Jesus Loving His Broken Church
The Exaltation of the Holy Cross
September 11, 2022

The official name, in some circles, for today’s feast:
The Exaltation of the Holy Cross.
Its sounds very, well, exalted, removed, perhaps vague,
to disappear from your mental landscape a few bites into brunch.
Let’s be honest!

This feast has its origin in Jerusalem

and is connected with the finding of what is believed to be the True Cross
by the mother of Emperor Constantine, Saint Helena, in 320. 

For our celebration, we try to see with eyes of faith. 
We go from the many symbols, 
to an acknowledgment of the exteriorly terrifying event of the Crucifixion 
(which we obviously did not witness!)
to Jesus pouring forth His love, 
in an incredible, incredibly humbling gift of Himself.
This love, divine love, is eternal and, therefore, is still poured forth. 
Herein lies the mystery of the Cross.
From symbol to event to mystery.

I, when lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.

Saint Maximilian Kolbe, the Franciscan friar who died in Auschwitz, 
offering his life in the stead of a married man with children, says
The Cross is the school of love.
Saint Augustine, Bishop in Northern Africa, died in 430, 
reads divine love in the event as related through Scripture and Tradition:
He bows His head, as if to kiss you.  
His heart is made bare, open, as it were, in love to you.  
His arms are extended that He may embrace you.
The Cross is the unexpected vehicle for God drawing all people to Himself, 
for divine love poured forth.  
The Cross is unexpected because it is at the intersection 
of betrayal, hatred, sadness, exhaustion and rejection that Jesus loves us.
Who does this?!?
Jesus!
The Cross is so unexpected that, as Saint Paul tells us, it is
a stumbling-block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles (I Corinthians 1:23).
Because divine love poured forth, however, the Cross can change 
our sufferings into expressions of love for God and mercy for our neighbor.

I, when lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.

We gather not simply to remember or “find ourselves in God’s story”
but to experience.
We always come to church to experience. 
We gather as Christ’s disciples 
to say “yes” to this attraction that is God’s initiative,
to experience the divine love still poured forth. 
This love is why there is still a Christian Church, after all these years.
She is not exactly unified, but She is still here!
We Christians even have sometimes done our best to terminate Her: 
sectarianism, indifference to grace and one another, scandals… 
Divine love shall not be nullified, however, 
by our inability to live up to life abundant in Christ.
It is not always easy to believe and, truth be told, 
the temptation to jump ship can be strong at times.
We do often pine for a perfect Church, for “spiritual not religious”.  
 
Queen Elizabeth II said on Christmas in 2011, at age 85:
Although we are capable of great acts of kindness, 
history teaches us that we need saving from ourselves ... 
God sent into the world a unique person, 
neither a philosopher nor a general ... 
but a Saviour, with the power to forgive. 
 
Let us put our trust in Christ Crucified, our Saviour Who forgives,
Who is not discouraged by our messes, Who keeps showing up despite us, 
Who says that, where two or more are gathered, who can get things wrong, 
are reticent to get involved, who even triangulate or gossip about each other, 
He is there. 
If we wish to be together, as called, as joined by divine love,
the “religious” and its messiness are inevitable.
The “spiritual”, the perfect Church, is present, deep inside us, 
where Christ freely dwells.
Against the Church, as Jesus promises, “the gates of hell shall not prevail.”
(Matthew 16:18).
 
Jesus is here with a power not our own, the power of His Cross,
the power of reconciliation for people who keep others at a distance 
because of language, political affiliation, skin color, disability, history,
people who thus do not deserve such presence and power. 
Jesus is here abidingly in the bread and wine, the Eucharist, 
here in the stranger sitting 10 feet behind you,
here, loving His broken Church into everlasting life.
And, we rejoice.  
AMEN.

​

“Lord, Teach Us to Pray!”
Seventh Sunday after Pentecost
Luke 11:1-13

In this exchange with Jesus, the disciples’ request, in a sense, nails it.
A request that most of us have, and either are afraid or simply don’t think to make 
or whose response seems dissatisfying or altogether not granted.
Well, look no further, wait no longer.

The disciples have been observing Jesus pray, 
i.e., “practice” His intimacy with the Father, and they want to know how to do it.
Now, the disciples are observant Jews, and so do pray.
But there must have been something qualitatively compelling about Jesus’ prayer.

When I try to pray, what on earth (what in heaven) am I doing?  Seriously.
How are we to pray?  Kneeling, standing, waving our arms? 
Are we better slumped in a pew or lying down?  Aloud or silently?  How?!?
Jesus responds to the request with a version 
of the prayer we traditionally call the “Our Father”, the Lord’s Prayer.
(Luke includes 5 petitions, as distinguished from Matthew 
who includes 7 petitions, which is what we typically pray).

