Tag: God

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Sermon: Proper 22 RCL C – “Give thanks”

Three local pastors teamed up for a local revival. After the tent was taken down and the dust had settled, they met for coffee to discuss how things went. 

The Methodist minister said, “I want to give thanks for this revival. Through our efforts, the Methodist Church gained four new members. It was awesome.”

The Presbyterian preacher grinned and said, “I want to add my thanks to yours, praise God. Through our revival, we gained six new members.”

The Episcopal priest, grinning from ear to ear, sat silent, then said enthusiastically, “I’m just as excited as you both! Between the two of you, you gained ten new members. That is wonderful news. For us at the Episcopal Church, I couldn’t be any more thankful. Through our work together, we managed to get rid of our ten biggest troublemakers! Alleluia.”

The Apostle Paul tells us, “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18) And I suppose losing the troublemakers is something worth giving thanks for, not that I would ever do anything like that. 

Even though Paul encourages us to give thanks in all circumstances, there are moments when even God might roll His eyes. There was a funny meme with an image of Jesus. The look on Jesus’ face says it all—“Are you stupid?” The caption read, “Jesus’ face after you give thanks and then ask Him to bless twenty chicken nuggets, two Big Macs, two large fries, and an extra-large Coke as nourishment unto your body.” Besides that, we should give thanks to God for His providence in our lives. Without it, we wouldn’t even exist.

So, we give thanks to God and we give thanks to others. We feel gratitude and express it. American author Gertrude Stein said, “Silent gratitude isn’t much to anyone.” And it’s true. 

There’s a strange little debate about saying, “Thank you.” It involves store cashiers. Question: After they ring you up, should you thank them or should they thank you? On the one side, some cashiers argue that they’ve provided a service and that the right thing for the customer to do is say, “Thank you.” On the other hand, some customers say they shopped at the store, and because the cashier is paid to do their job, they should thank the customer for shopping there. I agree with both sides, although it does seem less common these days for a cashier to thank a customer. It also feels like we get into some ridiculous arguments.

What got me to thinking about all this “Thank you” business was the second part of our Gospel reading. It was short, so I’ll share it again—“Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, ‘Come here at once and take your place at the table’? Would you not rather say to him, ‘Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink’? Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, ‘We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!’”—and it made me reflect on the nature of gratitude and obedience.

Nowadays, we don’t like talking about masters and slaves, but this is the text we’re given, so let’s work with it.

Put yourself in the place of the master. You own the land, the house… everything. You also own the slave. In Jesus’ time, slaves had some rights but were expected to do what they were told. As the master, you don’t ask your slave to go and plow the field; you tell them to do it, and you expect it to be done. Additionally, as the master, you expect your needs to be met before the slave cares for themselves or others.

If, on the other hand, you were in the place of the slave, then you know that if the master says, “Fix me supper,” you had better jump to it. And as the slave, after you’ve fixed supper and placed it on the table in front of the master, you don’t expect the master to say, “Thank you.” Why? Because, as a slave, you’ve done nothing more than what you are supposed to do. You did it—not because you were being nice, not because you were trying to earn brownie points or favor, and not because you thought you would earn a bonus—you did it because you are a slave, and your obedience is not requested; it is expected. And, as much as we may not always like it, it is this spirit we are to have toward God’s commandments. For example, Jesus said, “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.” 

The way we sometimes act may lead us to read that as some good advice applicable in certain situations, but Jesus said, “A new commandment I give to you.” A commandment is not something that is being requested of you. Like a slave, a commandment is something that is expected of you. On the day of judgment (Lord, Lord, what is this coming to… talking about commandments, obedience, and judgment!) On the day of judgment, God is not going to come up to us and say, “I want to thank you for loving others when it was in your best interest or when you felt like it or when you were in a good mood.” No. Instead, God will say, “I thought I told you to love one another. Why didn’t you?” When we love one another, we are not doing so so that God will pat us on the head and tell us what good boys and girls we are. Instead, when we love one another, we should say, “We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!”

Now, here’s the interesting thing: when we say we are slaves, we are not diminishing ourselves, but are in fact raising ourselves up. As St. Paul tells 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 slave, 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)

For us as followers of Jesus, being slaves and obedient is not about simply following this rule and that rule. Besides, we can see in the Israelites, who had the Law of Moses, that we aren’t so good at keeping rules. Also, being a slave isn’t about being a doormat or being oppressed. Instead, in God the Father’s eyes, our obedience, like that of slaves, is about transformation. Being obedient like a slave involves being transformed into the very image of Christ Jesus. Like Jesus, it means being obedient and taking up our cross. Like Jesus, this obedience isn’t about our own will but the will of the Father. This shows us that such obedience isn’t driven by force or duty. It’s an obedience of love. If you are obedient to God because you’re afraid of going to hell, then you’re acting out of fear of punishment. However, as St. John tells us, “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love. We love because he first loved us.” (1John 4:18-19) 

We were slaves to sin, but when we became obedient to God, we began to resemble Jesus. By becoming like Him, we no longer need to be afraid but are set free to experience God’s love. However, in the words of that TV pitchman, “But wait! There’s more!” For as Paul tells us, “When the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as God’s children. And because you are His children, God has sent the Spirit of His Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!’ So you are no longer a slave, but a child, and if a child, then an heir through God.” (Galatians 4:4-7) Somebody say, “Amen.” 

