Tag: sermon

Posted on

Sermon: Easter 2 RCL A – “Thomas”

Perhaps you’ve seen the letter to Jesus from Jordan Management Consultants.

It appears Jesus used these consultants to help identify potential leaders among his followers. The letter states that JMC has conducted extensive research on the candidates and then offers its recommendations:

“Simon Peter is emotionally unstable and prone to fits of temper. Andrew has absolutely no leadership qualities. The two brothers, James and John, the sons of Zebedee, place personal interests above loyalty to the company. Thomas demonstrates a questioning attitude that would tend to undermine morale.

“We feel it is our duty to inform you that Matthew has been blacklisted by the Greater Jerusalem Better Business Bureau. James, the son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus definitely have radical leanings and both registered high scores on the manic-depressive scale.

“One of the candidates, however, shows great potential. He is a man of ability and resourcefulness, meets people well, has a keen business mind, and has contacts in high places. He is highly motivated, ambitious, and responsible. We recommend Judas Iscariot as your controller and right-hand man.”

Did you ever notice how easy it is to pull a snippet from a person’s life and, from then on, judge and label them according to that snippet? We hear the stories of many of the characters in the Bible and do the same thing.

In the Old Testament, Abraham lied, David was an adulterer, Moses argued with God, and Jonah was flat-out disobedient. Those are only a few. Those in the New Testament aren’t any better. The apostles questioned Jesus’ methods. They argued amongst themselves. They wanted to call down fire from heaven and destroy cities (I actually kind of like that one). They abandoned Christ in his time of need. They denied him, and so on.

And then there is poor old Thomas. It is easy to understand why grade schoolers think his last name was Thomas and his first name was “Doubting.” Doubting Thomas. To tell you the truth, I think he gets a bad wrap, so today I would like to try to remedy that a bit.

Thomas is mentioned in all four gospels and the Acts of the Apostles, but in John’s gospel, he receives the most attention.

In John’s gospel, he is first mentioned as Jesus plans to return to Judea, where he would later raise Lazarus from the dead. The disciples are concerned because it was in Judea that the Jews had tried to stone Jesus just a short time earlier. Despite their concerns, Jesus says, “Let us go to Lazarus.”

I love the quote and have probably shared it with you before, but have you seen The Lord of the Rings? Great films. Gimli is a main character and a dwarf. A huge battle is about to take place, with slim chances of victory, so there is an argument over what to do. Stand and fight, or flee and possibly fight another day. Gimli settles the argument when he says, “Certainty of death, small chance of success- what are we waiting for?”

When Jesus said, “Let us go to Lazarus,” even though there was the possibility of death and everyone else wanted to stay put, Thomas said, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”

Note to the wise: if you can find a friend like this, don’t let them go. In this situation, Thomas demonstrates bravery, loyalty, and dedication. While the rest were “doubting,” Thomas was prepared to lay down his life for the Lord.

In a later event, Jesus cryptically explained to the disciples that he would be killed and go to the Father. He went on to tell them that they knew the way to where he was going, yet Thomas said, “Lord, we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way?” Jesus then explained that he is “the way and the truth and the Life.”

No one else understood either, but Thomas demonstrated simple honesty by not pretending to understand what Jesus was trying to tell them.

Brave, loyal, dedicated, honest, and now, from today’s text, doubting.

When Jesus first appeared to the disciples, ten were there who saw and believed. Thomas was not.

Some have suggested that Thomas’ greatest mistake was not his doubting but his absence. After the death of Jesus, instead of remaining in the Christian community, he is postulated to have withdrawn and sought loneliness. By isolating himself from the community of faith, he failed to witness Christ’s appearance.

Whatever the case, Thomas doubts. The Lord appears again, and Thomas is present. At this appearance, Thomas redeems himself from his initial doubt. After laying eyes on, and possibly even touching, the Risen Lord, he makes a confession of faith regarding Jesus. This confession is greater than what all the rest have said to this point. Thomas declares, “My Lord and my God.”

From a distance, it is easy to criticize Thomas, but his doubt seems to have stemmed from a need for facts. Once he was certain, Thomas committed himself fully to Jesus, declaring him Lord and God.

Brave, Loyal, Dedicated, Honest, Doubting, Fully Committed. That’s a better first name than “doubting.”

The beginning of the Acts of the Apostles records Jesus’ last appearance to the apostles, and his final words to them were, “You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” It is clear from the rest of Acts that several of the apostles did as Jesus commanded; however, we don’t hear about them all, and Thomas is one for whom scripture is silent.

There is, however, what is known as the New Testament Apocrypha. It is not considered scripture or even true, but this collection includes a book titled “The Acts of Thomas.” According to this book, regarding being “witnesses to the end of the earth,” we learn that the apostles divided the earth and went out into the world to spread the Gospel message, as Jesus had commanded. Thomas, as legend has it, was assigned to the area we know as India.

