Christ Breaking Down the Gates of Hell by Imitator of Hieronymus Bosch
An Ancient Holy Saturday Sermon – author is unknown
“What is happening? Today there is a great silence over the earth, a great silence, and stillness, a great silence because the King sleeps; the earth was in terror and was still, because God slept in the flesh and raised up those who were sleeping from the ages. God has died in the flesh, and the underworld has trembled.
Truly he goes to seek out our first parent like a lost sheep; he wishes to visit those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death. He goes to free the prisoner Adam and his fellow-prisoner Eve from their pains, he who is God, and Adam’s son.
The Lord goes in to them holding his victorious weapon, his cross. When Adam, the first created man, sees him, he strikes his breast in terror and calls out to all: ‘My Lord be with you all.’ And Christ in reply says to Adam: ‘And with your spirit.’ And grasping his hand he raises him up, saying: ‘Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give you light.
‘I am your God, who for your sake became your son, who for you and your descendants now speak and command with authority those in prison: Come forth, and those in darkness: Have light, and those who sleep: Rise.
‘I command you: Awake, sleeper, I have not made you to be held a prisoner in the underworld. Arise from the dead; I am the life of the dead. Arise, O man, work of my hands, arise, you who were fashioned in my image. Rise, let us go hence; for you in me and I in you, together we are one undivided person.
‘For you, I your God became your son; for you, I the Master took on your form; that of slave; for you, I who am above the heavens came on earth and under the earth; for you, man, I became as a man without help, free among the dead; for you, who left a garden, I was handed over to Jews from a garden and crucified in a garden.
‘Look at the spittle on my face, which I received because of you, in order to restore you to that first divine inbreathing at creation. See the blows on my cheeks, which I accepted in order to refashion your distorted form to my own image.
‘See the scourging of my back, which I accepted in order to disperse the load of your sins which was laid upon your back. See my hands nailed to the tree for a good purpose, for you, who stretched out your hand to the tree for an evil one.
`I slept on the cross and a sword pierced my side, for you, who slept in paradise and brought forth Eve from your side. My side healed the pain of your side; my sleep will release you from your sleep in Hades; my sword has checked the sword which was turned against you.
‘But arise, let us go hence. The enemy brought you out of the land of paradise; I will reinstate you, no longer in paradise, but on the throne of heaven. I denied you the tree of life, which was a figure, but now I myself am united to you, I who am life. I posted the cherubim to guard you as they would slaves; now I make the cherubim worship you as they would God.
“The cherubim throne has been prepared, the bearers are ready and waiting, the bridal chamber is in order, the food is provided, the everlasting houses and rooms are in readiness; the treasures of good things have been opened; the kingdom of heaven has been prepared before the ages.”
Broken Windows is the title of an article in an issue of The Atlantic from 1982. It stated, “Social psychologists and police officers tend to agree that if a window in a building is broken and is left unrepaired, all the rest of the windows will soon be broken. This is as true in nice neighborhoods as in rundown ones.” (Source)
Years before the article, a psychologist at Stanford, Philip Zimbardo, had already tested the theory. Instead of looking at windows, he put out cars. One in a “good” neighborhood and the other in a “bad” neighborhood. He removed the license plate on both and left the hood open. Ten minutes after being abandoned in the “bad” neighborhood, a family came along and took the battery and the radiator. Within twenty-four hours, the car was completely stripped and vandalized.
After a week, in the “good” neighborhood, nothing had happened, so Zimbardo went down with a sledgehammer and did some minor damage—nothing like a bit of inspiration. Within twenty-four hours, the car was completely trashed and flipped over.
“Good” neighborhood or “bad” neighborhood did not make a difference. Once the destruction began, it continued until the job was finished. Break a window in a building, and eventually, all the windows will be broken.
In the beginning, God created the Heavens and the Earth. On day six, God created Adam and Eve. They were free to live in the Garden for as long as they liked, provided they didn’t eat from one tree—The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Yet, “when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate.” (Genesis 3:6)
Adam and Eve took a bite of the fruit, and the Devil picked up a rock, threw it, broke the first pane of glass, and damaged the image of God that is within each one of us. Since that day, the Devil and the world have continued the destruction. We have also thrown a few rocks. Every harsh word, injustice, lack of mercy, bigotry… every sin has been one more broken pane until there are more broken panes than whole.
