First Sunday of Advent: An Ass and An Epistle

higher4pl1Matthew 21.1-9 & Romans 13.1-11


Watch, for you do not know the day or the hour, and what a sight you would have seen: Jesus riding on an ass, as a crowd spread palm branches before him crying Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord![1]

But we’re not interested in the crowd or their cries; we’re not interested in their palm branches or their cloaks spread on the road. We’re not interested in the order given to the disciples or even the prophecy quoted by St. Matthew. What we are interested in is the ass. Continue reading First Sunday of Advent: An Ass and An Epistle

On The Liturgy of the Hours

GroupLast evening I finished up in the office around 7PM, and with Advent looming large on the horizon, I took in my copy of The Liturgy of the Hours: Advent Season and Christmas Season. By accident, the book opened to the Introduction, which contained a condensed history of praying the Liturgy of the Hours, as well as a section on the sanctification of the day, or more generally, time. What struck me as odd was the emphasis on the role of prayer in the daily life of the Church and her priests. It would be easy to get lost in all the rubrics of liturgical purity in praying the Hours or in making them into a sort of aesthetical escape: a prison of “beauty” which serves no larger function than self-gratification; that in my estimation is nothing short of incarnational denial. Continue reading On The Liturgy of the Hours

The Beauty of a Theme-less Advent

Drawing nearer and nearer is the first real season of the church year causing pastoral blood pressures to spike, anti-anxiety medicine to be taken by bottleful, sleepless and perhaps sexless nights as the pastor tosses and turns, crying out “My God, my God…what will the Advent them be?” No one gets excited about Trinity, Pentecost, and Epiphany or Easter; there are no “themes” to be found for these bastard step-children of the liturgical year, but Advent and Lent, Advent and Lent-like tantrum prone and spoiled children-demand the liturgical notoriety of “programs,” “themes”, and “preaching workshops.” Continue reading The Beauty of a Theme-less Advent

Trinity 22 2014

forgivenessOf all the tasks given to a Christian by our Lord, nothing seems more difficult, more insurmountable, or causes us to raise the white flag of surrender faster than the command to forgive “those who trespass against us.” While there are many reasons why this is, they are all, in one way or another, based upon the bruise our ego felt it was dealt: we don’t forgive because the hurt is too deep, we don’t forgive because our own pride is simply too great. Continue reading Trinity 22 2014

Thanksgiving Homily (from a former life)


Joshua 2.1-21, specifically verse 21.

Red……red was the color of the lamb’s blood that was smeared over the door post so that death would not enter the home of the Israelites, as they remained in bondage to Pharaoh: red was the color of salvation.[1] Red… was the color of the cord than hung in the window of Rahab’s home so that death would not enter into it; red was the color of the cord that hung in the window of Rahab’s home offering salvation to all who entered and remained.[2] Red was the color of salvation and without salvation there can be no thanksgiving. Continue reading Thanksgiving Homily (from a former life)

St. Mark the Ascetic and Obedience

St Mark the AsceticI am a devotee of The Philokalia, and while I like to think that I learn from all the Fathers of the Church-East or West-I have really come to an appreciation of St. Mark the Ascetic. There is a familiar theme in his work, a theme that runs throughout the volumes of The Philokalia, and that theme is “obedience.” I was in the mindless midst of frying fish by the wheelbarrows full yesterday and I began to wonder why it is that “obedience” seems to be a topic that is shied away from-or completely ignored-within mainline Protestantism.

Continue reading St. Mark the Ascetic and Obedience

Trinity 21 ’14

imagesOne man said “Lord, my servant is lying paralyzed at home, suffering terribly.” Another asked for the Lord “to come down immediately and heal” his son who was at the point of death. To the first man the Lord “I will come and heal him,” but the man replied “Lord I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word, and my servant will be healed.” To the second man the Lord said “Unless you see signs and wonders you will not believe.”

Nevertheless the second man said “Sir, come down before my child dies,” but the Lord would not go down to his home; rather he said “the word”: “Go, your son will live.”

