Born in 1090, Bernard of Clairvaux grew to become a force to be reckoned with. Not only did he establish a monastery at Clairvaux, but through his teachings, sixty other monasteries were founded and linked with Clairvaux. That alone was a great achievement, but he was also a poet and hymn writer, a preacher of the Crusades, a priest to the Knights Templar, and an advisor to popes and kings. “By 1140, his writings had made him one of the most influential figures in Christendom.”
In his writings, especially those addressed to Pope Eugenius III, Bernard emphasized moderation in all things. He wrote to the overburdened pope, “As the Lord says, ‘What does it profit you to gain the whole world, but lose yourself alone?’ Now since everyone posses you, make sure that you too are among the possessors.” Yes, Bernard is saying, dedicate yourself fully to the work the Lord has called you to, but don’t forget the Lord or yourself in the process. However, if there was one area where Bernard would not preach such moderation, it would be in “love,” for when it comes to love, Bernard knows no limits. For Bernard, this understanding of love partly stems from his meditations on our Gospel reading.
Jesus said, “If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.” Bernard understood “in me,” in God, to mean, in love with God. To be in God is to be in love with God. He believes we are called to be in love with God and were created for this purpose, writing, “God hath endowed us with the possibility of love.” When someone asked him, “Why should we love God?”, he answered, “You want me to tell you why God is to be loved and how much. I answer, the reason for loving God is God himself; and the measure of love due to him is immeasurable love.” He concludes by asking, “Is this plain?” A more modern way of saying “Is this plain?” could be something like, “Duh!”
Not only should our love extend to God, but also to one another. Perhaps one of his most famous quotes states, “Love me, love my dog.” If you are going to be in a relationship with someone, then you have to love everything about them, including the goofy dog with fleas, bad breath, and all the other unfortunate and annoying aspects of their character.
In living a life of moderation and love, Bernard fulfilled his own definition of a holy person: “seen to be good and charitable, holding nothing for himself, but using every gift for the common good.”
Centuries later, St. Josemaría Escrivá wrote, “Lord: may I have due measure in everything… except in Love.” Escrivá wasn’t speaking directly of Bernard, but those words clearly articulate the pattern of life that Bernard of Clairvaux would call us each to: a life of moderation and perpetual, unrestrained love.
One day, when Vice President Calvin Coolidge was presiding over the Senate, one senator angrily told another to go “straight to hell.” The offended senator complained to Coolidge, as presiding officer. Coolidge looked up from the book he had been leafing through while listening to the debate and wittily replied, “I’ve looked through the rule book. You don’t have to go.”
Another short reading for you this morning. This one is an excerpt from the Prophet Micah.
“The godly has perished from the earth, and there is no one upright among mankind; they all lie in wait for blood…
Their hands are on what is evil, to do it well; the prince and the judge ask for a bribe, and the great man utters the evil desire of his soul… Put no trust in a neighbor; have no confidence in a friend…
for the son treats the father with contempt, the daughter rises up against her mother, the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; a man’s enemies are the men of his own house.”
It’s a different translation, but that last section is what Jesus was quoting in our Gospel reading today.
Micah prophesied from 742 to 687 BC, and his main complaint—the Lord’s complaint—was directed against both the social and religious elites. His complaint was against the wealthy, who showed no regard for the poor, and the religious leaders who showed no regard for the poor in spirit. Therefore, Micah foresees a coming crisis.
The word crisis originally comes from the Greek and is a medical term. Merriam-Webster defines it as “the turning point for better or worse in an acute disease or fever.” In this case, the “better or worse” means you either live or you die.
In the case of Micah, the evil—the social and religious elite—will repent, or the evil will be destroyed. As for the latter, Micah speaks of the destruction of Jerusalem.
“Therefore because of you Zion shall be plowed as a field; Jerusalem shall become a heap of ruins, and the mountain of the house a wooded height.” (Micah 3:12)
An unfortunate consequence of the punishment of evil is that the innocent often become caught up in the destruction. Today, we rely on the non-emotive term, collateral damage, to describe the death of innocent people, so we don’t have to admit we killed them.
