Saturday, April 4, 2009

Sermon: Palm/Passion Sunday (5 April 2009)


Sermon: Palm/Passion Sunday (5 April 2009)
(Mark 11:1-11)
The Battle Begins

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

“Do not think that I came to bring peace on earth. I did not come to bring peace but a sword. For I have come to ‘set a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law’; and ‘a man’s enemies will be those of his own household.’ He who loves father or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me. And he who loves son or daughter more than Me is not worthy of Me. And he who does not take his cross and follow after Me is not worthy of Me. He who finds his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for My sake will find it” (Matthew 10:34-39, NKJV).

A battle is coming, Jesus says, a battle which will test and strain all loyalties, a battle in which lives will be lost and lives will be found. And Jesus has come to engage that battle, to wield the very sword of God.

It is an ancient battle, one begun near the dawn of time, one begun in heaven and pursued on earth – a battle of angels.

And war broke out in heaven: Michael and his angels fought with the dragon; and the dragon and his angels fought, but they did not prevail, nor was a place found for them in heaven any longer. So the great dragon was cast out, that serpent of old, called the Devil and Satan, who deceives the whole world; he was cast to the earth, and his angels were cast out with him (Rev 12:7-9, NKJV).

Into the Garden the battle raged: quietly, unobtrusively, deceptively – a battle of hints and innuendos and lies. And man became its casualty, the entire race of man taken prisoner of war by the serpent, bound over to death and sin by our ancient foe Satan.

Not willing or desiring that man should cease to be, not willing that His own image in man be forever lost, the Creator mounted a counter offensive, fielding an army of patriarchs, priests, kings, prophets, a whole nation – a patient general campaigning over the millennia, all the while preparing a people, preparing the world, for a Champion – a Champion to wage the battle to end all battles. And so, in the fullness of the times, that Champion comes.

And it came to pass in those days that a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. This census first took place while Quirinius was governing Syria. So all went to be registered, everyone to his own city.

Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be registered with Mary, his betrothed wife, who was with child. So it was, that while they were there, the days were completed for her to be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn (Lk 2:1-7, NRSV).

The enemy loses no time, but conspires with the powers of this age – with Herod – to slaughter the innocents of Bethlehem in a vain attempt to destroy God’s Champion. From there, but for one brief episode in the temple, the record goes silent; for thirty years the battle rages unobtrusively, hidden from public sight. We can only imagine its intensity.

It breaks into view again at a river in Aenon near Salim where the Champion comes to be baptized by a wilderness prophet. From there it moves directly into the surrounding wilderness, a frontal attack of the enemy this time, an attack repulsed by the Champion with prayer and fasting and the Word of God his Father. Some three years of skirmishes follow: sickness, death, demons, storms, politicians and clergy – all pawns in the conflict, a conflict moving inexorably toward a climactic battle.

Today it begins; today the final assault begins.

Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their clothes on it, and He sat on it. And many spread their clothes on the road, and others cut down leafy branches from the trees and spread them on the road. Then those who went before and those who followed cried out, saying:

“Hosanna!
‘Blessed is He who comes in the name of the LORD!’
Blessed is the kingdom of our father David that comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!”

And Jesus went into Jerusalem and into the temple (Mk 11:7-10, NKJV).

Jesus casts down the gauntlet. Riding at the head of a coronation procession, he comes as King to an occupied city, occupied by the world-striding, world-conquering power of Rome. Hailed as the one who comes in the name of the LORD, he comes as Lord to an occupied temple, occupied by thieving merchants and power hungry priests.

The climactic battle is coming and the Triumphal Entry is the opening volley – Jesus on the offensive. But is the battle really to be waged against such would-be powers of the world as those arrayed against Jesus – a battle waged against priests and Sadducees, scribes and Pharisees, Herodians and Roman soldiers? Surely these are no match for Very God from Very God incarnate. Surely, Jesus came not to destroy these, or even to conquer them, but to save them. No, the coming battle is not against flesh and blood – even though the cross makes it seem so – but “against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (Eph 6:12, NIV). Though many of the “enemy” foot soldiers are indeed flesh and blood, the true battle is the ancient one begun in heaven, pursued in the Garden, and waged across the pages of history – a spiritual battle with the dragon. The battlefield is the heart of man, conquered by the enemy and guarded by his demon soldiers of barrenness, hypocrisy, and rebellion.

Now the next day [the day following the Triumphal Entry], when they had come out from Bethany, He [Jesus] was hungry. And seeing from afar a fig tree having leaves, He went to see if perhaps He would find something on it. When He came to it, He found nothing but leaves, for it was not the season for figs. In response Jesus said to it, “Let no one eat fruit from you ever again.”
And his disciples heard it.

Now in the morning [of the next day], as they passed by, they saw the fig tree dried up from the roots. And Peter, remembering, said to Him, “Rabbi, look! The fig tree which You cursed has withered away” (Mk 11:12-14, 20-21, NKJV).

Jesus has come to battle barrenness in Israel and in the human heart. To Israel belongs “the adoption, the glory, the covenants, the giving of the law, the worship, and the promises; to them belong the patriarchs, and from them, according to the flesh, comes the Messiah, who is over all, God blessed for ever. Amen” (Rom 9:4-5, NRSV). And yet, when Jesus looks for the fruit born from these incomparable blessings he finds only a tree in full foliage, leaves concealing its utter barrenness. What is this? In the presence of Jesus fish miraculously school into nets, water turns into wine, bread is multiplied, storms are stilled. Creation knows its Creator and bends the knee before him. But this tree, this Israel? It refuses to bear fruit for its Creator, for its Messiah. And so, Jesus wields the sword, condemning its barrenness.

