+In the Name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Christ is in our midst! He is and ever shall be.
Today, we see a bright and mysterious wonder, a radiant mystery. The work of Christ as God incarnate redeeming human flesh continues. On Christmas, our Lord sanctified birth and materiality. On Theophany, our Lord comes to the Jordan to fulfill all righteousness, to cleanse the cosmos from sin, and to reveal our truest humanity by infusing it with his divinity. Indeed, in the most ancient liturgical calendars, Theophany was the primary winter feast, celebrating both the Incarnation and the Baptism of our Lord. So intertwined are these mysteries, and so infused with God's everlasting light, that they were seen as two sides of the same coin in the consciousness of the Church for the first few centuries. There is also wisdom and meaning, however, in examining them separately, that their distinct salvific meanings might be revealed, and so the Church made them two distinct feasts. Christ comes to the Jordan to fulfill all righteousness. As a Jewish male in Palestine, he was circumcised according to God's will in the Torah. Here, he comes to fulfill the righteousness of the Law by entering into a ritual of purification and the repentance of sins. As the Living Word, he fulfills the Law, and in so doing, fulfills righteousness for us. In the words of St. Paul in today's epistle, Christ is "purifying for himself a people zealous for good deeds." He comes to each of us, at our baptism, and at each moment of repentance and renewal. He comes to us, fulfilling every letter of the Law so that its spirit might shine through in our lives. As God's own cry of "let there be light," he makes the light to shine in our hearts, that we may be purified, and be zealous for good deeds. Christ comes to cleanse the cosmos from sin, beginning with the human person, the human being who is the high priest of creation. He reveals to us the fulness of our humanity, by infusing it with his divinity. In a normal washing, water absorbs the impurities of the creature it washes, and is thereafter stained while the creature is clean. But Christ, as we know, had no sin to wash away. Instead, Christ infused the water with his own purity and power, so that it would by God's grace be able to eradicate sin itself. There is a beautiful hymn in the Orthros service for Theophany, where the Jordan River speaks, and rejoices that Christ is teaching it to burn up the thorns of sin. This phenomenon happens most powerfully at our baptism, when we enter into Christ's death and rise in his resurrection. But it also applies in perhaps more subtle but no less powerful ways to the everyday use of water. Everything in God's creation can be a spiritual balm, if we are only open to seeing God's grace radiating from it. Christ comes to reveal our truest humanity. The fulness of who we are. Christ is always one with the Father and the Spirit, but notice that it is only when he humbles himself to the level of humanness that we first see the entire Trinity bearing witness to our salvation. "When Thou, o Lord, wast baptized in the Jordan, the worship of the Trinity was made manifest." This is, of course, a confirmation of Jesus' identity as the incarnate Word of God. But it is also a validation and a cherishing of our own redeemed humanity by God. St Theophylact tells us that "Adam had closed the heavens, but through Christ they are opened, so that you may learn, that when you are baptized, you, too, open the heavens." This bold vision of the Father and the Spirit bearing witness to Christ was the first time the entire Trinity was revealed in its fulness, and so it happened with much fanfare and visual splendor. But we already know, or come to learn, that God dwells within us and shines resplendently in us at our baptism. And so, even if there is no vision, we know that God is always descending from Heaven, to dwell more deeply and richly in our hearts. If we could live with that awareness at every waking moment, beloved, imagine how bright and full of love our lives would be. This is the journey of faith. Becoming more and more human. Becoming more and more what we already are. And in so doing, we walk with Christ in our hearts and become more and more divine. I will close with the encouraging words of St. Gregory of Nazianzus: Christ is illuminated; let us be enlightened together, Christ is baptized; let us descend together, so that we might be raised together. Amen.
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+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Christ is in our midst! He is and ever shall be.
Today, we see a powerful and liberating work of our Lord. The story of Christ casting out the demons from the people of Gerasa occurs in Matthew, Mark, and Luke, and we've heard St. Luke's version of the tale a few months ago. There are a few minor differences between the two narratives. St. Matthew recalls two men possessed by demons, while St. Luke only focuses on one. Whether this was two events or two accounts of the same event, the response of our Lord is the same. Christ casts out demons by the power of his love and authority. I will reiterate a few points I preached on this story a few months ago. We see, as the saints tell us, that the demons have no power to destroy the human person, in whom the image of God rests. They can only confuse and bewilder. As in St. Matthew's account, the demons beg Christ not to subject them to vasania, the word rendered in English as "torment," but which more accurately means a kind of hard testing and purification, as if testing the purity of a metal with a touchstone. In St. Luke's account, the demons also beg not to be sent back to the abyss. We cannot know whether this asking is in good faith or not. We struggle at times to understand our own hearts and the hearts of other human beings. The hearts of immaterial and supernatural beings are mysteries known only to God. And yet perhaps we can understand a human analogue to this phenomenon. We can understand the desire to escape suffering and emptiness, to escape the feeling of "abyss" in our own lives, to seek a more real and lasting feeling of stability and reality. And so, in the midst of this, perhaps Christ gives them a chance to try to live differently. Sending them into the bodies of creatures much more simple-minded and less capable of harming and being harmed. Perhaps to teach them a lesson in humility. All of this is speculation, a very tentative "perhaps." But I bring it up as a possibility because of the lessons we might learn as beings far more in touch with the presence of God than the demons are. These demons did not learn their lesson, if such a lesson was intended. They continued their ways of destruction and in so doing sealed their fate. In many cases, in this world, we too may still cause unintended suffering even as we reach for healing. As the Russian theologian Nikolai Berdyaev said, Goodness does not always travel in a straight line. If we cause harm to others as we work on ourselves, we are able to correct our course, seek repentance, and keep walking the line, no matter how many twists and turns it takes. And we are far more fortunate than these pitiable demons, for we have the image of God within us, a radiant light guiding us to the fullness of theosis in truth and love. We stand upon the foundation of the holy Church, and the