So, when the crisis—the pivotal moment for better or worse—arrives, A) the people will repent, return to the Lord, and live, or B) Jerusalem will fall, and the wicked, along with the collateral damage, will perish.
How did it all turn out? In 586 BC, Nebuchadnezzar and the Babylonian army sacked Jerusalem, destroyed the First Temple, and exiled the people.
Micah warned, “The path we are taking is leading to our destruction. We’re about to experience a certain hell on earth, but I’ve checked the rule book, and we don’t have to go.” The crisis arrived, and the people chose… wrongly.
By examining these events, we can find a pattern for any crisis.
A specific path is chosen, but there are early warning signs that it may be the wrong path.
A shrugging of shoulders, thinking it’ll be OK, or the status quo rules.
The early warning signs begin to turn into real problems. Sirens are sounding.
The symptoms are addressed, but not the root problem. It begins to fester.
A catalyst or trigger of some sort pushes it all over the edge. Hell on Earth follows.
The crisis—the turning point for better or worse—blossoms.
Options: Strong corrective measures are implemented to prevent a disaster or destruction.
In our Gospel, Jesus said, “You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky—a cloud rising in the west or a south wind blowing—but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?”
Jesus said, “You’ve chosen a certain path, but there are warning signs everywhere—your country is occupied, there is trouble within, the religious system is broken, and there is no fear of God. Yet, in your arrogance, you shrug your shoulders, thinking everything is A-OK. The prophets, like John the Baptist, have sounded the alarm. You believe the solution is to ratchet up the requirements of the Law, but you’re missing the point. It’s not the Law that’s the problem; it’s you! All you’re doing is oppressing the people and further angering the Father. You’ve created Hell on Earth, so you can either turn and repent, or all this will be destroyed. ‘Truly, I say to you, there will not be left here one stone upon another that will not be thrown down.’ (Matthew 24:2) But,” Jesus said, “I’ve looked through the rule book, and you don’t have to go that way.
How did everything turn out? In 70 AD, Titus and the Roman army sacked Jerusalem, destroyed the Second Temple, and enslaved or scattered the people. The exact same pattern and result of the crisis that occurred in the time of Micah.
Not only does this pattern of crisis occur on a large scale for nations, but it also applies to individuals.
I believe it has been at least a week since I last mentioned a Stephen King book, so…
In The Stand, one of the main characters, Larry Underwood, has been experiencing troubles in his life. As he reflects on it, he remembers another person who faced a time of trial—Jory Baker.
Jory was a guitarist, and a good one at that. He even played in a band that looked as though they were going to make it big, but then Jory was involved in an accident. This was followed by intensive rehab and a little drug called Demerol. Jory got hooked, and when he no longer had access to Demerol, he turned to heroin. He ended up on the streets, begging for change and his next fix. Hell on Earth. Crisis—the point where he could choose either life or destruction. Over eighteen months, Jory managed to get clean and stay clean. He chose life.
As he remembers this, Larry thinks, “No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just … come out the other side. Or you don’t.” (p.575)
We understand that all these crises—whether between nations, within individuals, or any type in between—are the direct result of the conflict between Heaven and Hell, with the prize being the soul of God’s people. In C.S. Lewis’ The Screwtape Letters, the demon writes, “We want cattle who can finally become food; He [God] wants servants who can finally become sons.” Therefore, in every situation, we must be those who can properly “interpret the present time.” And yes, we must be able to do this for the world and society around us, so we don’t blindly follow the masses to destruction, but equally important, we must learn to unemotionally and honestly “interpret the present time” of our own lives. How do we achieve this?