From his battle with the barren fig tree Jesus comes to Jerusalem.

Then Jesus went into the temple and began to drive out those who bought and sold in the temple, and overturned the tables of the money changers and the seats of those who sold doves. And He would not allow anyone to carry wares through the temple. Then He taught, saying to them, “Is it not written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer for all nations’? But you have made it a ‘den of thieves.’”
And the scribes and chief priests heard it and sought how they might destroy Him; for they feared Him, because all the people were astonished at His teaching (Mk 11:15-18, NKJV).

What is a priest, if not a servant, a shepherd to lead his flock to God? But these priests act not as good shepherds, but as hirelings who care nothing for the sheep. They break into God’s house to steal; they have made it a den of thieves and have become thieves themselves. All the while wearing their robes and turbans, lifting their hands in prayer, offering the appointed sacrifices – now these “shepherds of Israel” plot how they might destroy the Good Shepherd. They are the worst kind of hypocrites: those who pretend to honor God and speak for him, but who know him not and have never heard his voice. The glory they should direct toward God they divert toward themselves. Jesus has come to battle this hypocrisy in Israel’s priests and in the human heart. And so he wields the whip, driving out the merchants – the priests’ lackeys – freeing the sacrificial doves before their blood is spilled in empty ritual, disrupting the priests’ vain worship. Yes, Jesus wields the whip, condemning hypocrisy.

The following day Jesus is accosted by the chief priests, the scribes, and the elders while walking in the temple. “And they said to Him, ‘By what authority are You doing these things: And who gave You this authority to do these things’” (Mk 11:28, NKJV)? Jesus answered in a parable.

A man planted a vineyard. He put a wall around it, dug a pit for the winepress and built a watchtower. Then he rented the vineyard to some farmers and went away on a journey. 2At harvest time he sent a servant to the tenants to collect from them some of the fruit of the vineyard. 3But they seized him, beat him and sent him away empty-handed. 4Then he sent another servant to them; they struck this man on the head and treated him shamefully. 5He sent still another, and that one they killed. He sent many others; some of them they beat, others they killed.
6He had one left to send, a son, whom he loved. He sent him last of all, saying, 'They will respect my son.'
7But the tenants said to one another, 'This is the heir. Come, let's kill him, and the inheritance will be ours.' 8So they took him and killed him, and threw him out of the vineyard.
9What then will the owner of the vineyard do? He will come and kill those tenants and give the vineyard to others. 10Haven't you read this scripture: 'The stone the builders rejected has become the capstone; 11the Lord has done this, and it is marvelous in our eyes'?
12Then they looked for a way to arrest him because they knew he had spoken the parable against them. But they were afraid of the crowd; so they left him and went away (Mk 12:1-12, NIV).

Jesus has come as the faithful Son to reclaim the vineyard for God his Father; he has come knowing full well the tenants will kill him and throw him out of the vineyard. He has come to battle the rebellion in the leadership of Israel and in the human heart. And so, he wields the power of the word against this rebellion, the power of a parable which will either break hearts and bend knees or harden hearts and stiffen necks. Yes, Jesus wields the word, condemning rebellion.

The Triumphal Entry – and the ensuing battle – had profound historical and spiritual significance for Israel. For its barrenness, hypocrisy, and rebellion – particularly of the religious establishment – Israel was judged by God and, in only forty years, destroyed by the Romans. Though Israel never was and is not now excluded from God’s redemptive work, the thrust of that redemptive work in the world shifted to the nations – to the Gentiles, though St. Paul holds out hope, as do we all, for a great awakening of his people. For Israel, the Triumphal Entry was the beginning of judgment, though the hope of restoration remains.

But the Triumphal Entry marks the beginning of another battle, as well – and, pray God, not a battle unto judgment. Having conquered sin and death, having defeated our ancient foe Satan – having risen from the dead, trampling down death by death – our Champion Jesus makes triumphal entry into every human heart and wields the sword against the barrenness, hypocrisy, and rebellion he finds there. Let us make no mistake: if we are his, if we have surrendered the vineyard of our lives to him, Jesus will have us fruitful; he will have us genuine; he will have us humble. He is a mighty warrior and wields the sword to great effect. The cuts are deep and painful. The wounds are mortal wounds; none survive his onslaught. Every old man, old woman, old child must die – every vestige of barrenness and hypocrisy and rebellion must be destroyed – so that a new man, a new woman, a new child may be born and may press on toward maturity. The sword in the hands of the Warrior proves to be the scalpel in the hands of the Healer – a healer who battles our human hearts not for their destruction but for their perfection.

This is not a battle in which we can remain neutral: we are both battleground and combatant – we are engaged. We may choose to fight with Jesus for the deliverance of our hearts or against him for – What? – to remain barren, to live in hypocrisy, to rebel against the one who loves us and longs to free us from our corruption and slavery? But if we choose to fight with him, our Champion equips us, arms us for battle and assures us of victory.

