Tag: Faith

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Sermon: The Annunciation +1

The Annunciation – Giovanni Lanfranco

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Sermon: Lent 3 – The Nailing of Jesus’ Hands

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

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

You know how that is going to end.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Sermon: Lent 2 – The Crowning with Thorns

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Sermon: Gregory the Great

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Sermon: Lent 1 – “The Scourging”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Sermon: Ash Wednesday RCL C – “Sphragis”

Photo by Ilya Chunin on Unsplash

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

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

How are we to fight such a formidable adversary?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Sermon: Matthias

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Sermon: Epiphany VII – “Not ‘If'”

Photo by Igor Omilaev on Unsplash

I’ve complained to you once before about the headlines for newspaper articles. The situation has not improved. One newspaper reports, “Woman missing since she got lost.” I don’t know if the city or the newspaper is the rocket scientist on this one, but “City unsure why the sewer smells.” No concerns about the education system as “Hispanics ace Spanish tests.” Nothing offensive here, “Midget sues grocer, cites belittling remarks.” And in keeping with the politics of the day, “Ex-Minister breaks silence, says nothing.” And if you think those are idiotic, try these goofy phrases on for size.

“Love your enemies.”

“Do good to those who hate you.”

“Bless those who curse you.”

“If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also.”

And the clincher, “Do to others as you would have them do to you.”

The headlines are ridiculous, but when people start talking like this, I generally begin to think that some sort of rehab is in order.

Last week, we read that Jesus came to a level place with His disciples, and a great crowd gathered around them. Jesus then began to teach, saying, “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.” He gave them the beatitudes. Today’s Gospel reading is a continuation of that same sermon, and the things Jesus says are radically the opposite of how people believed God operated and even more so on how the world operates.

For example, take the one mentioned, “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.” The Old Testament does not directly say you are cursed if you are poor, but it does say the opposite. Proverbs 10:22, 

“The blessing of the Lord makes rich,
    and he adds no sorrow with it.”

Deuteronomy says, “You shall remember the Lord your God, for it is he who gives you power to get wealth, that he may confirm his covenant that he swore to your fathers.” (Deut. 8:18)

The Old Testament does not say you are cursed if you are poor, but for many, these texts imply it. If you are rich, then God is blessing you. If you are poor, you must have done something wrong to anger God. All the points Jesus made in our reading today are just as startling.

“Love your enemies.” We never seem to recall hearing this in the Old Testament because the opposite is so prevalent. Remember the Edomites and the Babylonians. They did not play well with others, and the Israelites saw them as bitter enemies. The Psalmist made that point quite clear. 

“Remember, O Lord, against the Edomites
    the day of Jerusalem,
how they said, “Lay it bare, lay it bare,
    down to its foundations!”

O daughter of Babylon, doomed to be destroyed,
    blessed shall he be who repays you
    with what you have done to us!

Blessed shall he be who takes your little ones
    and dashes them against the rock!” (Psalm 137:7-9)

Not quite the love we were hoping for. Yet, Jesus says we are to love our enemies. In the Sermon on the Mount, He even expanded on this by saying, “I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” (Matthew 5:43) 

We can look at this and everything that Jesus said and understand how radical His teachings were at the time—how controversial they must have been. Fortunately, that’s no longer the case. We love our enemies and never curse anyone. We always turn the other cheek and never strike back. We don’t judge or condemn, and we are incredibly forgiving. Am I right? 

I don’t always pull out the Greek Interlinear Bible (it provides a literal translation of the text), but I did with the passage. I was checking on a particular word—“if.” The translation we read says “If” in a few places, but it is not in the original Greek. Therefore, Jesus is not saying, “If you have enemies… if someone curses you… if someone strikes you… if someone steals from you and so on.” Instead, Jesus is saying, “You will have enemies; there will be those that curse you, someone will strike you, and others will steal from you. It will happen, but you are not to treat them like they treat you. You are to treat them the way you want them to treat you.” 

I would like to get up every morning and say my Stuart Smalley (Saturday Night Live) affirmations, “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me.” I would also like to believe that’s true; however, I may be good enough and smart enough, but not everybody likes me. I’m just not their cup of tea. I don’t think the way they think, believe what they believe, hold to the same politics as they do, or any number of other points of contention. The same is true for all of us. It may seem that everyone is giving you a thumbs up, but don’t be fooled; some are giving you a thumbs down (if not worse), so the question is not whether or not you have these people in your life. You do. The question is, how do you treat them? How do you respond to them? 