Now, Saint Paul, in the second reading, reveals truths that shed light on prayer: 
you have received Christ Jesus the Lord…live your lives in him, 
rooted in him…established in the faith…abounding in thanksgiving.
Prayer is about receiving Christ, living in Christ, rooting ourselves in Christ, believing in Christ, believing Christ, thanking Christ.
And we pray, knowing, as Jesus says in the second part of this gospel, 

• that God always wants to give, and always does
  
• that God ultimately wants to give us the Holy Spirit, 
  

Who, moving us deep inside, amongst other things, teaches us to pray.
Recall the words of Saint Paul in Romans 8:26, We do not know how to pray…
but the Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings.

We don’t know how to pray and Jesus gives us this “model” prayer, 
which reveals focus and order in prayer.
Jesus does not simply give us words to say.
Matthew Henry, to quote again, 17th-century English Presbyterian minister,
says that the two versions of this Prayer suggest
that it was not the design of Christ that we should be tied up to these very words.
Jesus does not give us a religious formula or technique.
Strictly speaking, Jesus does not teach the disciples how to pray.
Jesus teaches them (and us) who to pray and what to pray.
Jesus teaches where, to Whom, we direct our minds and hearts, in faith, hope, love.
St. John Damascene (Syrian monk +750, December 4 feast on the Church calendar)
says that prayer is the raising of one's mind and heart to God.
(Defide orth. 3,24:PG 94,1089C).
There is nothing formulaic about the raising of one's mind and heart to God.
Prayer is essentially a great expression of, call it, divine desire.

Let us then just begin to peel back a few layers of this unique prayer.

“Our Father”
Father: the Source of us and of all that exists, Whom we cannot adequately name.
“Father” precisely signifies transcendent Source; it does not signify maleness
If we bear this in mind, we will not be tempted to side-step it!

“Hallowed by your name”
We are not trying to flatter God or wish God well.
In the Bible, the name signifies the person.
Thus: Hallowed be You, holy are You, God.
As the theologian who shaped Richard Hooker, 
a founder of Anglican theological thought, Thomas Aquinas says
“By holy we signify the purity of divine goodness.”
(cf. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, I, Q. 36, art. 1, resp. 1)
Thus: Hallowed, only good is your name, only good You are.

“Your kingdom come”
We are not primarily asking God to bring about a certain way of life on earth.
This petition can be restated: 
“You, King, reign in us; fill us with your love and light.”
St. Cyprian (Bishop, North Africa, +258) says,
The Kingdom of God means Christ Himself. (De Dom., orat. 13: PL 4, 528A)

Then, after these petitions, desiring union with God, the indwelling of Christ,
we petition with respect to ourselves.
Petitioning for ourselves is not trying to twist God’s arm—which He doesn’t have!

“Give us each day our daily bread.”
We perhaps ask at least three things of God:

1. Be Providence for us in the small things of life.
   
2. Help us to make use of material things to grow closer to You.
   
3. Deign to give us your Son in the Eucharist.
   

“Forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.”
Wait a minute! 
Our being forgiven follows our forgiveness of others?!? Are you kidding me?!
Well, remember that prayer is a great expression of divine desire. 
We ask forgiveness with hearts willing to forgive.
And with such hearts, as Reverend Nadia Bolz-Weber phrases it, we pray, “Lord,
Forgive us when we hate what you love. Forgive us when we would rather anesthetize ourselves than feel anything. Forgive us for how much we resent in others the same things we hate in ourselves. Forgive us for the terrible things we think about our own bodies. And, this one is hard, please forgive us for thinking we know the hearts of our enemies.

“Do not bring us to the time of trial.”
In Matthew 24, Jesus speaks of great trial or tribulation before His Second Coming.
Now, God does not subject anyone to any trial, although He surely allows trial.
So, we’re not saying to God, “No bad moods, and so no trial!”
We are asking to be spared the trial, any trial, and, if not spared, most importantly, 
to remain focused on Him, and remain loving in the midst of trial.

Prayer is not putting a quarter into a vending machine called God.
Prayer is not romantic.
Prayer is not primarily about me, yet it engages me more than any other act,
grabbing hold of the guts of my life, 
with its contradictions, its pain, it weariness, its beauty.
Prayer, really, is made possible by the Holy Spirit.
Every time we receive the Eucharist, we receive a fresh outpouring of the Holy Spirit.
Thank you, Jesus.

​

​Face It
Third Sunday after Pentecost
Luke 9:51-62
 
This gospel is not an easy read. 
It’s not far-fetched to read Jesus whiney, Jesus insensitive, Jesus rude. 
 
So, let’s embrace the uneasiness and read.
 