The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ (2 Cor 10:4-5, NIV).

13Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. 14Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, 15and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. 16In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. 18And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the saints (Eph 6:13-18, NIV).

Truth, righteousness, peace, faith, the Word of God, and prayer – continual prayer in the Spirit – these are our weapons. Add to this arsenal humility, obedience, self-sacrifice, service, and love – above all, love – and the victory for our hearts and our very lives is certain.

There is a battle raging, not only in the world, but in our hearts. May Jesus truly come to us in Triumphal Entry. May we truly cry out,

Hosanna!
Blessed is He who comes in the name of the LORD!

Amen.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Meditation: Feast of the Annunciation (25 March 2009)


In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Today, for the first time, the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ is proclaimed – announced, we say – by the Archangel Gabriel to a young virgin of Nazareth in Galilee, a virgin named Mary.

26In the sixth month, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, 27to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin's name was Mary. 28The angel went to her and said, "Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you."
29Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. 30But the angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God. 31You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. 32He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, 33and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end."
34"How will this be," Mary asked the angel, "since I am a virgin?"
35The angel answered, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. 36Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be barren is in her sixth month. 37For nothing is impossible with God."
38"I am the Lord's servant," Mary answered. "May it be to me as you have said." Then the angel left her (Luke 1:26-38, NIV).

Mary is the first to receive an altar call: Will you accept Jesus Christ – not just into your heart but into your womb, not just as your personal savior but as savior of the world? And the world has been forever changed by her answer: “I am the Lord’s servant.”

It is Mary who gave flesh to God; thus, it is Mary we honor as Theotokos – God-bearer. It is through her that God assumed our humanity that we might assume his divinity (Athanasius, On the Incarnation). It is through her that Jesus took unto himself our nature that he might heal our nature and reconcile us to God. It is through her – because it is through her Son – that the Almighty has done great things.

51He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
52He has brought down rulers from their thrones
but has lifted up the humble.
53He has filled the hungry with good things
but has sent the rich away empty.
54He has helped his servant Israel,
remembering to be merciful
55to Abraham and his descendants forever,
even as he said to our fathers" (Luke 1:51-55, NIV).

And so, with Elizabeth the barren one, herself miraculously great with child, we proclaim to the Virgin of Nazareth: Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb.

Amen.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Meditation: 4 Lent (22 March 2009)


There is a moment in the Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom at which the priest exclaims, “The Doors. The Doors.” The catechumens, aspirants to the faith, are escorted from the service – at least they were in Chrysostom’s day – and behind them the doors, the doors, are closed and bolted. The catechumens were welcome to hear the Word – in Scripture, Psalm, and exhortation – but what follows is so deep, so profound, and so intimate that only the illumined – the baptized – are permitted to see and hear and know.

What takes place behind the doors once they are shut and bolted against prying eyes or just immature eyes? The Creed: the baptized recite the Symbol of the Faith – the Nicene Creed. Only those who are willing to stake their lives, in this world and the next, on their faith in One God, the Father, the Almighty; in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the only Son of God; and in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life are allowed to know, hear, and speak the Creed. And following the Creed the faithful approach the greatest of mysteries, the heart and soul of our faith – the Eucharistic Feast, the table of the Lord. In Chrysostom’s Divine Liturgy God is described as ineffable – beyond words – and incomprehensible – beyond intellect; the same could and must be said about the Eucharist. Eucharistic theology, the attempt to explain and “demystify” the Feast, is a fool’s errand. When asked to explain a dance she had just premiered the great artist Isadora Duncan responded, “If I could explain it, I wouldn’t have to dance it.” Likewise, if we could explain the Eucharist, we wouldn’t have to break the bread and lift the cup. At best, eucharistic theology is the search for metaphors – metaphors that shine a bit of light on first this facet, then that one, of this great jewel of our faith and life. Of course, the Eucharist is itself the overarching metaphor that shines light on all of human existence and on the glorious redemption of man through the love of God the Father, the sacrifice of God the Son, and the indwelling of God the Holy Spirit.

These are the mysteries we will explore at Trinity Church this Sunday, 4 Lent 2009. I approach the task of speaking about these holy mysteries with fear and trembling (ref. Isaiah 6:1-7), knowing my own deep limitations. And yet, I was comforted by the words I read this week in a small book titled Theosis: The True Purpose of Human Life (Archimandrite George, Holy Monastery of Saint Gregorios Mount Athos, 2006). What the abbot says about theosis I say about the eucharist:

“It is very daring for someone to talk about Theosis without first having tasted it. But we have dared what is beyond our power because we have faith in the mercy of our great God and Saviour Jesus Christ.”

Amen.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Meditation: 2 Lent (8 March 2009)


The Gathering


Our Liturgy is a “drama” in four acts: The Gathering, The Service of the Word, The Service of the Table (Holy Eucharist), and The Sending. Beginning with Sunday, 2 Lent, we are spending time exploring the significance of each act. These explorations are more discussion than sermon; for that reason I will not post sermons through the remainder of March. I will however, post brief meditations which illustrate or summarize a theme developed during the discussion. I encountered the following story first in a podcast (Glory To God, available through Ancient Faith Radio, by Father Stephen Freeman of Saint Anne’s Orthodox Church in Oak Ridge, Tennessee). How wonderfully it captures the mystery of the gathering of the church.