As slaves in this world, no one will thank you. However, by becoming obedient slaves of God, you will become His children. Not only will you then be set free to love one another and to love God, but you will also gain the freedom and joy to experience God’s true love for you. 

Let us pray: Our obedient Lord Jesus, You obeyed the will of Your Father in Heaven to perfection. Through this obedience, You not only experienced the full love and joy of the Father in Your human nature, but You also set for us a perfect example and model for holiness. Help us to see the areas of our lives in which we need to be more obedient, so that we, too, will share in Your holy life and that of the Father’s. Jesus, we trust in You and we give You praise and thanks. Amen.

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Sermon: Proper 21 RCL C – “Dives in Hell”

Some of the old-timey Gospel music can be fun to listen to. Dr. Ruby Holland sang,
“Get back Satan, I’m running late
Get back Satan, I’m running late
Well I’ve got to get to Heaven, before they close the gate
Get back Satan, I’m running late.”

And Bishop Neal Roberson pleaded,
“Don’t let the devil ride,
Don’t let the devil ride,
Oh if you let him ride, he’ll want to drive…
Please Don’t let him drive your car…
Don’t do it, Don’t do it, Don’t do it!”

A simple theology—Jesus never complicated the message! That’s one of the wonderful things about musicians, artists, writers, and poets using their talents to express God’s truths. However, there are some—much like theologians—who go even deeper, creating works that require great skill and intellect to understand. Today, especially, I’m thinking about Dante Alighieri.

Dante wrote the epic poem The Divine Comedy, which consists of three major parts: Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso (Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise). I’ll be honest and tell you that I have attempted it, but have not yet made it far. My sister-in-law recommended a translation to me, and it is on the way, so I plan to try again. Keep you posted. 

For the opening verse of the first part, Inferno, Dante wrote,

“Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.”

For Dante, who acts as both the narrator and poet, finding himself in the dark forest means he has found himself in a place of sin and spiritual confusion. While searching for a way out, he meets the poet Virgil, who will serve as his guide through the nine levels of the Inferno, hell. 

The deeper the level, the more heinous the sin. Level one includes the unbaptized and virtuous pagans. Level six is guarded by demons and reserved for heretics. Level nine is the home of Satan, where he chews on the worst traitors, including Judas Iscariot and Brutus, as in, et tu Brute? 

For many centuries, Christians held a vivid and imaginative view of hell, but as we became more “enlightened,” that understanding gave way to doubt and disbelief. Now, for many, hell is nothing more than a myth that we tell children to keep them in line on rainy days. The author of the book, The Hell There Is, which we recently discussed at our Saints Book Club, states, “What is more common today, at least among the faithful, is not the outright denial of hell but a kind of practical denial of it by concluding, contrary to Scripture, that very few, if any, go to hell.” (p.2-3) He explains that individuals come to this conclusion because they don’t believe a loving God would condemn anyone to eternal punishment. However, for the author, God is not the one condemning people; rather, they are choosing hell themselves. To demonstrate this, the author references the parable of Lazarus and the rich man (also known as Dives, the Latin word for rich or wealthy). So, how does the parable show the man choosing hell over being condemned to it?

To begin (and I’ll refer to the rich man as Dives), Dives was very well aware of Lazarus’ condition. Lazarus was not sitting at the city gates where he might have occasionally been seen by Dives; instead, Lazarus was sitting at the gates of Dives’ house. Dives would have seen Lazarus every single time he went outside, yet Dives chose to ignore him. Dives did nothing directly against Lazarus, but sin isn’t limited to actions. We pray in the confession, “Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone.” Sins of commission are the wrongs we do, and sins of omission are the good we fail to do, even when we know we should act.

Countless times throughout the history of God’s people, even before the time of Jesus, God called on His people to care for the poor. For example, Deuteronomy 15:11 states, “There will always be poor people in the land. Therefore, I command you to be openhanded toward your fellow Israelites who are poor and needy in your land.”