We must learn to take a step back from our lives and unflinchingly scrutinize them, as if from the outside. Are there warning signs that we may be headed in the wrong direction? If so, are we glossing them over or pretending that they’re really no big deal? In our arrogance, are we convincing ourselves that we’re right, even when evidence suggests otherwise? If we do recognize areas of concern, are we just treating the symptoms while ignoring the real problem? Is a crisis actually developing or already upon us—Hell on Earth? To be blunt, if it looks like you’re heading to hell, remember, there’s nothing in the rule book that says you’ve got to go. Ask yourself, “If in my analysis of the present time and path, will I come out the other side… or not?” If the answer is “Yes,” give thanks to the Lord your God. If the answer is “No,” then pray for wisdom and courage to change. After all, “What does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul?” (Mark 8:36)
The life of a Christian person is often and mistakenly solely measured by emotions. Do I feel the joy of the Lord? Am I at peace? Do I sense God’s presence in my life? If you answer “Yes” to these questions, then you feel like all is well. However, we can’t rely only on our emotions. As Christians, we must sometimes sit down, like an academic, and study our lives—properly interpreting the present times—and then be prepared to make the necessary course corrections. In doing so, with God’s help, we will safely come out the other side.
Let us pray: O Lord, mercifully receive the prayers of your people who call upon you, and grant that they may know and understand what things they ought to do, and also may have grace and power faithfully to accomplish them; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
St. Clare of Assisi: We know very little about her childhood beyond being born into a wealthy family. However, at age eighteen, she had the opportunity to hear St. Francis of Assisi preach and decided to leave everything behind.
Sneaking away from her family, who would have prevented her, she went to Francis and expressed her desire to follow in the way of his teachings. She exchanged her fine clothes for a dress of rough fabric. She cut her long, beautiful hair and replaced it with a veil. At one point, her family tried to pull her back, but she ultimately prevailed, and later her sister Agnes and her mother, when widowed, joined her in the convent.
How did she live? She was barefoot all year, spoke only when necessary, prayed for hours daily, had no source of income, so begged for alms, ate no meat, fasted on bread and water, and slept on a hard floor. Eventually, the Bishop and Francis ordered her to sleep on a mattress for health reasons. You might think such a life would be so unappealing that no one would follow in her footsteps, but that was not the case. When she died, “there were forty-seven convents in Spain alone, with many others in Italy, Bohemia, and France. And not long after Clare’s death, four convents of Poor Clares—as they became known—were founded in England.”
She was considered so pure and righteous in faith that bishops, cardinals, and even Popes sought her advice. Pope Innocent IV, who heard her last confession. Following that confession, he said, “I would to God I had so little need of absolution myself.”
On August 11, 1253, the day she died, she was heard to say, “Go forth in peace, for you have followed the good road. Go without fear, for he who created you has sanctified you, has always protected you, and loves you as a mother. Blessed are you, O God, for having created me.”
Could such a movement continue today? Currently, there are 20,000 Poor Clares spread across the world, living cloistered lives dedicated to prayer—praying for the needs of the church and the world.
In a letter to Agnes, the daughter of the King of Bohemia, who also became a Poor Clare, Clare wrote,
When You have loved [Him], You shall be chaste; when You have touched [Him], You shall become pure; when You have accepted [Him], You shall be a virgin. Whose power is stronger, Whose generosity is more abundant, Whose appearance more beautiful, Whose love more tender, Whose courtesy more gracious. In Whose embrace You are already caught up; Who has adorned Your breast with precious stones And has placed priceless pearls in Your ears and has surrounded You with sparkling gems as though blossoms of springtime and placed on Your head a golden crown as a sign [to all] of Your holiness.
There is no doubt that St. Clare of Assisi has received the golden crown from the One she loved above all others—Jesus.
A father reports that he used to have trouble getting his son to clean his room. The father would insist that he, “Do it now,” and the son would always agree to do so, but then he wouldn’t follow through—at least not right away. After high school, the son joined the Marine Corps. When he came home for leave after basic training, his father asked him what he had learned.
“Dad,” he said, “I learned what ‘now’ means.”
For me, when it comes to cleaning house, “Now” generally means the day or a few hours before I expect company; otherwise, there’s a good chance that there will be dirty dishes in the sink, dirty socks on the floor, a pile of clean laundry waiting to be folded on the dining room table, and if the cat got sick on my desk, it would be in better shape than it is now. I guess I agree with Phyllis Diller and Erma Bombeck when it comes to housework. Phyllis says, “Housework won’t kill you, but then again, why take the chance?” And Erma writes, “My theory on housework is, if the item doesn’t multiply, smell, catch fire, or block the refrigerator door, let it be. No one else cares. Why should you?”