At Saint Antony’s Monastery apparitions of saints are routine, as are healings, exorcisms, and other spiritual phenomena. According to Father Dioscuros, “even when we cannot see the departed fathers we can always feel them. And besides, there are many other indications that they are with us. Well, take last week for instance. The Bedouin from the desert are always bringing their sick to us for healing. Normally it is something quite simple: we let them kiss a relic, give them an aspirin and send them on their way. But last week they brought in a small girl who was possessed by a devil. We took the girl into the church, and as it was the time for vespers one of the fathers went off to ring the bell for prayers. When he saw this the devil inside the girl began to cry: ‘Don’t ring the bell! Please don’t ring the bell!’ We asked him why not. ‘Because,’ replied the devil, ‘when you ring the bell it’s not just the living monks who come into the church: all the holy souls of the fathers join with you too, as well as great multitudes of angels and archangels. How can I remain in the church when that happens? I’m not staying in a place like that.”

From the Holy Mountain, William Dalrymple, Henry Holt Publishers, p. 407.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Sermon: 1 Lent (1 March 2009)


Sermon: 1 Lent (1 March 2009)
(Genesis 9:8-17/Psalm 25:1-10/1 Peter 3:18-22/Mark 1:9-15)
Stories

Kyrie eleison. Christe eleison. Kyrie eleison.
Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.
Amen.

So here’s the guy I feel sorry for: the one who has worked thirty-five years at the same place, day in and day out, doing a solid job, whether it was personally satisfying or not, just to provide for his family. He has put away a considerable amount in the company’s retirement program looking forward to the time he and his wife could spend a few retirement years together – really have some time and freedom for a change. He is two years away from retirement when he receives his termination notice: the business has filed for bankruptcy and is closing immediately. There will be no severance package for the employees. His health insurance is cancelled. Worst of all, the retirement account has collapsed and is essentially worthless. The guy’s sixty-two. He has been responsible and played by the rules all his life. And now, what does he have to show for it? He has lived a story – one of commitment and responsibility, a certain self-sacrifice even – and he has outlined the next chapter, a good chapter. But the story has gone badly wrong; it has taken a detour at the last moment in a direction he never intended and could not even have foresee. Where does he turn? To whom does he call out for assistance: the courts, the government? We’ve seen far too many of these good stories gone bad lately, and I fear there are many more to come. Yes, that’s the guy I feel sorry for.

Isaiah had a vision in the year that King Uzziah died. While in the temple he saw the LORD sitting on a throne, high and lifted up, and the train of his robe filled the temple.

2 Above it [the throne] stood seraphim; each one had six wings: with two he covered his face, with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew. 3 And one cried to another and said:
“Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts; the whole earth is full of His glory!”
4 And the posts of the door were shaken by the voice of him who cried out, and the house was filled with smoke. 5 So I said: “Woe is me, for I am undone! because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts.” 6 Then one of the seraphim flew to me, having in his hand a live coal which he had taken with the tongs from the altar. 7 And he touched my mouth with it, and said: “Behold, this has touched your lips; your iniquity is taken away, and your sin purged.” 8 Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying: “Whom shall I send, and who will go for Us?” Then I said, “Here am I! Send me” (Is 6:2-8, NKJV).

With this vision – with this prophetic call – Isaiah begins a new story, a new decades-long prophetic ministry to Israel and Judah. With such a glorious beginning I imagine Isaiah’s mental script – the way he envisioned the story developing over the next several years – went from glory to glory: God working wonders for his people, perhaps even reunifying Israel and Judah under a righteous son of David. But, his story went badly wrong, and that right quickly. Israel moved ever farther from the LORD and, within some twenty years, was obliterated by the Assyrians – ten tribes just lost. And despite this example of disobedience and judgment, despite Isaiah’s faithful prophetic ministry, Judah also continued its own downward spiral toward destruction. The LORD revealed to Isaiah that the temple in which his vision occurred would be razed: men would come as with axes to groves of trees and lay it low. Jerusalem would be taken and destroyed, with not one stone left on top of another. And the people – God’s people? Death or captivity in a foreign land.

Isaiah has lived a story – one of commitment and responsibility, a certain self-sacrifice even – and he has outlined the next chapter, a good chapter. But the story has gone badly wrong; it has taken a detour at the last moment in a direction he never intended and could not even have foreseen. Where does he turn? To whom does he call out for assistance?

1 Oh, that You would rend the heavens! That You would come down! That the mountains might shake at Your presence— 2 As fire burns brushwood, As fire causes water to boil— To make Your name known to Your adversaries, That the nations may tremble at Your presence! 3 When You did awesome things for which we did not look, You came down, The mountains shook at Your presence.

9 Do not be furious, O LORD, nor remember iniquity forever; indeed, please look—we all are Your people! 10 Your holy cities are a wilderness, Zion is a wilderness, Jerusalem a desolation. 11 Our holy and beautiful temple, where our fathers praised You, is burned up with fire; and all our pleasant things are laid waste. 12 Will You restrain Yourself because of these things, O LORD? Will You hold Your peace, and afflict us very severely (Is 64:1-3, 9-12, NKJV)?

Isaiah calls out to the only one who can save, to the LORD God Almighty, to the God of his vision, to the God on his throne high and lifted up and Holy, Holy, Holy! O, that you would tear open the heavens and come down! With this plaintive cry of the prophet whose story went so badly wrong, we began our Advent observance just three month ago. O, that you would tear open the heavens and come down!

