the OHC Lectionary blog

RCL - Proper 21 A - 28 Sep 2008

2008-09-30T15:41:00.007-05:00

Mount Calvary, Monastery, Santa Barbara, CA
Br. James Michael Dowd, n/OHC
RCL – Proper 21 A – Sunday 21 September 2008

Ezekiel 18:1-4, 25-32
Philippians 2:1-13
Matthew 21:23-32

Working Out Our Salvation

In the name of the Living God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

“Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.” That sentence, actually, it’s a phrase, from St. Paul’s Letter to the Philippians, has always disturbed me. I’ve never been quite sure why – until this past week as I’ve been pondering what I was going to say to you this morning. That uneasy feeling, it seems to me, had something to do with the fact that the phrase itself indicates that I have some level of responsibility in my own salvation. That I cannot simply rely on God’s grace and the Redemption of the Cross and the Empty Tomb.

Now theologians have been debating this topic from the beginning of the Christian era and there are so many complex arguments coming from many points of view. So many, that it is easy to get lost in a maze of lofty ideas and pious thoughts. But the Scriptures are always the place to begin, when it comes to hearing God’s voice and gaining an understanding of what it is that God wants for our lives. So, while nothing I do, earns me my salvation – that is a pure gift from God if he so chooses, and he does so choose. But there is apparently an expectation that I will do certain things in response to that gift.

So, let’s look back at our first reading, from the Prophet Ezekiel. I’d like to read to you again those last few verses from the passage:

Therefore I will judge you, O house of Israel, all of you according to your ways, says the Lord GOD. Repent and turn from all your transgressions; otherwise iniquity will be your ruin. Cast away from you all the transgressions that you have committed against me, and get yourselves a new heart and a new spirit! Why will you die, O house of Israel? For I have no pleasure in the death of anyone, says the Lord GOD. Turn, then, and live.

Get yourselves a new heart and a new spirit! The Lord doesn’t mince words, does he? There it is – a command - short and to the point. And it seems the first thing to do is to get a new heart. The house of Israel was experiencing a kind of cynicism – remember the proverb that was stated at the beginning of the passage – about parents eating sour grapes and children’s teeth being set on edge? The people of Israel, at the time Ezekiel was prophesizing, were languishing in exile in Babylon. Being in a generally foul mood, they were spending their time blaming their ancestors for all of the sins they must have committed to get them into this terrible situation. Having been carried off into the Babylonian Captivity, they desperately needed to lay the blame for their own sinfulness at someone else’s feet.

But Ezekiel would have none of that. He made it clear that their exile was not the result of their parents’ sinfulness or their grandparents’ sinfulness. No, it was their own sinfulness that had gotten them into this trouble. And he was calling on them to rid themselves of their sinful ways and turn to the Lord and learn, once again, how to live.

Living in a sinful state seems to me a kind of self-imposed exile. It makes me think of one of the great American painters of the Hudson River School in the early 19th Century, Thomas Cole. Cole painted a great deal of the Hudson Valley, the Catskills, and New England, but one of my favorite paintings of his is called the Expulsion from the Garden of Eden. The focus of the painting is split between Eden, on the one side and the dark, foreboding world on the other side with a tiny Adam and Eve, naked, head cast downward, and shame seemingly weighing down their bodies as they depart Eden. This exile from Eden seems not unlike the Babylonian Captivity, or the exile we often feel when we have separated ourselves from God.

So, the response to this seems first to be: Turn. And that sounds exactly right to me. The concept of repentance found throughout both the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures is about turning around and facing God. Turning from our evil ways and turning toward the Eternal. Unfortunately, the Christian Church has sometimes become caught up in what I call the Great List syndrome. Depending on the denomination, each seems to have a list of the really, really, bad things we can do that make God really, really angry. And then, poof, it’s exile time.

But living in a sinful state is actually a little more complicated than that. The Great List seems to have little to do with what God means for us. Because with God, as opposed to humanity, it is always about Love, not Lists, not Laws. And frankly, love is a lot harder than Lists or than Laws.

And that leads me back to St. Paul’s Letter to the Philippians. Listen, again, to how much God loves us:

Christ Jesus,

Who, though he was in the form of God,

Did not regard equality with God

As something to be exploited,

But emptied himself,

Taking the form of a slave,

Being born in human likeness.

He humbled himself

And became obedient to the point of death –

Even death on a cross.

That’s what love is – totally emptying yourself – giving up all rights and privileges that may or may not be yours - and simply serving your sisters and brothers. Not giving in to the needs of the ego, or the needs of the intellect, or the needs of the heart, or the needs of the body. Simply serving. I believe, this is what Ezekiel was getting at when he called on the House of Israel to live. God does not need or want us to be the living dead. He wants us to be the living. And living is serving, even to the point of dying, if necessary.

This has played out in my own life. Every time I have been selfish, not put someone else first, or offered a hand to someone who needed some type of help, every time I have not emptied myself – I have felt somehow disconnected with the rest of humanity and with God. I walked away, sometimes literally, sometimes figuratively, with my head down and covered with shame – just like Thomas Cole’s depiction of Adam and Eve. I have ended up in my own self-imposed exile from my sisters and brothers and from God.

On the other hand, every time I have risen to the occasion and emptied myself for another, I have felt totally alive, totally connected to all my brothers and sisters and to God himself. And that is because, as St. Paul says at the very end of this passage, “it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure.”

Turn then to Christ, for he is Life. That is why St. Paul tells us that we should put on the mind of Christ and do what he did. That is how we are, with fear and trembling, to work out our salvation: turn back around and embrace life, serve others no matter how much is required of us, and become obedient to God, even to the point of death.

And what does that obedience look like? Christ, as always, is our example and our teacher. He tells us in this morning’s parable of the two sons that it does not matter what we say, what matters is what we do. Our presidential candidates this year seem to be throwing around the expression, “you have to walk the walk, not just talk the talk.” I suppose that would be a way to sum up the parable and the entire lesson of today’s readings.

So, emptying yourself – not making yourself more important than anyone else is to put on the mind of Christ. And if we are walking the walk, it seems to me, Christ has taught us what that walks entails: if someone is hungry – feed them; if someone is lonely – comfort them; if someone is naked – clothe them; if someone is sick – care for them; if someone is mourning – love them. All of this may require a lot from you. It can be a long walk. But if we are obedient – even to the point of death then we have turned back to God, then we have lived. When we choose to live, God welcomes us back home, with his arms wide open, from our own self-imposed exile.

Amen.

RCL - Proper 20 A - 21 Sep 2008

2008-09-22T11:32:00.004-05:00

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Mrs. Suzette Cayless, AHC
RCL – Proper 20 A – Sunday 21 September 2008

Exodus 16:2-15
Philippians 1:21-30
Matthew 20:1-16

“The whole congregation of the Israelites complained against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness.” The Israelites were on their way to the promised land. Moses had led them out of Egypt and through the Red Sea. A few verses earlier than today’s reading we find the Israelites complaining when they had no water to drink in Marah. They were then brought to an oasis and camped and refreshed themselves with food and drink. They moved on again and found themselves once more in a difficult place. “Would that we had died ... in the land of Egypt.”

They bewailed the fact that at least in Egypt they had food. Moses points out that their complaining is really against God. He assures them that God has not forgotten them and will provide what they need and soon enough quails appear in the camp and in the morning manna. The word “complaining” is translated as “murmuring” in other versions of the Bible. I like that word - it seems to signify an underlying insidious mutter that infects everyone, and perhaps results in the response to the unknown manna: “What is it?”

In today’s gospel we also have complainers! At the end of a day’s work the laborers are given their wages. Although some have worked the whole day and others for only one hour, each is given the same money. The first hired “grumbled against the landowner,” thinking that they should have received more. The landowner reminds them that he can do what he likes with his money and that he has paid them what they agreed to. Each person requires money to provide food for his family and the landowner gives what is needed.

God is a God of the unexpected. We cannot control God’s actions but should rather look for God to surprise us - as He surprised the Israelites with manna and the one hour laborers with a day’s wages.

