of statutory law.” 

This monarch’s official title was a bit on the wordy side, “By the Grace of God, King of England, France and Ireland, Defender of the Faith and of the Church of England and also of Ireland in Earth, under Jesus Christ, Supreme Head.” We know him as Henry VIII. I suppose it is good to be king, but when we consider the monarchs of that era, Blake’s description appears fitting for most of them. Therefore, it seems a bit odd to celebrate the life of one, but Elizabeth, Princess of Hungary, was a bit different.

Following the death of her husband, the court compelled her to leave her home and take on a life of near poverty because of her extravagant lifestyle. What were those extravagances? Giving to the poor. Building hospitals. Feeding the hungry—she even opened the royal granaries during a famine in the land. She is reported to have said, “How could I bear a crown of gold when the Lord bears a crown of thorns? And bears it for me!”

She wrote, “Today, there is an inescapable duty to make ourselves the neighbor of every individual, without exception, and to take positive steps to help a neighbor whom we encounter, whether that neighbor be an elderly person, abandoned by everyone, a foreign worker who suffers the injustice of being despised, a refugee, an illegitimate child wrongly suffering for a sin of which the child is innocent, or a starving human being who awakens our conscience by calling to mind the words of Christ: ‘As long as you did it for one of these, the least of my brethren, you did it for me’”

Jesus said, “Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys.”

That verse has inspired so many individuals to do such great things. Like Elizabeth, those “great things” did not involve building vast empires or great wealth. They had nothing to do with making a name for themselves or gaining fame. Instead, those “great things” had to do with setting themselves aside, seeing Jesus, and seeking to serve Him in others with their entire being. How far does that go? Elizabeth died from exhaustion in serving the sick and needy.

I’m not going to ask you to do the same, but just as we are called to tithe 10% of our income to the work of God, what do you think the world would be like if we also tithed 10% of our lives to the work of God? What “great things” could we do as a Christian people? I can assure you that we would be a force to be reckoned with in turning back the pain and suffering of this world.

Here’s a challenge for you: An hour has 60 minutes. Ten percent of 60 is 6… 6 minutes. How could you change the lives of those around you if you gave 6 minutes of every hour to God? I dare you to try it.

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Sermon: Proper 27 RCL B – “Hope”

Sitting by the window of her convent, Sister Barbara opened a letter from home.

It was from her parents and enclosed was a crisp $100 bill.

Sister Barbara smiled at the gesture.

As she read the letter by the window, she noticed a shabbily dressed stranger leaning against the lamppost below.

Quickly, she wrote a note. “Don’t despair,” and signed it, “Sister Barbara.” Then, wrapping the $100 bill in the note, she got the man’s attention and tossed it out the window to him.

The stranger picked it up and went off down the street with a puzzled expression and a tip of his hat.

The next day, Sister Barbara was told that a man was at her door, insisting on seeing her. She went down and found the stranger waiting. Without a word, he handed her a huge wad of $100 bills.
“What’s this?” she asked.

“That’s the $8,000 you have coming, Sister,” he replied. “Don’t Despair paid 80-to-1.” Turns out the man was a bookie.

Early in the Church’s history, theologians attempted to classify those sins that affect our souls. When complete, there were nine categories that came to be known as logismoi (lo-gee-smee) or “evil thoughts.” One of the Desert Fathers writes, “When negative logismoi (singular “logismos“) manage to enter your spiritual bloodstream, they can affect you in the same way that a needle, full of poison, penetrates you and spreads the deadly substance throughout your body.”

Over the centuries, these logismoi were further refined, and instead of nine, they were eight. Pope Gregory the Great again refined these eight and reduced them to seven. These seven are known as the Seven Deadly Sins: lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride.

In our Confirmation Class, we’ve studied the Examination of Conscience from the St. Augustine Prayer Book and learned that these seven sins are broken down even further. For example, under the sin of pride is the sin of distrust, and under distrust is cowardice. Performing an examination of conscience is an excellent means for discovering areas of our souls that need attention.