Centuries pass – seven of them – and Isaiah’s prayer goes unanswered. And then, in the fullness of time,

4 John appeared, baptizing in the wilderness and proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. 5And all the country of Judea and all Jerusalem were going out to him and were being baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. 6Now John was clothed with camel’s hair and wore a leather belt around his waist and ate locusts and wild honey. 7And he preached, saying, "After me comes he who is mightier than I, the strap of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. 8 I have baptized you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit" (Mark 1:4-8, ESV).

Seven centuries for Israel, seven centuries too late for Isaiah, but only weeks for us: these words marked the beginning of Epiphany just two months ago. And now, today, the story continues.

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased” (Mark 1:9-11, NRSV).

Lent begins for us with the answer to Isaiah’s prayer – finally, after seven centuries: O, that you would tear open the heavens and come down! Isaiah had prayed. And on this day of all days, in the presence of another kingdom prophet and a carpenter-turned-rabbi, God answers. “And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” In the person of Jesus of Nazareth, in the power of the Holy Spirit, God has, at last, torn open the heavens and come down. Whatever else this may mean, it must mean this: the story that went so badly wrong seven centuries earlier is now being set right again in the water of baptism, in the life and ministry of Jesus of Nazareth. Even more, the story that went so badly wrong in the Garden is now being set right again in the incarnation, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus of Nazareth, the only-begotten Son of God, the Beloved. God was not content merely to answer Isaiah’s prayer for Judah; that was far too small a thing. No; God, when the time was right, answered the inarticulate groaning of all mankind – indeed of all creation: O, that you would tear open the heavens and come down! God has come at last not to reestablish a small, middle-eastern kingdom, but to transform all the world into the kingdom of God: “Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news’” (Mark 1:14-15, NRSV). This is the story set right.

It is, of course, still a very strange story – not one that we could have foreseen. God has torn open the heavens and come down and we might expect immediate, wholesale change: evil banished, righteousness restored, judgment and justice executed, a heavenly rule evident throughout creation – in short, the Isaianic vision:

6 “ The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the young goat, the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them. 7 The cow and the bear shall graze; their young ones shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. 8 The nursing child shall play by the cobra’s hole, and the weaned child shall put his hand in the viper’s den. 9 They shall not hurt nor destroy in all My holy mountain, for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the LORD as the waters cover the sea” (Is 11:6-9, NKJV).

If God has indeed torn open the heavens and come down, we expect to see these signs. Instead, life goes on – pretty much as usual – except for this: Jesus, still dripping wet from his baptism in the Jordan, is driven into the wilderness by the Holy Spirit, there to be tempted in all points like as we are. Forty days he is there – fasting, praying, struggling. And he emerges victorious – tempted in all points like as we are, yet without sin. What has this to do with the story put to rights? Everything. Jesus is recapitulating – living out in his own experience – the story of Israel, but getting it right where Israel got it wrong. Jesus comes through the Jordan in baptism as Israel came through the Red Sea. Jesus wanders in the wilderness forty days, enduring temptation, as Israel wandered in the wilderness forty years. Jesus enters the land and conquers its inhabitants – disease, demons, bigotry, corrupt politicians and hypocritical religious leaders – as Israel struggled against the indigenous tribes: Hittites, Amalekites, Amorites. Jesus confronts the dominant pagan empire of Rome, endures the exile of death, and returns victorious from the grave. Jesus puts the story of Israel to rights by recapitulating Israel’s history – getting it right this time – by becoming righteous Israel, and by doing what Israel did not and could not do. Then he offers Israel the opportunity to join in his story and thereby fulfill theirs: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news,” is how Jesus put it.

But Jesus does far more than recapitulate the Jewish experience – he assumes into himself, takes up into himself, the entire human experience. As he became righteous Israel to fulfill God’s covenants with the patriarchs, so, too, he becomes righteous man to fulfill God’s intent for all humanity. Jesus becomes the new Adam that he might put to rights Adam’s story – our story – and restore the image of God in man. Jesus is tempted in the wilderness, as Adam was tempted in the Garden; but, this time man, in the person of the Incarnate One, chooses rightly and sin is defeated. And though sinless, though immune from death in his divinity, Jesus suffers death in his humanity – takes it up into himself – for all mankind, to conquer death for all mankind. He assumes our nature that he might heal our nature, for “what is not assumed cannot be healed” (Gregory of Nanzianzen). He recapitulates our story that he might put our story to rights.

3 He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. 4 Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted. 5 But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. 6 We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

11 After the suffering of his soul, he will see the light of life and be satisfied; by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many, and he will bear their iniquities. 12 Therefore I will give him a portion among the great, and he will divide the spoils with the strong, because he poured out his life unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors. For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors (Is 53:3-6, 11-12, NKJV).