wisdom of the saints who have come before. Let us turn, then, beloved, to their example. I want to use this gospel passage as a jumping off point to talk about the faithfulness of God's saints, in particular the life and witness of St. James the Just, the earthly brother of our Lord, whose feast was yesterday. At the end of today's gospel, Christ gives an instruction to the man who was freed from the demons. This man wanted to walk with Jesus and be one of his disciples, but Christ gives him a different mission. He says, "Go home, and declare how much God has done for you." Sing about your salvation. Tell the story, again and again and again, to anyone who will listen. Go, and live your life as one who has been forever changed. There is a pressure in many churches to do something like this. Some may call it a "testimony," others "evangelism." We should relieve the pressure we may feel to have a perfect story of our walk with God, wrapped up and tied with a bow. We don't need to puff up our successes, nor do we need to hide them under false modesty. God is present in all of them. Likewise, we don't need to hide our tragedies, nor do we need to wallow in them. God is present in all of them. What we need is to live a life that shines with the light of Christ, and to speak with a humble gospel joy about that life when people ask us about it. To understand how to do this, we turn to St. James. St James, according to tradition, was Joseph's son from a previous marriage. Though not a brother by blood to Christ, he was nonetheless a faithful servant of God and a brother to our Lord in a spiritual and familial sense. In his example, we see a saint who was not silent about the saving love of Christ, but neither was he puffed up or overbearing. He understood very deeply the need to truly live the gospel in word and deed. His epistle is a luminous treatise on the importance of faithful action wedded to firm belief. St James was well respected by the Jewish community and by God-honoring Gentiles alike. He was known as a righteous man, who spent many hours praying in the temple for God's forgiveness and favor upon all the people. He was wise, devout and generous both in spirit and in material giving. I want to quote a short anecdote from a lost gospel favored by St. Jerome, an early church theologian. This gospel, the Gospel of the Hebrews, was not deemed relevant enough to the wider church to enter the Biblical canon, but some of its narratives are quoted approvingly by the fathers and mothers and became a part of holy tradition. In this anecdote, Jesus appears to his brother James after the resurrection: "And when the Lord had given the linen cloth to the servant of the priest, he went to James and appeared to him. For James had sworn that he would not eat bread from that hour in which he had drunk the cup of the Lord until he should see him risen from among them that sleep. And shortly thereafter the Lord said: Bring a table and bread! And immediately it is added: He took the bread, blessed it and brake it and gave it to James the Just and said to him: My brother, eat thy bread, for the Son of man is risen from among them that sleep." Here we see James living out his faith in a way that was particular to him. When Jesus was crucified and buried, James could have done any number of things. Even though he was part of Jesus' earthly family household, he could have chosen to distance himself from Jesus to protect his life and reputation. His respect in the community likely would have kept him safe. And yet he also knew and believed his brother's message, and that his brother was the Son of God, and that his brother would rise again. And so, as a public act of witness, he made a vow not to eat or drink until Christ rose again. He had a deep enough faith to trust that either Christ would rise within the span of time it takes for a human to go hungry, or else God would preserve him for however long it took. He did not undertake any militant campaign of proselytization, but neither was he silent about the truth. He continued to live as his generous, wise and faithful self while witnessing by his actions to Christ. This level of ascetic action is not imposed upon all believers. It is also written not to put the Lord our God to the test. In the case of James, it's clear that he understood that to whom much is given, much is expected. His unique position as both the Lord's brother and a respected temple sage made his act of fasting politically and socially compelling. In our own life of faith, we ought to examine our own lives and consider what the most effective way to live for Christ may be. But I bring up this anecdote to show the importance of living our faith in action as well as in speech. St. James spent many years as the first patriarch of the Jerusalem church. Throughout his life, he faithfully wedded faith and action. He mentored St. Paul, to ensure that Paul's missionary preaching was also rooted in a life of faithfulness. He presided over the council of Jerusalem, and ruled that the faithful living of the Gentiles was enough to include them among the family of God, despite not being raised among the people of Israel. Though he doubtless made many enemies, he remained a faithful follower of Christ and a faithful follower of the Torah in its deepest meaning. He wrote his now-famous encyclical, outlining "the royal law of liberty," and the ways to live out a holistic life for Christ. St. James demonstrated a willingness to speak to his faith when the time came for his martyrdom. The high priest took advantage of a change in Roman leadership to hold a rigged trial, which eventually led to James being stoned and beaten to death with a club. The majority of devout citizens of Jerusalem, both Jewish and Gentile, recognized this punishment as unjust. When some of the scribes and Pharisees encouraged him to recant his faith in Christ to preserve his life, he went to the high place of the Temple and said "Christ himself is seated in heaven at the right hand of the Great Power, and will come upon the clouds of heaven." This enraged them, and they brought him to his death. As he died, he prayed as Christ had prayed, "forgive them, for they know not what they do." Even at that moment, a Jewish onlooker berated the crowd for their violence, saying, "Stop, what are you doing? This just man is praying for us." He was buried by those who loved him, and a pillar was erected in his memory, a testament to how in his life he was a pillar of the Church and of the faith. Martyrdom is a state of life. It is a life lived in love and open witness to the gospel. Sometimes, it leads to persecution and consequences, but this is not always the case. Wherever our lives take us, we can take inspiration from the example of St. James. Bringing together communities at odds with each other. Praying as we are able for the liberation and life of the world. Sharing and receiving from one another in a spirit of generosity, no matter how great or small the gift. And seeking to live a life attuned to the resurrection hope, a life which uplifts those around us with an unbreakable love. May we heed the example of our Lord's brother, and live with the joy of the resurrection God promises to all God's children, letting it transform our lives from the inside out. Amen. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Christ is in our midst! He is and ever shall be.