Even so, God still loves us.
Thomas Merton wrote, “At the end of the first Epistle of Saint Paul to the Corinthians: ‘I shall know even as I have been known.’
“It is in the passion of Christ that God has proved to us that He has ‘known’ us. That He has recognized us in our misery. That He has found His lost image in our fallen state and reclaimed it for His own, cleansed in the charity of His Divine Son.
“It is on the Cross that God has known us: that He has searched our souls with His compassion and experienced the full extent of capacity for wickedness: it is on the Cross that He has known our exile, and ended it, and brought us home to Him.” (A Year with Thomas Merton, p.57)
God looked and saw all that was broken within us, yet He could still see His image, so He declared, “These are My children—they are broken. Through their sin, they are separated from Me, but they are Mine, and I will not abandon them to be utterly destroyed.” So God, in His great love, chose to allow Himself to be destroyed. Destroyed upon a Cross that we might once again be whole.
Jesus said, “‘It is finished.’ Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.” Jesus said, “I choose to be destroyed so that you may be made new.”
“On the first day of Unleavened Bread, when they sacrificed the Passover lamb, [Jesus’] disciples said to him, “Where will you have us go and prepare for you to eat the Passover?” And he sent two of his disciples and said to them, “Go into the city, and a man carrying a jar of water will meet you. Follow him, and wherever he enters, say to the master of the house, ‘The Teacher says, Where is my guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?’ And he will show you a large upper room furnished and ready; there prepare for us.” (Mark 14:12-15)
The Last Supper by Leonardo da Vinci is perhaps the most famous, but many others have attempted to capture that scene. The one on the cover of your bulletin was painted by Titian, an Italian artist from the 16th century. If you study it, you will discover many symbols that help identify who each person represents.
Second, from the left, I believe, is James because of the shell on his shoulder. Second, from the right, I think, is Bartholomew. You see, he is wrapped in a cloak, and the edge hangs over the side of the table. If you look closely, the part that hangs over appears to be an upside-down face. Bartholomew was flayed alive, and he is often pictured holding his skin. And, of course, beside him is Judas, the money bag in his left hand. Behind Jesus and to the right is the tree—a representation of the cross that was near to Jesus since his birth. You can notice all these things as you study the painting, but then you see Jesus’ eyes. Everyone else is distracted, looking here and there and engaged in some conversation (except for John, who is sleeping on our Lord’s breast), but not Jesus. Jesus is looking at you. When you see Jesus’ eyes, everything else becomes a bit blurry. Less important. With his hand, he is gesturing. He is inviting you to pull up a chair and join him, but there are so many years between that meal and today. How could we?
in Book 4, Chapter 12 of The Imitation of Christ, my friend, Thomas à Kempis, speaks about Jesus preparing for that last meal with his disciples. Thomas imagines the words of Christ—“I AM the Lover of purity, the Giver of all holiness. I seek a pure heart, and there is the place of My rest. Prepare for Me a large room furnished, and I, with My disciples, will keep the Passover with you. If you wish that I come to you and remain with you, purge out the old leaven and make clean the dwelling of your heart.”
We cannot join Jesus in the upper room that was prepared those years ago, but we can prepare the upper room of our hearts. We, through our confession and devotions, can set the table within. A table covered in fine white linen, adorned with our very best. We can prepare this table of our hearts and say, “Come, Lord Jesus. Dine with me,” and He, with His disciples, will enter in.
Following such a meal, the Lord will get up from the table, take off his outer robe, and tie a towel around himself. Then he will pour water into a basin and wash the feet of all those in the room, including yours, cleansing you of the final remnants of your former self. Making you worthy to enter into His Kingdom.
Look into the eyes of Jesus. He is all that matters. Allow him entry into the banquet you have prepared for Him within your heart.
Many of you know that I enjoy writing. Because I do, I joined the Enid Writers Club last year—a wonderful group of people who learn from and support one another. Poets, novelists, short story writers—most genres are represented.
Earlier in the school year, I thought about how we could encourage young writers, and we came up with the idea of a short story scholarship for graduating seniors. $1,000 will be awarded to the winner and paid to the school they will attend. Through our Community Tithe, St. Matthew’s supported the idea by funding the scholarship.
The rules were simple—2,000 words maximum short story and keep it PG13. The competition ended about a month ago, and we had five entries. The winner has been selected and notified, and we’ll make a presentation at the club’s banquet in May.