I’m guessing they weren’t real keen on the word “Now” when it comes to housework, either.
The Bureau of Labor Statistics reports that, on average, we spend 2.01 hours per day on household chores, and yes, women spend more time than men—1.67 hours for men and 2.34 for women. (Source) Clearly, they’ve never been to my house. I eventually get everything nice and clean, but it doesn’t last. Give it a few days, and the dishes will start to stack up again, and the dirty socks will be on the floor. Before you know it, the whole place needs a solid napalm strike to clear it all up.
In our Gospel reading, Jesus talks about the servants in a house who remain awake and alert, and the owner of the house who guards against the thief. The servants fulfill their duties for the Master—taking care of his needs and property—and the owner protects against the thief who wishes to break in and steal. In both cases, we understand that the home Jesus is speaking about is our soul—the dwelling place for the Holy Spirit of God. As God’s children, we are to take care of our souls, keeping them pure and free of sin, and we need to guard them so that the devil cannot come in and destroy them. But for me, sometimes the inside of my soul looks a bit like my house—a little messy.
On July 13, 1917, Our Lady of Fatima appeared for the third time to the three children—Lucia dos Santos, Jacinta Marto, and Francisco Marto. During the visitation, she gave them a brief but terrifying vision of hell. Lucia wrote, “She opened Her hands once more, as She had done in the two previous months. The rays of light seemed to penetrate the earth, and we saw as it were a sea of fire. Plunged in this fire were demons and souls in human form.” She then goes on to describe what they saw.
It was so terrifying, she later wrote, “How can we ever be grateful enough to our kind Heavenly Mother, who had already prepared us by promising, in the first Apparition, to take us to Heaven. Otherwise, I think we would have died of fear and terror.”
During this same visitation, the Virgin Mary gave the children a prayer that we now know as the Fatima Prayer or O My Jesus.
“O my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell; lead all souls to heaven, especially those most in need of thy mercy.”
Mary asked that the children share with the world her desire for this prayer to be said at the end of each decade of the Rosary. It is also prayed just before starting the first decade—the Our Father and the first ten Hail Marys.
When I pray my Rosary, it is during those opening prayers that I begin—or at least try—to gain some sort of focus, and on one particular day, it was the same. I recited the Creed, prayed the Our Father, the first three Hail Marys, and the Gloria Patri, and then began the Fatima Prayer, “O my Jesus…” I stopped. The next word, “forgive,” simply would not come out. I tried again. “O my Jesus…” I couldn’t go any further. Why?
There was a story circulating when I was in seminary. It told of a young man who had a vision of himself entering a room. Inside the room were all these small files—row after row of them. The drawers seemed to be large enough to hold a piece of paper no bigger than a note card. As he got closer, he saw that each of the file drawers had labels. These included such things as “Books I Have Read” and “Television Programs I Have Watched.” There were others—“Lies I Have Told” and “Comfort I Have Given.” There was one that read “Things Done in Anger” and one right next to it, “Things I Have Said in Anger.”
He pulled that one out just to see what was inside, and to his horror, he found that written on each card was something he had said in anger. Then he realized he was standing in the record room of his life. Every single event, from the very best to the most sinful, had been recorded and filed.
As he examined more of the file drawer labels, he became absolutely convinced that no one—not anyone!—should be allowed to see what was written here. But, of course, there was One who would see, and that One, Jesus, was suddenly present, standing before the man.
Without a word spoken, and instinctively, Jesus went to the drawer that held the cards depicting the most horrible of sins, pulled it out, and began to read each card. The man was horrified and heartbroken. He collapsed in shame, but as he watched, he witnessed the most remarkable thing: on each of the cards, Jesus wrote His Name, covering the sin.