When he arrived in India, he was enslaved, but it came to the attention of Gustafor, an Indian king, that Thomas was a carpenter. Learning this, Gustafor commanded Thomas to build him a palace. The king gave Thomas a considerable sum to buy materials and pay the workers; however, every time the king gave him money, Thomas gave it all to the poor. The king grew suspicious and sent for Thomas, asking, “Have you built my palace?” Thomas answered, “Yes.” The king asked when he could go and see the palace, and Thomas replied, “You cannot see it now, but when you depart this life, then you will see it.” Through his good works, Thomas was building a palace in heaven for the king. At first, the king was furious, and Thomas was nearly put to death. Yet through this situation, Thomas won the Indian king to Christ. Legend has it that this is how Christianity came to India.

True or false? It’s hard to say, but here’s a fact: To this day, Syrian Christians in India call themselves the Mar-Thoma Church, or “Father Thomas” Church, and are in communion with The Episcopal Church.

What can we gain from this apostle with the unfortunate first name? One theologian wrote, “What this church needs is what every church needs: a man who knows God at more than second-hand knowledge.”

When Jesus first appeared, Thomas wasn’t willing to take the other apostles’ word for it. He didn’t want second-hand knowledge. He wanted proof for himself. He wanted to see, hear, and lay his hands on the risen Lord.

That is what we should all want. Jesus says to Thomas, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” It is true. Faith is believing in the things we cannot see, but bouncing along in unsubstantiated faith is foolish, for when the trials come, that kind of faith can abandon us.

Therefore, we must also lay hold of the Risen Lord, and we can do so through prayer, study of Holy Scripture, meditation, our own experiences of Jesus, and the witness of others. It is then that the roots of our faith will be grounded in the Rock who is our Lord and our God. When trials blow through our lives, they may knock us around a bit, but we will not be uprooted. Like Thomas, we will learn never to doubt the one who saves us. 

Let us pray: St. Thomas, you surrendered your doubts and placed your faith completely in the Resurrected Lord. Teach us to surrender ourselves fully to God’s will, trusting in His providence and love. May we let go of our fears and uncertainties, knowing that God is always with us. Pray for us, St. Thomas, that we may surrender our hearts to the Lord and find true peace in Him. Amen.

Posted on

Sermon: Wednesday in Easter Week

Do you think God ever looks down from heaven, shakes his head, and asks himself, “You know I buy them books and send them to school, so why are they still doing foolish things?”

In our gospel reading today, when Jesus catches up to the two on the road, he declares the same thing, ”Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?”

The Gospels do not explain why the two are traveling to Emmaus, but I am willing to make an educated guess.

As the two walk along the road, Jesus joins them and asks what they are discussing. Not realizing that it is Jesus who has asked, they answer him as if he had spent the last three days in a cave or something. They tell Jesus that the greatest prophet Israel ever knew, the long-awaited Messiah who was going to deliver the people, had finally come, but the chief priests had him put to death. All their hopes and dreams crumbled with his death. In other words, they say, “O woe is us. All is lost.”  

Why are the two headed to Emmaus? They are going home. In their minds, they are defeated, and there is no point in hanging out in Jerusalem any longer. Even the direction they are traveling is telling. Emmaus is almost directly west of Jerusalem, the sun is setting, the day is ending, and the sun has set on the Messiah. Where they once walked in the light, now everything is turning dark. Then Jesus speaks, “Stop being so foolish and let me explain it to you. Let me show you how you are wrong,” and he proceeds to reveal the truth about the Savior, about himself, and he does so in two very important ways.

First, He opens the scripture for them and explains it in such a way that their hearts burn within them. Second, he breaks bread with them just as he had done at the Last Supper. Jesus reveals the truth about Himself through His words, the explanation of Holy Scripture, and the sacrament—the breaking of bread. Through both word and sacrament, He reveals Himself to them, and in that instant, they knew Him.

It remains the same today, and there is only one place where we can find both: the church. Archbishop Rowan Williams declares, “The Church is the new creation, it is life and joy, it is the sacramental fellowship in which we share the ultimate purpose of God, made real for us now in our hearing the Word and sharing the Sacrament.”

My good friend Thomas a Kempis writes, “You have given me in my weakness Your sacred Flesh to refresh my soul and body, and You have set Your word as the guiding light for my feet. Without them, I could not live aright, for the word of God is the light of my soul and Your Sacrament is the Bread of Life.” These two life-giving and soul-lighting gifts are found only in the Church. 

The two travelers on the road to Emmaus had lost hope, but Jesus revealed to them that He is present to all of us in word and sacrament, found only in Christ’s one holy catholic and apostolic church.