To get the writers off to a good start, we provided them with a writing prompt that they were to base their story. I wrote that and was hoping to provide a large enough canvas to let their imaginations work, and it did. “You and another person are traveling by car through the mountains. You enter a long tunnel and reach a point where you can no longer see the light from either end. There’s a loud roar and a flash of light. All is black. The vehicle is dead, and nothing works. You have no cell phone signal and only one light source unrelated to the car.”
The students wrote some great stories, but what I found interesting was that four out of five stories were about some aspect of death.
When I wrote that prompt, I thought they might come up with some Stephen King-type stories, but it wasn’t until I reread the prompt that I understood why death was so popular of a topic—tunnel, no light, no communication, all is black. Yep, that sounds like death.
Today, in our Gospel, John also wanted his readers to come to a similar conclusion about one of those he was writing about—Judas. There was talk of betrayal, a cryptic sign about the betrayer, Satan entering Judas, then leaving, and no one knows where he is going, but it wasn’t until those final few words that it is made clear—“he—Judas—immediately went out. And it was night.” He turned from the light, passed through the door, and went into the dark, into death.
Jesus said, “If anyone walks in the day, he does not stumble, because he sees the light of this world. But if anyone walks in the night, he stumbles, because the light is not in him.” (John 11:9-10) Again, a few verses on, He reiterates this point, “The light is among you for a little while longer. Walk while you have the light, lest darkness overtake you. The one who walks in the darkness does not know where he is going. While you have the light, believe in the light, that you may become sons of light.” (John 12:35-36)
In our lives, we can find ourselves in a tunnel without light, and we can intentionally walk out into the night. Still, the greatest danger for a Christian person is to be walking along in the spiritual light and not recognize it is getting dark. Not recognize that we have strayed. Therefore, we must remain alert, keeping our eyes on Jesus, the true light.
St. Paul tells us, “You are all children of light, children of the day. We are not of the night or of the darkness.” (1 Thessalonians 5:5) Remain in the light by remaining focused on Jesus.
During the Mass, the priest recites the words Jesus spoke at the Last Supper, “Do this in remembrance of me.” (Luke 22:19) For us, the word “remembrance” is most often defined as recollecting or bringing to mind. However, when Jesus spoke those words, He had something very specific in mind, and it was far more than a simple remembrance.
The word remembrance is from the Greek word anamnésis (ἀνάμνησις). The word is somewhat nuanced, but what Jesus had in mind was for us to not only remember Him and His words, deeds, and actions but also to make Him present. “Do this in remembrance of me… Do this and make me present.” Truly present in the bread and the wine. It is this understanding of remembrance that we should apply to Holy Week—Palm Sunday through the Sunday of the Resurrection. What would this look like?
Take, for example, Palm Sunday. On this day, we remember Jesus’ triumphal entry into the Holy City of Jerusalem. The Gospel of Luke tells us that as Jesus rode along on the donkey, the people laid their cloaks before Him, waved palm branches, and shouted, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” (Luke 19:38)
To simply remember this day is to read or hear the words and to see the scene unfold before you as though you were standing above it and watching it from above. To remember—anamnésis—is to be one who is standing alongside the road, crying out the words yourself, laying down your cloak, breathing in the stirred-up dust of all those people welcoming and worshipping the King. To anamnésis is to be one who reaches out and touches the King of Kings as He passes, truly in His presence.
This Holy Week, do more than be an observer of those great events that took place over 2,000 years ago. Be a part of them. Engage with them in such a way that you are in the upper room with Jesus, on the hill outside Jerusalem when He is lifted up, there when He is placed in His tomb and overjoyed as you stand with Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, staring into the empty tomb.
Flevit super illam/He Wept Over It by Enrique Simonet
Five days pass between Jesus’ triumphal entry, which we read about before receiving the palms, and the beginning of the Passion narrative. In those five days, many things happened, including the telling of many great parables, Jesus cursing the fig tree, the institution of the Lord’s Supper, and the washing of the disciples’ feet. Jesus also has several run-ins with the various religious leaders and, at one point, speaks many condemnations to them, saying, “Woe to you scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites.”