Jesus “set his face to go to Jerusalem”. 
This recalls the Prophet Isaiah’s Suffering Servant, a prefiguration of Jesus, who, in his suffering, says, “I have set my face like flint.” (Isaiah 50:7)
In commenting on this passage, Saint Bede (depicted in our clerestory!),
English Benedictine monk, who died in 735, says
“Jesus, going voluntarily to be crucified, sought with steadfast face, that is,
with resolute and undaunted mind, the spot where He was to be crucified.”
 
Jesus is on mission possible, mission certain, that no one will thwart,
in the light of which only can we understand these interactions. 
In Jerusalem He will lay down His life, a self-offering
of immeasurable love into which we are drawn, by which we are saved.
There is an urgency and a gravity that informs and colors everything.
 
Two disciples, “messengers”, James and John, go ahead.
When, for the inhospitality, they want to destroy the village people,
Jesus rightly rebukes them.
Jesus’ subsequent encounters, however, are disturbing. 
To the person who eagerly wants to follow him,
Jesus responds, “the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”
Jesus whiney
To the person who movingly wants to bury his father and
then follow him, Jesus responds, “Let the dead bury their own dead.”
Jesus insensitive
To the person who touchingly wants first to say farewell to those at home and then follow him, Jesus responds, “No one who puts a hand
to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”
Jesus rude
 
My interpretive presumption, when Jesus seems to be harsh,
is that he knows his interlocutor, he knows the person he is engaging,
and that he/she can hear the demands of divine love in full, strong terms. 
Not that divine love invites or warrants harshness
or negligence of duty towards family!
But being truly loving is more than being nice.
And the love that Jesus communicates directly from the heart of God,
so to be received as given, demands that we place no conditions.  Unconditional love must be met with unconditional love.
This seems to be the point.
 
If so, Jesus surely invites us this morning to look into our hearts,
to see if there may be a few “Yes, but”….
An invitation to honesty, an invitation, however, that we need not fear.
As our reading from Galatians suggests,
we already belong to Christ and He has set us free
by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit Whom He has given to us.
Jesus has us covered from pre-start to finish.  We must simply be willing.
If we forget this,
we may conclude that the Christian life is not for us.
Or we may settle for our own small version of it: just being nice.
There really is, however, no small version of it.
The Christian life is a relationship with Christ, a total life
and He wants all of me—good and bad.
The surrender of ‘all’ to Jesus, thankfully, is not something I do on my own.
If it were, I would conclude that the Christian life is not for me
and walk right out those doors.
 
St. Jeanne de Chantal (there is a parish named after her in Bethesda, MD)
was a French baroness, widowed in 1601 at age 28, with four children. 
Imagine.  And no cell phone to navigate her distress.
Her husband’s accidental death led her to consecrate her life to Christ, anew.
She eventually founded an order of nuns, the Congregation of the Visitation. She says, “Keep your eyes on God and leave the doing to Him.  
That is all the doing you have to worry about.” 
 
Saint Dominic Savio was from northern Italy, born in 1842. 
At age four, his parents would already find him praying in solitude. 
He contracted a lung disease as an adolescent.
On his deathbed, his final words were,
“Goodbye, Dad, goodbye ... Oh, what wonderful things I see...”
He was fourteen, the only adolescent declared a saint
not for having been a martyr, but for having simply lived a holy life.
He too acknowledges that this total relationship is God’s doing.
He says, “Ask Jesus to make you a saint.  After all, only He can do that.”
 
Amen.
 
 

​Corpus Christi 2022
John 6:47-58
 
Today is Corpus Christi—Body of Christ—Sunday,
the Body of Christ experienced in a special way in the Eucharist.
Sure, “the Eucharist is celebrated solemnly every Sunday,”
as notes Pope Urban IV, who, however, declared, in 1264,
we deem it fitting that at least once per year
it be celebrated with greater honor and a solemn commemoration.
 
Voila: Corpus Christi Sunday, which highlights our raison d’etre.
The Eucharist is the reason that we are here.
Sure, fellowship and formation and fearless service.
At the heart of, feeding this, however…
 
We are most deeply here because God took a human body, was made flesh,
and that body (inseparable from His whole Person, of course,
and from the other Divine Persons, the Father and the Holy Spirit!)
is shared, is communicated, in a special way, in the Eucharist, Communion.
The bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world, today’s gospel.
The Eucharist, the gift we cannot give to ourselves at home,
communicates the love that makes of us Sisters and Brothers.
As Reverend Nadia Bolz-Weber, the heavily tattooed Lutheran minister, says,
What unites us isn’t a doctrine, it’s a table — a table open to all, in which we receive this Bread of Life come down from heaven. The Body and Blood of Christ is what unites us and makes us a church. Hopefully not in a prideful see-how-inclusive-we-are way, but in a Lord-to-whom-shall-we-go? way, in as You-have-the-words-of eternal-life way.
 