In his Rule, Benedict enjoins his monks in chapter 4: “Do not grumble or speak ill of others.” Then in chapters 40 and 41 - concerned with meals and the daily rations of wine - he says:
“... where local circumstances dictate an amount of wine much less than what is stipulated above, or even none at all, those who live there should bless God and not grumble. Above all else we admonish them to refrain from grumbling” and “... (the abbot) should so regulate and arrange all matters that souls may be saved and the brothers may go about their activities without justifiable grumbling.”

Food and drink are basic necessities for human living and they are central to our day to day activities. As we pray together in the offices and Eucharist we say, again and again: “Give us this day our daily bread.” Not an abundance of good things but daily what we need. I am reminded of growing up in Coventry, UK during WWII when often my mother was anxious as to what she could prepare for dinner. It wasn’t that we had no money - just that there was little food to be bought. But day by day a meal was always served. There is an interesting version of the Lord’s Prayer in Anglo-Saxon Spirituality translated by Robert Boenig and I will read it to you:

Holy Father, you who dwell in Heaven,
honored be the joy of your glory. May your name be hallowed
in your works by the sons of the people. You are the savior of men.
May your spacious kingdom come and your will firm in counsel
be raised under the roof of Heaven and also on the wide earth.
Give us for this day just dignity, our continued loaf,
comforter of men, steadfast Savior.
Do not let us be tossed too much in temptation,
but, Ruler of the people, give us good deliverance
from every evil for ever and ever.

That phrase “our continued loaf” catches my imagination. It captures the sense of God’s oversight, with its provision of food from God’s hand. Bread and wine are at the heart of the Eucharist - we do not easily forget such items and Jesus identifies them in a special way for us as we share worship together. The broken bread and shared cup are indeed reminders of God’s provision for our needs.

The Israelites in the wilderness did not just want food - they wanted good things and desired “the fleshpots” they had enjoyed in Egypt. The all day laborers did not just want what they had agreed on, they wanted more. There is an element of greed in all of us that we have to reckon with in terms of our spiritual as well as physical lives. Listen to this story by Arnold Lobel. It is called “Cookies.”

PacMan Cookie 2 - Originally uploaded by pickles5767

Toad baked some cookies. “These cookies smell very good,” said Toad. He ate one. “And they taste even better,” he said. Toad ran to Frog’s house. “Frog, Frog,” cried Toad, “taste these cookies that I have made.” Frog ate one of the cookies. “These are the best cookies I have ever eaten!” said Frog. Frog and Toad ate many cookies, one after another. “You know, Toad,” said Frog, with his mouth full, “I think we should stop eating. We will soon be sick.” “You are right,” said Toad. “Let us eat one last cookie, and then we will stop.” Frog and Toad ate one last cookie. There were many cookies left in the bowl. “Frog,” said Toad, “let us eat one very last cookie, and then we will stop.” Frog and Toad ate one very last cookie. “We must stop eating!” cried Toad as he ate another. “Yes,” said Frog. reaching for a cookie, “we need will power.” “What is will power?” asked Toad. “Will power is trying hard not to do something that you really want to do,” said Frog. “You mean like trying not to eat all of these cookies?” asked Toad. “Right,” said Frog. Frog put the cookies in a box. “There,” he said. “Now we will not eat any more cookies.” “But we can open the box,” said Toad. “That is true,” said Frog. Frog tied some string around the box. “There,” he said. “Now we will not eat any more cookies.” “But we can cut the string and open the box,” said Toad. “That is true,” said Frog. Frog got a ladder. He put the box up on a high shelf. “There,” said Frog. “Now we will not eat any more cookies.” “But we can climb the ladder and take the box down from the shelf and cut the string and open the box,” said Toad. “That is true,” said Frog. Frog climbed the ladder and took the box down from the shelf. He cut the string and opened the box. Frog took the box outside. He shouted in a loud voice, “HEY BIRDS, HERE ARE COOKIES!” Birds came from everywhere. They picked up all the cookies in their beaks and flew away. “Now we have no more cookies to eat,” said Toad sadly, “Not even one.” “Yes,” said Frog, “but we have lots and lots of will power.” “You may keep it all, Frog,” said Toad. “I am going home now to bake a cake.”

From Frog and Toad Together by Arnold Lobel.

Will power is important - but it has to be directed correctly. Disciplines for daily living have to be learned. Our choices for day to day attitudes and relationships are not to be based merely on what we want and how we feel. St. Paul gives us the clue. In the Epistle he encourages his friends to “live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ.” This requires that we live out a concern for each other; that we look to the provision of food and drink for all around us; that we pray daily for our own needs and the needs of the community; that we set aside greed, envy, and all that is unworthy of Christ; and that we never forget to give thanks to God for all the blessings he bestows on us day by day.

Let us pray, using words from Psalm 105, verses 1-4:

Give thanks to the Lord and call upon his Name;
make known his deeds among the peoples.
Sing to him, sing praises to him,
and speak of all his marvelous works.
Glory in his holy Name;
let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice.
Search for the lord and his strength;
continually seek his face.

Amen.

RCL - Exaltation of the Holy Cross - 14 Sep 2008

2008-09-14T09:51:00.004-05:00

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Adam Dunbar McCoy, OHC
RCL – Exaltation of the Holy Cross - Sunday 14 September 2008

Isaiah 45:21-25
Galatians 6:14-18
John 12:31-36a

"Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself."

Cross in sunlight at OHC's
Mariya uMama weThemba Monastery,
Grahamstown, South Africa
From the pictures gallery of Br. Randy OHC

We exalt the Cross because it is the symbol of victory. And in the opening of today’s Gospel reading Jesus tells us what this victory is: the ruling power of this world is put to flight. Christ on the Cross will reunite the human community.

Who is the ruler of this world? A thorny question, perhaps, but let me take a stab at it. The natural human tendency is to seek and honor manifestations of divine power. This is a good thing. This is also not new. The cave paintings of France and Spain celebrate the power of large, beautiful animals and the craft and skill of killing them. Animistic and pagan religions look for and revere manifestations of natural power of all kinds, large and small – sun and moon and stars, springs or water, rivers, lakes and seas, earthquakes, the weather, the cycles of time and growth. They look for and revere manifestations of power in human life as well – in war and in peace, in the genius of cities, in beautiful men and women, in love and lust, in health, in wealth, in the arts of agriculture, metalwork and skills of every kind. Every manifestation of power you can imagine has been the object of worship by our ancestors.

This kind of religion has advantages. In the first place, it’s obvious. Who can resist nature? The irresistible power of love drives storytelling, drama, and song in every age. The love of money drives people in strange directions. We will do almost anything to restore health. In every case we want to find the key to unlock the door that gives access to what we don’t have. If you find yourself in the path of the hurricane, you might find yourself seeking out and consulting the relevant divine authority.

And not only by our ancestors. Think of the components of worship apart from the narrow box we label religion. Substitute the word celebrity for the word god. Then think of the honor and praise we give to movie stars and musicians and politicians, the things of value we dedicate to them as we attend their concerts, see their movies and respond to their appeals, the amount of time we spend thinking, even dreaming, about them. If we cross a certain line, is this not a sort of worship? The worship of their power – their vitality, their beauty, their skill, their intelligence. We worship it because we want it. We want what they have. If I buy the product, If I come near the celebrity, I will in some sense become like the one their power represents. If I see the movie I can enter into communion for an hour and fifty minutes with this wonderful being. It’s worth $12. Well, that’s what it’s worth in New York City now. Perhaps communion comes a little cheaper in Ulster County. I hope so.

I shook Jack Kenndy’s hand. I heard Louis Armstrong on my twenty-first birthday. Fred Astaire once told me he liked my sermon. I sat next to Catherine Zeta-Jones at a preview production of “Hairspray”. Were these nice experiences? Yes. Were they life-transforming, giving me my meaning and purpose? Well, not exactly.

Of course, celebrity is not the only way in which we worship false manifestations of power in our time. Think of all the manifestations of power to which you mgive your money, your time, your imagination. Do you cross the line into worship?

The interesting thing about the worship of the manifestations of power is that it is absolutely natural. The things we worship really are beautiful, desirable, powerful. They evoke deep longings deep down inside us. We want what they promise – beauty, health, skill, wealth, influence. These are good things.