Posted on

Sermon: Easter Sunday RCL A – Heavenly Virtues: Love

“Love is awful. It’s awful. It’s painful. It’s frightening. It makes you doubt yourself, judge yourself, distance yourself from the other people in your life. It makes you selfish. It makes you creepy, makes you obsessed with your hair, makes you cruel, makes you say and do things you never thought you would do.”

This is the moment when the camera shifts from the priest to two women in the congregation. The woman with black hair turns to the brunette and says, “There’s something wrong with your priest.” 

Then the camera shifts back to the priest, who continues, “It’s all any of us want, and it’s hell when we get there. So no wonder it’s something we don’t want to do on our own. I was taught that if we’re born with love, then life is about choosing the right place to put it. People talk about that a lot, feeling right, when it feels right, it’s easy. But I’m not sure that’s true. It takes strength to know what’s right. And love isn’t something that weak people do. Being a romantic takes a hell of a lot of hope. I think what they mean is, when you find somebody that you love, it feels like hope.” (Credit: BBC’s Fleabag, written by Phoebe Waller-Bridge)

We know that Jesus was without sin. This is true, but He was a criminal; otherwise, why would He have been crucified? In his meditations, St. Bernard asked the same question: “What crime hast Thou committed that Thou shouldest have to be condemned to death, and that death the death of the cross? Ah, I will understand, replies the saint, the reason for Thy death; I understand what has been Thy crime: ‘Thy crime is Thy love.’ Thy crime is the too great love which Thou hast borne to men: it is this, not Pilate, that condemns Thee to die” (The Love of Jesus Crucified, p.20). 

Jesus was a criminal, and his crime was “the superabundance of love” (Ibid.) that He holds for you—for us all. But how did Bernard and others come to such a conclusion?

It doesn’t take much imagination to picture the horrors Jesus endured after His trial and ending with His crucifixion. Authors have written about it, filmmakers have made movies, scientists and doctors have analyzed it, and historians have provided the facts. There are many ways to be put to death, but crucifixion ranks among the most gruesome and painful. Yet, the question that saints asked was “Why?” In asking this, they weren’t questioning from a theological perspective. They all knew Jesus was the only one who could save us. Instead, they were asking, “Why couldn’t a different, less horrific way be found?” (Ibid., 21) There are two parts to the answer.

In the first part, St. Alphonsus Liguori asked, “Would it not have sufficed for him to have offered to his eternal Father one single prayer for the pardon of man? For this prayer, being of infinite value, would have been sufficient to save the world and infinite worlds besides. Why, then, did he choose for himself so much suffering and a death so cruel?” (Ibid.) St. John Chrysostom asked the same question, but also provides the beginning of an answer: “A single prayer of Jesus would indeed have sufficed to redeem us; but it was not sufficient to show us the love that our God bore us: ‘That which sufficed to redeem us was not sufficient for love’” (Ibid.). Jesus did not believe that a simple prayer was enough to show us how much he loved us. Chrysostom continues, “This was the principal cause of the Passion of our Lord; he wished it to be known how great was the love of God for man,—of God, who would rather be loved than feared” (Ibid., 23). Jesus could have prayed, and we would have been forgiven and restored to God, but Jesus wanted to express His love for us in a way that would be beyond doubt. “This,” Jesus said from the Cross, “is how much I love you.” “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13).

The second part of the answer to “Why?” is more about us than about Jesus.

Imagine that Jesus prayed, not from the Cross, but from the upper room, “Father, forgive them.” And suppose there was a voice from Heaven, unmistakably the Father’s, who responded, “My Son, their sins and the sins of the whole world are forgiven.” Then see Jesus as He turns to the disciples and to us and says, “Your sins are forgiven. See what great love I have for you.” 

Perhaps I’ve become too cynical, but I think most people would say, “Thanks, but one little prayer… is that really love? I mean, yeah, I appreciate it and all, but how does that prove you actually love me?”

If for no other person, Jesus knew my cynicism and declared, “Not only will I tell you that I love you, but I will show you to what extent I am willing to go so that you will know, without question, that I love you so that you can be with me. St. Thomas Aquinas wrote, “‘By this—that is the Passion—man understands the greatness of the love of God to man.’ And St. John had said before, ‘In this we have known the love of God, because He hath laid down his life for us (1 John 3:16)’ (Ibid., 23).”

The priest’s words, “Love is awful. It’s painful. It’s frightening.” I think Jesus could have written something similar. “Love is awful,” He would say. “It is painful. It is frightening. It makes you say and do things you never thought you would do—offer your face to be spit upon, your brow for a crown of thorns, your back to be whipped, your hands, feet, side… your very life.” Jesus says, “It takes a lot of courage to love, but I look at you, and I know nothing but love. I look at you, and I have such great hope. Hope that you will believe and receive my love so that we may be one.”