Today we receive a parable both challenging and approachable. It is challenging because it demands we examine our hearts, recognize what is in them, and act accordingly. It is approachable because the path to change can begin at home, with the tools that are already abundantly available to us by God's grace. We are fortunate to be on this side of history, to be in on the conversation between our Lord and his apostles. Countless explanations might be given for this parable. And indeed, the beauty of our Lord's parables is that their meaning is not exhausted, but grows deeper and deeper as we apply them to our life. Yet at the same time, it is a joy to receive both the parable and its interpretation from Christ himself. The seed is the Word of God. It is the proclamation of God, certainly, the kerygma of the gospel. It is everything Jesus taught. In the days of the prophets, God promised that he would write his word not only in books, but on the hearts of human beings. For us, Christ's teaching is the culmination of that promise, and his saving words bring hope, instruction, insight, compassion and wisdom. Yet if the seed is the Word of God, then it seems apparent that the seed must also be Christ himself. No message, no matter how potent, is completely separable from the messenger. And Christ is both message and messenger par excellence. He is the incarnate Word of God. We can rejoice that we have a living writer who can continually write God's word on our hearts, can be God's word in our hearts. And yet, we are to take care. The seed only grows as well as the soil it is placed in. We ought to pray, hope and work for our hearts to be good soil. When we do this, we must be careful not to assume that the different soils represent different categories of people who are more or less capable of receiving the word. As I ponder this passage, it's worth noting that all of the obstacles Jesus describes are external to the soil itself. There is a path in the way. There is a rock. There are thorns. In each scenario, the fruit is blocked by something on top of or around the soil. What this tells us, beloved, is that we are not doomed to be rocky hearts, or paved hearts, or thorny hearts. Rather, we can prepare our hearts to receive Christ, and this preparation is both simple and approachable. All of us have good soil in our hearts, and to prepare it is much like a kind of spiritual gardening. If we are blocked from the word by pride or delusion, we can practice gentleness, patience, and discernment with a trusted spiritual mentor. If there are rocks, and we feel we would love to receive God but are weighed down with troubles, we can seek support in community, practice a healthy self-care, and pray for the strength to believe a little bit more today thatn we did yesterday. If there are thorns, and we feel that our chasing after one thing or another is distracting us, we can gently, lovingly examine what we might let go of in our lives, and practice a regular habit of prayer and communion with God to the best of our ability. It may take a short while, or a long time, but all we are asked to do is the next good thing in front of us. Today, we celebrate the Seventh Ecumenical Council and the triumph of Orthodoxy. Much has been made of the process of determining what is Orthodoxy, particularly around the seven ecumenical councils. What is often forgotten is the radiant love that our faith receives from them. Each major council was called to respond to a heresy. The purpose of these councils, on a spiritual level, was to take the collective heart of the Church and reorient it to its spiritual center. To re-orient it on the path that Christ and the apostles began to tread. This is an act of love, a reminder that we don't have to have lofty or subtle or complex answers to every question in order to take a step towards Christ. Regrettably, some of the councils did cause collateral damage. Particularly at Ephesus and Chalcedon, there were Orthodox Christians who were rejected because their preaching had become lost in translation between the Byzantine cultural context and the lands further West and East. But the Church has begun to realize these mistakes, and is able to turn away from the heresies these councils responded to while embracing their fellow siblings in Christ under the Oriental Orthodox and Church of the East. The spirit of love that undergirds the councils, the love of Christ, slowly burns away the negativity of human sin. This allows the councils to be true and helpful, while acknowledging that mistakes can be made and their fruition is ongoing. Christ is still speaking, and the wisdom of the saints helps us to recognize his voice when he speaks in our own hearts. The Seventh Council in particular seems to be a particularly resonant example of love enshrined in doctrine. On the surface, the seventh council was the council that validated the use of icons as objects of Orthodox veneration through which we commune with the saints. And this is a true and important meaning. But the deeper meaning was a confirmation of the Orthodox faith, that the material world, and more potently the human person, are vessels of God's abundant grace, able to contain and rightly reflect Christ to one another. We are not perfect, but we are icons of the living God. And in the light of this parable, I can't help but imagine Christ speaking through the result of the council. Imagine Christ taking an icon of me or of you as our truest selves, holding it up to us, and reminding us, "this is who you are." Showing us a beautiful image of ourselves alight with God's love, so that we see our truest face as if for the first time. The joy of the seventh council, as in the parable, is that we are not called to be anyone other than who we are. We are only called to clear away the debris, polish the icon, and position it so that we may reflect the light of Christ to a yearning world. St John the evangelist promises us that, in the fullness of God's redemption, "we shall see God as he is." The blessing of this parable is that God sees us as we are. The blessing of this parable is that, with God's help, day by day, God dwells more deeply and richly in our hearts, and we can see ourselves as God sees us. Amen. +In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Christ is in our midst! He is, and ever shall be.
Last week we encountered the saving power of the holy cross. Today, we continue our journey into the mystery of the Tree of Life by listening to the words of St. John, the beloved evangelist and apostle. It is hard to know what to say of St. John that hasn't already been said eloquently by the gospels and by the evangelist himself. Nonetheless, with God's help I will try. Much speculation has gone into the meaning of John's title as the "beloved disciple." It is beyond our capacity this side of the Kingdom to know the exact nature of the love between Christ and John. But it seems more than fair to say it was a deep and abiding love, a love which emanated from Christ and contains all other loves; familial, friendly and partnered, queer and non-queer, spiritual-material all at once. Such a love is all encompassing because Christ's love for his beloveds is all encompassing. As God in the flesh, our Lord Jesus Christ touches and transfigures every kind of love, filling it with his light, his warmth, his tenderness. He knew that John was one who, somehow, understood this love. And so he calls upon St. John to fulfill the love that Christ's own mission prevented him from giving. To be for all, our Lord could not be only for the Theotokos. He could not always give to her the actionable love that a son might give to honor his mother. And yet as God and as human, his love for her never wavered. As he stands dying on the cross, he gives his beloved, St. John, to the Theotokos. "Behold your son." "Behold your mother." Chrysostom writes that Christ honored both John and Mary in this way. Even in his own suffering, he planted a seed of love between his family members, a love which would blossom into new life. This life is both tangible and intangible. It is tangible in that John provided materially for Mary, and Mary as matriarch of the Church continued to mentor John. It is intangible, in that the two formed a bond of love that was inseparable, and that love sustained them, no matter how far apart they were drawn by circumstance. In this gift of our