And now that Christ has put the human story to rights, we must take our place in that story page by page, chapter by chapter, moving toward its glorious end when the last enemy, death, finally has been destroyed and God is all in all (1 Cor 15:28). Christ set our story to rights by identifying fully with us; we take our place in the story by identifying fully with Christ. As Jesus entered the story in the baptismal waters of the Jordan, so we enter the story in the baptismal waters of his church. There we are cleansed. There we put on Christ. There we are saved and there we begin our salvation. There our story begins anew. And yes, like Jesus following his baptism, we will be driven out into the wilderness to face temptation. But, like him, we go in the power of the Holy Spirit. We go in the company of the one who defeated temptation. We go with the assurance of his love and mercy and forgiveness. We go in the communion of saints: supported by the prayers of the faithful; nourished by the bread of heaven, the cup of salvation, and the living word of God; blessed by the worship of the church that casts for us a vision of God high and lifted up and holy. And we go carrying a cross – completing our Lenten journey with the One who carried the cross for us – knowing that if we carry the cross with him, we shall also break forth from the tomb with him in glorious splendor on the great day of resurrection to be forever with the Lord. This is the story put to rights.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. According to His great mercy, He has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead (1 Peter 1:3, HCSB).

Amen.

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Homily: Ash Wednesday (25 February 2009)


Ash Wednesday Homily: 25 February 2009
(Joel 2:1-2, 12-17/Psalm 51/2Corinthians 5:20b-6:10/Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21)
Where, O death, is your sting?

Holy God, Holy and Mighty, Holy Immortal One, have mercy upon us.

I came to liturgical worship in mid-life – not so very long ago – so I well remember kneeling at the altar rail for the first time to receive the imposition of ashes on Ash Wednesday. My wife was to my right with our daughter between us. As Father John made his way from penitent to penitent he reached them first. As he signed each of them with the cross he intoned the ancient words of scripture and the church: “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” And for the first time, though I had known death before, I was struck that night in a profound and visceral way by the unique human condition: we alone among all creatures are aware of our mortality. Such is the power of sacramental action, of the signs and symbols, the rites and liturgy of the church. I knew in that moment that everything I cherished most in the world – those two who knelt beside me – were dust and to dust must return. I have not yet recovered from that first Ash Wednesday; pray, God, I never do.

On Ash Wednesday, more than any other day, the church reminds us that we are mortal, that we all must die. Death is our common human inheritance, bequeathed by fallen Adam to all his fallen children. There is a strange, spiritual symmetry here, the church tells us. Adam’s sin brought forth death, and now, death brings forth sin among Adam’s children. The awareness of our mortality – of our impending death – stirs and awakens passions within us. Because we sense we were made for eternity we rebel against mortality. These passions propel us into a quest for power: every act of dominance, from the sarcastic comment to war among nations, is a futile show of power in the face of death. We will conquer; we will survive. These passions propel us into narcissism and self-absorption: every botox injection, every facelift, every overweight middle-aged man who leaves the wife of his youth for the ideal nymph, testifies to man’s vain effort to forestall age and death. We will not go silent into that dark night. These passions propel us into mind and body numbing stupors – anything to ease the aching awareness of mortality: every eating or drinking binge, every abuse of drugs, every sexual hook-up is an injection of existential novacaine that fails to deaden the nerve of our approaching end. Death stirs and awakens our passions and these passions bring forth our sin. “Where, O death, is your sting?” Paul asks. He well knows: “The sting of death is sin,”(1 Cor 15:55-56). Death is the enemy; it destroys us – if it does – through its power of sin.

So the church teaches. We have inherited the fallen human condition – we have inherited death. Awareness of death stirs passions within us, passions that strive toward eternity, quite often in vain and destructive directions. Sin is born of these passions. So, whatever in this world or the next, is the church thinking when she says to us, “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return,” as she confronts and seals us with the sign of our mortality? Why does the church stir up these passions within us? In the wisdom of the Holy Spirit the church knows that these passions must be awakened and confronted through the power of the cross, through the power of the sinless One who conquered death by dying and who rose to life everlasting.

“Death has been swallowed up in victory.
Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?”
The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law.
But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ (1 Cor 15:55-57, NIV).

This is the wisdom and power of God, that when Mother Church traces on our foreheads the sign of our mortality she does so in the form of the death-conquering, life-giving cross of the Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be blessing and honor and glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.

This is the wisdom and power of God, that when Mother Church stirs our passions she arms us for the ensuing struggle: “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore, put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand” (Eph 6:12-13, NIV).

Yes, Mother Church equips us for battle with the passions – passions St. John describes as “the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life” (1 John 2:16, NKJV). We battle the lust of the flesh – all our sensual indulgences – through abstinence: prayer and fasting, the church prescribes. For the lust of the eyes – all our selfishness and greed, our compulsive need to acquire – the church prescribes almsgiving, a free gift of the material goods entrusted to us. The pride of life? For this poison of control and domination the church offers as antidote the basin and the towel, the cross, and the way of Jesus – a way of humility and service.

These Lenten disciplines are the church’s way of struggle against the passions which lead to sin and alienation from man and God. But, they are far more: the Lenten disciplines are a way of transformation of these passions into the one, all-consuming and life-giving passion for God. The church is not naïve; passions cannot simply be defeated once-for-all or, worse still, repressed. Passions must be transformed by the cross and resurrection of Christ. The season of Lent, which can seem like a via negativa, a negative way of renunciation, must be experienced instead as a via positiva, a positive way of transformation. We fast from food that we might feast on prayer and Scripture and the Eucharist – the bread of heaven and the cup of salvation. We give our alms that we might store up treasure in heaven; we sell all lesser pearls that we might buy the one pearl of great price. We serve, we become least of all, recalling Christ’s words that he came to serve to set us an example, and that the one who is least of all is great in the kingdom of heaven. The church, in her Spirit-inspired wisdom, prescribes for us practices to transform our lesser passions into the one passion worthy of those created in the image of God: to love the Lord our God with all our heart and soul and mind and strength.