Jesus was a criminal, but Jesus was also a romantic through and through, and as St. Bernard tells us, “The secrets of his heart are revealed through the wounds of his body” (Ibid., 24). However, the saint adds, “Such love, wholly claims for itself our love” (Ibid., 25). If Jesus loves you with such a superabundance of love, how will you love Him? And if this is how you have been loved, how will you love others?

During this past Season of Lent, we embarked on a study of the seven Heavenly Virtues. We learned that these include the four Cardinal Virtues and the three Theological Virtues. The Cardinal Virtues are fortitude (spiritual courage), justice (seeking the common good), prudence (establishing rules), and temperance (moderation and balance). The first two Theological Virtues are faith, which is the loving and protective relationship with the Father, and hope, which informs our souls that this relationship is eternal. Love is the third Theological Virtue. It is the essence of the relationship, for “God is love” (1 John 4:7). Supporting all seven virtues is humility. If humility is lacking, we will fail. Finally, St. Padre Pio reminds us, “Humility and love are the main supports of the whole vast building on which all the rest depends. Keep firmly to these two virtues, one of which is the lowest and the other the highest.” In our Christian walk, if we begin with humility and love, all these others will follow.

This is the Sunday of the Resurrection. It is the day that Jesus conquered death and gave us, through His love for us, eternal life. Live a life that writes your own sermon: “Love is awful. It is painful. It is frightening. Love gives me hope. Love gives me the power to love, not only my neighbor, but my enemy as well. Love gives me the strength to overcome my sins, faith that I might stand and be true, compassion that I may care. Love makes me do things that I never imagined I could do.” Jesus endured much so that you might know the great love He has for you. Receive that love, and then, like Jesus, be a criminal, be a romantic, and through your practice of the Heavenly Virtues, express that love to God and the world.

Love is awful. It’ll make you do some crazy things, but these days, the world can use that kind of crazy.

Let us pray: Our most sweet Lord, we desire to do whatever You ask of us. We pray, help us, and grant that we may please You entirely and continually, now and forever. Mary, our Mother, entreat Jesus for us, so that He may give us His holy love; for we want nothing else in this world or the next but to love Jesus. Amen.

Posted on

Sermon: Great Vigil of Easter

This is the night. Although this night has traditionally been the night to bring new members into the Body of Christ, it now seems to be mainly a night for the Church. So, since I believe you are “all on the team,” I’ll speak openly and dare to tell you what I don’t like about the Church these days. Simply put, we have set aside the authority of God, the Scriptures, and the Church and replaced that authority with being “nice” and always trying to do “nice” things. When I say “nice,” don’t confuse this with being kind or polite. That is not what I mean. Instead, when I say “nice,” think soft and squishy.

For example, we might say that it’s enough for me to be a good person, which we often interpret as not hurting others, being accepting of everyone, helping out when I can, and similar actions. All these things are good. There’s no issue with them, but they also fall into the category of being nice. So, why are they a problem? Jesus never said, “Be nice as your Heavenly Father is nice.” Jesus said, “Be holy as your Heavenly Father is holy,” and there’s a vast difference between being nice and being holy. For starters, I can be nice and polite all day long, and it won’t cost me a single thing. But if I’m going to be holy, it will cost me. I will have to sacrifice myself. I will need to set aside who I am, my wants, my desires, my ego… all of it, and do so for the good of the other. Don’t believe me? Ask Jesus as He hung upon the Cross.

Being a nice church and nice Christians means we do not talk about sin, repentance, or judgment. Being kind suggests that as long as you feel good about yourself, then there’s no need for you to be changed or transformed. However, Scripture says, “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come” (2 Corinthians 5:17). St. Paul says, “He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ” (Philippians 1:6), and to the Romans, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind” (Romans 12:2). These are calls, not to remain stagnant, but to set aside the old self and take on the new. To be crucified with Christ and rise in glory.

Furthermore, a nice Christianity has attempted to soften Jesus, making Him something warm and cuddly, because warm and cuddly can be controlled, but that was never Jesus and never will be. Do you remember the Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis? There are two children, Susan and Lucy, who ask Mr. and Mrs. Beaver to describe Aslan, the Christ figure in the story. They ask if Aslan is a man. Mr. Beaver replies, “Aslan a man? Certainly not. I tell you, he is the King of the wood and the son of the great Emperor-beyond-the-Sea. Don’t you know who is the King of Beasts? Aslan is a lion—the Lion, the great Lion.” “Ooh!” said Susan. “I’d thought he was a man. Is he—quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.” “That you will, dearie, and make no mistake,” said Mrs. Beaver, “if there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.” “Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy. “Safe?” said Mr. Beaver. “Don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about being safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”

Jesus is many things, but warm, cuddly, and controllable are definitely not part of His nature. He is good, but He is far from safe. As Paul tells us, “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God” (Hebrews 10:31).