Disobeying this command, Dives, fully aware of Lazarus’ needs, committed a great sin of omission. He was not compelled to ignore him but chose to. Dives did not choose the ways of God; he chose the ways of self and the devil, making a conscious decision to prefer hell over heaven. Further proof of this choosing is that once there, Dives’ attitude does not change.

In Hades and in torment, Dives looks up and sees Abraham and Lazarus in Paradise. He calls out, “Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.” 

That is the same attitude he had toward Lazarus while he was alive. Lazarus is a non-person to him. He does not ask Abraham to send Lazarus down to where he is so that he can beg for forgiveness. No. Instead, Dives asks for Lazarus to be sent down to serve him. “Abraham, tell that wretch to run this little errand for me.” Neither does Dives ask if he might come up to Heaven so he might escape his torment. He is neither willing to confess nor ask for forgiveness for his sins, which demonstrates that, despite the torments he is currently experiencing, he is still happy with the choices he has made. It is one of those situations where your only regret is that you got caught. Dives chose his current state, and he would rather remain in hell than walk in the ways of God. Do people truly make such an insane choice?

You are familiar with Jesus’ words in John 3:16—“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son…,” and John 3:18 tells us, “Whoever believes in Him [Jesus] is not condemned, but whoever does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God.” Then Jesus says something quite remarkable in verse 19, “And this is the judgment: the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil.” (John 3:19) “This is the judgment,” may also be translated as “This is the condemnation.” So, if we rephrase 3:19, we could say, “This is the condemnation: Jesus came into the world, and people chose the darkness—they chose hell—rather than Jesus, because they preferred their evil ways over the ways of God.” 

Yes. The author of the book is correct in his assertions—God does not condemn a person to hell; they choose it. What makes this choice so woeful is that after death, there’s no second chance. When Dives asked for that cool drop of water, Abraham told him that he had received his reward while alive and ignored the needs of another person. Additionally, Abraham tells Dives, “Between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.” Death is not a threshold we cross. Death is a chasm that, once crossed, cannot be breached.

The author writes, “Think of wet clay on a potter’s wheel. If the clay is moist and still on the wheel, it can be shaped and reshaped, but once it is put in the kiln, in the fire, its shape is fixed forever. So it is with us that when we appear before God, who is a holy fire, our fundamental shape will be forever fixed, our decisions will be final. This is mysterious to us, and we only sense it vaguely, but because heaven and hell are eternal, it seems reasonable to conclude that this forever-fixed state is in our future.” (p.76)

With that understanding, I have some good news for you and I have some bad news for you. Let’s start with the bad news—“All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,” (Romans 3:23) and “the wages of sin is death.” (Romans 6:23) We have sinned and we are dead in our sin; therefore, we are already on the wrong and unbreachable side of the chasm. We are dead in our trespasses and sins because we too have not followed the ways of God. (Cf Ephesians 2:1-3) That’s the bad news. The Good News is this—like the clay on the potter’s wheel, we have not yet been placed in the kiln. Our final shape, our forever-fixed state, is not yet set. There is still time to make another choice—a better and eternal one—and that is what Jesus offers us all. Jesus has created the one and only way by which we can cross the unreachable chasm, and that Way is through Him. “Jesus said to him, ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’” (John 14:6)

“Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.”

Certain actions we take and choices we make can lead us into that same dark forest where we lose the straightforward pathway. If we persist, then, in the end, the consequences of those actions and choices bring us to that Inferno which is forever fixed. If, however, we choose the Way that Christ Jesus has established, then we are gifted an eternal dwelling place with God in the New Jerusalem. My advice then is this,

Don’t let the devil drive your car.
Don’t do it, Don’t do it, Don’t do it!

Let us pray: Loving Father, faith in Your Word is the way to wisdom. Help us to think about Your Divine Plan that we may grow in the truth. Open our eyes to Your deeds, our ears to the sound of Your call, so that our every act may help us share in the life of Jesus. Give us the grace to live the example of the love of Jesus, which we celebrate in the Eucharist and see in the Gospel. Form in us the likeness of Your Son and deepen His Life within us. Amen.

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Sermon: Padre Pio

Yesterday was the feast day of St. Padre Pio. His life was remarkable for many reasons. He was a Capuchin Franciscan monk. He received the stigmata, losing a cup of blood per day; he heard thousands of confessions, and countless miracles have been recorded through his intercessions, both during his life and after his death. In 1947, he heard the confession of a young priest. In 2002, Padre Pio was canonized as a Saint by that same man, now called Pope John Paul II. He died in 1968 at the age of 81. 

Today, I want to share just a few of the sayings of Padre Pio, but I’m going to reserve a bit of my time until after the Eucharist, because I want to share a prayer he wrote that is to be prayed at that time.

We are only capable of doing a little good. But God, in His goodness, has pity on us, is content with very little, and accepts the preparation of our hearts …. God is infinitely greater than our heart and this overcomes the whole world.