There I was, trying to pray my Rosary, “O my Jesus…,” but unable to ask for forgiveness. Why? Well, it’s a bit like my house. When my house gets messy, it’s nothing new. It’s always the same mess. Dirty dishes, dirty socks, a messy desk, etc. My soul ends up the same way. When Jesus has to come in and go through the files of my life, it’s not like He pulls out a card and says, “Wow, didn’t see that coming,” or “Hey, that’s original.” No. It’s the same thing each and every time. Entire file drawers dedicated to my life with the same thing written time and time again, and Jesus signing over it again and again… O my Jesus. I found myself—not out of disobedience, but out of shame and frustration—simply unwilling to ask Him once more to forgive me for the same damn thing I asked Him to forgive me for the day or week before. O my Jesus.
I could imagine Him standing there, pen in hand, poised and ready to sign, and there I was… O my Jesus.
In our Gospel reading, Jesus said, “Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks.” Yet, I’m sitting there in the middle of a very dirty house, knowing I must do something but unable to act.
Joshua said, “Choose you this day whom you will serve.”
Quoting what the Lord said to the Prophet Isaiah, Paul wrote, “In a favorable time I listened to you, and in a day of salvation I have helped you.” Then Paul added, “Behold, now is the favorable time; behold, now is the day of salvation.” (2 Corinthians 6:2)
“Son, what did the Marines teach you?”
“Dad, I learned what ‘now’ means.”
And I prayed, “O my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell; lead all souls to heaven, especially those most in need of thy mercy.”
I’ll share something you might find hard to accept, but it’s true: no matter how much effort you put in, your soul will get dirty. You can’t keep it clean; once it becomes dirty, you won’t be able to clean it with your own strength and power. So, when the Master comes back—when Jesus returns—He will walk into the house of your soul and He will see the mess. Your only recourse is to say to Him today—right now—“O my Jesus, forgive.” And John tells us, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” (1 John 1:9) If we confess our sins, Jesus will sign His name on the card and cover our sins.
The Psalmist writes, “For you, O Lord, are good and forgiving, abounding in steadfast love to all who call upon you.” Jesus stands ready to forgive all those who call on Him. Whatever reasons or excuses you may have—pride, shame, ignorance, stubbornness, or anything else—set it aside and humbly come before your God and King.
Let us pray… would you repeat after me: O my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell; lead all souls to heaven, especially those most in need of thy mercy. Amen.
The streets were filled And the bodies lay for three and a half days
The celebration continued And the woman screamed
We try to forget Somewhere behind the gold rivers And the truth bleeds all around us
The looking glass hides in the dim mirror And we take another sip
I’ll watch this side of Eden
I’ll watch this side of the Promised Land
I’ll watch and the lies unfold and the hate breathes and you are no more and the paints dried and the skin peeled and the left hand watched as the right hand withered
and
and
I was on my way home from work. Driving down Randolph. A squirrel… a damn squirrel ran in front of me. I thought I missed it. Looking in the rearview mirror, I saw it… there… on the curb. Damn.
Today, it was still there. It was beginning to bloat. I’m sorry.
St. Leo the Great said that the Transfiguration revealed to the disciples “the excellence of [Jesus’] hidden dignity.” That is, it revealed Jesus’ true nature. St. Paul mentioned in his first letter to the Corinthians, “For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face.” Seeing Jesus outside of the Transfiguration, it was as if the disciples saw Him dimly, but in that moment, they saw Him fully; however, He is not the only one called to be transfigured, because when the Lord says, “You shall be holy, for I am holy,” He is calling for all of us to be transfigured into His likeness.
Anglican Bishop, Brook Westcott writes, “The Transfiguration is the revelation of the potential spirituality of the earthly life in the highest outward form. Such an event, distinct in its teaching from the resurrection, and yet closely akin to it, calls for more religious recognition than it receives. Here the Lord, as Son of Man, gives the measure of the capacity of humanity, and shows that to which he leads all those who are united with him.”
The Transfiguration revealed to us our potential and our fullest capacity as children of God. Achieving this potential, at least in part, makes the saints we study on Wednesdays so extraordinary. They become light to us, radiating Christ. What is the outcome?