Lord we see the tender eros of God, the power of love-for-life that God implants in each of us through Christ, and kindles by the grace of the Holy Spirit. This love is not merely sentimental. In our world of scarcity, the drive towards life is often obscured by scarcity mentality and the drive towards self-protection. We can be swept up in the fear of not having enough or not being enough. But the love of God has the power to sweep through those barricades like a mighty rushing river breaks a dam. In Christ, we are empowered by his grace to not just preserve our own life, but to see our life as intertwined with the lives of all God's beloved children. Our drive towards life becomes a drive towards life-for-love's-sake. This, beloved, is the eros, the revitalizing love of God. This kind of love creates communities. Partners, to be sure, but also fellowships, parishes, coalitions, families, and all manner of other communities. In Christ, our willingness to give is multiplied. We are not called to simply self-sacrifice, to trade our extinction for another's existence. We are people of the resurrection. We are called to share life and love with one another, and to ensure that no one's life subsists on the scarcity and death of another. Love does not abide oppression. Love is a leveler, a dignifier, an enricher and a mutual force of God's grace bringing us into inextricable community. Even these words about it fall short of the glory of God's love, a love which burns brightly within us and awakens in us the fullness of life. The all-encompassing mystery of love was St. John's life's work to illuminate for us. In his gospel, we see more encounters with named beloveds of Christ than in any other gospel. In his epistle, we see a treatise on how love can make us whole, and how our love between God, neighbor and self brings us to the heights of theosis, and the deepest divinized communion with our one greatest beloved, our creator and God. St John was one of the few apostles to repose in peace, and not to experience the martyrdom of blood. Perhaps this was some small fulfillment of the possibility Jesus expressed to Peter about John: "If I want him to remain until I come again, what is that to you?" Or perhaps it was a fulfillment of the tender promise made to John at the cross. You, o John, will live to see your mother grow old and repose in peace. You, o Mary, will see your son repose in peace and receive him into my arms. Perhaps it seemed fitting for the beloved disciple to show us believers in the ages to come that there is no fear in love, but that perfect love casts out fear. In a world so often full of death and tragedy, we can take comfort in these small in-breakings of God's peace, God's tender love which wakens new life in the face of death. And we can love boldly, love tenderly, love fiercely and with the deepest affection for one another, into the day when we rise again into the fullness of God's love, which knows no ending and breaks forth like the dawn. Amen. +++ Service Announcement +++
"Save, o Lord, Your people, and bless Your inheritance!" We are excited to announce that we will be holding our first in-person service since the Covid-19 pandemic began. We will host a Divine Liturgy at 3 PM on Tuesday the 14th for the Feast of the Holy Cross. All are welcome to attend! For details on how to participate, see below: Location: Harrington Chapel, University Congregational United Church of Christ -- 4515 16th Ave NE Seattle, WA 98105 Details: Please wear a mask and be prepared to sign in at the door. All participants will be masked for the duration of the service except when receiving Holy Communion. A separate spoon will be used for each guest, with the priest communing last. The chalice set will be sanitized before and after Liturgy. If you need help getting in the building, message our page or call 720-273-2469. Parking is available in Lots A and C on a first-come first-serve basis. +In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Christ is in our midst! He is and ever shall be. Today, we prepare ourselves to encounter the saving power of the holy cross. Since we will gather again on Tuesday for the feast, now seems as good a time as any to explain a bit about why we venerate the cross, using this gospel as explanation. A few years ago, I had the privilege of going to Jerusalem. While I was there, I visited the Monastery of the Cross. This monastery is so named because it contained the sacred grove where, according to tradition, there was a tree whose wood was destined to become the cross of Christ. I bring this up because it is important to remember how the cross for us is a symbol of life, and of the passage from death to life. When we venerate it, we venerate Christ’s life-giving Passion. By dying, Christ changed death to peaceful, conscious rest in the presence of God, and prepared the way for the destruction of death itself in the resurrection. Our Lord speaks of this coming reality in today’s gospel. Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up. Many of you may recall the story of the serpent. The Israelites are tempted to go back to the simplicity of slavery in Egypt. Paradoxically, God sends a trial their way in the form of fiery serpents. But God also provides a remedy. God tells Moses to build a bronze serpent, and place it high on a pole, that when the afflicted Israelites bitten by serpents looked upon the bronze snake, they would be healed. In this, God does not promise a lack of trials. The serpents still come. They bite. But God does promise that the trial need not be fatal. God protects the Israelites from death. I am reminded of the words of our Lord, “In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart, for I have overcome the world.” An important facet of this ritual is that it is the choice to look upon the serpent as an act of faith in God that makes it efficacious. God warned the Israelites against idolatry. But this serpent is a tangible and paradoxical anchor point for faith in God. To show that God can save God’s people through the very source of their pain and suffering. The cross points to this same reality, in a more profound way. In the ancient days, God used a serpent to heal God’s people from the serpent bite. In the passion of our Lord Jesus Christ, God used a cross, the most shameful and painful method of state execution the Romans could muster, to save all humanity from death itself. By rejoicing in the gentle and life-giving aspects of the cross, we take the focus away from the totalizing power of violence and oppression, and fix our gaze upon the power and love of God to overcome it. The cross becomes the tree of life. The place of the skull becomes Paradise. As Orthodox Christians, we have the powerful source of hope that God has entered into our deepest suffering and transformed it. That our suffering, no matter how great, can never extinguish us completely. And so we look upon the cross. We don’t worship the wood, but we worship and we honor Christ’s passion. We look in awe upon the tool of death which has become a source of life, and we rejoice in God’s power to defeat the greatest demons of empire, hatred and violence. This focus keeps us humble. It is possible to mistakenly worship or instrumentalize the cross. This is not a new problem. Many years after Moses, certain factions among the Israelites began to worship the bronze serpent. It became known as Nehushtan. What was meant to be an aid to faith in God became in itself a deity. But it was not faith towards the object’s power that caused this. After all, God told them to behold the serpent and be healed. It is only when it became an instrument in itself, apart from the love and power of God, that there were problems. Unfortunately, many Christians do a similar thing with the cross. For those who say that God is an angry God, taking out God’s anger against humanity on Jesus through the cross, The cross remains an instrument of violence and an idol. The violence is simply transferred from the human realm of the Roman Empire to the divine realm of God’s wrath. The cross becomes an idol which eats our sins by breaking the body of God. Others see the cross as a validation of suffering. If we just suffer enough, if we just make our suffering close enough to Christ’s suffering, God will love us. In this case, the cross becomes an instrument of pain and suffering for suffering’s sake. Most