As you know, this does not necessarily resonate with all Christians.
I’ve previously mentioned a visit, 4-5 years ago,
to a very large church, across the river, in Virginia.
Power music. Power preaching. Power coffee shop!
In its own way, inspiring—until, with the best of intentions,
so to keep the Christian life simple for everyone,
the preacher said, “the sacraments are a perversion of the gospel”.
Ouch!  My heart sank.
And I left, discreetly—not shaking the dust from my feet.
A statement, however, understandable—to a point.
“The Jews disputed among themselves, saying,
“How can this man give us his flesh to eat?”
Ugh: cannibalism?!?
So it seems—outside of love, the Resurrection, and a little theology!
Jesus’ own disciples will say, two verses (60) after this passage,
This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?
Symbol? sure.  Real Presence? not so much.
Jesus responds powerfully and clearly:
Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood,
you have no life in you. (verse 53)
 
Why would Jesus venture such a controversial gift?
Because He is adamant about loving us
and there is something uniquely loving about this gift
—such that He prefers to risk it not being understood or even welcomed.
Jesus is adamant because God is love, and God, although complete
and perfectly fine unto Himself, wants us with Him forever.
The one who eats this bread will live forever. (John 6:58)
What more could we want?
Is there anything better to do on a Sunday morning
than to receive sacred bread that communicates eternal life?!?
[We need to spread the word!]
 
Jesus invents this tangible and accessible food for the journey,
whereby He gives us, in silence, His heart.
Unleavened, tasteless bread, designed to help us
to be childlike, unafraid (really, bread is usually harmless!).
The unconditional gift of his Resurrected (spiritualized but real) body
(which, by the way, means not cannibalism!),
no longer bound by time and place,
which is why we can celebrate the Eucharist here
as it is being celebrated all around the world.
 
In the early 5th century, St. John Chrysostom, said:
“How many of you say: I wish I could see his face.  You do see him.  You do touch him. You eat him. He gives himself to you, that you may see him, and that he may be your food.”
 
But, there is something different about consuming this food.
St. Thomas Aquinas (+1274) tells us,
“Material food changes into the one who eats it (your breakfast is becoming you…). Spiritual food, on the other hand, changes the person who eats it into itself. Thus the effect proper to this Sacrament is the conversion of a person into Christ, so that Christ live in him.”
(Commentary on Book IV of the Sentences, d.12, q.2, a.11)
 
+++
 
Saint Augustine, 5th century like John Chrysostom, says,
No one partakes of this Flesh before he or she has adored it.
Before we partake, we shall adore.
We will have an extended pause before receiving Communion, quiet,
to enjoy the Real Presence and to ask that we be readied for encounter.
A consecrated host will be displayed in what we call a monstrance
(from the Latin verb monstrare, “to show”).
Your time to say, “This teaching is difficult”, “I believe, help my unbelief”
“Lord, to whom shall we go?”, “I love you” or…
Your time to abide.
Then, we shall partake.
 
 
 

Don’t Worry, Be Happy
Pentecost 2022
John 14:8-17 (25-27)

I recently heard a definition of a good sermon: it should have a good
beginning. It should have a good ending. And they should be as close together as
possible! This relatively short sermon is entitled, Don’t Worry, Be Happy,
because today, we celebrate Pentecost. The term “pentecost” was adopted from Greek-speaking Jews, a term which means “fiftieth”—understood day, the fiftieth day. In Jewish territory, it designates the close of harvest, fifty days after Passover. In Christian territory, it designates the descent of the Holy Spirit in manifest fashion, which occurred, interestingly, on the Jewish feast of Pentecost, fifty days after the Resurrection. We do not simply commemorate that unusual day, as we read in Acts, chapter 2, “when…the disciples were all together in one place and suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, that filled the entire house and divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them We are, of course, thankful for that blessed day, for, because of it, we, Church, are here. This event is often considered the birth of the Church, for the Holy Spirit binds us to one another. Our good intentions and/or our common values are not enough to bind us such that we be the Body of Christ. What binds us is a Who that binds us, a Divine Person, the Third Person of the Trinity, the Holy Spirit. On Pentecost, we engage the Holy Spirit.

But who is this Holy Spirit, the seemingly faceless Third Person of the
Trinity, Who alone makes us Church?