In south-central Norway, nestled in a mountain range (the name I won’t even attempt to pronounce), is the small community of Rjukan. The valley where the town is located is so narrow and the mountains so tall that, for six months each year, the town receives no direct sunlight; however, that changed in November 2013. Large mirrors were installed on one of the mountain peaks, and a computer tracks the sun’s movement and adjusts the mirrors’ angles so that a concentrated beam of light shines into the town square, creating a 6,500-square-foot patch of sunlight.
On the day the light started shining, one resident said, “People have been sitting there and standing there and taking pictures of each other. The town square was totally full. We are not that big of a town, so I think almost all the people in the town were on the town square.” She added, “It’s not very big, but it is enough when we are sharing.” (Source)
The saints we study are like mirrors, radiating—not their own light—but the light of Christ into the darkness of the world. As we say in the preface during the Eucharist on certain saints’ days, we give thanks to the Father, “For the wonderful grace and virtue declared in all your saints, who have been the chosen vessels of your grace, and the lights of the world in their generations.”
It is this same light that we also seek to reflect. We accomplish this by setting ourselves aside and putting on Christ, working on our salvation with “fear and trembling,” and striving for sanctification in our daily lives. Like all the capital “S” Saints, there will be days and seasons of failure, but each day we start fresh until we are clothed in the robes of white and standing eternally before our Father in Heaven, fully transfigured into his glory.
The article defines the issue: “This is ‘purpose anxiety’ — the gnawing sense that one’s life should have an overarching purpose, but it’s unclear how to discover it.” It then goes on to further explore the issue and point to possible solutions. However, in my opinion, the article clearly identifies the root cause, without noting any correlation to the problem.
Religion, for instance, often offered purpose and meaning to believers. But those who identify as religious has dropped significantly over the years (although that appears to be leveling off recently according to a 2025 survey by the Pew Research Center).
What do the numbers show?
I am smart enough to know that anxiety and depression have other causes and that there are multiple variables involved. That said, I think it would be quite interesting to see the anxiety/depression numbers for those who have found their purpose in God.
Three individuals are about to be executed, put to death before the firing squad. One is a Japanese fella, one is from Oklahoma, and the third is a crazy Cajun named Boudreaux. The guard brings the Japanese fella forward, and the executioner asks if he has any last-minute requests. He replies, ‘No, I do not,’ so the executioner sets him up and then turns and shouts to the firing squad: “Ready! Aim…” Suddenly, the Japanese fella yells out: “Tsunami! Run run run.” While everyone is distracted and panicked, the Japanese fella runs away and escapes. The guard brings the next prisoner along—the Oklahoman. The executioner asks if he has any last-minute requests. He answers, “I have nothing to say”, so the executioner gets him ready, then barks his order to the firing squad: “Ready! Aim…” Suddenly, the Oklahoman yells as loud as he can: “Tornado! Run run run!!!” Everyone is again distracted, and the Oklahoman makes his getaway. By now, ol’ Boudreaux has got it all figured out. The guard escorts him forward and asks if he has any last-minute requests. Boudreaux replies, “No,” but has a grin on his face. The executioner turns sharply to the firing squad and shouts: “Ready! Aim…” And Boudreaux hollers out: “Fire!”
I do not believe the firing squad was distracted, Boudreaux.
When I drive, I’m not a speeder—maybe three or four miles over at most. I’ll set the cruise, and then I don’t have to worry about it. The other day, as I was driving down the road, cruise set, I was listening to a book. I’m not sure which one, but I was fairly well engrossed. As I was going along, someone came up and passed me going at least 20-25 mph faster than me. I wished him well, but then another car came up on me pretty quick, and before you know it, there are about four cars behind me. I look in the rearview mirror and say, “I’m not getting a ticket for you folks, so just go around.” At which point, I look at my speedometer. I had set the cruise as I was leaving the last town, but I was involved with my book. Unfortunately, when I set the cruise, I was in a 45 mph zone, but now I was in a 70. I’m not sure how many miles I had putted along at that speed, but I’m certain those stuck behind me were quite pleased when I figured it out.
When it comes to accidents, being distracted is the number one cause. I’ll try to do better.