of us who are marginalized or know people in marginalized communities know that when pain itself is worshiped as a god, the powerful can abuse others and say it’s for their own good. We may and often do encounter God in the midst of our suffering, but suffering itself is not what makes us holy. Even the martyrs were not spiritual masochists, seeking out pain. They simply lived boldly for Christ and were unafraid of the consequences. In the days of ancient Israel, God instituted sacrifices to reconcile and atone for the sins of the people. Contrary to what many Christians assume, these sacrifices were not the demand of an angry God seeking to take out his anger on animals instead of humans. Rather, they operated on an ancient spirituality of renewing life against the powers of death. Sin and death are intertwined. Sin leads us to fragmentation, isolation, alienation. The death of our physical bodies is just the most potent manifestation of this phenomenon. Blood was seen as a symbol not of death, but of life, for the blood that flows in our veins carries life to our bodies. When animal sacrifices were made, the life giving blood was offered up and the flesh was usually given back to the community in the form of a meal, nourishing physical life and restoring the life of holiness. Christ did not have to die on a cross. Being God in the flesh, his death would have transmitted the power of God into the human experience of death regardless of how he died. But by dying on a cross, Christ took the most hateful symbol of human violence and evil at the time and used it to turn the cosmic tide from death to life. It was a show of God’s glory and love, that there is no evil which can triumph over the resurrection and life God gives to all God’s children. The Byzantine Empire’s decision to use the cross as a sign of mortal earthly conquest is a misapplication of its meaning, but this does not taint the power of the cross, and the saving love of our Lord who was crucified upon it. And so we venerate the cross, and we praise and glorify Christ’s resurrection. May we always stand with Christ for new life in the midst of systems of death. May we lay down our swords and take up the cross and follow Him. And may we always remember that in our deepest suffering, Christ is changing death to life before our very eyes. Amen
+In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Christ is in our midst! Today our Lord provides a parable of forgiveness and gratitude. It is simple, in many ways very appealing. Yet it is a hard saying for some, for reasons which are very understandable. Here and there throughout the Lord's parables, we are given glimpses not only of the Kingdom of God, but of the judgment it entails. The idea of judgment has often been twisted in our current context after centuries of misuse. We may think of judgment as condemnation, and of that condemnation as the condemnation of an unjust hypocrite or malicious actor. It is reductive to simply say that "God is the only just judge" and go on with it. It might be more helpful to say that God is justice, a justice which enfolds within its grasp mercy, righteousness and love. The Kingdom of God is like a king who forgives a three billion dollar debt. That's not an exact estimate, but given that a talent was worth around 20 years of daily wages, we can rightly imagine that this is a staggering debt. Yet we must be careful not to only imagine this forgivenss as the withholding of wrath. St. John Chrysostom and St Theophylact of Ochrid remind us that God gives us everything that we have. Life, breath, a world to live in, our virtues and strengths, and the fullness of divine grace to make us truly "gods, and children of the Most High". The debt is beyond the capacity of any one worker to repay not because the master is harsh or the servant lazy, but because it represents the very ground of our being, the divine dispensation by which our existence is even possible. God gives us everything. And the Kingdom of God runs on this gift economy. As Christ says elsewhere in the Gospel, "freely you have received, now freely give." The judgment, the discernment of God which reveals the full truth of who we were, are, and are becoming, shows us our generosity of spirit, or lack thereof. We give and forgive freely, not to repay the debt of our life, but as an expression of gratitude for all God has done and continues to do for us. As an expression of tenderness and love for the ones God places in our lives, whether by our choice or by circumstance. We do not always live out of this mindset of gratitude. Often we fail to do so. Yet God continues to forgive us our sins. Negative consequences only arise when we fail to recognize that our fellow human beings are deserving of the same gift from us as we receive from God. In truth, we are all image-bearers. To hold grudges against our fellow humanity is to hold a grudge against God within them, and this is an act of ingratitude in the face of all that God does for us. This mindset of magnanimous forgiveness may come naturally enough to many of us. It's not hard to see how we should be merciful as God is merciful, and we should act as people who have received so much, and not hold grudges and debts against our neighbor. But what are we to do when our neighbor does something that seems unforgiveable? What are we to do when the debt they "incur" against us is not a $5000 debt, but a $100,000 debt? Again, this is a rough estimate. We must understand a few things. First, we must not let perfect be the enemy of good. Many well-meaning church people have a polarized idea of forgivenss. Either we completely relinquish our woundedness and forget what they did to us, or we hold tightly onto it and let it take over and ruin our lives. No middle ground. And this dichotomy prevents many well-meaning people from taking the first steps towards forgiveness. It is important to remember that this parable is a parable about the Kingdom of God. It is a blueprint to strive towards, and it is a revelation of the new reality that is breaking into our everyday lives. But we know that the Kingdom of God is still being born in this world of sorrow and suffering. And if we sometimes fail in our efforts to completely and wholeheartedly forgive, this doesn't mean our efforts were in vain. It may take time to heal. The healing may not be completed in this lifetime. But we can always lean in to the birth pangs of the new creation. We can do the next good thing, and take the next step towards forgiveness and reconciliation. St Isaac the Syrian says, "If you cannot be merciful, at least speak as though you are a sinner. If you are not a peacemaker, at least do not be a troublemaker. If you are not victorious, do not exalt yourself over the vanquished. If you cannot close the mouth of a man who disparages his companions, at least refrain from joining him in this." The wisdom of this saint reminds us that we can begin with small steps. It can be as simple as praying for those who have wronged us. If we cannot form the words ourselves, we might ask a beloved saint to pray for them, or to modify the words of our Lord, "Forgive them, Lord, even if I can't". When we begin to rise above the desire for revenge, we can work more wholeheartedly for true restorative justice. When we are willing to forgive our neighbor, we can live with a greater gratitude for one another and deeper love and communion with God. May we see all around us the good gifts of our Father in Heaven. May we know ourselves, our sins and virtues, and seek repentance and renewal. And may we always see the face of God shining in our neighbor, no matter how obscured, and in forgiving them day by day, receive the Kingdom. Amen. In the name of the +Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Christ is in our midst! Today, we celebrate the martyrdom and repose of the Holy Forerunner, Prophet and Baptist John. It is sobering to consider how such a mighty prophet of God was slain in such undignified circumstances. While the deaths of other martyrs were bloody and violent, in some ways they were able to see and embrace the meaning of their sacrifice more easily. They were directly persecuted for their confession of faith. This is what the Roman Empire imposed upon them, they lived and witnessed for as long as they could, and when their witness led them to the ultimate sacrifice they went with dignity.
