Homily on the Sunday after the Exaltation of the Precious and Life-Giving Cross

            “Mom, would you let me off a little way down the street from school?” “Dad, stop whistling that tune!” It’s not unusual for teenaged children to be ashamed of their parents. After all, parents like things that aren’t cool any more. They’re so…well…so much older and out of fashion. (Of course, that doesn’t apply if Dad grows a hipster beard, right?)

            What happens when someone is ashamed of someone they know? It’s usually a case of two worlds colliding, with the embarrassed person in the middle. To use the teenaged kid example, there’s the world of home and there’s the world of school. Each of them plays by really different rules and follows really different goals. The kid torn between the home-world and the school-world is like the chameleon on scotch plaid. 

            Shame was a real issue for the people who first received Mark’s gospel. Some of them had a Jewish background; others were Gentiles, especially Romans. For both groups, a cross was an embarrassment.

            To the Romans and Gentiles, the cross was an instrument of capital punishment. It would be like having a gallows, a gurney, or an electric chair at the heart of Christianity. In Rome there’s an anti-Christian graffiti from the third century. It shows a donkey on a cross and bears the inscription, “Alexamenos worships his God.”

            To the Jews, the cross was even worse. It represented a divine curse, for Deuteronomy said, “Cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree.” In the Jewish revolt, whole towns would surrender rather than see one of their citizens be crucified.

            So it’s not hard to see why Christians might be ashamed of Christ and of his word—the word of the cross—in the first centuries. It was a message that just didn’t fit.

            We’re at a time once more when the Cross of Christ doesn’t fit…a time when, once again, we’re confronted with the question: “Am I ashamed of Christ and his Cross?” 

            We are ashamed of the Cross when we buy the narrative that Jesus is just another great religious teacher…a guru, but not God in flesh. Just as during the days of his earthly ministry there were many prepared to admit him as Teacher, or Prophet, but not as God—so also today. No one bats an eyelid any more when the media refers to “Prophet Muhammed”—but just try saying “Christ God,” and see where it gets you!

            We are ashamed of Christ when we endorse our passions and affirm them instead of fighting against them. “Those who belong to Christ have crucified the flesh and its desires,” St. Paul tells us. Yes, we should be concerned about new definitions of marriage and of sexuality—but the confusion in our culture just objectifies the confusion in our own hearts, homes and lives.

            I know it isn’t easy to fight against the passions. But here, too, we can be ashamed of Christ and his Cross when we try to fight them in our own name and strength and power, instead of by the name of Jesus and the strength and power of the Cross.

            I have a friend from high school who just this past week celebrated his 28^th year of sobriety. He wrote, “Yesterday…I have been clean and sober for 28 years. That does not mean that I have been without difficulty and issues, but it does mean that I was better equipped to handle what came my way. The first thing I remember was God in my life, because I cried out to Him and my obsession to drink and get high was immediately lifted. That was and still is today the very most important part of my sobriety—that I gave my life to the Lord...”

            We have much to be ashamed of, dear friends in Christ: the many ways and many times we have acted as if he is other than the center of our life…the times we have surrendered ourselves to our passions instead of fighting them…the times we have tried to fight them in our own power and wisdom and strength.

            But let us never be ashamed of Christ our God and of his holy cross. Let the word of Christ’s Cross be the light for our feet and the lamp for our path. Let the word of Christ’s Cross be our weapon of peace and our trophy invincible. When the passions assail us, when our sins trouble us, when death itself looms, let our one boast be in the Cross of Christ. Let us never, never, never be ashamed of Christ our God, who loved us, and gave himself for us!

Homily on Matthew 21.33ff

            When I was a kid, I loved to discover how things worked. And I got to be pretty good at taking things apart. Whether it was a piece of electronics, or some household object, I could soon have the whole thing in pieces in front of me. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quite so good at putting things back together.  Inevitably there’d be two or three pieces sitting there. when I was done. I had no idea where they went, but without them, the thing wouldn’t work. Even today, I dread those words “Some assembly required” when I buy something.