As abstract as “He” may seem, “He” is indeed a Divine Person, not simply a force or an energy, a Person Who, as we profess in the Nicene Creed, “proceeds from the Father and the Son”, is given to us by the Father and the Son. The Holy Spirit is referred to, amongst many names in the well-known 4 th -century litany, as the Comforter, the Sanctifier and Consuming Fire. In our reading, Saint Paul makes an incredibly liberating statement: “All who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God.” (Romans 8:14) A child of God shares in the life of God.
A child of God has thus found his or her place, is at home in and with God.
​
This is why Jesus says to the disciples,
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.”
Peace follows right order.
Peace follows everything being in its right place
The Holy Spirit takes our hearts and places them in God, Home, our
rightest place.
Child of God, I am.
Child of God Lena will become much more deeply in a few minutes,
with a fresh outpouring of the Holy Spirit and the gratuitous gift of grace.
A pentecost!
And, it will be the responsibility of her parents, godparents, and faith
community, to help her to know that, as says Saint Aloysius Gonzaga, Italian Jesuit,
died in 1591, at age 23, caring for persons stricken with the pandemic of that time,
“It is better to be a child of God than king of the whole world.”
Saint Paul’s statement is also incredibly demanding because he makes it
clear that we are to be led by the Holy Spirit
in order for this liberating spiritual childhood to be real for us.
Being led implies willing cooperation, which is not always easy.
I know that it’s not for me!

My stubbornness, my fear, my fatigue, my selfish indifference get in the
way.
Yet, I am somehow always free to express willingness…
We express our willingness in simply calling upon the Holy Spirit,
without Whom it is not possible truly to live as a friend and disciple of
Christ.
And so, if I may ask, do you really call upon the Holy Spirit, the powerful, yet quiet inner
guest do you really believe that you are indwelt by,
and thus a temple of, the Holy Spirit?
How often do you cry out with your heart, “Come Holy Spirit!”?
This should be the leitmotif of your day: “Come Holy Spirit!”.
When you wake,
“Come Holy Spirit!”.
When you are about to begin an important business meeting,
or about to visit someone who sends you over the edge,
“Come Holy Spirit!”.
When you are about to express your love to someone dear,
or you feel overwhelmed or fearful or sad or hopeful,
“Come Holy Spirit”.
As the famous Belgian Archbishop during World War I, Joseph Mercier,
would say:
“Surrender to the Holy Spirit is the secret to sanctity and
happiness.”
The Holy Spirit is the happiness of God in person, indwelling our hearts.
Let us surrender today.
Don’t worry, be happy.

​“Up Through the Atmosphere, Up Where the Air is Clear”
Ascension of Jesus 2022
​Luke 24: 46-53
 
London. 1910. George Banks returns home, 17 Cherry Tree Lane, to learn from his wife, Winifred, that the nanny has resigned. The children, Jane and Michael, have run away, once more. Although soon returned by Constable Jones, who found them chasing a kite, it’s the final straw for the nanny. The next day, Mr. Banks advertises for a serious, no-nonsense nanny.  Jane and Michael insist that she be sweet.
Later in the week, several somewhat sour-faced women gather outside the Banks' home for interview, but a strong gust of wind blows them all away. Jane and Michael then witness a lovely woman, a sweet nanny, descending from the sky with umbrella.  Mary Poppins.  The rest is history.  With her magical manner, Mary Poppins renews the Banks’ home-life.  In the final song, her work done and time to depart, we hear “up through the atmosphere, up where the air is clear” as Mary Poppins ascends into the sky—with umbrella.


Up through the atmosphere, up where the air is clear…
Is this the Ascension of Jesus?
The scriptures sure seem to suggest so.In (Acts 1 (1-11), we read thatJesus was “lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight”and in our gospel, Luke 24 (44-53), Jesus was “carried up into heaven.” Our mural represents this!The seraphs, described in Isaiah 6 as nearest the throne of God,
with their flame-coloured wings surrounding Jesus’ body, carry him to heaven.
Scripture and Christian art describe a local movement, away from earth. Jesus now “up there.”
 
Now, each Sunday, we proclaim, as the Church has done for almost 1700 years
in the words of the Nicene Creed, the fact of the Ascension:
“He ascended into heaven (without umbrella!)
and is seated at the right hand of the Father.” 
To say “ascended”, however, does not necessarily mean local movement,
i.e., going from here to “there”.
There is local movement described in the event of the Ascension.
But there is more.  
 
Now, before we consider how the Ascension impacts our lives,
let us ask two questions:

1. first question: How does the Ascension make sense?  Why ascend?

The skyward movement (“up through the atmosphere, up where the air is clear”) serves to signify symbolically that Jesus, in His body, is attracted to the Father,
the transcendent Source beyond all things.
Let me “explain”.
Jesus’ body, after the Resurrection, is no longer of this world. 
This is why no one initially recognizes Him and why He can walk through walls. 
His body was transformed from within by divine love and light.
It is, as we say, a “glorified” body.
The fitting “place” for His body, therefore, is the mystery of God
who “is love” (I John 4:16) and “is light” (I John 1:5).
The fitting “place” is the Father, heaven
--without any of the distance of his earthly pilgrimage.

1. second question, a curiosity: What does “seated at the right hand” mean?