Yet far more often in our own times, those who are killed by the powers of empire for their subversive lives of faith and righteousness are killed in the shadows. By secret arms of the state, or by the violence of the mob. In this case, John’s death was a state execution motivated by a combination of political expediency, immoral oaths and the lust of the powerful to take what they please. In order to know what spiritual hope and wisdom we might glean from this gospel, we must first understand these cruel motives. First, let us consider the most obvious motive, lust and the lust for power. We see the dance of Herodias’ daughter, the daughter of Herod’s sister-in-law who was also now his wife. Herod is moved by this dance to give Herodias and her daughter whatever they want. The Church Fathers and mothers suggest that Herod was motivated by lust. In order to understand this however, we must clear some of the debris around the concept of lust that has been laid by reactionary religious people. Lust is more than simply strong sexual desire. It is true that being strongly attracted to someone can lead us to make unwise decisions, but even these do not necessarily qualify as lustful, only foolish. Lust enters the picture when we act as if our desire is more important than the autonomy of others, when we harm others or violate their freedom and rights in pursuit of what we want. It is worth noting that privilege (be it racial, gender-based, economic or social) often magnifies the impact of lust, and social power (like that of kings, wealthy businessmen and state agents) puts people in a position to do much more damage as a result. In this case, we see a king who, despite his own misgivings, ultimately sees the holy prophet as no more than an expendable pawn in the flirtatious interplay between himself, his illicit wife and his wife’s beautiful daughter. Indeed, Herodias commits a similar sin by using her daughter as an agent of her own will to see John the Baptist dead. Pride and the misuse of power can be temptations to anyone, and can enter through a variety of situations. We must be careful that in all we do, we honor each person as an icon of God and do not seek to use them as means to our own ends, whether those ends be sexual, social, financial, or otherwise. Second, hastily sworn oaths. Herod promises anything up to half his kingdom. We see again how money and power can multiply the effects of bad oaths. Christ warns his followers to “let your yes be yes and your no be no”. We are to speak with emotional honesty and openness about what we want, what we will do for someone, and what we promise. We protect one another when we do so. If we are caught in keeping a bad promise, this too can liberate us. Oaths are not to be held above righteousness, and faithfulness to God and neighbor sometimes means breaking a promise to the state, our superiors or our equals, fellow children of God who have asked for the unreasonable or the unethical. It is not the oath itself that is righteous, but the fidelity to acts of mercy and justice we make an intention to do for one another. We must say we will do good and then follow through, and we must neither say we will do evil nor follow through with evil acts, inasmuch as we are able. Herod cared more about his reputation and the maintaining of decorum and political power than with justice. To keep an unjust oath is unjust, to break an unjust oath is justice. Even better still, we ought to simply be people who both say and do good, without threats of oath to hold us to it. Finally, political expediency. In this, the evangelist shows us to be wary of those who claim to be friends of God and humankind but harm God’s children outside of the public eye. It is said that Herod feared and respected John as a righteous man. Clearly, his public behavior amongst his court showed that he was interested in looking like he was doing the right thing. Maybe on some level, he even truly wanted to do the right thing. Until the moment it cost him something. The moment he was threatened with a loss of power and prestige, he caved and condemned an innocent man to death. The moment Herod’s cronies needed him to bend his morals to play the game of power, he bent. We should be wary of those in power who do this. We should also be wary of those in our communities who may do this, and in our own hearts when we are tempted to sacrifice the right thing for the easy thing. We may not all have the power to sentence someone to death, but all of us may be in a situation where doing the right thing may cost us friends, influence, comfort or power. We must be willing to accept the loss, and be friends of God first and foremost. These would be sufficient lessons to apply to our lives. Yet it would do a disservice to the gospel to speak of its warning without also speaking of its promise. And even in the midst of such a senseless death, God works wonders through his forerunner which can encourage us to this day. When righteous people are killed by the powers that be, it is often done in the shadows. The systems of sin and oppression in our human society seek to perpetuate loneliness and fragmentation. If they can bury the memory of beloved workers for justice and mercy, if they can instill fear to scatter communities, they will. They seek to make each person seeking wholeness feel as if they are alone. Yet the witness of the apostles in the wake of John’s death can remind us that we are not alone. They came, they bore his body away, and lovingly buried it. In so doing, they remembered who he was and is. Just as importantly, they came together as a community. They reminded each other of their shared love for John, and that they would continue to be there for one another to carry on his mission with Christ. Indeed, perhaps this was a small rehearsal for the Lord’s Passion. In the midst of that even greater loss, of course the apostles scattered. But maybe some small memory of their convocation, their sacred gathering around John’s body, helped remind them that God would bring them back together again even in the bewilderment of Christ’s death. We do well, beloved, when we speak memory, love and truth about our departed loved ones and heroes, against the forces that might seek to scatter us from them. The saints also bear insight into John’s death. It is said by holy tradition that John preached to the dead in Hades, preparing the way for Christ’s own descent into Hell as he prepared for Christ’s incarnation. Across the cosmos, in life and in death, a voice cries out in the wilderness, “Prepare ye the way of the Lord.” From this we can take a deep comfort and hope. Not only does Christ open up a path from death to life for all beings, but the wisdom of God’s prophets follows us even past the threshold of this earthly life. Wherever we are on the journey between the present moment and the Kingdom of God, God has sent the divine Word, preached and incarnate, to go before us and to lead the way. May we make no compromise with exploitation and injustice, may we prepare God’s way of love before us in our communities and in our lives, and may we walk that road together into the eternal life God has prepared for us in Christ. Amen. Hymns