The demon has only one door by which to enter into our soul: the will; there are no secret doors. No sin is a sin if not committed with the will. When there is no action of the will, there is no sin, but only human weakness.

Remember that man has a mind, that he has a brain which serves him for reasoning, that he has a heart for feeling, he has a soul. The heart can be commanded by the head, but not the soul, so there must be a Supreme Being who commands the soul … it is impossible to exclude a Supreme Being.

The desire to be in eternal peace is good and holy, but you must moderate this with complete resignation to the divine will. It is better to do the divine will on earth, than to enjoy Paradise.

In a word: obedience is everything to me.

Before you sanctify others, think about sanctifying yourself.

And what man consider his most famous quote is one worth remembering—Pray, hope, and don´t worry. Worry is useless. God is merciful and will hear your prayer.

After Communion… 

Stay with me, Lord, for it is necessary to have You present so that I do not forget You. You know how easily I abandon You.

Stay with me, Lord, because I am weak and I need Your strength, that I may not fall so often.

Stay with me, Lord, for You are my life, and without You, I am without fervor.

Stay with me, Lord, for You are my light, and without You, I am in darkness. Stay with me, Lord, to show me Your will.

Stay with me, Lord, so that I hear Your voice and follow You.

Stay with me, Lord, for I desire to love You very much, and always be in Your company.

Stay with me, Lord, if You wish me to be faithful to You.

Stay with me, Lord, for as poor as my soul is, I want it to be a place of consolation for You, a nest of love.

Stay with me, Jesus, for it is getting late and the day is coming to a close, and life passes; death, judgment, eternity approaches. It is necessary to renew my strength, so that I will not stop along the way and for that, I need You.

It is getting late and death approaches, I fear the darkness, the temptations, the dryness, the cross, the sorrows.

O how I need You, my Jesus, in this night of exile!

Stay with me tonight, Jesus, in life with all its dangers. I need You.

Let me recognize You as Your disciples did at the breaking of the bread, so that the Eucharistic Communion be the Light which disperses the darkness, the force which sustains me, the unique joy of my heart.

Stay with me, Lord, because at the hour of my death, I want to remain united to You, if not by communion, at least by grace and love.

Stay with me, Jesus, I do not ask for divine consolation, because I do not merit it, but the gift of Your Presence, oh yes, I ask this of You!

Stay with me, Lord, for it is You alone I look for, Your Love, Your Grace, Your Will, Your Heart, Your Spirit, because I love You and ask no other reward but to love You more and more.

With a firm love, I will love You with all my heart while on earth and continue to love You perfectly during all eternity. Amen.

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Sermon: Matthew / Heritage Sunday

The Calling of Matthew by Marinus van Reymerswale

Things to say to someone you truly dislike:

“I don’t hate you, I’m just not necessarily excited about your existence.”

“I’m not saying I hate you, what I’m saying is that you are literally the Monday of my life.”

“To me, you are like a cloud. When you disappear, it’s a beautiful day.”

“I don’t hate you, but I’d buy you a toaster oven for your bathtub.”

“I’m not saying I hate you, but I would unplug your life support to charge my phone.”

The state of the world these days has stirred up the same level of hatred (and I would say, dysfunction) in many people, so please do not shout anyone’s name—let’s keep things civil here—but I want you to think about the one person you dislike the most. Imagine them like the Grinch as he was looking at the names in the phone book of the citizens of Whooville, saying, “Hate, hate, hate, double hate, LOATHE entirely.” They pretty much just make you angry when you think about them. You would definitely like to give them a piece of your mind. Got it? Now, turn that feeling inward, where you become the target of that intense hatred.

That may seem very unhealthy for many, but for some, it’s how they feel about themselves. If you hate them, try stepping inside their heads for a few minutes, and you’ll realize they hate themselves even more than you ever imagined.

Experts tell us that there are several reasons why someone might not like or even hate themselves. One reason is the illusory truth effect, also known as the illusion of truth effect. A current example of this is what has come to be known as “fake news.” 

Believe it or not, fake news exists. Oy! The trick with fake news is to repeat something enough times, whether it’s true or not, and people will start to believe it. The same idea applies to individuals. If you tell a child enough times that they are stupid, even if they have an IQ off the charts, the child is likely to come to believe they are, in fact, stupid. Tell them or treat them as if they are unloved, and they’ll begin to think that way too. We start to believe what others say about us, whether it’s true or not. What does this have to do with today and our Patron Saint, Matthew? I always imagined Matthew sitting alone at a table while people came up to pay their taxes when they were due. But I was wrong.