Today, however, I would like to return to when there were eight categories instead of seven. In particular, I would like us to look at tristitia (tris-ti-tia), defined as sadness, despondency, or despair, which means being without hope.

In Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables, Fantine is the most tragic of all the characters. At her lowest point, she declares,

“But there are dreams that cannot be
And there are storms we cannot weather
I had a dream my life would be
So much different from this hell I’m living
So different now from what it seemed
Now life has killed
The dream I dreamed.”

That is despair in perhaps its purest form. All is lost, and I am done. I suspect that we have all felt that way at some point in our lives. It is an overwhelming feeling, and it is sinful because it negates the promises of Christ and His sacrifice on the Cross. It declares, “I am beyond even the saving hand of God,” (which also falls under the category of spiritual pride.) It says, “I have no hope.”

In the time of Jesus, the temple complex consisted of the outer courtyard where anyone, Jew/Gentile, could gather. Entering through the next gate was for Jews only. This was the Women’s Courtyard. Both Jewish men and women could be here. The next gate would lead you to the Temple area, men/priests only.

Our Gospel reading today takes place in the Women’s Courtyard, where the treasury, consisting of thirteen trumpet-shaped basons, was located.

Jesus is teaching. He sees those who are supposed to be the teachers of the Law running about, and He criticizes them for their actions; then, He watches as an elderly Jewish widow approaches one of the basons and drops in two small copper coins, which are worth only a penny. He says, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”

Through her actions, do you see hope or despair?

Consider the widow in our lesson from the Old Testament. Elijah asks her to bring him something to drink and a little something to eat. She says to him, “As the Lord your God lives, I have nothing baked, only a handful of meal in a jar, and a little oil in a jug; I am now gathering a couple of sticks, so that I may go home and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it, and die.” That sounds like despair, but Elijah instructs her to go ahead and do as he asked, saying to her, “The jar of meal will not be emptied and the jug of oil will not fail until the day that the Lord sends rain on the earth.” Despair would have waved him off as a crazy old man, but instead, the woman found a measure of hope, and through her hope, she lived.

“And at the ninth hour Jesus—hanging upon the Cross—cried with a loud voice, ‘Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?’ which means, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’” If there was ever a cry of despair, that was it, but Jesus, being tormented as He was by the sins of the world descending upon Him, did not ever give up hope, for just moments before He died, He cried out, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!”

Through hope, the widow in the Temple gave God all she had. Through hope, the woman trusted Elijah’s word and gave him all she had to eat. Through hope, Jesus took upon Himself the sins of the world and believed His Father would bring Him through death itself.

At 40, the author Franz Kafka, who never married and had no children, was walking through the park in Berlin when he met a girl who was crying because she had lost her favorite doll. She and Kafka searched for the doll unsuccessfully.

Kafka told her to meet him the next day, and they would look again.

The next day, when they had not yet found the doll, Kafka gave the girl a letter written by the doll. The doll said, “Please don’t cry. I took a trip to see the world. I will write to you about my adventures.”

Thus began a story that lasted about a year until the end of Kafka’s life. During their meetings, Kafka read the letters of the doll, which he had carefully written about the doll’s adventures and conversations. The girl found them adorable.

Finally, Kafka brought a doll (he bought one) and, giving it to the girl, told her that her doll had returned from her trip.

“It doesn’t look like my doll at all,” she said.

Kafka handed her another letter in which the doll explained, “My travels have changed me.” The little girl hugged the new doll and gave her a happy home.

Many years later, the now-adult girl found a letter inside the doll. In the tiny letter signed by Kafka, it was written: “Everything you love will probably be lost, but in the end, love will return in another way.”