One of the most moving things I can think of doing is to go to a museum and look at the magnificent Greek statues of young men and women. Of course they represent gods and goddesses and heroes, but they are also human beings at the peak of physical perfection. They inspire awe and longing, and as you get older, a kind of affection for what one’s youth perhaps was, or might have been, for a fleeting time. And that’s the point. They are poignant because, if you think about their context for just a moment, you realize that the vast majority of humanity is not like them. Back then, many, perhaps the majority, of infants died in their first year. Their mothers also died in great numbers. Young men died in war, or more likely, from the festering wounds of war. Everybody was subject to malnutrition, disease, the accidents of life. Such a very, very few were like the statues. To look at them is to see the ideal of a human society which was rarely attained, and when it was, for a heartbreakingly short time.

This is where the Ruler of this world comes in. He – it – draws our attention away from our own truth, small and frail and incomplete. If we had beauty, it will fade, or already has. If we had health, likewise. Or wealth. Or political or social power. The trick played on us is to make us think that what counts in the divine scheme of things is that moment of perfection, being at the peak of health, wealth, beauty, influence. Our lives, the Ruler tells us, should point toward perfection, and when if we ever attain it, we should clutch it close and hold on for dear life. Literally. For being the winner in the lotteries of life is the point. Winning is what makes life dear. And if you are a loser? The Ruler of this world would say to you, Get over it. Attach yourself to the winners, bask in their power, serve it, give your life to it. You will share the glory reflected from the golden glow of the one to whom the divine has shown its favor.

This is the Ruler which Christ on the Cross has overthrown. When we say that Christ’s death and resurrection have given us life, we mean it literally. Instead of living our lives as shadows of someone, something else, we find, to our amazement, that our lives, ordinary as they are, have become, through the love of Christ, manifestations of divine power, if we will only let them be.

The title of today’s feast, the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, seems a little odd. It is a commonplace of Christian preaching to make a point of this: We exalt the Cross because by dying as a slave on a cross, Christ triumphed over death, death in one of its worst possible forms. That’s why we lift up the cross, that’s why we adorn it in beauty, why we put it on buildings, why we wear it, why it is the universal identifier for Christians. In his death and triumph on the cross we are saved.

In taking the form of a slave and humbling himself to death, even death on a cross, Christ identified the power and love of God with the entire creation. Not just the outstandingly successful, healthy, beautiful and influential show forth the love and power of God, but the lowest and least as well.

The Cross shows us that the love of God is so great that not one created thing escapes his embrace. His love was there, from the first quasars or quarks or whatever was at the beginning, to the stirrings of inorganic matter into life; from proteins to cells to amoebas to organisms; from plants and animals to the world as we see it now. From whatever primordial awareness the universe had of itself from the beginning to human consciousness, God’s love is there. In the birth and reproduction and death of every living thing, God’s love is there. Infinite means without limit. We say with John, “God so loved the world”. That is the affirmation of the Cross, of the Christian faith. That the material universe began, developed and exists in the love of God. And not one single bit of it exists, or can exist, outside God’s love.

The Ruler of this world wants to direct our attention away from the love of God for us, to channel our energies away from our true relation to God into temporary, fleeting, and ultimately illusory goals. The Ruler of this world tries to trick us into thinking that we are the “losers” in life, and as “losers”, we should attach what we have and indeed what we are to the “winners”. The Ruler of this world lies and wants us to live a lie. It is a lie to think that because you are small, weak, unfavored, you are a loser. It is a lie to think that you can derive value for your life from someone or something bigger, stronger, more favored than yourself instead of from the God who made you and loves you.

Christ’s death on the Cross seals God’s solidarity with us all, the weak as well as the strong, and especially with the weak. His resurrection shows the promise of Christ’s victory to God’s creatures when we accept the truth that what we really are is what God loves.

Are you young, strong, healthy, beautiful, wealthy, influential, or some of the above? Give thanks. God loves you. Are you older, weaker, not so well, plain, poor, powerless? Give thanks. God loves you. There is no condition of life God does not love and visit with his power.

If we only let him.

Take up your Cross and follow, Jesus says. It sounds so grim. Actually, it is the path to liberation, joy, fulfillment, and peace, because the Cross is where the truth is proclaimed. God loves not just the best bits, beautiful as some of them may be. He loves us all. All. Right now, right here, you are loved by God. By God who himself took on worse than you are or have probably yet known so that you might find, so that you might know, so that you might live in, the light of his truth, the light and truth that stream from the Cross of Jesus Christ. Be drawn to Christ.

RCL - Proper 18 A - 07 Sep 2008

2008-09-06T20:14:00.003-05:00

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Bernard Jean Delcourt, OHC
RCL – Proper 18 A – Sunday 07 September 2008

Ezekiel 33:7-11
Romans 13:8-14
Matthew 18:15-20

Lord, you desire that we turn back from our evil ways. Help us to put on Jesus Christ.
Help us not to be driven by the desires of our flesh.
You endlessly welcome our repentance and You forgive us. May we likewise do to others.
Amen.

*****

Hopefully, what holds an assembly of Christians together is their common love for God and their love for one another. And this love is not meant as “liking” one another; although that too may be involved.

The love that God calls for, in us, is a pre-eminent concern, a preoccupation, for the greater good of the whole community. This is the love that is called “agape” in the original Greek version of the New Testament. It is the glue that holds the assembly of the faithful together.

The good of the community is to be achieved through the well-being of all of its members; no one is to be left behind or sacrificed, not even a sinner. Thank God for that, or we would all be alone in the rain.

*****

Today’s scriptures enjoin us to mind the Christian community’s business. We are encouraged to break the social taboo that we should “mind our own business”.

Too often we see sin as something individual that we have sole responsibility for. What about the sin of closing our eyes on wrong-doing around us and letting it slide?

Of course, we can say that we have no leverage on sin committed in communities so remote or so much larger than our own. We can argue that we cannot see how to do something about that.

But what about shortcomings in our own community though? What about sin in our own friends?

Today’s scriptures ask us to start in our own backyards, in our own communities. Do we see a behavior that hurts the greater good of the community? Do we see a manner of being that hurts one or more of our members?

Call it out says the prophet Ezekiel or you may bear the burden of the sin together with the ones who fall short.

*****

Matthew’s gospel passage was probably written to help his Jesus movement community to manage conflicts in cases where one person’s behavior needed amendment for the good of the community. It sets out a procedure for the in-group, the community, to be reconciled with itself.

*****

Now, I have two warnings to sound about Matthew’s reconciliation process.

First, before engaging in a similar reconciliation process in your own community, I enjoin you to do a bit of homework.

What is at stake? Is this a pet peeve of mine or is this something truly disruptive of community? What are my personal feelings about this? Do I own these feelings? Can I separate them from the needs of the community?

Remember that justice is for God to render, your objective here is reconciliation from the heart.

Second, the community reconciliation process that Matthew writes about does not address sin committed by outsiders towards me as an individual. In this latter case, when a stranger hurts me, I’m still called to love the one who hates me and to turn the other cheek.

Matthew in his gospel exposes a dual response to hurts we may encounter in life. There is one reaction to hurts we may endure from outsiders. And there is another to hurts we may endure from insiders, members of our Christian community.

So today, we are not talking about “lumping it” when a stranger hurts you. That is enough for another sermon, on another day.

*****

For an offense I received at the hand of a member of my own community there is a progressive, three-step procedure of face-to-face interaction.

First, there is Confrontation one-on-one. If that fails, second, there is Negotiation in the presence of third parties. If negotiation fails, Adjudication in the presence of the wider community is called for.

At each stage, mutual love may win the day and help us recognize our fault, repent from it, and turn back to one another and to God. We only progress to the next stage in the absence of repentance.

*****

Let me build an example inspired by a theme touched upon by Brother Randy in his sermon of two weeks ago.

I may confront Brother Cadfael (not his real name) on once more wolfing down the whole cherry pie that was left from lunch. If he recognizes that was a selfish way to provide for the desire of his flesh and he commits to be more thoughtful of others’ needs and desires in the future, we’re done.

Because mutual love and concern is the engine of this process and the objective is reconciliation, each side may be led to come to see its shortcomings and repent from them. Mutual listening with the ear of the heart is called for.

*****

Unfortunately, the gospel text is written as if it describes a unilateral judicial proceeding. Historically, the church often interpreted this passage as a power she had to judge rather than as a duty she had to reconcile.