As we know, during Jesus’ time, the Romans occupied the Holy Land; therefore, they claimed the right to tax the people. To collect the taxes, the Roman senate appointed wealthy citizens to oversee specific areas of collection. These Roman citizens would then hire managers for those areas, who in turn would hire local individuals fluent in the local language to collect the taxes. These local tax collectors were called publicani.

The rules these tax collectors worked under appears to have been, “Tax everything.” And they were inventive. There were taxes “on axles, wheels, pack animals, pedestrians, roads, highways; on admission to markets; on carriers, bridges, ships, and quays; on crossing rivers, on dams, on licenses—in short, on such a variety of objects that even the research of modern scholars has not been able to identify them all.” Additionally, everyone from the Roman government to the publicani wanted a little piece of the action, so the publicani cheated their own people and charged extra.

Matthew, known in one translation as “The Lord of the Passage,” was in Capernaum, a prime location for collecting taxes. He would have been able to tax people traveling on the roads around the Sea of Galilee, including farmers, fishermen, and those arriving by boat. As a result, he would have been loathed entirely by both Jews and Gentiles. One source states that he would not have even been allowed to enter the Temple, and highly religious Jews would be considered unclean if they so much as touched him.

The building he worked in—think toll booth—was a busy place, with Roman guards and soldiers hanging about (seeing to it that everyone paid and no one tried to rob the place) and a line of folks waiting to pay. The mood: hostile and downcast, and there sits Matthew, not caring what you think about paying taxes or what you think about him. Yell, cry, cuss—whatever you please—you’re going to pay, and he doesn’t care. At the end of the day, he’s going home with a fat wallet. Yet, “As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth; and he said to him, ‘Follow me.’ And he got up and followed him.”

Without hesitation, Matthew walked away from it all—the job, the money, everything. He walked away from it all to follow a wandering Rabbi. What would make him do it? On that, the Gospel—even Matthew’s own Gospel—is silent, but I can’t help but wonder.

Some folks can be yelled at and cussed all day long without it affecting them one little bit. Like water off a duck’s back. But for most, it may not impact them much initially, yet over time, it begins to wear on them. Just ask anyone who has ever been in an abusive relationship—they start to believe every word—an illusion of truth effect. So I had to wonder, even with the job and the money, do you think it’s possible that Matthew came to hate himself as much as the people hated him? It wasn’t some pity party, but I wonder if, over time, he started to believe he had no real value, no true friends, no real life. Did he come to believe that he was nothing more than the names people called him?

Perhaps he wasn’t a Biblical whiz kid, but he remembers a few things from his youth, like the words of Psalm 22.

I am a worm and not a man,
    scorned by everyone, despised by the people.

All who see me mock me;
    they hurl insults, shaking their heads. (Psalm 22:6-7)

And, day after day, as he sat there collecting taxes and enduring all the abuse the people dished out, do you think he might have hoped for something better? A life where he could be accepted and valued? A life where he could be loved?

Again, the Gospel is silent, but I have to wonder: when Jesus walked by, did he catch Matthew’s eyes? And in Jesus’ eyes, did Matthew see it all—everything he truly wanted: acceptance and value? And in those two words, “Follow me,” did Matthew hear Love calling out to him?

The Blessed Virgin Mary. In Luke’s Gospel, we learn that when Mary discovered she was with child, she went to visit her cousin Elizabeth. When she entered Elizabeth’s house, Mary greeted her. Scripture says, “When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, ‘Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy.’” Elizabeth’s unborn son, John the Baptist, heard Mary’s greeting and knew that Jesus was near, so he responded with joy by leaping in the womb. I wonder if, in a similar way, when Matthew heard the voice of Jesus, “Follow me,” did his soul leap for joy within him?

Former Presiding Bishop Michael Curry said, “When you look at Jesus, you see one who is loving, one who is liberating, and one who is life-giving.” Matthew was loved by God, he was liberated from those things that bound him, and he was given new life in Jesus. 

I came across a quote this past week attributed to Kahlil Gibran, the Lebanese-American writer and philosopher. After a bit of research, I found that he did not actually say it, but the quote remains quite meaningful—”God said ‘Love Your Enemy,’ and I obeyed him and loved myself.”

Matthew saw, heard, and I believe his soul leapt within him when Jesus called out to him. Matthew no longer hated the enemy; he no longer hated himself but learned to love himself because he finally understood what it meant to be loved. In doing these things and in allowing himself to be loved by Jesus, he became a Saint of God.                                                                       

That is also true when you see Jesus, and it is true when you hear him. If you will look up into the face of Jesus, listen to his voice, and follow Him, He will do the same for you. And not only will he make you a saint, but He will make you a child of God Most High.