Jesus condemns them because of their arrogance in thinking they were better than others, for binding up the people with so many rules and regulations that those who desired to serve God were overwhelmed and disheartened in their faith, for putting faith in things over caring for people, for forgetting to show justice and mercy and to be faithful, for condemning others when they themselves are in error, for hypocrisy and lawlessness, and willful ignorance of their own faults. He then concludes with a lament over Jerusalem,
The lament begins, “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem,”—another way of speaking of the religious leaders and those who have failed to believe—“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you desolate. For I tell you, you will not see me again, until you say, ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.’” (Matthew 23:37-39)
With those final words, Jesus repeats to this same group the words proclaimed during the triumphal entry, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.” In doing so, He is saying to the religious leaders, “You have not yet believed, but there will come a day when you have no choice but to believe.” As St. Paul said to the Philippians, “God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” (Philippians 29-11)
“Woe to you, Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you will bend your knee and confess Jesus Christ as Lord, and you will do so either out of love and obedience or out of fear, trembling, and judgment… but you will confess.”
The error we can make today is wrongly believing that these words do not apply to us. That was then; this is now. Woe to those religious leaders and others who do not believe. We are safe, for we are God’s people, but that is the exact same thing those religious leaders thought. Therefore, we must be on our guard so that we do not become Jerusalem, Jerusalem, and it is an easy trap to fall into. We will do so by making the same mistakes as they made in the past—by putting up barriers to God, by caring for things, by not showing justice, mercy, and faithfulness, by condemning the world around us while thinking we are the holy ones, and by being willfully ignorant and turning a blind eye to our own faults.
Declare, not only with your lips but also with your heart and soul—your entire being—declare, “Blessed is he—Blessed is Jesus who comes in the Name of the Lord,” and leave behind that old Jerusalem so that you may become citizens of the New Jerusalem. A city, as St. John tells us in his Revelation—that has been adorned as a bride for her husband, the dwelling place of God, where there are no more tears, no more mourning, crying, pain… no more death. (cf. Revelation 21:1-4) Become citizens of that New Jerusalem where all things have been made new and restored to God.
Question: If I were to say to you, “The world is my oyster,” what would you take that to mean?
{Pause for answers.}
That’s what most would say, but it is actually only half of a line from Shakespeare’s Merry Wives of Windsor.
In Act II, Scene II, two thieves, Falstaff and Pistol, enter and are having a conversation.
Falstaff: I will not lend thee a penny.
Pistol: Why then the world’s mine oyster, Which I with sword will open.
Falstaff: Not a penny.
“Why then the world’s mine oyster,” when the rest of the sentence is added, “Which I with sword will open,” is saying, “Anything I want is mine, and I’ll take by any means necessary, including violence.”
From “Money is the root of all evil” to “Now is the winter of our discontent,” there are many examples of taking a part of a sentence or statement out of context and having it say the complete opposite or never intended interpretation of the original intent. When we do this in working with Holy Scripture, we call it proof-texting, and today, in our Gospel, we have a fine illustration.
“Jesus said to the Jews who had believed in him, “‘If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.’”
“The truth will make you free,” or “The truth will set you free.” It is everywhere, including titles of books, with those books ranging in topics from psychiatry, finding your true self, and video games. Then you’ve got politicians batting it about, but I don’t know one of them that would know the truth if it smacked them upside the head (but that’s a commentary and not preaching). The trouble is, all of these use the statement out of context, because the truth they are referring to is not the truth Jesus was referring to when he spoke those words. It is not some random truth that will set you free.
St. Thomas Aquinas, that great 13th-century Dominican theologian, wrote, “In this passage, being made free does not refer to being freed of every type of wrong . . .; it means being freed in the proper sense of the word, in three ways: first, the truth of his teaching will free us from the error of untruth …; second, the truth of grace will liberate us from the slavery of sin: ‘the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set me free from the law of sin and death’ (Rom 8:2); third, the truth of eternity in Christ Jesus will free us from decay. (cf. Rom 8:2 1)”
There are many truths out there, but the only one that will truly set you free is Jesus, His grace, and His teachings. As Jesus, the Son of God, said, “If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.”