There is even a temptation to read excommunication in the phrase “…let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector…” But then we have to remember that Matthew who writes this was previously a tax collector himself and so was Zaccheus.

So maybe, we can read that phrase as meaning that for obdurate offenders, we need even more patience and start ministering to them back from square one.

The broader gospel message of Jesus’ ministry must call us to attention that the accusers also might come to recognize the injustice of their own conviction.

And then also, the lectionary unhelpfully deprives us today of the next 2 verses, where Jesus teaches Peter that forgiveness towards a brother knows no limit.
“…Forgive…Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times”.

*****

As I read Paul’s passage of his letter to the Jesus movement community in Rome, I’m reminded that there is no time to play “sin police” in my community. But at the same time, there is urgency in being the corporate body we are called to be.

“…Salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers; the night is far gone, the day is near…”
Each one of us are growing one day older today and one day closer to our salvation. This is the time to “Love your neighbor as yourself” and that includes not letting her fall without help, support or advice (even if that means a friendly rebuke).

Don’t be a “sin vigilante” but be a friend of good support along the path of love even if that involves tough love.

*****

Let us pray.

Lord of all life, help us to care enough about each other to offer friendly rebuke where it is needed and to receive such rebuke graciously when we are the one in need of it. Help us always turn our hearts back to you and to one another that we may truly put on Christ and deserve our baptismal name as Christians.

Amen.

RCL - Proper 16 A - 24 Aug 2008

2008-08-24T15:45:00.003-05:00

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Randy Greve, OHC
RCL - Proper 16 A - Sunday 24 August 2008

A few months ago at Sunday dinner we had cherry pie for dessert - with ice cream, if I recall. It was good; really good. Some was leftover, so I mentally made plans to have another piece for supper that night. The anticipation stayed with me all afternoon. After Vespers I went to the pantry to be reunited with my treasure. I opened the refrigerator - nothing. I checked the walk-in assuming that someone had stashed it downstairs - nothing. It was gone. Someone had eaten MY cherry pie! How could these people do this to ME? What selfishness! What gluttony!!

Monastic life is not immune to the influence of a culture of materialism and instant gratification. Part of our witness to that culture is the hard work of purging ourselves of the illusion of possession. When we are formed in the game of what I can get, what I can keep, what I deserve, now not later, the realization of how easily we lie to ourselves is startling and humbling and must drive us to our knees. The word MINE is the four-letter word that brings the most destruction and chaos to Christian communities - be they monasteries or churches or denominations. It is the word that reveals the depth of our arrogance and illusion. It distracts us from our mission, dissipates our energy, and divides our commitments. It is a lie because the reality is that things come from God, belong to God, and will return to God. It is a dangerous illusion because the drive to possess creates walls of greed and protection and security between us and God and between people. If possession is our game of choice, then life becomes acquiring, keeping, and protecting instead of living and sharing and relating.

In today’s Gospel, our Lord asks the disciples who the people and they themselves believe he is. Peter’s Confession that Jesus is the Christ becomes an opportunity for the unveiling of Christ’s intent to build Church upon the rock of Peter and to continue to build upon it through each generation until His return. The only pronoun Jesus used to describe the Church is mine - “upon this rock I will build my church”, He says. This is the most important pronoun in the New Testament. The creedal proclamation that we believe in one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church is summed up in this one word. My fallen desire toward possession and control and power may not, cannot include Church. As much as I believe that if it were mine I could fix it, I could get it to more closely match what I believe Christ had in mind, it is not my church. It is not your church or your monastery or your order, - they are Christ’s. The Collect for today reflects this emphasis as it very intentionally begins “Grant, O merciful God, that your Church…”

If we are not the owners, if the community does not belong to us, then what are we? Are we passive observers free from any responsibility, helplessly watching events unfold around us? No. We are in fact something more than owners - we are stewards. Just as we are formed by those who have loved and taught us, our calling is to receive the tradition, the Christian story, tend it, and pass it on to those who come after us. We are better than merely mine. The story is bigger than us. The Gospel reaches before us and through us and beyond us. The building is still in progress. To be a steward is to allow room for the other, for the whole amazing communion we call Church, to receive the gift of generosity and freedom from the prison of possession. As Br. Scott often says, these things, these institutions, are for “our earthly use” - nothing more, but nothing less either. To become stewards we must have both historical and practical aspects in mind.

Historically, the writings that most powerfully remind me that I am a steward, that the church is not mine, are those of the first five centuries of church history. Our own world is not unlike theirs; materialism and skepticism the dominant religions, historic institutions in turmoil, competing truth claims, struggles to understand the nature of God’s justice in a world of war and evil, anxiety about the direction of country and planet. Within a hostile culture and within a community torn about how to understand and define Christian truth, the early saints and prophets speak with bold clarity about how the Church matters precisely because it does not belong to them. They got that their job was to preserve the Gospel from forces within and without that would compromise it and warp it. They see no contradiction between absolute truth and incomprehensible mystery, between doctrine and wonder. Let us heed their words and examples in our own community and time as we strive to preserve a discipline of simplicity, generosity, and faithfulness with all that God has entrusted to us.

On the practice side, the rejection of possessiveness and the work of stewardship happens in the small movements of everyday life. In believing that that pie was mine, in believing that I had a right to it as my possession, I became angry at my brothers and put my own desire ahead of our common commitment to one another. I forgot what I was called to be and do because of something as silly as pie. Church is not some theoretical concept but loving our brothers in the here and now. The here and now is what leads to conversion. We must cooperate with the small invitations and reminders of daily life form and shape us into stewards.

So, we will grow and thrive as individual monks and as a community to the extent that we open our hands to God and each other. Only as we build on today that those who come after will have a place to stand. To what are we clinging - things, thoughts, habits - that we are willing to give to God? Are we looking for ways to serve rather than be served? Are we looking for ways to share rather than demanding our fair share? Let us resolve that as stewards we will create a community where all is in our care but nothing belongs to us, not even cherry pie.

Amen.

On the occasion of Br. Bernard Van Waes' funeral

2008-07-15T16:39:00.002-05:00

Mount Calvary Retreat House & Monastery, Santa Barbara, CA
Homily for the Funeral of Br. Bernard Van Waes, OHC
by Br. Robert Sevensky, OHC, Superior of the Order of the Holy Cross
Monday 14 July 2008

Henry Anton Bernhard Gaedke
Anton Henry Carter
Carter Van Waes
Br. Bernard

These are the four names by which our departed brother and friend was known. And though those of us gathered here today knew him only by the last two, all four names made him the man he was, were part and parcel of his story, his journey. No doubt there were other names as well…a family diminutive, possibly, or various nicknames given by friends or brothers. I know at least one former Superior of the Order of the Holy Cross who referred to him lovingly as Bern-tooth. Others of us just called him The Bern. He himself was endlessly creative in bestowing such names on friend and foe alike. Alas, I never found out if he had one for me. But afterwards, I’d be happy to share with you some of his choicer creations.

Why so many names?

Perhaps because our Br. Bernard’s whole life can be understood as the search for his true name, his true identity…and the same might be said of all of us.

Henry Anton Bernhard Gaedke was born in 1921 in Flint Michigan to Maria Bachmann, a young German immigrant who in 1901 came with her parents to the United States, and to Edward Gaedke, a traveling salesman. The story is not unusual: the father disappears and the young mother, feeling trapped and overwhelmed by poverty and desperation, leaves young Henry to be raised by her parents, an immigrant couple who ran a bakery in Chicago. Her visits home become less and less frequent over the difficult years of the Depression, as these grandparents, though themselves desperately poor, offer Henry a home. Whatever their limitations, they instill in their grandson two great values…a Teutonic love of order and an appreciation for education, something that they had little opportunity for in their native land. School and work were the twin poles of the boy’s life.

After high school, young Henry worked in his family bakery and in a bookbindery. But already a love of learning and a yearning for something different, something more, had taken hold. Henry dreamed big dreams for himself, dreams that went beyond the ability of his grandparents to provide. Listen to his description of this period as related in his application to join the Order of the Holy Cross:

Further education was out of the question, and so I worked in a bakery twelve hours a day, six days a week. My one day of leisure, after Church, was spent in Museums, Art galleries and musical events, for—somehow I felt the keen desire to go on. I became an avid reader—anything seemed to capture my fancy, but, in particular, volumes on Philosophy, history, and theology. Most of these were completely beyond my ability to read, let alone absorb. Nevertheless, I carried them with me on the bus to and from work—even to church, when on occasion I opened a book when the sermon, too, became incomprehensible.