Let us pray: O Glorious St. Matthew, in your Gospel you portray Jesus as the longed-for Messiah who fulfilled the Prophets of the Old Covenant and as the new Lawgiver who founded a Church of the New Covenant. Obtain for us the grace to see Jesus living in his Church and to follow his teachings in our lives on earth so that we may live forever with him in heaven. Amen.

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Sermon: Holy Cross

Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw, known as “Sam Bahadur,” served in the Indian Army for forty years and was the first to attain the rank of Field Marshal. His nickname was Sam Bahadur—Sam the Brave. Highly decorated and highly respected. When asked whether he had a fear of death, he replied, “If a man says he is not afraid of dying, he is either lying or is a Gurkha.”

Gurkha refers to the Brigade of Gurkhas, a rifle regiment of the British Army composed of men from Nepal. Of them, Field Marshal Viscount Slim wrote, “The Almighty created in the Gurkhas an ideal infantryman, indeed an ideal Rifleman, brave, tough, patient, adaptable, skilled in fieldcraft, intensely proud of his military record and unswerving loyalty.” However, despite all this praise, at one point, a British Commander asked for volunteers from a unit of 200 Gurkhas to join the Airborne Division—those who parachute into enemy territory. Of the 200, only five volunteered; the rest shook their heads. Hearing of their bravery, he asked the Gurkha commander why so few were willing to join. It was then that the misunderstanding was uncovered—the Gurkhas knew they would be jumping from an airplane, but they didn’t know anything about parachutes.

From that, it’s easy to understand why so few volunteered, but let me ask you this: what the heck was going through the heads of those five who said, Yes? 

Today, we celebrate the Feast of the Holy Cross. It is a day to remember and honor the Cross of Jesus and to commemorate the day when the true Cross was discovered. 

That story begins on May 3, 326. Helena, the mother of Constantine, the first Christian Roman Emperor, is said to have found the true cross in Jerusalem.

Helena went on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem to visit the most important sites in Jesus’ life. After talking to many people, she found out that Jesus’ cross, along with the crosses of the two criminals crucified on either side, had been buried to hide them. Some reports say that when she unearthed the crosses, the one belonging to Jesus still had the sign Pilate had ordered put on it: “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” Other reports say that at first, they couldn’t tell which cross was which. So, they brought a dying woman to the site of the three crosses and laid her on each one. Then, St. Macarius, the Bishop of Jerusalem, said a prayer. 

“O Lord, who by the Passion of Thine only Son on the cross, didst deign to restore salvation to mankind, and who even now hast inspired thy handmaid Helena to seek for the blessed wood to which the author of our salvation was nailed, show clearly which it was, among the three crosses, that was raised for Thy glory. Distinguish it from those which only served for a common execution. Let this woman who is now expiring return from death’s door as soon as she is touched by the wood of salvation.”

Upon touching the wood of the true cross of Jesus, she was restored to health. True or false? Some might say such stories are nothing more than foolishness. Maybe. But St. Paul tells us, “For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” (1 Corinthians 1:18)

A few weeks ago, we talked about Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, the author of The Gulag Archipelago. The book describes the ten years he spent in a Russian prison. But before he was imprisoned for speaking out against the Communists, he was actually a supporter. Early in his life, he drank the Kool-Aid and became an atheist. That was what most young Russians were doing as they bought into the system. So, when he went to prison, he was an atheist, but when he got out, he rediscovered the faith of his childhood.

The prison was in Siberia. He was cold, hungry, and feeling defeated there. The story describes a day when he was working outside. The wind was howling, and he felt miserable. Standing there, leaning on his shovel, he finally lost all hope. He simply did not care what would happen to him.

He saw a nearby bench, so he dropped his shovel, walked over, and sat down. As he sat there, he fully expected to be beaten to death by a guard for his actions. It is what happened to any prisoner who was disobedient. 

After a short while, he heard someone approaching. He thought it was the guard, but it wasn’t. It was another prisoner—an old, very thin man. The man said nothing to Solzhenitsyn. Instead, he knelt in front of him and, with a small stick, scratched out the sign of the cross in the dirt. Then he got up and hurried back to work.

Solzhenitsyn looked at that crude cross, and some part of the true light of God reached him through it. In that moment, he realized that he did not have to face these terrors alone and that he did not have to survive on his own strength. “With the power of the cross, he could withstand the evil of not just one but a thousand Soviet empires.” (The Sign of the Cross, Gezzi, p.3-4)

Listen to these words of the theologian Stanley Hauerwas.