            It was a little like that for the Jewish leaders in today’s text. They thought they had all the pieces assembled right. Oh, to be sure, there were always tensions and troubles in their world. How to deal with the Romans…how to interpret strange sections of the Torah, (like that one about a healed leper showing himself to the priests when leprosy was incurable)…Then in the background there was their ancestors’ constantly falling into idolatry. But on the whole, they got the parts together and it all seemed to work.

            Then along came Jesus, and they didn’t know what to do. On the one hand, nobody could deny that he did miracles and wonders: raising the dead, casting out demons—even healing lepers, like that strange passage talked about.

            But on the other hand, he wouldn’t play by their rules. He went out of his way to heal on the Sabbath day. His disciples came from Galilee, a place crawling with Gentiles—all except for Judas Iscariot, of course. Try as they might, they couldn’t figure out what to do with him. He didn’t fit their plans, so they rejected him.

            That’s why he quoted the words of the Psalm to them, “The stone which the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone. This is the Lord’s doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes.” He knew what was in their hearts. Just as their fathers had killed the prophets, so they would strike at him. Something had to give…so they killed him. But God raised him from the dead, and revealed him to be his Son, and poured out his Spirit on those who trusted him.

            It’s easy to see that from our vantage point. But I wonder how many times we need to hear these same words. We work on building our lives. We try to put the pieces together. Most everything seems to fit. But sometimes we might see Christ as just another piece, and miss how he’s the key piece, the cornerstone. Or in some areas of our life we might try to get by without him altogether.

            I admire those who are able to build or remodel a building. You may know that buildings have two kinds of walls: weight-bearing and non-weight bearing. They both look the same from the outside, but they’re not. Here’s how to tell the difference. Knock the wall down. If nothing happens, then it’s a non-weight bearing wall. If the roof starts to cave in, you’ll know it was weight bearing.

            Where does Christ fit in your plans: for big things like your career and your marriage and the way you see life-issues like human sexuality and race issues and politics…and for little things like your day to day existence? Try the weight-bearing wall test. Take him completely out of the picture for that issue or act. If the whole thing still makes sense without him then, my friend, he is not a weight-bearing wall in your life.  Sooner or later, you will either repent or try to kill him altogether—to remove him from your life.

            But he will have none of it. The Jewish leaders muddled along for another 30 years before their world came completely down. You see, Jesus is Lord. He is the one in whom all things hold together. Through him you were made…indeed, you are central to him, for he left heaven and suffered and died and rose for you.  If he is not central to you, it’s not yet too late. Turn to him and trust him…not just for the big things but also for the little ones.

            He is the cornerstone to life and death. Everything else makes sense only when he is the key to all. Let us stop trying to have life on our terms, with our plans. Let us give our plans and our lives with all their parts into those hands which were wounded for us. He loves us, beloved; he will build of us something true and beautiful and good, for service in his Kingdom: of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Homily for the Woman at the Well 2015

            The whole of the Christian life consists of these two parts: to do the will of God, and to suffer for his sake.  Consider the life of our Lord Jesus Christ himself. He who is God, the giver of the Law, submitted himself to the Law for our sake. “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law,” he told his disciples. “I have not come to abolish, but to fulfill.” And having kept the Law in its fullness, he willingly suffered its penalty for us and for our salvation. The wages of sin is death, but he gave himself as a ransom to death, in order to give us life.

            Consider also the Theotokos. When God revealed through Gabriel that she would bear his Son, she said, “Let it be to me according to your word.” And when her spotless Son was led to the tree, the words of Simeon were fulfilled, “A sword will pierce your own heart too.”

            Indeed, these two things have marked the lives of all the saints, from the beginning of the world till now: they did the will of God, and suffered for Christ’s sake.

            I bring this up, beloved, because at the heart of today’s gospel the Lord says something very strange: “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to accomplish his work.”

            Now normally we think of food as something that gives us energy to work, or as a reward after we’ve done work. But here Christ says, “My food is to do the will of him who sent me.”