There is more, but you understand. This is the night, the night we hear of God’s saving history—how He waged war against our enemies and gave us a mighty victory. However, He did these things not so we could be “nice” little Christians. Instead, He did them so that we might be “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for His own possession, that [we] may proclaim the excellencies of Him who called [us] out of darkness into His marvelous light” (1 Peter 2:9).

Stop making excuses for sin in the world or your life. Don’t refuse to be transformed because it’s easier to remain who you are. Don’t try to tame the Lion. Stop being nice. Come into the presence of your unsafe but good King and be holy.

Posted on

Sermon: Good Friday

Today, after the Solemn Collects, there is the Veneration of the Cross. Three times, the person presenting the Cross will chant, “Behold the hard wood of the Cross on which was hung the world’s salvation.” It is a time to meditate on these great acts.

I’m sure there are others, but I have read several different meditations on that scene. Thomas à Kempis, St. Alphonsus Ligouri, and Catherine Emmerich are among the authors who have stayed with me, but they are all quite graphic. You need to prepare your soul a bit before engaging with them. However, I wonder, have you ever truly considered what you would have witnessed, how it would make you feel, and, more importantly, how you would respond? It’s not an easy thing to do, but many saints point out that it is an edifying practice. As we have been studying the virtues during this Season of Lent, St. Bonaventure wrote, “He who desires to go on advancing from virtue to virtue, from grace to grace, should meditate continually on the Passion of Jesus. There is no practice more profitable for the entire sanctification of the soul than the frequent meditation of the sufferings of Jesus Christ.” So, without making you squeamish by sharing some of the other writings, consider these things.

The head of Jesus was often lifted to look into the crowds as He taught them about the things of God. And, perhaps as often, it was bowed in prayer, talking with His Father. Now, it is pierced with the thorns of the crown that the soldiers so roughly pressed upon Him.

The hands of Jesus—how many people did He touch and heal? Imagine Him reaching down and making the mud He would use to give sight to the man born blind. How gentle He was with the child that He picked up and placed in His lap. See Him writing in the dust, turning back those who accused and wanted to stone the adulterer. See them raised as He gave thanks over the few loaves of bread and fish that would then feed thousands. Now, they are pierced with two nails and fixed to the Cross.

His feet were washed by the hands of the unclean woman, and later anointed with costly perfume by Mary of Bethany. Those same feet walked on the waters and traveled many miles, bringing God’s message of love to a dying world. Yet, like His hands, those feet are now nailed to the Cross.

We could look upon Him, seeing His back, born to carry the sins of the world, now whipped and bruised, or His chest, where within that most Sacred Heart beats with the fire of the Spirit, is now pierced. Christ is upon the Cross. St. Alphonsus Liguori wrote, “Behold Jesus, at length, actually dying. Behold him, my soul, how he is in his agony amid the last respirations of his life. Behold those dying eyes, that face so pale, that feebly palpitating heart, that body already wrapped in the arms of death, and that beautiful soul now on the point of leaving that wounded body. The sky shrouds itself in darkness; the earth quakes; the graves open. Alas, what portentous signs are these! They are signs that the Maker of the world is now dying.”

Seeing these things isn’t easy, but seeing is necessary. As difficult as it is to witness, don’t turn away. Stay with Him for a while and see with your eyes and your soul. This is God’s love story. St. Thomas Aquinas once asked Bonaventure which book he used to learn about the great love of Jesus. Taking a crucifix from the wall, Bonaventure replied, “This is my book whence I receive everything that I write; and it has taught me whatever little I know.” 

Jesus tells us, “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). You are Jesus’ friend and His love. The Cross is the love story Jesus wrote. He wrote it for you, and He wrote it in His own Blood.

Posted on

Sermon: Maundy Thursday

Have mercy on me, O God,
according to your unfailing love;
according to your great compassion
blot out my transgressions.
Wash away all my iniquity
and cleanse me from my sin.
For I know my transgressions,
and my sin is always before me.
Against you, you only, have I sinned
and done what is evil in your sight,
so that you are proved right when you speak
and justified when you judge.
Surely I was sinful at birth,
sinful from the time my mother conceived me.
Surely you desire truth in the inner parts;
you teach me wisdom in the inmost place.
Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean;
wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.

King David was on the roof of his house, looking out over the city and the land he ruled. As his eyes scanned the scene, he saw a woman on her roof—Bathsheba—who was naked and bathing. Watching her, he felt desire for her, and even though she was married, he devised a plan to have her.

Her husband, Uriah, was one of his soldiers, so he sent him to the front lines of a fierce battle where he would certainly be killed. He was, and after the appropriate mourning period, David had Bathsheba brought to him and married her.