You all know that I’m a fan of Stephen King, but many people won’t pick up anything he’s written. Too scary for most, although much of what he writes isn’t what you think it is. To illustrate the point, King tells a story. He says, “I was in a supermarket down here in Florida, and I came around the corner, and there was a woman coming the other way. She pointed at me, she said, ‘I know who you are! You’re Stephen King! You write all of those horrible things. And that’s ok. That’s all right. But I like uplifting things, like that movie Shawshank Redemption.’ And I said, ‘I wrote that!’ And she said, ‘No, you didn’t. No, you didn’t.’” Well, he did write Shawshank Redemption, which is a fantastic story. This week, I was reminded of a particular scene in the movie version.
An old prisoner, Brooks Handlin, has learned that he will be paroled, but instead of being overjoyed, he begins acting very erratic, even threatening to kill another prisoner. It seems odd to most, but Red—another of the characters—understands. Red says, “Brooks is just institutionalized. The man’s been in here 50 years… 50 years! This is all he knows. You know what I’m trying to say? I’m telling you, these walls are funny. First, you hate them, then you get used to them. Enough time passes, you get to depend on them. That’s institutionalized.”
In reading our first lesson today, you would think that Stephen King wrote it—the Valley of Dry Bones. To understand what Ezekiel was writing, we must go back in history.
In Deuteronomy, the Lord says, “If you faithfully obey the voice of the Lord your God, being careful to do all his commandments that I command you today—that is, follow the Law—the Lord your God will set you high above all the nations of the earth.” (28:1) A few verses on comes the “but.” “But if you will not obey the voice of the Lord your God or be careful to do all his commandments and his statutes that I command you today, then all these curses shall come upon you and overtake you.” (28:15) There follows a litany of curses that will befall the people if they break God’s commands, one of which states, “The Lord will cause you to be defeated before your enemies. You shall go out one way against them and flee seven ways before them. And you shall be a horror to all the kingdoms of the earth. And your dead body shall be food for all birds of the air and for the beasts of the earth, and there shall be no one to frighten them away.” (28:25-26) In those days, the victor in a battle would shame the ones they conquered by refusing to allow the bodies of the dead to be retrieved and buried. Those bodies were to lay where they fell as a sign of defeat. God said, if you break my Law, this will happen to you.
We know that the people were disobedient, and in 587 b.c., God had had enough, and the promised curses fell upon the people. Nebuchadnezzar, the king of the Babylonians, sent in his army, sacked Jerusalem, destroyed the temple, and took the people into captivity and exile. During the battle, 4,200 people were killed.
Ezekiel was a prophet and a preacher in Jerusalem. He was there in 587 when the Babylonians attacked, and he went with the people into exile. While in exile, he continued to preach and to have visions. What we read today is one of those visions. It began, “The hand of the Lord was upon me, and he brought me out in the Spirit of the Lord and set me down in the middle of the valley; it was full of bones.” There is no indication in the text that this valley of bones is the land surrounding Jerusalem, but it is safe to assume, given that Ezekiel was there and saw the dead. It is also safe to assume that the Babylonians would not have allowed the dead to be removed from the battlefield so that the Israelites would be further humiliated. So, in his vision, Ezekiel, who was in exile, stood amongst the dried bones of the dead.
While there, God spoke, “Prophesy over these bones, and say to them, O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord.” As he spoke, the bones began to rattle. They put on flesh and skin. Everything was restored except for one thing—life. The Lord spoke to Ezekiel again and said, “Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, son of man, and say to the breath, Thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe on these slain, that they may live.”
There is a Hebrew word for breath—rûah. There is also the word hārûah—The Breath. Breath is what those corpses needed to have life, but only The Breath—the very Spirit of God that breathed life into the first man, Adam—can give life-giving breath. Both of these words are in what God commanded Ezekiel to do-call on The Breath that life might be restored to those who had been killed, yet not only them but to all. Everyone.
God allowed the Babylonians to conquer the Israelites. It was the fulfillment of the curse that God promised for disobedience. Ezekiel’s vision of The Breath breathing new life into the dead is the sign that God is lifting that curse and restoring the people. For those in exile with Ezekiel, this message is one of great hope because their exile was not only an exile from the land but also an exile from God. Now, they have been given new life.
It is that same new life that we are given. The Breath of God is breathed into us, and we are no longer dried-up bones. Through Jesus, we are fully alive beings in relationship with our God. Yet, we so often still hang around in that valley of dry bones, clinging to our former life. Thomas Merton referred to this clinging as the life of the “old man.”