            How often, in my Christian life, do I say to myself, “As soon as I feel strong enough…as soon as my basic needs are met…as soon as I’ve got life going the way I want it to….then I’ll willingly do God’s will and gladly suffer hardship for Christ’s sake.” Day follows day, week follows week, and I’m still stuck in the same ruts, struggling with the same sins, getting older but no better, slipping into despair. Does this describe you, too?

            If so, maybe we have it backwards. Maybe we will find the meaning and satisfaction and purpose we so desperately long for, not by feeding our passions and focusing on our own desires, but by finding our delight, as Christ does, in doing the will of God and suffering for his sake.

            For the past month or so, I have been so caught up with preparations for our trip, and finishing the semester, that I’ve neglected my normal habit of walking a couple of miles a day. And how has that been working for me? I have less strength, less motivation, and have gotten less done.

            What’s true physically is also true spiritually. When things happen and my first question is, “How does this fit in with what I want?”—I inevitably get frustrated and angry and despair.            But when I learn to pray from the heart, “Thy will be done,” and embrace the things that come as from the hand of a Lord who so loved me that he embraced death for me—then I learn to live in peace and joy.

            My friends, Khouria and I will be away for much of the next three months. May I offer a challenge to you? Meditate on these strange words of Christ, and apply them to all that comes your way. Don’t desire that things go your way, according to your will; but embrace what happens as an expression of his will. When Christ kept these words, when he obeyed and suffered, it meant life for you and me. When we embrace them for ourselves, think what joy it will bring for us, and what life in Christ for others!

Homily for the wedding of John and Ariana Coolidge

            The Gospel of John is not a story of “once upon a time;” it is a story of “once and for all time.” In its lines the eternal Word becomes flesh, on behalf of all and for all. And so it is fitting that at each Orthodox marriage, we read these words from John 2. For marriage, too, embodies timeless truth in human flesh. Marriage reveals the relationship between Christ and the Church. There are not two Christs or two Churches, but one Christ and one Church, joined in their distinctiveness, and dissimilar in their union.

            We see that clearly at the wedding in Cana. Two great hearts are present—Christ and his Mother, each with their own role to play. Mary is present as the intercessor, the pray-er. It is she who sees the need of the couple, and intercedes for them with her Son. “Son,” she says, “they have no wine.”

            Some might say that she’s unnecessary. After all, doesn’t Christ know all and see all? Yet it was his will to work through her prayer, that day in Cana. And since these words show timeless truth, it remains his will to work through her prayers… indeed, through the prayers of all his people.

            Christ is present, too, as the provider. He tells the servants to put water into pots. Then he makes that water, plain and pure, into the sweetest and best of wines. He works in a hidden way to accomplish his will. The servants pour but water; the steward tastes but wine. Only the disciples get the whole picture. Only they see that by Mary’s prayer, and by Christ’s provision, the water is turned to wine. Only they see Christ’s glory, and worship him.

            John and Ariana, it has been my privilege and joy to watch this relationship develop from its beginning. I knew you both, before you were together. I remember a breakfast at the truck stop on 76^th, and a suggestion—“Why not just go out on one date, and see what happens?”

            Well—see what happens! See what happens through the prayers of Mary and the provision of Christ! Today he who made them male and female in the beginning, and who said, “For this reason a man will leave his father and mother, and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh”—today he joins you together as husband and wife.

            And those two great hearts are not done with you. You will have those times when the wine runs low in your life together…when joy becomes struggle and maybe even heartache. If marriage were a merely a matter of two people and their willingness, it could not last in this broken world.  Did you notice that there are no vows in our wedding liturgy? Marriage is a threefold cord, for God the Holy Trinity works today to bring you together and join you as one. It is not of man who runs or wills, but of God who shows mercy.

So let me encourage you to invite Christ and his Mother to your home and life together. She will pray for you in those times when the wine runs low. She will teach you, as she taught the servants, “Whatever he says, do it!” And he who came to bring joy to that couple will bring to you as well, the wine of joy and gladness in his Kingdom, of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, now and ever and unto ages of ages.