Merriam-Webster defines distraction as: “an object that directs one’s attention away from something else.” Sometimes those distractions are not of our own making: you’re sitting quietly reading your book, and a meteor crashes through the ceiling and obliterates the coffee table, sending the cat into a maniacal frenzy. Not your fault or your doing. At other times, you are supposed to be studying for an exam, but you choose to be distracted by playing video games.
Why do we do such things? It might be out of compulsion, a lack of discipline, or simply because sometimes we just aren’t all that bright. Any number of reasons, but ultimately, we’re looking for that one thing that will make us happy in the moment and distract us from what we should be focusing on.
Qoheleth is the author of the book of Ecclesiastes. In the third verse of chapter one, he writes, “What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?” (1:3) In this context, the word “toil” refers to all human efforts, whether they are noble, common, necessary, silly, or anything else. In our first lesson today, he discussed the toil of wisdom: “I applied my mind to seek and to search out by wisdom all that is done under heaven.” (1:13) His goal was to discover the worth of gaining wisdom in his life. Similarly, he explores the meaning behind the toil of gaining wealth, possessions, honor, pleasure, and labor. He did all, apparently knowing no limits.
He concluded his discussion of each pursuit by declaring their purpose and value to be, “Utterly senseless, everything is senseless!” “Meaningless of meaninglessness! All is meaningless!” “Futility of futilities, all is futile.” “Absolutely pointless! Everything is pointless.” “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.” All of our wealth, wisdom, possessions, honor, pleasure, labor—all of our toils and distractions are nothing. Are you depressed yet? “Thanks, Father John, so glad I came to church today for this uplifting and edifying message. I’ll be sure to sleep in next Sunday.” If we left it there, we would all be more than a bit depressed, but Qoheleth does not leave it there, and neither shall we.
To work and seek only wealth and possessions solely for oneself is vanity and meaningless; however, building up treasures in heaven offers lasting and abundant rewards. Pursuing pleasure purely for pleasure’s sake is the height of selfishness, but truly loving as Christ loved us and finding joy in God and others are among the many blessings of creation. I’m certain you see the difference. The issue is that we often seek these things apart from God, and anything apart from God is defined in one simple word: sin.
This is part of the message from the parable we read this morning. The man has worked hard, he has toiled year after year, and has become wealthy. Now, he has a bumper crop, and in his vanity, he decides that he is set and only needs to build barns large enough to hold everything. He thinks he can be done with all this toiling. Yet God says to him, “You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” And Jesus adds, “So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.” The man became so distracted by earthly riches and toil—“Vanity of vanities, all is vanity”—that he lost sight of what he should have been focused on.
In the end, Qoheleth tells us, “The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man.” (12:13) What should we focus on, and not let distractions steer us away? The fear of God and His commandments. What does it mean to fear God? Charles Spurgeon answers that for us. “By this we do not mean the servile fear which worketh dread and bondage, but that holy fear which pays reverence before the majesty of the Most High, and has a high esteem of all things sacred, because God is great, and greatly to be praised.” (Sermon: Obadiah; or, Early Piety Eminent Piety) If that is the fear of God, what are His commandments? You know the answer; we talked about it a few weeks back: “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another.” (John 13:34) (I can assure you that I know more Bible verses than this, but I do not know of any that are more important.)
Qoheleth tells us that everything is vanity, meaningless, pointless, and futile except to remain in awe of God and His majesty and to love one another, and we know that loving one another is, in fact, loving God.