There are many events that are inevitable for us all unless we live in a box, closed off from the world, that can draw us down a path toward despair. However, there is always hope. This is not a “silver lining” or wishful thinking. This kind of hope comes from knowledge. You see, this hope comes from knowing that you are loved. Hope speaks to your soul and says, “Regardless of the loss, the pain, the tears, the distress you are experiencing, you are loved by the One who is Love itself.”

In the first book of the epic tale, The Lord of the Rings, the individuals gathered around the table are beginning to despair for their future. It is then that the great wizard Gandalf tells them, “Despair is only for those who see the end beyond all doubt. We do not.” There is no sin in feeling great loss. We all will, but we—God’s Beloved—are not seeing the end of hope. We will come away changed, but we are not seeing the end of love.

American author George Iles wrote, “Hope is faith holding out its hand in the dark.” I would add to that. “Hope is faith holding out its hand in the dark and knowing that Love will take your hand in His.” In those times of pain, close your eyes, reach out your hand, and know that you are loved.

Let us pray: Praised be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, He who in His great mercy gave us new birth, a birth unto hope which draws its life from the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead; a birth to an imperishable inheritance, incapable of fading or defilement, which is kept in heaven for you who are guarded with God’s power through faith; a birth to a salvation which stands ready to be revealed in the last days. Amen.

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Sermon: William Temple

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.

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Sermon: All Saints Day

“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.

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Sermon: Proper 25 RCL B – “Questions”

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.

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Sermon: Proper 24 RCL B – “Losers”

Little Johnny’s fourth-grade teacher had very straight hair, so she decided to get a permanent for something different. As she sat at her desk the following morning, all the children began to file in. They all noticed her hair, but Johnny just couldn’t take his eyes off her. Becoming very self-conscious, even from the looks of such a young person, she said, “Is something wrong, Johnny?” Johnny said, “Your hair.” The teacher beamed and said, “You noticed. I just had a permanent, and I love it.” Johnny, still staring, said, “You do? Have you seen it?”

We all need a Little Johnny in our lives to keep us humble—to put us in our place when we start thinking we’re all that and a bag of chips.

When it comes to being humble, I’m always reminded of the fact that you can learn humility or someone will come along and teach it to you, and probably not in a kind way.

In our Gospel, we quickly see the lesson of humility. Still, I do believe that most of us shy away from a real-life application of what Jesus says—“Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.” Why do we shy away? Because we understand that being a servant or a slave is not humbling. We see it as being humiliating.

Do you remember reading Uncle Tom’s Cabin? One of those books you were assigned in school that, at the time, you thought having to read was punishment for someone in Dante’s Inferno? If so, you may remember the characters Little Eva and her mother, Marie. The two could not be more opposite. Eva is a sweet soul of a girl—seven years old or so—and her mother is a most unpleasant sort and describes Eva as “peculiar.” Why? Eva is kind to the house slaves. She plays with them and reads the Bible to them. She even volunteers to take on some of their duties when they are tired. However, according to Marie, this is not the way things are to be.

Harriet Beecher Stowe also wrote a drama, The Christian Slave, based on a portion of Uncle Tom’s Cabin that Mary E. Webb performed between 1855 and 1856. Here, Harriet gives her characters more life, and Marie talks to Cousin Ophelia in one scene.

Marie says, “Now, there’s no way with servants, but to put them down, and keep them down. It was always natural to me, from a child. Eva is enough to spoil a whole house-full. What she will do when she comes to keep house herself, I’m sure I don’t know. I hold to being kind to servants—I always am; but you must make ’em know their place. Eva never does; but there’s no getting into the child’s head the first beginning of an idea what a servant’s place is… this treating servants as if they were exotic flowers or china vases is really ridiculous.”

I do not believe that any of you hold to this way of thinking (there are many who do.) That said, when Jesus tells his disciples, “Whoever wishes to be first among you must be—servant—slave of all,” we may not hold to Marie’s way of thinking, but it is how we understand a servant or a slave. When Jesus says we are to be slaves, we understand that to mean we are the ones who are to be put down and kept down. When we are servants, we are those who are put in their place and expected to stay there, and you know what? We don’t much like it. To be put down and kept down is, in our minds, to be a loser. And we ain’t no losers!