“The cross is not a sign of the church’s quiet, suffering submission to the powers-that-be, but rather the church’s revolutionary participation in the victory of Christ over those powers. The cross is not a symbol for general human suffering and oppression. Rather, the cross is a sign of what happens when one takes God’s account of reality more seriously than Caesar’s. The cross stands as God’s (and our) eternal no to the powers of death, as well as God’s eternal yes to humanity, God’s remarkable determination not to leave us to our own devices.” (Resident Aliens: Life in the Christian Colony, p.47)

These days, when you sit down to watch TV or the news, you see a great deal of violence. Some of the violence appears in the TV shows or movies we watch. And now, a lot of the violence is in the news. I remember a time (showing my age here) when news reporters would say something like, “Due to the nature of the material, you may want to have your children leave the room.” Not anymore. Now, they just throw it out there, and we all have the opportunity to struggle with PTSD. The concern with this bombardment of violence is that we are becoming desensitized to it. It no longer affects us. What we see on the news might as well be a video game because it all looks the same.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “For the great and powerful of this world, there are only two places in which their courage fails them, of which they are afraid deep down in their souls, from which they shy away. These are the manger and the cross of Jesus Christ.” (God Is in the Manger: Reflections on Advent and Christmas) This used to be true, but I believe, like the violence around us, we have become desensitized to the manger and the Cross of Christ. They no longer influence our thinking, our actions, or our way of life. We see the Cross everywhere—jewelry, T-shirts, 100-foot statues beside the road, all the way down to being stitched and bejeweled across the backside of a pair of jeans. It no longer has the power to strike a holy fear in the hearts of those who see it, but it should.

The Cross was once an instrument of torture and death. However, through Christ, the Cross was transformed into—not just “a” symbol—but the very means of our salvation, our victory over Satan and death. St. John Vianney tells us, “The sign of the cross is the most terrible weapon against the devil.” And Thomas à Kempis states, “In the cross is salvation, in the cross is life, in the cross is protection from enemies, in the cross is infusion of heavenly sweetness, in the cross is strength of mind, in the cross is joy of spirit, in the cross is highest virtue, in the cross is perfect holiness. There is no salvation of soul nor hope of everlasting life but in the cross.”

Remember those five Gurkha soldiers—the ones who volunteered to jump out of the plane even before they knew about parachutes? They weren’t crazy. They weren’t blindly risking their lives like suicide bombers. Nor were they so naive that they had no idea what happens when someone falls from a great height. Instead, they had this courage—this faith in themselves and their abilities. Crazy as we might think them, they thought, “I can do that.” 

I’m not asking you to jump out of an airplane without a parachute, but I am asking you to have that kind of courage and put that kind of faith in the Cross of Jesus.

Going forward, when you see the Cross, don’t just look at it without recognizing what it represents, for it is nothing less than the power of God working in you, for you, and through you. 

I love that verse from Joshua when the Lord says, “Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9) The Lord our God “gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control,” (2 Timothy 1:7) and we can know and experience these things through the Holy Cross of Jesus.

Let us pray: Holy Cross of Jesus, be my true light! Holy Cross, fill my soul with good thoughts. Holy Cross, ward off from me all things that are evil. Holy Cross, ward off from me all dangers and deaths and give me life everlasting! Crucified Jesus of Nazareth, have mercy on me now and forever. Amen.

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Sermon: Proper 17 RCL C – “The Lord’s Possession”

A father told his daughter, “You graduated with honors; here is a car I bought many years ago. It’s quite old now. But before I give it to you, take it to the used car lot downtown and tell them I want to sell it to see how much they’ll offer.” The daughter went to the used car lot, came back, and said, “They offered me $1,000 because it looks very worn out.” The father then said, “Take it to the pawnshop.” The daughter went to the pawnshop, returned, and said, “They offered $100 because it is a very old car.” The father then asked his daughter to show the car at a car club. The daughter took the car there, came back, and told her father, “Some people in the club offered $100,000 because it’s a Nissan Skyline R34, an iconic car that’s highly sought after.” The father said, “The right place values you the right way. If you are not valued, don’t be upset; it means you are in the wrong place. Those who recognize your worth are the ones who appreciate you. Never stay in a place where no one sees your value.”

While he was in Corinth, the Apostle Paul wrote a letter to the church in Rome—The Letter to the Romans. He had not yet visited the city, but news of the church there had reached him.

Broken down, Romans provides guidance on several topics, but overall, Paul’s main concern is the conflict between Jewish Christians and Gentile Christians. This was actually a common issue in the early Church. 

We know that the Israelites are God’s chosen people. The word “chosen” is defined as “selected or marked for favor or special privilege.” That very much describes the Covenant God made with Abraham and explains why the Israelites were chosen. When making the Covenant, God said, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” (Genesis 12:2-3)

It is easy to see the “marked for favor or special privilege” in those words. And it is also easy to overlook why the Israelites were so marked, but it is right there in the middle—“And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing.”