Apolytikion of Dormition of St. Anna Fourth Tone O Godly-minded Anna, thou didst give birth unto God's pure Mother who conceived Him Who is our Life. Wherefore, thou hast now passed with joy to thy heavenly rest, wherein is the abode of them that rejoice in glory; and thou askest forgiveness of sins for them that honour thee with love, O ever-blessed one. Kontakion of Dormition of St. Anna Second Tone We celebrate now the mem'ry of Christ's ancestors, while asking their help with faith, that we may all be saved from all manner of tribulation as we fervently cry aloud: Be thou with us, O Lord our God, Whose pleasure it was to glorify them both. Homily +In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Christ is in our midst! He is and ever shall be. Today's gospel is a sobering one. There are many anxieties in the world around us and in the Church about the meaning, power, and nature of demons. The evangelists did not focus morbidly on this phenomenon, but they were compelled by Christ's ability to triumph over the demons, and so told the remembered stories about our Lord casting out demons. In a way, it's fortunate that we don't have to anxiously examine demonology texts or learn how to do elaborate exorcisms. We are given a clear and reassuring context by the holy gospel. Therefore, let us examine what it tells us. In this passage, we are reminded of an important truth: that, in the words of St. Paul, "our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the powers and principalities". This text often causes unneccessary fear when it is used in the context of our spiritual life, but today's gospel shows us that it is an encouragement to deeper love. We are reminded that our fellow human beings, no matter how deep the enmity between us, are not our enemies in God's eyes. Instead, our enemies are the demons and the forces of sin and evil that they try to take advantage of. It was a practice of the saints when reading the Scriptures to take the passages about physical violence or anger and apply it to violence against the demons, rather than assuming that God is calling us to wound our fellow humanity. In Gerasa, a predominantly Gentile city, Jesus arrives to a community enduring great fear and danger at the hands of these demons. The possessed men are "violent" and are hindering the regular flow of trade, pilgrimage and travel. Yet as dangerous as they are, these demons immediately tremble and bend before the presence of our Lord. Here, then, is our first lesson: The demons, whatever they may be, are powerless before Christ, the God we serve and who dwells within us by the Holy Spirit. Christ finds the demons in a tomb. There was a belief widely held in ancient times that the souls of the dead could become demons and cause trouble on the other. For this reason, the saints said, these demons were hiding in the tombs to play upon people's fear. But St. John Chrysostom reminds us that whatever journey the soul takes after death, God watches over each soul and leads them to the place they are called to be. The process is a mystery, but the outcome is sure. For this reason, we need not fear the dead, but rather pray for them. We pray for them not for our sakes, not to protect ourselves against their being "restless", but for their own sake, that God might give them whatever grace they need to complete their journey to God's own heart. We pray for the dead because we love them, and because we know that God loves them. The demons ask Christ, "have you come to torment us before the time?" They refer most likely to the Day of Judgment. As I mentioned before, to the extent that the demons are the enemies of God and God's creatures, we need not be surprised that they will receive punishment for their crimes. Yet it is also the calling of some saints to pray for the demons and their repentance and transformation to the good. This is a mystery beyond our full understanding, but the Scripture does allow for its possibility. The Greek word here for "torment," vasania, originally meant to test the purity of a metal with a touchstone. As with many other references to trial or purgation in the life to come, the metaphor is one of judgment, purification, and possibly pain, but not of mere vengeance or wrath. There is hope for even the demons to be redeemed, but it is our job to resist their harm and evil with all the righteous anger God gives us, and let God worry about the rest. The demons, seeking to flee the presence of Christ, ask to be sent out into a herd of pigs. The consensus of the saints on this event is that Christ was not capitulating to the demons' request, but used this situation as a moment of teaching. The fact that the demons drove the pigs to their deaths shows what they would like to do to human beings. The fact that they could not do this to the two demoniacs shows that God's own image within us and God's power over the human soul prevents them from doing so. We learn from this another lesson: that demons have no power over humanity to cause ultimate harm, and that God preserves even those unlucky few who may be possessed. When such events do occur, the Church has been given a bounty of prayers and services to restore a person to full spiritual health. We are never without the medicine of God's grace in sacrament, and we dwell always under the protecting shadow of God's wings. There is, also, a deeper spiritual lesson in Christ's actions on behalf of the city of Gerasa. The way of the demons is violence, extinction, fragmentation, both towards others and ultimately towards themselves. This is also, beloved, the way of sin. Though most of us do not cause violence to others to this degree, it is possible for any of us to lose sight of what matters, to use others as a means to our own ends, and to lose touch with our common humanity. The Gerasene swine serve as a warning that, as St. Paul says, "the wages of sin is death." We see this on personal and systemic levels, in the ways that fear, self-protection and pride can create situations where people's full humanity is disrespected. We do not need to see demons to see the fruits of their labor. Likewise, we do not need to have supernatural powers to fight them. We drive out the demons by prayer, by love, by gentleness and justice, by doing acts of righteousness to break down the death we see in the world, and make it the fertile ground for new life in Christ. Our works bear fruit in Christ's vineyard, and we can know whether something is demonic or divine by its fruit. Ironically, church leaders who misuse exorcisms to try and erase someone's gender or affectional orientation are doing the demons' work for them. They are playing into the same patterns of erasure, fragmentation and scorning the image of God. They, like we in our own ways, must repent of the ways they harm others and seek to live as Christ would have us live: casting out darkness in the world around us by our love, our hope and courage, and our faith. It seems that the Gerasenes did not fully understand what had happened. They were afraid, and asked Jesus to leave, for fear that something worse would happen to them next. Jesus came to heal and protect them, but he also respected their autonomy. They were afraid. Sometimes, even with the benefit of hindsight, and knowing who Jesus truly is, we will also be afraid. And this does not lessen our worth or our capacity to resist spiritual evil on every plane. Christ is with us. Greater is He who is in us than the one who is in the world. May we walk with courage, confidence, humility and love in the midst of all the challenges we face, material and immaterial. May we know that our spiritual warfare must fight sin and evil itself, rather than our fellow human beings. And may we take comfort in the hope of our incarnate, crucified and risen Lord, who is ever and always our Immanuel. Amen. +In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Christ is in our midst! (He