The Lord saw David’s wickedness and sent Nathan the prophet to rebuke him for his sin. David confessed, and it is believed that David wrote the Psalm I shared with you during his time of penance. He cried out to the Lord, “Wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.”

From the very beginning of human history, when Adam and Eve were banished from the Garden of Eden, this cry has crossed the lips of all God’s children: “Wash me. Wash me from my sins so that I might be whiter than snow. So that I might be cleansed of my sins.”

It’s always been this way; however, on the day ordained by God, Jesus opened the gates to a new path. On that day, Jesus began by taking on the role of a slave and washing the disciples’ feet. Peter objected, but Jesus insisted, “If you are to be a part of me, if you are to be where I am going, then you must allow me to wash your feet. You must allow me to cleanse you.” 

Following the foot washing, scripture says, “While they were eating, Jesus took bread, gave thanks, broke it, and gave it to his disciples, saying, ‘Take and eat; this is my body.’ Then he took the cup, gave thanks, and offered it to them, saying, ‘Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.’”

It is fair to say that the disciples failed to understand the significance and connection between these two events, but after his crucifixion, they would come to realize that the footwashing was symbolic of the washing of their souls through the body and blood of Christ.   

Jesus—God—humbled Himself to the role of a slave and washed their feet so that they might be outwardly clean. Jesus—God—humbled Himself to death on a cross so that their souls might be cleansed. 

Today we celebrate the gift of the most Holy Eucharist. The symbolism of washing the feet points to the washing of our souls, and it is the answer to our cry, “Wash me, Lord. Wash me and I will be whiter than snow.”

Posted on

Sermon: Palm Sunday – Heavenly Virtues / Hope

Last week, I shared with you a verse from the Epistle to the Hebrews: “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1). In our study of the Heavenly Virtues, including the three Theological Virtues, we understand that faith is a gift from God, but that faith is not something like a commodity we can acquire more of it on an as-needed basis. Instead, faith is a relationship with the Father through Christ Jesus. Faith is resting in the shadow of His wings, regardless of circumstances or outcome. However, the passage from Hebrews introduced the second of the Theological Virtues—hope.

Within philosophy, hope has mainly been seen as negative, though sometimes as positive. It is considered negative because it was seen as frivolous optimism, and positive because, in the right measure, it can provide encouragement.

In psychology, hope is considered part of positivity and positive thinking. Hope is “the perceived capability to derive pathways to desired goals, and motivate oneself via agency thinking—willpower or drive—to use those pathways.” (Source) A psychology professor at the University of Oklahoma explains, “We often use the word ‘hope’ in place of wishing, like you hope it rains today or you hope someone’s well… but wishing is passive toward a goal, and hope is about taking action toward it.” (Ibid.) From this view, hope combines positive thinking with action to achieve a specific goal.

Both of these approaches—philosophy and psychology—bump up against our understanding of the Virtue of Christian Hope, but neither completely captures it, and they differ in two main ways.

First, Christian hope is not about an action or outcome we expect to be fulfilled in the future. Instead, Christian hope concerns an outcome that has already been accomplished. Our hope is the salvation that was achieved at Golgotha on the Cross. St. Alphonsus Liguori writes, “What sinner would ever have been able to hope for pardon if Jesus had not, by his blood and by his death, made satisfaction to the divine justice for us?” (The Love of Jesus Crucified, p.117) Without salvation, there would be no hope; without it, life is just a series of days strung together that lead to nothingness. Instead, “How great is the hope of salvation which the death of Jesus Christ imparts to us.” (Ibid. p.122)

Writing to the Romans, St. Paul said, “He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies.Who is to condemn?” (Romans 8:32-34) Ligouri, expanding on this, wrote, “How should that Lord condemn thee, who died in order not to condemn thee? How should he drive thee away when thou returnest to his feet, he who came from heaven to seek thee when thou wert fleeing from him? ‘What art thou afraid of, sinner? How shall he condemn thee penitent, who dies that thou mayst not be condemned? How shall he cast thee off returning, who came from heaven seeking thee?’” (Love, p.122) In other words, for you, Jesus endured the horrors of the Cross, why—if you call on His name, if you have faith in Him and, through that faith, enter into a relationship with Him, and if you love Him—why would He turn from you and condemn you? Christian hope speaks to our souls and assures us that He would never do that. This also highlights the second main difference between Christian hope and the hope of philosophy or psychology: Although Christian hope helps us in this life, its main focus is eternal life.

Our hope lies in our salvation, which has already been secured. While we begin to experience the joy of that salvation in this life, it is our eternal life that Jesus cares most about. Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die” (John 11:25-26). Our hope is eternal life, made possible through salvation gained through the Cross. That in turn gives us the hope we have in daily living. Through the hope of eternal life, made possible by the resurrection of the dead, regardless of the trials we endure, in the words of St. Teresa of Avila: “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.” That fun line from The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel puts it: “Everything will be okay in the end, and if it is not okay, it is not the end.”