Jesus told us how, and St. Peter reaffirmed it in his first Epistle. He writes, “All of you, have unity of mind, sympathy, brotherly love, a tender heart, and a humble mind. Do not repay evil for evil or reviling for reviling, but on the contrary, bless, for to this you were called, that you may obtain a blessing.” He then quotes a portion of Psalm 34. “For

‘Whoever desires to love life
    and see good days,
let him keep his tongue from evil
    and his lips from speaking deceit;

let him turn away from evil and do good;
    let him seek peace and pursue it.’

We are called to be a light unto the nations, but when we act like everyone else, we only bring more darkness. N.T. Wright says that this type of behavior is “Another victory for the hostile world: when Christians ‘give as good as they get,’ repaying slander with slander, they are colluding with the surrounding world, just as surely as if they went along with immorality or financial corruption.” Therefore, our response is that which Jesus calls us to. That is, to behave and respond in a way that is radically the opposite of the world. We are to love instead of hate. Bless instead of curse. Give instead of take. Forgive instead of holding grudges. And this is not easy; even worse, it is not our natural inclination. Most people just aren’t that nice. Therefore, it must be an intentional way of life and a practiced one. 

If you want to love your enemies instead of hating them, you must make a conscious decision to love them and then practice it. If you are going to bless instead of curse, you will have to decide this before you even get out of bed, then you must put it into action. And we must do these things, not just with our lips and actions, but also in our hearts. If you are only washing the outside of the pot and the inside is still filthy, what good is that to you? 

One final note: Jesus said, “The measure you give will be the measure you get back.” But keep in mind that the measure you “get back” is not from this world. It is from your Heavenly Father. Therefore, not everyone is going to like you, and not everyone is going to play according to the same rules you’ve set for yourself. You may turn the other cheek, but you may also get smacked on that one as well. Yet, don’t let that stop you from living the life God has called you to.

The headlines are ridiculous, and the news behind them is often even more ludicrous and incomprehensible. Yet, amid the insanity of it all and in our personal lives, we are called to a different way of life. Will it be easy? No, and no one ever said it would be. Regardless, “be strong and courageous” and live this radically countercultural life Jesus calls us to.

Let us pray. (This is a prayer from Mother Teresa, and I’ve shared it with you before. Perhaps it is not as much a prayer as a commissioning.)

People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered; forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives; be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies; succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you; be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight; build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous; be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow; do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough; give the world the best you’ve got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your God;
It was never between you and them anyway.

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Sermon: Epiphany 5 RCL C – “New Horizons”

Photo by Joshua Earle on Unsplash

What gameshow would you be on if you were in a studio audience filled with people in the wildest costumes, all holding up goofy signs and enthusiastically shouting? Let’s Make a Deal. You’ve got the audience, Jay, the man with the table, pretty Carol Merrill pulling back curtains and striking dramatic poses in front of “A brand new Chevy Vega,” and, of course, Mr. Gameshow host himself, Monty Hall.

I remember watching Let’s Make a Deal as a kid but not really understanding it. Now, you can watch all the episodes on the Internet, and they are funny.

Monty would pick one of the crazy-dressed audience members and offer them $300, or they could make a deal. That’s when Jay would appear, carrying his table with a box sitting on it. You could keep the $300 or trade it for the unknown. The audience member would hem and haw, then make a choice, and it would run from there. One deal after another until the big prize. Some people won big; others may walk away with an ox pulling a cart. However, in the end, for the grand prize finale, Monty makes the final deal. You could keep what you had or have what was behind door number three—and there would be the lovely Carol Merrill posing before the hidden prize.

You’ve got $5,000 in hand, or you could make the deal, give it all up, and see what was behind door number three. What do you do?

The Event Horizon Model describes a phenomenon related to how we categorize memories. For example, consider your time in school.

Your entire experience is of the education process, but that process consists of distinct phases, such as elementary school, high school, college, and graduate school. These represent your education, and you have memories that are stored and sorted within and in the context of each phase. Think of it as a library. In a library, you’ve got the fiction section, non-fiction, biography, etc. In the Event Horizon Model, your memory has a section for grade school, high school, etc., and your memories are filed according to those various events. The current or most recent phase holds the clearest memories, while those from the past are a bit hazy. You’re not forgetful; instead, the information from earlier events is less relevant, so it gets set aside or even offloaded.

Throughout our lives, we have various events. Perhaps it is our schooling. It might also be stages of life—child, teenager, adult, married, married with children, and so on. That is a fairly typical progression. However, have you noticed that when you go from one to the next, it often feels as though you are starting over?

I was in school for a while, then I graduated and started to work. A new event and a new beginning. I decided to get married. I stopped being single and started being a spouse. Another event, but also the process of starting over. It really is a bit like saying, “Monty, I think I’ll take what’s behind door number three.” Everything we think we know is taken from us, and we embark on this new thing, and, for the most part, we’ve no idea what we are doing. This can cause anxiety, confusion, and any number of other negatives that impact our lives.