God has no hands! 
And why the apparent prejudice against left-handedness?
And why does Jesus need a chair?
Once again: symbolic language rooted in human experience.
One reading of this, taken from my favorite: Saint Thomas Aquinas, 13th century:
 
The word "sitting" may mean "abiding"… it belongs to Christ to sit at the Father's right hand…inasmuch as He abides eternally unchangeable in the Father's bliss, which is termed His right hand, according to Psalm 15:11, “At Thy right hand are delights even to the end.” Christ dwells at the right hand of the Father: for He is happy and the Father's right hand is the name for His bliss.
 
We are talking about the happiness of Christ, including in his flesh,
happiness which He shares with us!


In the Ascension, therefore, strange as it may initially sound,
we discover how loved we are, in all that we are.
St. Leo, Bishop of Rome, died in 461, says, regarding the Ascension:
“Not only is the immortality of the soul proclaimed, but also that of the flesh.” Although who I truly am as human being and as child of God
is deeper than that which is bodily,
my body—with its limitations, it skin color, its corpulence or its lankiness, its capacity for reproduction, its pain—is destined for immortality, for glory in Christ.
And so our bodies really matter to God.
I am loved in every corporeal fiber of who I am.
Nothing, therefore, is outside this relationship with our Risen and Ascended Lord.
 
Jesus is thus not gone, not “way up there”. 
Unlike Elvis, Jesus has not left the building.
As the same St. Leo says:
“By ascending, Jesus did not abandon His friends.
Indeed, although His bodily presence is withdrawn,
still, as God, He is ever-present.”
After the Ascension, Jesus is ever-present, more present. 
After the Ascension, there is more God in our midst.
 
Once Jesus is with the Father in His body in this perfect way,
He sends the promise of the Father. 
He sends the Holy Spirit, “power from on high.” 
Our Triune God is a class act: intensifying presence, increasing love.  
 
Knowing what we do in faith, thanks to the Ascension, we can,
as Saint Augustine invites in a sermon in the early 400s for this special day,
“strive to find rest with Christ in heaven even now,
through the faith, hope and love that unites us to him.”
 
Amen.
 

​“My Lord and my God!”
Second Sunday of Easter 2022
John 20:19-31
 
Let’s walk through this post-Resurrection gospel, first situating things.
According to what John explicitly says, prior to this appearance,
only Mary Magdalene had seen Jesus.
Indeed, the gospels unanimously present Mary Magdalene
as the first to see the Risen Lord.
Why Mary Magdalene?
Why not Mary?
It perhaps was Mary, such the normal course that it need not be mentioned.
The Scriptures are silent about certain things
which are to be intuited by the heart….
Why not Peter, chief of the apostles, or John, the beloved disciple?
I like to think that Jesus goes first where hearts most thirst.
Pretty good rhyme, huh?!
Mary Magdalene was in love with Jesus—in the deep(est) sense.
 
After Mary Magdalene, Jesus appears here to the Apostles,
who are locked in a room, seized by fear.
Nowhere near the courage of Mary Magdalene!
They are in Jerusalem, which, per some etymologies, means “abode of peace”.
And what does Jesus say to them?
“Peace be with you”.
How wonderful.
In a sense, Jesus declares Himself, in the mystery of His Resurrection,
the abode of peace, the definitive Prince of Peace.


Peace is the fruit of right order.
There is peace when all things are in place, as they should be.
The rightest order, our rightest place is relationship with God,
into which the Risen Lord most intimately introduces humanity.
 
Jesus thus comes to the Apostles to reassure them
and to introduce them more deeply into right relationship with God:
“Peace be with you”.
He then breathes the Holy Spirit upon them,
granting them authority to forgive sins: instruments of overflowing mercy.
They are not simply beneficiaries of but are participants in the Resurrection.
Entitlement check: we are not here as spiritual consumers,
but as disciples and friends eager to be transformed
and sent forth in the power of the Holy Spirit which Jesus breathes upon us.
 
There is, however, as often the case, one unsavoury apple: Doubting Thomas.
Thomas was not with them when Jesus came.
Another Thomas, Aquinas, in his commentary 1200 years later, says
so he had missed the comfort of seeing the Lord,
the conferring of peace and the breath giving the Holy Spirit.
This teaches us not to become separated from one's companions.
We need the Mystical Body of Christ, the Church.
Thomas’ presence is strangely reassuring for us, who, at times, doubt.
“I will not believe,” he says.
As Saint Gregory (monk, Scripture scholar, Pope, sometimes called the Father of Christian worship, greatly admired by John Calvin, died in 604) says
the disbelief of Thomas was of more benefit to our faith
than the faith of the disciples who did believe.
 