Faith is the loving and protective relationship we have with the Father. Our hope informs our souls to know that not only do we have this relationship, but that it is eternal. This leaves us with the last of the Theological and Heavenly Virtues, and it is greater than all these—love.

Let us pray (from St. Alphonsus Ligouri). I invite you to make this prayer your own: My Jesus, my hope, Thou, in order not to lose me, hast been willing to lose Thy life; I will not lose Thee, O infinite good. If, in time past, I have lost Thee, I repent of it; I wish, for the future, never to lose Thee more. It is for Thee to aid me, that I may not lose Thee again. O Lord, I love Thee, and I will love Thee always. Mary, thou, next after Jesus, art my hope; tell thy Son that thou dost protect me, and I shall be safe. Amen. So may it be. (Love, p.130)

Posted on

Sermon: The Annunciation

Today, we celebrate the Annunciation: when the angel of the Lord visited Mary and told her she would give birth to God’s Son. Regarding Mary, Mother Teresa writes, “Mary showed complete trust in God by agreeing to be used as an instrument in his plan of salvation. She trusted him in spite of her nothingness because she knew he who is mighty could do great things in her and through her. Once she said “yes” to him, she never doubted. She was just a young woman, but she belonged to God, and nothing nor anyone could separate her from him.”

Once Mary heard God’s message and plan, she believed. For such a young woman, that was a great demonstration of faith, but it is also a decision—through faith—that each of us must make, because even though we do not physically give birth to Jesus, we all must agree to him being conceived within us.

We know that Elizabeth was Mary’s cousin and the mother of John the Baptist. On this, Saint Ambrose once preached: “Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit after conceiving a son; Mary was filled before. ‘You are blessed,’ said Elizabeth to Mary, ‘because you have believed.’” But then, speaking to his congregation, Ambrose said, “You too are blessed because you have heard and believed. The soul of every believer conceives and brings forth the Word of God and recognizes His works. Let Mary’s soul be in each of you to glorify the Lord. Let her spirit be in each of you to rejoice in the Lord. Christ has only one Mother in the flesh, but we all bring forth Christ by faith. Every soul free from contamination of sin and safe in its purity can receive the Word of God.”

Like Mary, we are blessed if we allow Jesus to be conceived within us, but it doesn’t end there; we must also allow him to be born through us so his light can shine into the world. As Jesus said at the Sermon on the Mount, “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.”

It might seem strange that we hear about the Annunciation so close to Easter, but remember, we are nine months from Christmas. Additionally, this is the time for Jesus to be conceived in us and for us to let his light shine through us. As St. Paul says, “Behold, now is the favorable time; behold, now is the day of salvation.”

Hear the words the angel spoke to you and say with Mary, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”

Posted on

Sermon: Lent 5 – Heavenly Virtues / Faith

The lineup for the St. Louis Wolves baseball team: Who’s on first, What’s on second, and I Don’t Know is on third. I do believe that trying to keep track of the seven Heavenly Virtues can at times be equally as confusing. Just be thankful I opted not to include the discussion on the seven Capital Virtues and the seven Deadly Sins—maybe another day.

To bring everyone up to speed: the seven Heavenly Virtues consist of the four Cardinal Virtues and the three Theological Virtues. So far, we’ve covered the Cardinal Virtues: fortitude (spiritual courage), justice (seeking the common good), prudence (setting rules and measures), and temperance (moderation and balance). The Theological Virtues are perhaps more familiar: faith, hope, and charity or love. Today, we turn our attention to the first—faith.

Holy Scripture is full of discussions about faith; after all, that is what it all revolves around. There are many passages we can quote, and one of the more well-known is found in St. Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians—“We walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7). We enjoy quoting this, but I have to wonder—Do we truly walk by faith and not by sight? I would like to say yes, but I don’t think that is entirely accurate. Not because we don’t believe it to be true, but because we don’t fully understand what it means to have the faith that is proclaimed in the Bible. The issue began around the time of the Enlightenment (17th and 18th centuries), and it can be narrowed somewhat to that deep philosophical statement by the French (those darn French!) mathematician and philosopher René Descartes. He said, “I think, therefore I am.” Why is that a problem? That one little word “I.”

The word “I” shifts faith from the realm of God the Creator into the realm of us, the created. By doing so, faith becomes individualistic. It becomes what I can see, what I can do, and what I believe, which may sometimes align with other believers but often differ vastly. For example, consider the Apostles’ and Nicene Creeds.