“For the ‘old man,’” Merton writes, “everything is old: he has seen everything or thinks he has. He has lost hope in anything new. What pleases him is the ‘old’ he clings to, fearing to lose it, but he is certainly not happy with it. And so he keeps himself ‘old’ and cannot change: he is not open to any newness. His life is stagnant and futile. And yet there may be much movement but change that leads to no change. The more it changes, the more it stays the same.
“The old man lives without life. He lives in death, and clings to what has died precisely because he clings to it. And yet he is crazy for change, as if struggling with the bonds of death. His struggle Is miserable, and cannot be a substitute for life.” (A Year with Thomas Merton, p.84)
More simply put, Merton is saying that we are like Brooks Handlin in Shawshank Redemption. We are “institutionalized.” We’ve lived so long in that valley of dry bones that it is all we know. We’ve gotten so used to living that “old man” life that even though we want to change, we cling to… death.
Standing at the tomb of Lazarus, Jesus “cried with a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!’ The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to [the people], ‘Unbind him, and let him go.’” Jesus, The Breath of God, breathed new life into Lazarus, and Lazarus left the tomb, the valley of bones, and removed all that had bound him to it. We are invited to do the same.
Come out! Come out of the valley and enter into this new life. Merton wrote, “For the ‘new man’ everything is new…. The new man lives in a world that is always being created and renewed. He lives in this realm of renewal and creation. He lives in life.” Come out and live in life. It is a gift to you from God.
Let us pray: Breathe in us O Holy Spirit, that our thoughts may all be holy. Act in us O Holy Spirit, that our work, too, may be holy. Draw our hearts O Holy Spirit, that we love but what is holy. Strengthen us O Holy Spirit, to defend all that is holy. Guard us, then, O Holy Spirit, that we always may be holy. Amen.
Cultural anthropology is the study of various cultures and identifies their differences. One categorization method is to determine whether a culture is driven by guilt, shame, or fear.
A guilt culture focuses on law and judgment. Most individuals living in such a society will want to have a good conscience. Am I following the laws of the land and the moral law acceptable to most? A shame culture seeks to have honor to avoid the shame of dishonor. Am I being looked at favorably by those around me? And a fear culture is one where the individual lives under physical intimidation. Am I going to be physically hurt for my actions?
In the United States, we live under the first—guilt culture. Throughout history, we have developed the law of the land and built a moral law based on what we understand as Biblical teaching. The fear culture can be seen in states like North Korea or Iran. The people fear retribution, so they do what is expected. In countries like Japan and China, the cultures are based on shame/honor—a fear of losing “face.”
In the Middle East today and in the time of Jesus, this shame/honor culture was and is the driving factor in how people behave. I admit, this is a new way for me to read and understand Holy Scripture, but the evidence of Jesus’ words and those of Paul and the others suggest that Jesus was far more interested in honor than he was in establishing set moral laws.
Jesus said, “The Father judges no one but has given all judgment to the Son, so that all may honor the Son just as they honor the Father. Anyone who does not honor the Son does not honor the Father who sent him. Very truly, I tell you, anyone who hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life, and does not come under judgment, but has passed from death to life.” Jesus did not say, “Whoever does this and does not do that (law/judgment) will receive eternal life.” Jesus said, “Whoever believes my words and honors me and honors the Father will receive eternal life.” So the question is, how do we honor Jesus? Answer: we do what Jesus had been doing. What had Jesus been doing?
Leading up to these words, Jesus had healed a paralytic who had been crippled for thirty-eight years. Being a paralytic, being sick, it was assumed that the man or his parents had sinned greatly. Being sick put great shame on the man. Jesus healed him and gave him his honor back. Similarly, Jesus healed a boy who was near death. There was the Samaritan woman at the well. She had experienced great shame—five divorces and now living with a man. Given the culture and the animosity between Jews and Samaritans, Jesus honored her simply by speaking to her. Still, in talking to her, he took her shame and restored her honor within herself and her community.
In the end, Jesus endured the shame of the cross (cf. Hebrews 12:2) to remove our shame and, in turn, bestowed upon us the greatest honor—He made us God’s children.
How do we honor Jesus? By working to restore the honor of others, which is the fulfillment of our Baptismal Vows—seeking to serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves, striving for justice and peace among all people, and respecting the dignity of every human being. We honor Jesus and the Father by giving honor to those we encounter.
Candle in a Cave 