This established a ‘pattern’—the love of books and what they revealed led me to include in my itinerary of museums, etc., a college campus. I liked to think of myself as a student as I walked the paths and building of the University of Chicago. My interests soon focused on ancient Egypt and my ambition was to one day be an Orientalist specializing in Egyptology. The one outstanding man of that field at the time was Professor James Henry Breasted, head of the Oriental Institute at the University. I was determined to see this great man. With the impetuousness of youth, and being ‘armed’ with the whole armour of grit I presented myself for an audience with the sage and dean of Egyptologists. My complete lack of tact and/or reverence for protocol must have taken all by surprise and I was humored and ushered into the great man’s presence. He was kind, affable, and listened to my plans to one day be his successor. I recall only one small part of that conversation: Dr. Breasted said, “The field is already overcrowded.” My replay was: “But, sir, there’s always room for one more good man, isn’t there?” He smiled benignly, patted my head and replied, “To be sure.”

Yes, there is always room for one more good man…but unfortunately not for Henry, not in Chicago, not then.

So he did what many young men did who sought a way up and out. He enlisted in the Navy in August 1941, under the name Anton Henry Carter. We know of course what happened only a few months later on December 7, 1941. And for the next six years, Anton was thrust into the belly of the beast that was World War Two in the Pacific Theater. He served with great valor, receiving the right to wear countless battle ribbons and serving in the very critical position of Chief Signalman.

Much happened during these fateful years. I mention but two significant events.

The first was an event of deep loss and trauma. On the Feast of the Epiphany, January 6, 1945, a Kamikaze pilot crashed into Anton’s ship, The USS New Mexico. Anton lived, but over a hundred of his mates died in the horrible wreckage that surrounded him, burned alive, mangled, obliterated. These included Anton’s best friend, a Marine named Bill. Shell shock, battle fatigue, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder—call it what you will—the loss was overwhelming, the wounds deep. Anton was left with that most haunting of human questions: “Why did I survive while all my friends perished? What does this mean? Who am I?” It was a question that was to mark him, resurfacing year after year. Only now can we see how rich and incredibly brave and creative was his response to this event. Whatever the wounds, whatever the long-term consequences, he was never defeated by them.

The second event is happier. Anton’s grandparents both died within six months of his enlistment into the Navy. He was essentially left without a family. But a family was provided for him nonetheless through his great good fortune in meeting up with Robert Van Waes, a fellow seaman and dear friend from Illinois. Bob along with Bob’s parents and later Bob’s wife Barbara became Anton’s surrogate family, a reality Anton acknowledged by legally changing his name to Carter Van Waes. We are honored to have his namesake, Bob’s son, Carter Van Waes, here with us today.

So it is now Carter Van Waes who, after his naval discharge moves to Boston and attends Boston University to begin the undergraduate education so long desired and delayed, only to have it interrupted by recall to further active service in the Navy during the Korean conflict. Again, with single-minded service and focus, Carter served his country and then returned to Boston to complete his bachelor’s degree. It was also during this time that he came to know the Episcopal Church in Cambridge, MA and felt called to the ordained ministry. Attendance at CDSP in Berkeley, CA; a pastoral position in Alaska; ordination there; parish ministries in the San Francisco Bay Area; a falling out with the Bishop; a move to Texas; further pastoral work in parish and military base there; a Masters degree in Literature and History from the University of Texas; work as a teacher…and always, always that old question: “Why did I survive? Who am I? What now?”

It is from this question that his fourth name--Br. Bernard--emerges. He was at one of those points in life—we have all had them—when while experiencing a certain desperation, a certain profound dissatisfaction with the status quo, that he remembered his visits here to Mount Calvary Retreat House during his seminary days. He remembered the peace he experienced here. And then…well let him describe it.

When I had finally ‘come to myself’ I discovered, quite by accident (or WAS IT?), a copy of the Holy Cross magazine issue for the summer of 1973. I flipped open to page five, which pictures Novice Fr. Roy Parker quietly pondering his Hebrew studies. I do not wish to be either dramatic or equate this with Paul’s experience on the road to Damascus—however, at that moment my years of desperation and search for my real vocation were ended—and I literally said: “This is where God wants me.” I will not belabor the point.

Nor will I… other than to concur that it was where God wanted him.

These years as a monk were fruitful years and as well as years of struggle. That is the nature of monastic life, maybe of all life. They were years of scholarship and of hard manual work in kitchen and sacristy. Years of spiritual direction and companionship and the daily round of worship. Years of health crises and sometimes emotional crises. Years marked by a fascination with and deep appreciation of the genius of Trappist monk Thomas Merton. Years of art--watercolors and sketches--and breathtakingly beautiful Japanese style flower arrangements appearing as if by magic in the chapel long before the dawn service. Years of gingerbread houses at Christmas and exotic cookies and always, always a wonderfully wry sense of humor, summarized by his favorite needlepoint pillow that says, simply, “Bah, humbug.”

What an amazing man!

It strikes me now that as the years went by, his name got simpler: from Henry Anton Bernhard Gaedke to Anton Henry Carter to Carter Van Waes to simply Bernard. And as his name got simpler, so did he. Those of us who shared the privilege of being with him in the last six months of his life saw a transformation take place that was profound, a simplification, a transparency that was unmistakable. Maybe it was those clear blue eyes or that warm smile. But as he decreased physically, he increased spiritually in peace, joy, trust, honesty. He was at the end the monk he had always hoped to be. It was a gift to know him, a gift to us all.

There is a mysterious passage in the Book of Revelation that says:

“To anyone who is victorious I will give some of the hidden manna; I will also give him a white stone, and on it will be written a new name, known only to the one who receives it.” (2:17)

A white stone with a new name, our true name, written on it.

Bernard now has that white stone. He finally knows his true name, the name written from all eternity at the heart of God.

I pray that he’s there when you and I get our white stones as well. When we, with him, with all God’s children, discover our true name, our true and everlasting identity as sons and daughters of the Most High.

What a happy, what a holy, what a joyous day that will be!

No more “Bah humbug” then! This finally will be the real thing.

Amen.

RCL - Proper 10 A - 13 Jul 2008

2008-07-13T13:19:00.005-05:00

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Randy Greve, OHC
RCL - Proper 10 A - Sunday 13 July 2008

Genesis 25:10-34
Romans 8:1-11
Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

The Parable of the Sower

First off, and we’ll get it out of the way, your homework assignment: the next time you read a passage of Holy Scripture, especially a Gospel passage, take note of your first reaction to what is said. Before you have time to think about the “right” answer, before what you already know starts to clean up what you hear, read in such a way that you can catch the reflex that the tap of the passage brings out from your inner spiritual muscle.

I mention this activity because in my own sermon preparation while my head wants to go in one direction with the text, more and more some other angle or theme begins to gnaw at me and nag for attention. Sometimes I charge ahead and say what I want to say. Lately, however, I’ve experimented with saying to that other voice “O.K. Let’s see where this goes…” This inner struggle between my own ego and the Holy Spirit is the soil from which an edifying word to me, the community, and our guests can come.

My first unfiltered and unedited reading of the Parable of the Sower brought to light some of my own struggle and shadow. I said to myself “I’m good soil. The seed of God’s word, God’s self, has taken root and grown in me. After all, I’m a monk, right? Pretty good fruit. I’ve devoted my life to the service of the Church and to living and teaching the Gospel. Check plus for me! On to the next chapter!” After I had worked myself up into a pretty good lather of pride and self-satisfaction, this nagging voice shows up… “Oh, really? Is all of you good soil? All the time?” And then I’m brought back into reality and reminded, not in a condemning or judgmental way, but gently and persistently, that in fact the places in me God wants to seed are not all open and available all the time.

Also, while the Lord describes these grounds as different persons, perhaps what He was talking about were not separate individual persons but the selves that live in me, in each of us. We have been and are capable of choosing to be hard to God’s voice, shallow when consumed by our desires for gratification, and knocked off track when the cares of this world strangle the tender and vulnerable sprouting of virtue.