is and ever shall be). Today, Christ teaches us to be the light of the world. As is often the case, he reminds us that action is as important as belief, and faithfulness is as important as faith. In St. John's gospel, Jesus declares himself as the light of the world. In Matthew, he tells us that we, too, can be the light of the world. We should not be surprised at this, humbling though the thought may be. After all, it is also written in the gospels, that if we have faith in Christ, we will do the works he did on this earth, and still greater works, because he is now with the Father and the Spirit gives us the strength of divine grace. In order to accomplish this in our lives, Christ calls us to the fullness of orthodoxy and orthopraxy. St. John Chrysostom explains that the instruction to "do and teach" the commandments is ordered this way for a reason. While we need both orthodoxy and orthopraxy, we cannot adequately teach the truth of what God calls us to until we live in accordance with the truth and act on God's commandments. For this reason, the Orthodox Church only awards the title of "theologian" to saints whose lives of gospel virtue showed them facets of God's truth that they were able to confess and proclaim organically, in an outflow of love and righteousness. In other words, theology is what we do before it is anything that we say. We see this dynamic play out in the Fourth Ecumenical Council. An important council, as it refuted a harmful heresy about Christ. Yet also a controversial council, as it alienated large swaths of Orthodox Christians whom we now understand to be speaking different nuances of the same undivided truth. Indeed, if we zoom in a bit on a few of the proceedings of this council, we can see where the Church's leaders both succeeded and failed to uphold Christ's commandment to "both to and teach" the commandments. The Council of Chalcedon was held in the 4th century. It was called, in large part, to examine the theology of Eutyches. More specifically, it was held to discern whether Christ had one nature that was both human and divine, or two natures, one of each. The question was important to preserving the integrity and holistic nature of the faith, but it can seem a bit arcane to our modern context. For our reflection today, I am less interested in the specifics of the doctrine, important though they are, and more interested in how the imbalance of faith and action played out in its proceedings. Let us return, then, to Eutyches. Eutyches was likely still sore from the divisions that had wracked the Church only a few years prior at the Council of Ephesus, a similar council that rightly dismissed one theologian's problematic ideas but in so doing cut off an entire wing of the Church, namely, the Church of the East. In reacting against Nestorius, who cut off Christ's divinity entirely from his humanity, Eutyches went too far in the other direction. He taught an understanding of Christ which swallowed up Christ's humanity into his divinity. And as we know, whatever aspects of human nature the Word are not taken on by the Word, the Word does not save. Christ must be fully human as well as fully divine in order to be our savior. Furthermore, Eutyches went around accusing many clergy of secret Nestorianism. He was so concerned with avoiding a very specific error in orthodoxy that he became an extremist for an equally problematic view, both in his teachings and in his actions. We see, beloved, in the words of St. James, our Lord's brother, that right belief without right action is dead. Eutyches was condemned by the Church for his heretical beliefs. In the example of Pope St. Dioscoros of Alexandria, we see an example of the opposite problem. Dioscoros rejected Eutyches' beliefs. He held to the beliefs of St. Cyril, his predecessor, who taught that Christ was fully human and fully divine, while still only having one nature. The intricacies of this belief are a discussion for another time, but suffice to say St. Cyril was broadly respected by both the Alexandrians and the Church of Constantinople. Dioscoros' beliefs were sound. However, in trying to solve the conflict in the Church, Dioscoros committed the opposite failing as Eutyches. He thought that a simple flex of power, by accepting Eutyches back into the fold and deposing the Ecumenical Patriarch who exiled him, would solve the deeper crisis of faith and understanding that the Church was going through. Instead, it led to Patriarch Flavian being brutalized by Dioscoros' supporters, Eutyches remaining condemned and clinging to his heresy, and the Church in Constantinople wrongfully ejecting the majority of the Church in Alexandria from communion. We must take bold actions for Christ, but we must also remember, beloved, that bold actions will not suffice on their own without a proper orientation of the heart, a harmonious communion of mutual accord which allows the Church to hear the still, small voice of Christ in our souls speaking the truth which sets us free. Thankfully, in recent decades, the Oriental and Eastern Orthodox church have realized that we share a common faith, and have begun to repent of the unjust accusations hurled at one another. The anathemas have been lifted, and talks have been ongoing as to the resuming of full communion. Indeed, on a practical level, this communion has been achieved. Members of one branch of the faith who wish to be received into the other are now only required in most places to undergo confession before receiving the Eucharist. There is no second baptism or second chrismation. We can rejoice that the harmony of righteousness and love, of action and faith has begun to be restored. Christ's commandment gives us a framework for discerning faithful action today. On the one hand, there are times that call for decisive action without delay. We are to do the commandments. To seek justice now, to love mercy now, to walk in humility now. Many who seek to delay contemporary movements for social justice in our context claim that needed change is "too radical" or "hasn't been thought through." They forget or ignore the fact that the right discernment and deep intuition of unjust status quo has been felt out and fully known by marginalized communities. They have done their discernment, and now it is time for them and us to act. Yet we must also exercise continued discernment as we seek to know exactly how to act. We must recognize that social change will not stick unless it is grounded by soul change. Paradoxically, we must do the commandments before we are able to teach them, but we must continue to know, internalize and teach them in order to transform the world in such a way that positive change is not swept away in the next cataclysm, but lasts because it is written on our hearts with God's Law. And in all of this, we remember we do the good work with God's help, and by God's grace. We are called to shine with the light of Christ, and to shine so bright as to draw all the world in love and compassion towards him. Christ gives us two commandments of greatest importance. They are not easy, but they are simple. "Love the Lord your God with your whole being," and "Love your neighbor as yourself." The work of our entire lifetime is to do these things, to to do them as well as we can, and to teach others to do the same. May we shine with the love of Christ for all God's children. May we bring faith and action together into an integrated life of discipleship. And may our courage to do deeds of justice always keep an equal pace with our love for God and one another. Amen. |