Jesus goes directly to those who desire deeply and intensely.
and those who struggle to believe.
Put your finger here and see my hands.
Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.
Look at the cover of your bulletin a faint image of the famous 1601 painting
by Caravaggio (now in Berlin, Germany).
Up close and personal, Thomas’ finger plunged into the flesh of Jesus’ side.
A tactile learner, apparently!
The wounds, which could have been healed in the Resurrection,
remain for our benefit.
The same Saint Gregory says,
It is the plans of Divine Mercy that by feeling the wounds in the flesh of his Teacher, the doubting disciple should heal in us the wounds of disbelief.
 
The simplicity with which Thomas touches suggests, to me, that what moved him most was not simple intrigue but Christ’s gentle mercy.
Jesus welcomes him in his unbelief.
 
Jesus then proceeds to proclaim the beatitude of faith,
the happiness that awaits those who are willing to believe
In a sense today’s marquee phrase:
“Blessed are those who have not seen and have come to believe.”
Jesus can only proclaim such happiness if, in faith, we touch Him
—with our hearts and minds, of course.
Happiness necessitates communion with the object of our desire.
Faith is not simply a set of beliefs.
Beliefs per se are not life-giving, not happiness-giving.
Even though it is without seeing Him,
faith enables us to touch the Risen Lord.
And one day (one eternity) we will see the One Whom we touch in faith.
Faith ends in the Beatific Vision.
If, during our earthly pilgrimage, without seeing,
we are in communion with Christ, the object of our greatest desire,
there are joy and peace which surpass understanding.
Hence the words of Peter in his first epistle (1:9)
“Although you have not seen him, you love him;
and even though you do not see him now,
you believe in him and rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy.”

No one and nothing, no trying circumstance, no rejection/feeling of isolation
can keep us from touching God.
All we need to do is to want it, be willing to believe, and we touch.
Blessed are we who have not seen and have come to believe.
Let us touch the Risen Lord in faith
—in our hearts, in one another, in the Eucharist,
and be full of wonder, gratitude, joy and peace.
Let us be people of the Resurrection.
 
 

Alive Forever
Easter Vigil 2022
Luke 24:1-12
 
Alleluia, Christ is risen!    (response: The Lord is risen indeed, alleluia!)
“Alleluia”!  (literally, in the Hebrew: "All hail to Him Who is!")
The One Who is, eternal, Whom no one and nothing can suppress.
 
Now, some of you may not particularly feel like singing Alleluia, because
emotionally disconnected, tired, confused, indifferent, sad, angry, unworthy…
Thankfully, we gather and are connected deeper than feeling, as people of faith,
people graced to touch the Eternal One Who is beyond emotional grasp,
closer and more real and more steadily present, however, than any emotion.
We cannot prove Christ’s resurrection.
Sure, there are testimonies, but they are always a matter of faith, not proof.
We believe in Christ.  We believe Christ.  We believe Christ is risen.
Our faith may, at times, seem overwhelmed by what we are feeling and fragile,
but it is still there and a little is all we need.
 
In this evening’s passage from the letter to the Romans,
Saint Paul declares, in faith, that the Risen Lord touches and changes us:
“Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father,
so that we too might walk in newness of life…
Consider yourselves alive to God in Christ Jesus.”
The Christian Life: so touched and changed by the Risen Lord
that we are alive forever.
 
What is this force that animates Jesus in His victory over death,
and, by gracious gift, animates us, such that we live forever?
It is called divine love,
all-powerful, infinite love forever gushing forth from the heart of God.
Christ’s resurrection
is all-powerful, infinite love forever gushing forth from the heart of God.
Christ’s resurrection is thus the final victory over all that hinders love.
 
This gospel, from Luke 24, a gospel of perplexity and fear and amazement,
helps us as we seek to re-discover and participate in this victorious love.
What do we witness?
As their first act at early dawn, the women run to the tomb.
When he hears their testimony, Peter runs to the tomb.
Of course, initially, to the apostles, the words of the women “seemed an idle tale.”
It might be tempting to presume arrogant chauvinism, but remember the simple fact
that, for the apostles, like us, Christ’s resurrection is a matter of faith, not proof.
And Peter, after all, is rather quick to run, like the women.
Indeed, there is a lot of running—like little kids!
This is the Amazing Race!
Only, in this one, they all win, we all win!
 
There is an unusual moment, however: although moved by love to run
and understandably perplexed by “the stone rolled away from the tomb”,
in response to the “two men in dazzling clothes”, “the women were terrified.” 
Of what are these loving women afraid?
Jesuit priest, John Topel, in a 2012 article, “What Were the Women Afraid Of?”[1]
says that one thing they may be afraid of is “…the disciples’ need to surrender
to a divine holiness that empowers life in the new age.”
 