You know what a huge sports fan I am—everybody roll your eyes. Not judging it, but I don’t get it. Messed up wiring or something. Even so, I do have my opinions, and some things irk me about it all. Take football, for example—“How ‘bout them Bears.” They’re from Philadelphia. Right? Anyhow. Let’s say the offense is on the twenty-yard line, and they’ve got to cover eighty yards to score a touchdown. The ball is hiked, and the quarterback fakes to the left and then hands it off to the running back. The running back does his thing, and, within seconds is sprinting down the field for a touchdown. The crowd goes wild, and the running back does the funky chicken in the endzone. He is a winner, he knows it, and he’s happy to tell everybody about it. Meanwhile, the other ten players on the field are more or less forgotten. Maybe that’s not the case, but that’s the way it always appears to me. Why? To me, it seems as though the other ten players are viewed as nothing more than servants. Maybe you know one or two of their names, but as long as they stay in their place and do their job, the winner can do the rest. It seems as though that winner has forgotten that he would be flat on his backside if it weren’t for those servants. Maybe I have it all wrong, but that’s the way I see it.

We all want to be the one that the camera follows around after the big play. We all want to be the winner. Nobody wants to be one of the forgotten ones. We’re above that. We’re better than that. “Teacher, we are winners. Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” Grant us a seat at the winners’ table because that’s who we are.

I am not a sports fan, but I may have mentioned that I’m a fan of Stephen King. “I’m his biggest fan.” A few weeks ago, I told you I had finished reading IT, which is an exceptionally good read. No spoilers here, but I’m sure you know there’s a monster involved and other assorted characters. However, the main characters are seven kids. There’s the stuttering kid, the Jew, the Black boy, four-eyes, a hypochondriac, the girl that everyone thinks is a little tramp, and the fat kid. These are not winners. Individually, they are ridiculed, laughed at, and tormented for their differences. However, through several events, these seven became the closest of friends and formed a club—The Losers Club.

Individually, they were nothing. They were put down and kept down. Individually, they were weak, and they knew it. Yet, they come to understand that together—by serving one another—they could all be winners. Together, well… they could kill a monster.

Jesus says to us, “Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.” We hear those words and think we are to be the losers that are put down and kept down like Marie in Uncle Tom’s Cabin would have slaves put down; however, this is not what Jesus has in mind. Jesus wants us to be servants with Him and of each other so that together—serving one another—we can kill monsters.

The Pharisees claimed Jesus was able to cast out demons because He Himself was a demon, but Jesus said to them, “How can Satan cast out Satan? If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand. And if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand. And if Satan has risen up against himself and is divided, he cannot stand, but is coming to an end. But no one can enter a strong man’s house and plunder his goods, unless he first binds the strong man.”

There is not one of us greater than the other. We are here to serve the Lord by serving one another so that when we come face-to-face with the monster, we can stand as a house united. It may be that we will fall, but not before we get in a few good licks.

I, for one, would much rather stand as equals with you all and fail than stand alone and most certainly be knocked on my backside. In the words of Richie Tozier, four-eyes in the Stephen King book, “Welcome to the Losers Club.” At least my version of it.

Jesus said, “For the Son of Man—He is speaking of Himself—came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.” Jesus came not to be served but to serve, and Jesus served us—even unto death on the cross—not because He was forced to or needed to or had to… Jesus served us because He loves us. Go and do likewise.

Let us pray: God of wisdom and love, you have sent your Son Jesus to be the light of the world, and continue to send your Holy Spirit among us to guide us into the way of truth. Open our hearts to your word, and let us ponder your actions among us. Give us your Spirit of wisdom and knowledge, of understanding and counsel. With Mary, may we rejoice in your gifts and walk in the way of truth and love. Amen.

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