“I believe in one God, the Father Almighty… and in one Lord Jesus Christ. I believe in the Holy Ghost the Lord, and Giver of life.” Now, before I go further, please don’t rush to the Bishop and tell him, “Father John says the Creeds are a problem!” I’m not saying that. But when we declare these statements, I know for a fact that we don’t all understand them the same way. More importantly, even though these statements speak of our faith, they do so intellectually; knowing something intellectually doesn’t have the power to transform lives. I can know that Jesus is Lord intellectually, but that knowledge won’t help much when the doctor calls up and says, “Stage four.” I firmly believe that knowledge is power, but when it comes to our faith, that knowledge must be incorporated into a life that is lived.

Another way we misunderstand faith is how we perceive it working in our lives. Say you get that call from the doctor. In your mind, you might think, “I’ll need to have greater faith to see me through this.” Or when things aren’t going well, someone who should be slapped silly might say, “You just need to have more faith.” In both cases, faith becomes something akin to adding more horsepower to an engine. “I’m gonna nitro-infuse the dual turbocharged manifold of my faith and supercharge it!” I know nothing about cars, but you get the idea. But what happens when the turbocharged faith fails? What happens when the doctor says, “We’ve done all we can do”? Didn’t you have enough faith? Was God angry with you? Or do we couch it in easier-to-swallow but vague spiritual language, “It’s God’s will”? 

Our beliefs and our turbocharged faith, or lack thereof, are just two reasons why I don’t think we truly understand what Holy Scripture means by faith. There are more reasons, but enough about what faith isn’t. So, what exactly is faith? A specific incident in Matthew’s Gospel helps us grasp the answer.

“When Jesus got into the boat, his disciples followed him. And behold, there arose a great storm on the sea, so that the boat was being swamped by the waves; but he was asleep. And they went and woke him, saying, ‘Save us, Lord; we are perishing.’ And he said to them, ‘Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?’ Then he rose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm. And the men marveled, saying, What sort of man is this, that even winds and sea obey him?’” (Matthew 8:23-27)

This is a familiar story and a favorite for many. We understand that water symbolizes chaos and death, and that the storm represents the world around us with its challenges, concerns, hardships, and more. We are the disciples—concerned, confused, afraid, and dying. Jesus… well, Jesus is conked out in the bow of the boat. From our intellect, we shout out at the storm, “I believe in one God, Father Almighty…,” but the storm still rages. We say, “I will turbocharge my faith,” but the storm still rages. We bargain with God, saying, “Get me through this, and I’ll attend every service during Holy Week,” but the storm still rages. Do all you know to do, but the storm is still going to rage. Why? Because rage is what storms do. You try to influence that storm with your intellectual understanding or your turbocharged faith, but it doesn’t work. Yes, in this particular instance, Jesus calmed the storm, but consider this: years later, after Jesus ascended into Heaven, Peter faced another storm in Rome. Jesus didn’t calm that storm, and it ended with Peter being crucified upside down. Bartholomew was caught in a storm that ended with him being flayed alive. James faced a storm that led to his beheading. All those men in that boat—the exception might be John, who likely saw his fair share of storms—had storms that ended in their brutal and merciless deaths. Did they not have enough faith? Was their faith not turbocharged? No!

In that boat on the sea, when the storm was raging, and the disciples were terrified, Jesus was not only sleeping peacefully. He was also teaching. He was demonstrating to them—and to us—what true faith in the Father Almighty actually looks like. He was teaching that storms are going to do what storms do—rage—but you, no matter what appearance the storms in your life may take, can rest secure in the Father’s arms, knowing—not just believing—but knowing that the Father Almighty will see you through. It’s not about the storms that blow out there—you can’t change them; they will do what they do—instead, it’s about the storms that blow within your soul, and you can do something about them. True faith says, “Regardless of what I know in my mind, regardless of what I see with my eyes, and even regardless of the final outcome, there is God, and where God is… How did David put it?”

“If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me.
If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light about me be night,”
even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is bright as the day,
for darkness is as light with you
(Psalm 139:8-12).

“I think, therefore I am.” “I will turbocharge my faith.” No. Faith is not about “I.” Faith is relational. “We walk by faith, not by sight.” Faith is a life walking with God and a life transformed by that relationship. If we walk by what we can see, the storm will terrify us; therefore, we walk by what we cannot see. That is faith.

Such faith is a grace, a gift from God. Do you need more of this faith? Then follow the example of the disciples. Ask Jesus for more—“Lord, increase our faith!” “Lord, all I can see is the storm. Help me to see you. Help me to know how to lie down in the bow of the boat next to you and rest in the Father’s arms. Help me to grow more deeply into a relationship with You.”

That is faith; however, there is more to this walk with God, for St. Paul also tells us, “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1). Question: What is this hope he speaks of?

Let us pray: Lord God, grant us the faith to know Your will, the hope to accept it, and the love to do it, even when we don’t understand, trusting that Your way is best. We ask this through Christ Our Lord. Amen. 

Blog at WordPress.com.