The symbols of the parable are rich and universal - seed, ground, soil, growth, plant, fruit, and harvest. In farming and gardening, cultivation is the key. For seed and soil to have a successful meeting, planning and preparation are in order beforehand and careful care during the growth process. Hazards and dangers are always present to prevent the fruit from coming to full ripeness. Too much or too little water, insects, and weeds can wreak havoc. If the soil is determined to be good for growing, it still must be given the best chance for producing the desired flower or fruit. An apt analogy for the spiritual life. Our good, real self is present but must be tilled and tended in order to breathe and flourish. The soil is the stuff that makes us us - the divine image that can become hard through selfishness, shallow through arrogance, and chocked through greed.

The image of soil has stood out for me in my reflection and led me to the word humility. The Latin for humility is humus, earth, and is, as we know, the central virtue proclaimed by St. Benedict in chapter 7 of the Rule. The association is important to the parable because humility for Benedict is the virtue that loosens the soil, breaks up the hard ground, clears the weeds and digs deep, preparing the seed to find a welcome home. Humility is essentially a grounded and real understanding and acceptance of ourselves and God. It is the acceptance of gratitude and service that flows from the truth that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us, and that while we fall short in our call to love one another, Christ never ceases to love and forgive us. Humility is living from the unshakable truth of that rather than who we are, what we’ve accomplished, how we feel, or what spiritual experiences we have or have not had. When our hearts are hard and the seeds are choking and dying, it is not because we have lost our value to God, but buried our true selves, our deep soil, to the distraction and allure of easy shortcuts and instant gratifications. Humility is the key to finding it again and remembering what’s real and important. In New Seeds of Contemplation, Thomas Merton says faith and humility are inseparable and: “humility alone can destroy the self-centeredness that makes joy impossible. If there were no humility in the world, everybody would long ago have committed suicide.” (p.181)

The Lord is inviting us to clear and till the ground so that as much of the seed as possible can fall on the best ground possible in us. Our spiritual lives are our willingness to be cleared and tilled so that God can dwell within our whole selves. This parable invites the question: Into what kind of soil does God’s voice fall in me and what am I called to do about that? What kinds of seeds am I allowing God to plant in me today that will grow into a crop at God’s bidding?

Humility reminds us that the seed and therefore the fruit, does not originate in us. In humility we become passive to a process taking place within us that we cannot define or control, allowing God to work rather than dictating to God what our lives will become. We give ourselves over to the work of God. The most difficult part of my spiritual growth is not the part that I can do myself, but the surrender to God of what only God can do in me. The work is to exclude self-consciousness and simply focus on God rather than myself.

Whenever we remember to thank God with our whole hearts, whenever we serve the needs of others with no regard for recognition or reciprocation, whenever we deeply desire for God to soften us and make in us a growing place, then we are tilling the soil and preparing it for the seeds of God’s word to take root and flourish into everlasting life.

Amen.

Feast of St Benedict of Nursia - 11 July 2008

2008-07-11T08:48:00.003-05:00

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Bernard Jean Delcourt, OHC
Feast of St Benedict– Friday 11 July 2008

Proverbs 2:1-9
Luke 14:27-33

Almighty and everlasting God, give us hope and fortitude to persevere in carrying our cross, day after day; that we may deserve the name of disciples of Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ, your Son. Amen.

*****

There is truth in advertising in today’s Gospel. We are not promised a rose garden. Jesus is on the way to Jerusalem; eventually he will wear a crown of thorns. And turning to the crowds that follow him, he challenges them to measure the depth of their commitment.

*****

Last week, on our way back from “Monk Camp” (as we affectionately call the Benedictine Juniors Summer School) Br. Randy and I visited our Mount Calvary Brothers, for a few days.

And then, on Sunday, we flew back home out of Santa Barbara airport, which seems to be a movie set from the fifties. In the airport lounge, Randy picked up a few freebie magazines to browse on the plane.

One of those magazines billed itself as being about wellness, lifestyle, metaphysics and spirituality. By the way, note that ethics and religion don’t seem to move advertising newsprint these days any more.

One article, disguised as an interview, was publicizing an upcoming seminar by an inter-denominational guru who shall remain nameless here.

One sentence got Randy puffing in disbelief and giggling at the same time. It advised this guru’s followers to find and practice their chosen “bliscipline”. That’s right, you heard me: “bliss-ipline”. At first, it looked like a typo, but upon a second reading, it appeared that another oxymoronic neologism had been born. Bliscipline!

The combination of discipline and bliss into a new word is not innocent. It attempts to erase the fact that following a discipline -- that is; a training that corrects, molds or perfects the moral character -- will require effort, perseverance and trials.

Instead, it tries to imply that such training could occur in perfect happiness -- in bliss -- and allegedly, without effort.

I must admit to feeling somewhat sorry for that guru’s clients; disillusion is bound to await most of them. Either the expected bliss will fizz out or the results of true discipline will never show up.

*****

We get no such gloss-over from Jesus, today. He warns his followers on the full extent of the renunciation and obedience that is expected from them if they want to be his disciples. And he warns them to do a thorough reckoning of whether they are that eager to be his disciples.

In today’s passage, Jesus tells us that the cost of discipleship is twofold:

· First, to carry the cross and follow Him,

· And second, to give up all our possessions.

*****

Carrying the cross is not a once over event. It continues throughout our discipleship. As monastics, day by day, our cross presents itself to be carried in various ways.

Some day, it is the annoying behavior of a brother. Some day, it is an inability to see meaning in the journey. Some day, it is the maneuverings of community life. Some day, it is my unyielding sinfulness gnawing into my best intentions. Some day, it is the perceived poverty of means for the terminal accomplishment of objectives (mine as well as the community’s). Some day, it’s just routine and ennui.

But the nature of the cross we are to carry with Jesus remains the same: it is a phenomenon we are to stay with, no matter the cost, if we are to reap the full fruit of discipleship. The stability of the monastic makes it possible that, given prayerful attention, God may give me to taste, feel, hear and see what I need to learn out of my experience.

*****

The other pre-requisite of discipleship that Jesus offers us is the need to give up all possessions. In reading both books from Luke the Evangelist (the Gospel and Acts of the Apostles) we can determine that Luke sees this as a multiple renouncement.

The initial post-Easter Jesus community lived in solidarity after multiple relinquishments:

- For starters, they had abandoned living with their families of origin. In their society, this stripped them of status, access to family support, family networks, land and other patrimony,

- And then, whatever assets they had owned coming into the Jesus community, they disposed of and they gave the proceeds to the community.

In joining a Benedictine order, monastics eventually do the same and then they renounce two more possessions.

One is the arbitrary disposal of their body and heart in relatedness to others. They choose to be in loving relatedness to God and to all of God’s children. This comes at the expense of being in relatedness to a partner of their sole choice.

The other renounced possession is their arbitrary self-determination. In obedience, monastics choose to aim for mutual collaboration. They place the common good of ever larger groups of humans before self-indulgence.

*****

Well, if none of the difficulties of community life that I listed earlier seemed like much of a cross to bear to you, some, if not all, of these renunciations ought to make up quite a cross to carry to most observers.

And the grace-filled thing is -- that in carrying our cross with Jesus, day by day -- the monastic life fills most of us, most days, with purpose and meaning in this life and with hope and expectation of even greater justice and love in God’s Kingdom.

Forget any chosen “bliscipline”! Give me the discipline of following Jesus any day. In carrying our cross day after day we find redemption, we find freedom!

*****

In closing, allow me to pray with a quote from the one whose life we celebrate today, holy Benedict of Nursia:

Do not be daunted immediately by fear and run away from the road that leads to salvation. It is bound to be narrow at the outset. But as we progress in this way of life and in faith, we shall run on the path of God's commandments, our hearts overflowing with the inexpressible delight of love. Never swerving from his instructions, then, but faithfully observing his teaching in the monastery until death, we shall through patience share in the sufferings of Christ that we may deserve also to share in his kingdom. Amen.