Yes, God says, I am setting you apart for blessing and honor, but I am doing so for a very specific purpose. I am blessing you so that you will be a blessing to the world. The Lord stated it clearly through the Prophet Isaiah.

“It is too light a thing that you should be my servant
    to raise up the tribes of Jacob”

(The “tribes of Jacob” is understood to be all the Jewish people—the Israelites.)

“It is too light a thing that you should be my servant
    to raise up the tribes of Jacob
    and to bring back the preserved of Israel;
I will make you as a light for the nations,
    that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.” (Isaiah 49:6)

God selected the Israelites to be His chosen people so they could bless others, and in return, He promised to bless them. However, somewhere along the way, it seems that the Israelites focused more on being blessed than on blessing others. They viewed their chosen-ness as a privilege and a right to look down on those around them.

Following the death and resurrection of Jesus, many Israelites became Christians and brought their Jewish practices with them. This wasn’t a problem as long as they didn’t impose these practices on the Gentiles. However, they also carried with them a false idea of being chosen and privileged. So, in his letter to the Romans, Paul asks, “What then? Are we Jews any better off? No, not at all. For we have already charged that all, both Jews and Greeks, are under sin.” (Romans 3:9) A few paragraphs later, he asks, “Is God the God of Jews only? Is he not the God of Gentiles also? Yes, of Gentiles also, since God is one—who will justify” both by faith. (Romans 3:29-30) In other words, no one has any special privileges except those who come to God in faith. Therefore, Paul says in chapter 12 of Romans, “Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor.” (Romans 12:9-10) and “Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly.” (Romans 12:16a)

This theme recurs often in Paul’s letters. In his letter to the Philippians: “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.” (Philippians 2:3-4) To the Ephesians, he says, “I… urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.” (Ephesians 4:1-3)

This all connects back to and could have originated from the events in our Gospel reading today. 

Jesus was invited to the home of a Pharisee to share a Sabbath meal. As we know, most Pharisees were not real fond of Jesus and were happy to let him know. Usually, when they had Him around, they looked for ways to trap Him. This time is no different. 

The Pharisees closely resembled the Jewish Christians of Paul’s time. They, more than any other Israelites, were called to be the priests—if you will, the light of the lights of the world. Instead, they became a burden to the people and saw themselves as superior. In their eyes, they were the truly chosen. Remember the Pharisee and the tax collector praying in the Temple, and how the Pharisee prayed, “God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.” (Luke 18:11-12) 

And, in the time of Jesus, this one-upmanship wasn’t limited to the religious leaders. Remember when James’ and John’s momma got into the mix? “Say that these two sons of mine are to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your kingdom.” (Matthew 20:21) Then there was the argument over who is the greatest. On and on and round and round. It all boils down to the same thing—they all wanted the best seat at the party or, at the very least, a place at the head table. 

You’re probably thinking, I know where he’s going with this one. He’s going to tell us how we wrongfully assign value to others based on influence, income, status, and similar factors. That’s a sermon I’ve preached before, but today, I want you to focus on yourself. What value do you place on your own soul? 

I know many people who believe their worth to the world doesn’t even reach 100 dollars—pocket change, if that. They think that not only are they unworthy of a good place at the table, but they shouldn’t even be invited to the banquet. Yet, Jesus the Good Shepherd would leave the ninety-nine to find you. No matter how you see yourself, Jesus looked at you and said, You are worth dying for. Each individual soul is of the utmost value to God. To paraphrase St. Augustine, “The whole universe, with all its good things, is not worth as much as the soul of one humble person.”

St. Paul said, “For none of us lives for ourselves alone, and none of us dies for ourselves alone. If we live, we live for the Lord; and if we die, we die for the Lord. So, whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s possession.” (Romans 14:7-8)

We are given the freedom to set aside concerns about which seat we hold at the table. Why? Because we are all the Lord’s possessions. He bought us with His very own blood. Therefore, our one and only concern should be whether or not we are living a life worthy of an invitation to the banquet. That is why Paul and Jesus both became upset about this argument. It was never about who was the greatest or who would sit at the head table. It has always been about who would be invited to the banquet—who would attain salvation. 

Jesus’ life, every word and action, proclaims to you, You are worth more to me than life itself. I invite you to the banquet. I have a seat set aside just for you. Here, He says, is your invitation. All you need to do is accept.

Let us pray: O God, source of all life and goodness, you fashion human lives in your image and likeness, and through your love, give each human life dignity, sacredness, and priceless worth; awaken in every heart new reverence for the least of your children, and renew among your people a readiness to nurture and sustain your precious gift of human life at all stages, and in all conditions. Amen.

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Sermon: Bernard of Clairvaux

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.

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Sermon: Proper 15 RCL C – “Crisis”

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.

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Sermon: Proper 14 RCL C – “O My 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.

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