So, let us fast that we might learn to feast. Let us give, let us empty ourselves, that from God’s abundance we might receive the fullness of the Spirit. Let us serve that we may follow the way of Christ. Let us face our mortality, awaken our passions, and transform them through the cross of Christ. Let us exchange the things of earth for the things of eternity (Laudable Exchange, John Michael Talbot).

Let us pray.

O Lord, who hast mercy upon all,take away from us our sins,and mercifully kindle in us the fire of thy Holy Spirit.Take away from us our hearts of stone, and give us hearts of flesh,hearts to love and adore Thee, hearts to delight in Thee,to follow and enjoy Thee, for Christ's sake. AmenSt. Ambrose of Milan, adapted (AD 339-397)

Friday, February 20, 2009

Sermon: Transfiguration of Our Lord ( 22 Feb 2009)


Sermon: Transfiguration of Our Lord (22 February 2009)
(2 Kings 2:1-12/Psalm 50:1-6/2 Corinthians 4:3-6/Mark 9:2-9)
If you will you can become all flame.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
_______________________________
Abba Lot went to see Abba Joseph and said to him, ‘Abba, as far as I can I say my little office, I fast a little, I pray and meditate, I live in peace and as far as I can, I purify my thoughts. What else can I do?’

Then the old man stood up and stretched his hands towards heaven. His fingers became like ten lamps of fire and he said to him, ‘If you will, you can become all flame.’
[1]
_______________________________

The church tells the story of two and a half men. It is our story, as much for women as for men, though the outward form is sometimes gender specific. And it is – as all true stories are – God’s story. It starts…well, it starts in the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, when through the Word all things came into being: light and life and men. ”And God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them” (Gen 1:27, NASB). Adam and Eve, scripture names them – our first parents, the exemplars of our race.

Man was, by nature, oriented toward God, in communion with God – a partaker of the divine nature. God’s breath was man’s life. God’s will was man’s desire. God’s love was man’s goal. Man walked a path through the Garden toward God in company with God, progressing from one degree of glory to the next. Man, created in the image of God, would, through obedience and communion, progress ever toward the likeness of God and would be drawn ever more fully into perichoresis, the mutual life of the Trinity. Such was man’s purpose and nature – man’s logos. And so it was until man was deceived by the father of lies, the serpent Satan. Satan offered precisely what man wanted, a fulfillment of man’s God-breathed life and nature – to become like God.

1 Now the serpent was more cunning than any beast of the field which the LORD God had made. And he said to the woman, “Has God indeed said, ‘You shall not eat of every tree of the garden’?”2 And the woman said to the serpent, “We may eat the fruit of the trees of the garden; 3 but of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, God has said, ‘You shall not eat it, nor shall you touch it, lest you die.’” 4 Then the serpent said to the woman, “You will not surely die. 5 For God knows that in the day you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil” (Gen 3:1-5, NKJV).

Rightly does scripture call the serpent cunning. Man is created in his very nature to desire God, to move toward God, to become like God – but only through divine grace that comes from obedience to God and communion with God. Satan offers to fulfill man’s greatest desire and rightful purpose through an act of disobedience and rebellion. Perhaps you’ve misunderstood God’s instructions, Satan suggests to Eve. Perhaps God wants you to eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, wants you to be like him now. It sounds so right and the fruit looks so appetizing that man – in the person first of Eve then of Adam – through disobedience bows down to worship the creature – the serpent Satan. And all hell breaks loose; sin and death come forth victorious and claim their victims. Man is diminished in body and mind and spirit. Man, the glorious creation of God – the bearer of God’s image and the promise of his likeness – is reduced to half-man. Half-man hides from God, unable to bring his shame into God’s presence. And so, cut off from the source of life, death reigns supreme – not over the first man only, but over all the children of man. Man was made for light and life. Man inherits darkness and death.

Yet, the image of God within half-man has not been completely erased; man’s logos – man’s purpose and nature – compel him forward toward life and meaning. But, apart from God, faced with immanent death, half-man knows not where to turn. He has forgotten God, forgotten the height from which he fell. And so it is that half-man turns toward the creation, desperately rummaging there for the answer, desperately seeking there to stave off death and the fear of death, desperately grasping light and life in a place of darkness and death. And so, half-man spirals downward.

21For although they knew God, they neither glorified him as God nor gave thanks to him, but their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened. 22Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools 23and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like mortal man and birds and animals and reptiles.
24Therefore God gave them over in the sinful desires of their hearts to sexual impurity for the degrading of their bodies with one another. 25They exchanged the truth of God for a lie, and worshiped and served created things rather than the Creator—who is forever praised. Amen.
26Because of this, God gave them over to shameful lusts. Even their women exchanged natural relations for unnatural ones. 27In the same way the men also abandoned natural relations with women and were inflamed with lust for one another. Men committed indecent acts with other men, and received in themselves the due penalty for their perversion.
28Furthermore, since they did not think it worthwhile to retain the knowledge of God, he gave them over to a depraved mind, to do what ought not to be done. 29They have become filled with every kind of wickedness, evil, greed and depravity. They are full of envy, murder, strife, deceit and malice. They are gossips, 30slanderers, God-haters, insolent, arrogant and boastful; they invent ways of doing evil; they disobey their parents; 31they are senseless, faithless, heartless, ruthless. 32Although they know God's righteous decree that those who do such things deserve death, they not only continue to do these very things but also approve of those who practice them (Rom 1:21-32, NIV).