*****

RCL - Proper 5 A - 08 Jun 2008

2008-06-08T13:20:00.002-05:00

Hoping Against Hope

Mount Calvary Monastery, Santa Barbara, CA
Brother James Michael Dowd, n/OHC
RCL - Proper 5 A - Sunday 08 June 2008

Genesis 12:1-9
Romans 4:13-25
Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26

In the name of the Living God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

I have spent the better part of my adult life wondering about how the Church could be “relevant to today’s society” and, how I, in my own little way, might help the Church to be “relevant to today’s society.” In fact, there are seminars on this very topic, and courses on this very topic, and endless sermons on this very topic. Clerical and Religious types sit around debating how we might make the Church “relevant to today’s society.” Many suggest that the Church will die if we do not become “relevant to today’s society.”

But at some point along the way, I came to believe that the Church is not “relevant to today’s society.” And that it had no hope of becoming “relevant to today’s society.” And that the last thing we Clerical and Religious types should be doing is attempting to make the Church “relevant to today’s society.”

For, there is nothing about being Church – that is, the People of God, followers of Jesus - that is “relevant to today’s society.” In fact, the call that we have received, by virtue of our baptism, is to abandon all cares of this world and to follow the Lord immediately, unequivocally and irrevocably. In order to do this, we must, like Abram and Matthew before us, place all of our trust in the saving power of our God. But what does it mean to follow the Lord immediately, unequivocally and irrevocably? Well, to me our faith in Jesus, the Christ, demands that we adhere to a belief in hope; that we cling, against all odds, to hopefulness; that we put all our trust in the hope promised to us by the Lord of All. Today’s readings are filled with examples of people who, as St. Paul says in his Letter to the Romans, are “hoping against hope.” And hope, quite frankly, isn’t relevant to today’s society. But before I get into that, let’s look at why hope was not relevant in society at the time of Jesus, either. Let me begin with Matthew.

Now most folks are a little suspect of any tax collector. But Matthew is a special case. He was a Jew, collecting incredibly oppressive taxes from his fellow Jews for the pagan Emperor of Rome – a man who claimed to be a god. And Matthew would have made his own money by adding his own “take” onto the top of what Rome demanded. So other, more faithful Jews, looked upon him as a man who was corrupt, traitorous, and a pagan idolater. He was, to put it plainly, the worst kind of outcast. Despised by his own people and condescended to by the Romans. Let’s face it no one likes a traitor.

I’ve often wondered what Matthew thought of himself. He obviously liked money – perhaps he was particularly greedy. We don’t know for sure, but it takes a strong impulse to act against your own people. Perhaps it was greed, perhaps it was that he had no other options in life. But my guess is that whatever it was, he probably felt pretty much alone in the world. He had written his life into a corner by his sin and had separated himself from the Chosen People. Being so separated from his own people, and never being accepted by the Romans, he very likely was without hope. Faithful Jews and Romans alike were only too pleased for him to remain mired in his own hopelessness.

And how does Jesus respond to that? Rather than shunning him, Jesus asks Matthew to “follow him” and invites him and a bunch of his fellow sinners out to dinner.

When Jesus is confronted by the Pharisees about dining with sinners, he responds that it is exactly these folks – the sinners – who need him. That it is for the sick that a physician comes.

Next we have the woman who was hemorrhaging for twelve years. She was not allowed to touch Jesus, or anyone else, because she was unclean. If she did touch them, she would make them unclean as well. No one would have been allowed to touch her, neither would she be allowed to touch anyone else. This was not because she had a disease that could be contracted. No, the Levitical code that all Jews lived by stated that a bleeding woman was unclean. In cases where a normal menstruation occurred, the woman separated herself from her husband, family and village for a few days, until she was once again “clean.” This was standard practice and while we would never think of doing that today, it was not considered odd or difficult for a woman to have to adhere to this practice.

But this particular woman never stopped bleeding. In fact, she bled in some form or another for twelve years, meaning that for twelve long years she could never lie with her husband, she could never hold her children, she would not be able to hug her friends upon greeting them, she could not go to the marketplace, she would not be welcome in the synagogue. Talk about hopeless.

And how does Jesus respond to this sick woman? He does not recoil from her touch. He loves her by simply affirming that her faith has healed her.

And then, we have the leader of the synagogue who is desperate because his daughter has died. He comes to Jesus and asks him to lay his hand on her. No need for explanation. What could be more hopeless that losing a child?
And how does Jesus respond to the leader of the synagogue? He goes to his home, not to mourn, but to restore life. He brings life back into the world by waking her, as if from a sleep.

It seems to me that Matthew, the hemorrhaging woman, and the leader of the synagogue, all have one thing in common. They each see, in Jesus, hope for their desperate situation. Their lives have been destroyed, respectively, by sin, disease and death, and there is only one cure and only one physician that can heal them. That cure is hope, and that physician is Jesus.

Matthew was ostracized because of his sin, and Jesus sat down to dinner with him. The sick woman was marginalized because of her disease, and Jesus welcomed her touch. The leader of the synagogue was laughed at for hoping his daughter could live again, and Jesus gave her new life. In each case, Jesus acts in a way that is opposite of what society thinks is appropriate. And in doing this, Jesus helps each of these folks to believe that in Jesus there is hope to overcome their own sin, their own disease, their own mourning.

So, what made you give up a weekend to spend time at a monastery? What made my brothers and I give up a great deal to become monks? Why do we put so much time into worshiping our God in community and praying to him in the privacy of our cells? Why does each of you give so much of your time, money, and energy to care for the sick, the poor, the marginalized? We do it, I believe, because of that wonderful gift of hope.

And that’s what I mean when I say that the Church is really not about being relevant to society. A man who gives up his career, the possibility of an intimate relationship, and all the usual trappings of success, in order to seek God with his whole being, is not relevant to society. People who give up a weekend to spend it at a monastery are not relevant to today’s society. At least not to a society that is filled with a level of noise that makes the pursuit of God almost impossible; at least not to a society whose government promotes an unjust war and record numbers of executions to save us from alleged bad guys; at least not to a culture that promotes violence against women in our popular music and films as a way to “freely express” ourselves; at least not to a society that encourages the use of abortion as just another form of birth control; at least not to a marketplace that cajoles us to shop until we drop; at least not to a society that finds it acceptable to have large numbers of homeless people wandering our streets.

When we live in the hope of the Incarnation, we are incapable of believing that violence will solve our problems. For violence is a violation of the Body of Christ. When we live in the hope of the Passion, we are incapable of believing that greed will buy us happiness. For greed consumes a soul and burns it alive. When we live in the hope of the Resurrection, we are incapable of believing that permissiveness will fulfill us. For a life of permissiveness is to deny the glory of the Resurrected Christ. Hope is the antithesis of the values of our current society. To hope means to believe that Jesus can and will forgive us, or heal us, or raise us to new life.

My guess is, that each of you holds a hope – in the deepest part of your souls. That hope, I believe, is for wholeness, for holiness. A hope that calls to you in the dark corners of the night, or while you’re driving on the frantic freeway, or while toiling at your desk, or praying here in church. A hope that calls you to turn away from the sin, disease or death that binds your hands, hinders your heart, and destroys your soul. A hope that calls you to follow Jesus. To follow him immediately, unequivocally, and irrevocably. Believe with your whole being that just as Jesus called his followers to stand with him and to reject the personal and societal sins of his day, he calls each and every one of us to stand with him today, Sunday, and to reject the personal and societal sins of our day. Go ahead and dare to be irrelevant. Go ahead and hope against hope. Go ahead and follow Jesus.

Amen.

RCL - Proper 4 A - 01 Jun 2008

2008-06-02T20:39:00.003-05:00

Mount Calvary Monastery, Santa Barbara, CA
Brother Joseph Brown, OHC
RCL - Proper 4 A - Sunday 01 June 2008

Romans 1: 16-17
Matthew 7:21-29

Genesis 6: 9-22; 7:24; 8:14-19

Jesus flatly states: “Not everyone who says to me 'Lord, Lord,' is going to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in Heaven.”

Now before I go any further I can hear the church on one side saying: “Hey! wait a minute!, Jesus wouldn't say that. He was totally all inclusive, would never reject anyone and even the title “Lord” is so un-Jesus-like. It has patriarchal overtones of domination and power over! That verse must have been an addition during the Constantinian Overthrow of the Primitive Church and propagated by the hierarchal model of Roman domination.”