You have heard of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn. In 1945, he was imprisoned for speaking out against the Soviet regime. After his release, he spent from 1958 to 1968 writing The Gulag Archipelago, a nonfiction book about life in a Soviet prison or gulag. As I studied these verses from Ecclesiastes, I was reminded of one of Solzhenitsyn’s conclusions. He wrote,
“What about the main thing in life, all its riddles? If you want, I’ll spell it out for you right now. Do not pursue what is illusory—property and position: all that is gained at the expense of your nerves decade after decade, and is confiscated in one fell night. [He is thinking of his arrest when he lost everything.] Live with a steady superiority over life——don’t be afraid of misfortune, and do not yearn after happiness;… whom should you envy? And why? Our envy of others devours us most of all. Rub your eyes and purify your heart—and prize above all else in the world those who love you and who wish you well. Do not hurt them or scold them, and never part from any of them in anger; after all, you simply do not know: it might be your last act before your arrest, and that will be how you are imprinted in their memory!” (p.591-592)
We must work to care for ourselves and our families. We have possessions for the same reasons. We seek entertainment to bring joy, and even Qoheleth tells us this is from God. He says, “There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil. This also, I saw, is from the hand of God, for apart from him who can eat or who can have enjoyment?” (2:24-25) Still, none of these things should take priority over or distract us from our fear of God and our love for one another.
Do not sin. Keep in awe and fear of God, and love one another. From Jesus to Qoheleth to Solzhenitsyn to many others, there is no greater or nobler meaning to life.
Let us pray: Most holy Trinity, Godhead indivisible—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—our first beginning and our last end, You have made us in Your own image and likeness. Grant that all the thoughts of our minds, all the words of our tongues, all the affections of our hearts, and all the actions of our being may always be conformed to Your holy Will. Thus, after we have seen here below in appearances and in a dark manner by means of faith, we may finally come to contemplate You face-to-face In the perfect possession of You forever in heaven. Amen.
If you were in church a few Sundays back, you’ll recall we discussed the many facets of this story of Mary and Martha. Well, this is a look at one of them, and it begins with a poem by Virginia Brasier written in 1949—Time of the Mad Atom.
This is the age Of the half-read page. And the quick hash And the mad dash.
The bright night With the nerves tight. The plane hop With the brief stop.
The lamp tan In a short span. The Big Shot In a good spot.
And the brain strain The heart pain. And the cat naps Till the spring snaps
—And the fun’s done!
Time. It consists of moments, minutes, hours, days, decades, and stretches into eternity. There are many wonderful quotes about time. How does it pass? The Wisdom of Solomon states that “our time is like a passing shadow.” How do we spend it? Susan Ertz wrote, “Millions long for immortality who do not know what to do with themselves on a rainy Sunday afternoon.” Do we want more? Queen Elizabeth I’s dying words were, “All my possessions for a moment of time.”
Without humankind, there really is no such thing as time, for as one Jewish commentary wrote, “Without man, time is meaningless.” So what is it then? What is time? For me, it is Henry Longfellow who has the best answer. He writes, “The shadow on the dial, the striking of the clock, the running of the sand, day and night, summer and winter, months, years, centuries — these are but arbitrary and outward signs, the measure of Time, not Time itself. Time,” he says, “is the Life of the soul.” Time is the life of the Soul.
If we were to compile a list of everything we need to accomplish with our time today, I suspect it would be quite long: jobs, caring for children or others, volunteering, studying, leisure, family time, and so on. A lengthy list. Many of these activities can be seen as serving God because we are helping others as He has commanded. However, we can become so caught up in our service to God that we neglect our relationship with Him. Even as a priest, I can get so busy writing sermons, preparing newsletters, attending meetings—everything for the Church—that I forget to make time for God and the life of the soul. Mary and Martha help us see this trap more clearly.
Jesus is visiting their home. Martha is busy running around to take care of everyone, while her sister, Mary, is sitting and listening to Jesus. Finally, frustrated, Martha says to Jesus, Don’t you care that I’m doing all this work and my sister is just sitting there like a bump on a log? While not condemning Martha for her work, Jesus responds, ”Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.” Mary has chosen the better part. Martha’s work is good, but Mary has chosen the better part; she is tending to the life of her soul by engaging with her Lord.
This is indeed the time of “the quick hash and the mad dash.” Therefore, we must learn to serve as Martha served, but we also need to take time like Mary to tend to the life of our souls by stepping back from our busy service and by engaging in our relationship with God. After all, it is God who is the center that holds everything else together. “Seek first the Kingdom of Heaven.” Seek first those opportunities to sit at the feet of Jesus, as Mary did, then go forth in the Name of Christ to serve Him with gladness and singleness of heart.