Such is the state of half-man – not of each individual, of course – but of the race of half-men: distanced from God, unmindful of his glory, obsessed with self and power and pleasure and death, and spiraling ever downward toward corruption.

Then, into this world of half-men, comes the True Man, the new Adam – the One who spoke man into existence and breathed into him the breath of life, now himself incarnate, now in human form.

1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made. 4 In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. 5 And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.

14 And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth (John 1:1-5, 14, NKJV).

This True Man took half-man to the mountain: Sinai, Carmel, Tabor. Look and remember, he says to half-man. Turn from darkness and death toward light and life. See what God intends.

1 And He said to them, “Assuredly, I say to you that there are some standing here who will not taste death till they see the kingdom of God present with power.”2 Now after six days Jesus took Peter, James, and John, and led them up on a high mountain apart by themselves; and He was transfigured before them. 3 His clothes became shining, exceedingly white, like snow, such as no launderer on earth can whiten them. 4 And Elijah appeared to them with Moses, and they were talking with Jesus. 5 Then Peter answered and said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; and let us make three tabernacles: one for You, one for Moses, and one for Elijah”— 6 because he did not know what to say, for they were greatly afraid. 7 And a cloud came and overshadowed them; and a voice came out of the cloud, saying, “This is My beloved Son. Hear Him!” 8 Suddenly, when they had looked around, they saw no one anymore, but only Jesus with themselves (Mk 9:1-8, NKJV).

“Jesus, as far as we can we obey the Law and the Prophets – Moses and Elijah. We say our prayers a little, we fast a little, we give our alms a little. As far as it is in us so to do, we live at peace with all men. What more can we do?” say the half-men. And his clothes become exceedingly white and his face shines like the sun, and the voice of God speaks, “This is My beloved Son. Hear Him.” Jesus answers without saying a word: If you will you can become all flame. This is True Man, man in the image and likeness of God. This is the proclamation that the gospel is about transfiguration, about half-men becoming true men, about darkness dispelled by light, about death swallowed up in the victory of life. It is about half-men receiving by grace through Christ alone what is Christ’s alone by nature. This is the story of two and a half men: of Adam and the fall, of the race of half-men, of Jesus and the transfiguration.

45 And so it is written, “The first man Adam became a living being.”The last Adam became a life-giving spirit. 46 However, the spiritual is not first, but the natural, and afterward the spiritual. 47 The first man was of the earth, made of dust; the second Man is the Lord from heaven. 48 As was the man of dust, so also are those who are made of dust; and as is the heavenly Man, so also are those who are heavenly. 49 And as we have borne the image of the man of dust, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly Man (1 Cor 15:45-49).

The power of the gospel is the power of transfiguration, not for Jesus only but for all the race of half-men. Jesus’ transfiguration points the way to yours and to mine and to all who will come to the light of his dawning.

Athanasius, newly consecrated bishop of Alexandria, determined to visit all the churches in his see, to make certain the orthodox faith was being proclaimed. On his journey he learned of three, old monks who lived alone on an island. Like the devoted bishop he was, Athanasius set sail to the island to shepherd, even if briefly, this small flock. He was greeted with great warmth and reverence by the monks. “Tell me,” Athanasius said to them after awhile, “how it is that you pray.” “Father, we are not learned men,” the monks replied. “We simply lift our hands to God and say, ‘We are three and you are three: Have mercy upon us.’”

“Ah, dear Fathers, this will never do,” said Athanasius. “I must teach you to pray as the church prays.” And for the next several days – the monks were slow learners – the new bishop taught the old monks the Lord’s Prayer. Satisfied at last that the monks knew how to pray properly, Athanasius set sail for Alexandria. That very night aboard his ship he noticed a glow in the distance, a glow getting brighter and rapidly approaching the ship. He looked and saw the three old monks running toward him on the water. When they reached the ship they simply stood on the water as on dry ground with holy light encompassing them. “Father Athansius,” they said, “forgive our slowness, but we have forgotten again the words of the prayer you taught us. Please pray with us again.” “No, my fathers,” Athanasius said. “It is you who must pray for me.”

For all the old monks did not know, they did know this: the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ (cf 2 Cor 4:6). And through this glory – a glory seen not on Mount Tabor only, but supremely on Mount Calvary – they were transfigured.


And that is the heart of the gospel, that through Christ half-men become true men; that through Christ darkness and death are conquered by light and life; that through Christ man is reconciled to God, becomes a partaker of the divine nature, moves from glory to glory, from image to likeness.

The promise and the challenge of the gospel are one and the same: If you will, you can become all flame.

Amen.
[1] From The Sayings of the Desert Fathers: The Alphabetical Collection. Translated by Benedicta Ward. Cistercian Studies Series, number 59. This is saying 7 of Abba Joseph of Panephysis and appears on page 103.