Now, it would make everything so much easier if we could just dismiss the passages in scripture that we don't like. I think we could all make a list of the “hard sayings” of Jesus and through some method of “current” biblio-sociological scholarship, make them go away. The problem with that, for me, is that when you look at the verses folks would like to dismiss, it never includes the Sermon on the Mount.

Folks love the Sermon on the Mount. As well we should, it is the Law, the Torah, of Jesus. In it Jesus has given us the summary of the law and the prophets and the very base on which our moral life is built. Or should be built. It is the Sermon on the Mount that precedes our reading from the gospel today and it is the context in which Jesus gives us this hard saying. And it should make us squirm.

On the Mount, in Matthew, Chapter 5, Jesus has told us what we are to do if we are to call him Lord: We are to to be poor in spirit, we are to be meek, we are to be merciful, we are to hunger for righteousness, we are to be pure in heart, we are to be peacemakers, and if we are doing this right we are going to be persecuted. We are not to be resentful with a brother or sister, we are to defer to the other even when we are right, we are not to retaliate or take another to court in a lawsuit, look on another with lust, swear an oath, or dissolve a marriage. And then to make this even more difficult we are to love our enemy as ourselves. In Matthew 6, Jesus goes on to say: do not be pious in public just so people can see how religious you are, but do your charity in secret.

When we pray we are to keep it simple and quiet, and how we forgive others will be the measure to which we are forgiven. We will acknowledge Jesus as our Lord when we do not judge the intent of another, and are minding our own business. We are proclaiming Jesus as Lord when we trust in the will of His Father and turn the worries and concerns of our daily life over to him. And if we do that, ours is the Kingdom of Heaven. He clearly states that this will be hard and that the gate that leads to this life under his lordship is narrow, and not all will find it. He is saying “Here are the terms, do you accept?”

Jesus then gives us a guide with which to measure how we are doing: What are our fruits? Are they good, wholesome and life-given or nasty, rotten and poisonous. Matthew 7:19 states: “Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Thus, you will know them by their fruits.” Ouch. Jesus Christ has laid out for us in no uncertain terms what it means if we are to follow him as Lord. That is the context for today's Gospel. Now, I want to jump ahead to the second part of today's reading.

Here is a parable about building. In the Middle East, the home, literally the house, was the central core of one's life. The extent to which this is still true is evident by the fact that governments tear down a criminal's house. Much of the Old Testament is about acquiring the land of Israel, and that history continues today. So the parable of the house builder is a vivid sign. But, as in all parables there is a deeper, more personal meaning.

If the house represents our life, as it did for Jesus' hearers, the question becomes on what, or whom, are you building the foundation of your life? Because storms, floods and winds will come; emotional traumas, health crisis, death, unemployment, war, disillusionment, rejection and lost love are part and parcel of every human beings life. The monastic life is in no way immune from these events. Believe me, in someways the pain from these events can be even more pointed, because our life doesn't, or at least our life shouldn't, provide for the many distractions and “drugs” that are available to numb the pain.

The longer that I am here (and I am really just a babe in all this) the more I see that if I make anything other than Jesus Christ the rock on which I build this foundation of monastic life, I will be swept away and the fall will be great. I have seen it happen, and I know that unless I move daily, hourly, to make Christ the foundation of my life, I am lost. To paraphrase for myself today's hard saying it would read: Lord, Lord, did I not give up my career, my family, my relationships, sex, money, property and prestige?

Didn't I wear a white habit and receive communion everyday, and chant the psalms (maybe not always so great, but hey, I was trying!). He may say “Depart from me. I never knew you.” The danger is when we substitute the important for the foundational. It is important to be inclusive, it is important to live the monastic life with integrity, it is important to welcome guest and provide hospitality and be a loving listener. But the danger is when these become the foundation instead of Christ.

All of the incense, icons, Eucharist, devotionals, liturgy, scholarship, youth groups, social action committees or gracious guest house living means nothing if I am not feeding the hungry, tending the sick, visiting the lonely, (and not just writing a check so someone else can do it), burying the dead, forgiving my enemy (even the enemies that are in the church), making peace, and striving always to greater purity of heart in Jesus Christ. And that is the blessing or curse that God sets before us in today's reading from Deuteronomy.

If I listen to the words of Jesus and become a doer of the word, I will find blessing. If I just hear the words, give intellectual ascent, and make an excuse as to why the hard part doesn't really apply to me, whether it is because I am a good tither, or I can quote all scripture in the original language (KJV of course) or I am a pastor or I am a monk...Then I can't say that I didn't know. Am I going to choose to allow Jesus to be my Lord and Savior? As my Foundation? Am I going to, as the words of the Rule of Saint Benedict instructs his monks, “Listen with the ear of my heart to the Father that loves me?" I have set before me life and death.

“These are the terms. Do you accept?”

RCL - Proper 4 A - 01 Jun 2008

2008-06-01T13:25:00.001-05:00

Firm Foundation Love
Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Lary Pearce, OHC
RCL - Proper 4 A - Sunday 01 June 2008

Genesis 6:9-22; 7:24; 8:14-19
Romans 1:16-17; 3:22b-31
Matthew 7:21-29

Today’s readings seem rather mysterious to me. The Gospel is from the seventh chapter of Matthew which begins with the admonition, “Do not judge lest you be judged.” This is followed by “Cast not your pearls before swine,” “Knock and it shall be opened,” “Which of you if your child asks for bread would give a stone?,” “If you then who are evil know how to give good gifts to your, How much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him!,” 7:12: “In everything do to others as you would have them do to you.”

We all know these sayings. I did not know or did not remember till writing this homily that they are all packed into the seventh chapter of Mathew. In this context the wisdom of “not everyone who says to me “Lord, Lord,” will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven.” I am relieved to know that my salvation does not depend on my doing many deeds of power and calling on the name of the Lord. Still I am puzzled by the possibility and indeed the requirement that a miserable sinner like me has to do the will of the Father or be cast into hell.

Clearly the will of the Father has to do with building a house on a firm foundation. This firm foundation is the will of God which the follower of Jesus knows as the self sacrificing love of God. One does good to one’s fellows not because they are wonderful people but because they have at the core of their being the image and likeness of God. Strangely enough, this image and likeness is to be found in all sorts and conditions of people not just well educated folks with good manners. Recognizing this image of God and honoring it in my fellow humans is my way of showing love for God, and it is my way of trying to build a firm foundation for my eternal home.

Think of this reminds me of something that happened in 1993 at Mount Calvary in Santa Barbara. Santa Barbara is an earthly paradise, at least climatically, that is blessed in many ways. One of those blessings is that it used to be home for a wonderful collection of homeless people. One of Br. William Brown’s stories is that a well dressed homeless lady remarked to him that Santa Barbara has a better class of homeless than other places. She was well dressed because the Salvation Army there is well furnished with the cast offs of the wealthy. She also remarked that she was going to spend the winter in Santa Ana, which, I suppose, has an even better class of homeless than Santa Barbara.

Santa Barbara’s collection of homeless people included some men whom I would guess are schizophrenic. Donald was one of them. Donald had gotten know Mt. Calvary in the late 70’s or early 80’s. When I knew him, he was genuinely incoherent and could not have fitted into the context of a monastic retreat house. Still, he continued to call the guest house office, and his remarks generally had something to do with police cars, helicopters, and moon beams. He was a little scary. I usually got the calls, and for a long time I would say as forcefully as I could, “Donald, don’t you ever call here again” and hang up. One day the secretary, Rachel, said, “Lary, that sounds so bad.” I thought about that. Of course she was right. The next time Donald called I said “God Bless You, Donald.” He said, “Thank you, Father.” Apparently all he really wanted from me was a Blessing. Of course he continued to call, and I continued to say, “God Bless you, Donald.” Donald became a blessing rather than a curse.

I still marvel in God’s mercy to me. Through Rachel I received the grace to hear the voice of God say, “Give blessings not curses.” I wish I could say that from moment I was filled with wisdom and love, and never had to face another collapse. My foundations have had to be replaced and shored up several times. These days I am trying to build on the sure foundation of God’s love.

Today’s psalm, which we did not read, includes one of my favorite verses,

Blessed be the Lord!

for he has shown me the wonders of his love in a besieged city. Psalm 31:21

I am the besieged city. God’s love is the wall that defends my city.