Although desirous, and singing “alleluia” in faith,
we too may also find ourselves strangely afraid, afraid of the bigness of life in Christ.
I often am.  I am often trying to tame Jesus, to barter, to justify and excuse myself:
rather small-minded and small-hearted.
Then Jesus, in His patient kindness, as He does the women in Matthew’s gospel, says
“do not be afraid.”
The Risen Lord touches our hearts unconditionally. 
Jesus makes this gifted life possible.
In response, let us, by choice in faith, not by feeling,
like Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, the other women—Peter,
run to Jesus with hopeful desire and joyful haste.
We have every reason to rejoice.
If death has not stopped Christ, none of our challenges will.
As contemporary theologian, Reba McEntire (country singer from Oklahoma!), says,
“Easter is very important to me, it’s a second chance.”


 
 
 


[1] (Journal of Theological Interpretation, Vol. 6, No. 1, Penn State University Press)

The Most Overwhelming Work of God’s Love
Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday 2020 

The Palm Sunday celebration always begins
by recalling the “triumphal” entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, 
cloaks and palm branches covering His pathway...
Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!
Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!
Jesus’ arrival fulfills a prophecy from the prophet Zechariah (9:9):
Look, your king is coming to you,
humble, and mounted on a donkey.
Some triumph! 
I can’t help but think of buck-tooth Donkey from Shrek.
Why not a little more Marvel super-hero,
with Jesus seated upon a noble and strong white horse,
like that magnificently referenced twice in the Book of Revelation?
In chapter 6 (verse 2):
… a white horse! Its rider had a bow; a crown was given to him,
and he came out conquering and to conquer.
In chapter 19 (verse 11):
… a white horse! Its rider is called Faithful and True,
and in righteousness he judges and makes war.
Now we’re talking triumphal.  But a donkey?  Really?  Why?
Perhaps, because the King of Peace, not a super-hero, not here to make war,
as we understand and tragically experience it.
The apparent lack of triumph may perhaps be disappointing for some of us.
 
Jesus’ arrival also fulfils the first part of the same prophecy from Zechariah:
“Do not be afraid, daughter of Zion.”
We need not be afraid.
God always keeps His promises!
Our King is coming and coming humbly.
The humble arrival means that Jesus enters
every frightening situation that may be ours,
When it comes to God, to Jesus, “triumphal” refers to love not power.
True love can reach that which we deem unreachable. That is triumph.
Jesus is definitely powerful, all-powerful,
but His power is always at the service of His love.
He has no ego issues, no need to manifest prowess.
 
As suggested, we are not simply remembering a past event.
We continue to celebrate, to experience triumphal entry
each time the Lord comes.
We do so in a special way when we gather around this altar.
Indeed, as we move to the altar in our celebration, we proclaim
Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord.
Hosanna in the highest.
Vaguely familiar?
The Eucharist, Communion is a “triumphal” entry.
The Eucharist is our King coming, humbly, in the silence of divine love. 
“Do not be afraid, daughter of Zion.”
 
Today’s celebration opens this Holy Week.
Love is what makes this week holy.
I know that I’ve referred to this definition many times…
I will continue to do so until it makes its way onto your fridge
or into your diary or even somewhere in your phone:
          “Holiness is the purity of divine love” (St. Thomas Aquinas, +1274), 
And, as St. Paul says in I Corinthians 13: “Love never fails”.
And, as St. Paul of the Cross, 17th-century Italian monk and mystic, says,
The Passion of Christ
is the greatest and most overwhelming work of God’s love.
 
Jesus is King in laying down His life for us.
This is what love does—and love must do.
Our King of Peace, comes to reign in mercy, not by “lording it over us.”
He comes to reign from within, in our hearts.
Not always easy to believe or grasp, for triumphant kings normally do not die.
Our King suffers and dies--in order fully to reign as king.
 
And, along the journey to His death, Jesus willingly suffers
everything that normally “kills” the human heart:

• betrayal and abandonment 
• slander and mockery 
• denial and rejection

Jesus loves victoriously through it all; a King triumphant is He.            
 
If you think that there are deal-breakers in your life: this isn’t really for you,
this much love is impossible, think twice.
The Christ Who is coming to us loves even the betrayer,
and He suffers our insults with love’s ultimate expression, forgiveness.
We worship a Savior who “did not regard equality with God
as something to be exploited”, but humbled and emptied himself
“to the point of death, even death on a cross”,
a Savior Who thus can save us from death and its cause, sin,
Who can save us, when needed, from our selves.
We worship a God who pursues us with relentless, daunting love
and Who ultimately will enter the darkness and dankness of the grave
to say even here, here I will not be without you.
Although the suffering in our lives and world may incline you to think
that God stands an observer at a distance, on safe sidelines, think twice.
His abundant grace is hiding in, with, and under all the brokenness.
 
Let us lay our hearts on the path for Christ, and be in awe of
and surrender to the One Who “cometh in the name of the Lord.”
Amen.