Homily for the Sunday of the Myrrh-Bearing Women

            The story is told that Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson once went camping. In the middle of the night, Holmes woke up Watson and said, “Watson, look up, and see the stars. What do you deduce from that?”

            “Well,” said Watson, “There are so many of them—billions, to be sure. Some of those stars must be like our sun. And some of those must have planets revolving around them. And some of those planets must be hospitable for life. And some of those planets hospitable for life must have life on them. So I deduce that we are not alone in the universe.”

            “You missed the main point!” said Sherlock. “From the fact that we can see the stars, we can deduce that someone has taken our tent!”

            Sometimes it’s easy for us, like Holmes, to notice all kinds of things that are beside the point…things that are true, and worthy of reflection—but things that miss the main point.

            Consider today’s gospel lesson. It begins with Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus taking the Lord’s lifeless body from the tree and, with the women, quickly preparing it for burial in Joseph’s tomb. It ends with the angel, and the women running away from the tomb in fear and amazement.

            It is worth reflecting on the courage of Joseph and Nicodemus who, when all the apostles had run away, did what they could to honor one who, to all appearances, could show no kindness back to them. They carried a body, a corpse, to its final resting place.

            It is worth reflecting on the deep love the myrrh-bearing women had for their Lord. Like Joseph and Nicodemus, they stayed with Christ when all hope had died. They alone, of all his followers, showed him love when love no longer seemed to have a point. They prepared his body and, after keeping the Sabbath, they went with spices to finish the job they had started on Friday afternoon.

            Both of these are important. But neither of them is the central point of the text. The main point is not in what we see here, but in what we don’t see. Remember the Lord’s body, so lovingly taken down from the tree, prepared for burial and laid in the tomb, and made secure with a giant stone?

            Well, THE BODY IS GONE. THE TOMB IS EMPTY. And that’s the main point of our text. Hear the words of the angels: “Do not be amazed; you seek Jesus of Nazareth, Who was crucified. He has risen, He is not here; see the place where they laid Him.”

            The tomb is empty. On that fact, all agreed: the women, the disciples—even the enemies of Christ agreed. When, a scant fifty three days after his crucifixion the disciples proclaimed him risen, it would have ended everything if the rulers had simply produced the body. But they could not. What happened?

            Police who investigate crimes look for three things: motive, method, and opportunity. Some may say the disciples had a motive—though it’s hard to imagine pious Jews wanting to steal any body, much less their honored rabbi’s. But they had no method, and no opportunity, because the grave was guarded by Roman soldiers, and they themselves were in shock, scarcely able to plan anything.

            And the enemies of Christ had no motive. They wanted him gone, once and for all. They even set a guard over the tomb.

            The tomb is empty because, dear friends, Christ is risen from the dead, just as he said. As the angel said, “Go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going before you to Galilee; there you will see him, as he told you.”

            Because he is risen, the courage of Joseph and Nicodemus…the love shown by the myrrh-bearing women…indeed, all the things done for Christ’s sake from that day to this will never be forgotten. He is risen, and so the least thing we do in his service—even a cup of cold water—will be remembered by him in his Kingdom. So Paul could tell the Corinthians, “be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.”

            Because he is risen, the fear of the disciples—yes, and even the rebellion of his enemies—will not have the last word. Did you notice that today’s epistle concludes by saying, “A great number of the priests became obedient to the faith”? So if you struggle against your sin…if you fall…you need not despair. For he who died for love of you did not remain in death. He has redeemed you by his precious blood; he has overcome death and sin, the devil and the grave. Come to the tomb. See the stone, rolled away and useless. “Wherefore, O Women Disciples, do ye mingle sweet-smelling spices with your tears of pity? “The radiant Angel within the sepulcher cried unto the Myrrh-bearing Women: Behold the grave, and understand; for the Savior is risen from the tomb.” And so we rejoice today, for Christ is risen!