In situations like this, what is needed is something constant and stable that travels with us from one event to the next. We may choose what lies behind door number three—it’s not a bad thing—but we need a place to stand—a place of grounding.

The scene from our Gospel reading today occurs very early in Jesus’ earthly ministry. Jesus had a meal at Peter’s house, but the disciples didn’t seem to be traveling with Him just yet. On this day, Jesus returns to Bethsaida, Peter’s hometown, and the crowds gather. To address them all, He gets into Peter’s boat and asks him to push out from the shore a bit so that He can see and speak to everyone gathered. Afterward, He instructs Peter to push out into the deep water and fish.

Peter says, “We’ve been doing this all night, but if you say so, we will.” They do, and we have the miraculous catch of fish. Peter doesn’t know what is going on, but he knows he is afraid. This Jesus is a holy man, and he doesn’t feel worthy to be near Him, but Jesus says, “You think this is amazing? Stick with me; I’ll show you something special.”

We can interpret this scene in many ways, but today, I would like you to consider it as a representation of your life.

Peter’s boat is more than just his livelihood. His ability to eat and feed his family, to care for them, and to provide for their other needs revolves around that boat. Peter’s boat is more than his livelihood; it is his life, and Jesus steps into it. Jesus steps into Peter’s life. This is an “invasion of grace.” Jesus, God has not taken away Peter’s free will, but through these actions, Jesus is saying to Peter, “I want to be a part of your life.”

This is also a doorway leading to a new event in Peter’s life. He was a fisher of fish. He is becoming a fisher of men. Going from one thing to the next, and the anxiety is setting in, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” But Jesus tells him, “Do not be afraid. I will be with you. Always. To the end of the age. I will be with you from one horizon to the next. I will be your place to stand.”

Jesus says the same to us, but He is promising more than simply being present. In the context of this episode, I came to understand this at 1:04 a.m. Wednesday morning, and had to get up and write it down.

Jesus instructed Peter to head out into the deep water and cast his nets. Peter followed his advice, and they experienced a miraculous catch of fish—“They caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break.” Question: What do you think Jesus was doing while all this was happening?

I always imagined Jesus sitting back and watching, but now I believe quite differently. I think He was right there with Peter. I think He rolled up his sleeves, grabbed hold of the net, and started hauling it in with all the rest. I believe He got soaking wet and stunk of all those fish, right along with Peter and the others. I think He joined His voice with Peter’s and shouted for the others to come and help. He laughed with them when James and John’s boat began to sink under the weight of all those fish. Jesus not only stepped into Peter’s life and turned it upside down, but He stepped into Peter’s life and lived it with him. Not as a bystander or judge to see how Peter would do but as a faithful friend. One who wanted the very best for Peter and the others and wasn’t afraid to step in and get dirty. And One who would be with them as they crossed the new horizons of their lives, providing them a firm place to stand, regardless of what was taking place.

Jimmy Buffett wrote a song—Door Number Three. The third stanza:

And I don’t want what Jay’s got on his table
Or the box Carol Merrill points to on the floor
No, I’ll hold out just as long as I am able
Until I can unlock that lucky door
Well, she’s no big deal to most folks
But she’s everything to me
Cause my whole world lies waiting behind door number three.

Some events in our lives are choices like going for what’s behind door number three. Other events are just life. You are in a phase of life where you are healthy, but life walks you through a doorway that leads to sickness. You are secure in your position then you find yourself unemployed. A relationship goes from good to awful. All these various events, where you pass through the doorway, and a new horizon lies before you, bringing the unknown, the destabilizing, the anxiety. However, if we have a place to stand, if we’ve allowed Jesus to step in our boats, invading our lives with His grace, then He will be with us regardless of the circumstances or the outcome. As with Peter, Jesus will be a faithful friend who is not afraid to get involved in the messiest parts of our lives, and along the way, He will provide that firm place for us to stand as we cross from one horizon to the next.

Jesus has climbed into your boat and asked you to put out into the deep. Do what He asks. Take what’s behind door number three.

Let us pray (pray this one for yourself as I read):
Father, I abandon myself into Your hands;
Do with me whatever You will.
Whatever You may do, I thank You.
I am ready for all, and I accept all.
Let only Your will be done in me,
And in all Your creatures.
I wish no more than this, O Lord.
Into Your hands, I commend my spirit;
I offer it to You, Lord,
and so need to give myself,
to surrender myself into Your hands,
Without reserve and with boundless confidence,
For You are my Father.
Amen.

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