“The man believed the word Jesus spoke to him,” but did he believe because Jesus spoke it, or did he believe it because his servants met him on his way home “and told him that his son was recovering”?

The first man said to the Lord “I too am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. And I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes, and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes, and to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.” The first man understood the power of authority; a power so great that mere words caused actions to be done. The first man understood-perhaps imperfectly-that Jesus was also a man of authority and that all he had to do was to issue an order “and [his] servant will be healed.”

The second man, though “he had been delivered from danger not simply, or by chance, but of a sudden, all at once; that it might be apparent that it had taken place, not through the course of nature, but from the action of Christ”[1] still believed only because his servants had confirmed the hour of the healing. And it was because of this that “he himself believed and all his household.”

Of the first man Jesus said “Truly, I tell you, with no one in Israel have I found such faith”; of the second man, “Unless you see signs and wonders you will not believe”—and yet the New Testament is full of examples where the disciples-let alone a ruler or a centurion-would not believe unless they saw the very same.

Perhaps most famous is Thomas who said “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.”[2]

And of course there’s Peter’s attempt to walk on water that ended with near disaster and these words “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?”[3] Meanwhile-safe in the boat-the other disciples “worshiped him, saying, ‘Truly you are the Son of God,’” but only because of the “signs and wonders” they had seen.[4]

And speaking of lakes, boats and storms, when Jesus was awakened by the shouts and screams of the disciples who thought they were going to drown in a storm on a lake, he said “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?”[5] When he had “rebuked” the winds and the waves, the disciples asked “What sort of man is this, that even winds and sea obey him?”[6]

So lest we become too harsh on this man whose son was near death, or Thomas, or Peter, or the disciples, not believing unless one sees “signs and wonders” has a long pedigree in the New Testament, and it really isn’t hard to understand when you consider that “faith” is not something that is static. The Epistle Lesson read after Easter from 1 Peter 2 says as much:Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up into salvation— if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good.”[7]

Faith is not like the electric chair, in which a criminal is placed, a switch is thrown and voila, the entire body is electrocuted, all at once, with no hair left unsigned; rather faith is a process of growing in Christ, and if it takes “signs and wonders” for that growth to take place, what of it? Growth still is taking place and that’s what’s important.

Not all of us are centurions, in fact my guess is most of us are more like the ruler in this story, or Thomas. Maybe even like Peter, who stepped out of the boat with a great deal of faith, but became frightened and began to sink. Faith is more often like that kid on playground who was always being bullied by someone else: lunch money taken, knocked off a swing, pushed down on the gravel, maybe a bloody nose, but yet he kept getting back on his feet and he grew up.

This ruler’s faith was “bullied” by the sickness of his son and by the refusal of Jesus to physically accompany him. Even the words “Go, your son will live” were not enough—his faith was still being “pushed down.” And it was his servants who told of him of his son’s recovery-not angels outside a tomb, or a voice from heaven-but servants, who for all practical purposes thought the boy had recovered on his own and Jesus was simply yesterday’s news.

But the man knew, and in that moment, faith picked itself back up and refused to be bullied again. Would his faith always be perfect? We don’t know, but if I were to bet, I’d say “No.”

Yet I don’t think the idea of an “imperfect” faith appeals to the average Christian…except when it does. When our faith is less than perfect-for instance when disobedience is clearly more enjoyable than obedience-and we’re called on it, we all want to cry with the man from Mark’s Gospel “I do believe; help my unbelief!”[8] The argument being that a less than perfect faith has been instrumental in causing us to sin, but that only works for you or me; when another person’s “imperfections” impact us, suddenly the centurion in us comes alive, and in our “Only say the word” moment of perfection, we’re able to sit in judgment of that less than imperfect faith saying “God, I thank you that I am not like other men.”[9]

Then of course if there happens to be a clash of wills at an event, suddenly we’re the only parish in Pennsylvania that is not made up of saints; if only we could be perfect…or at least if more people here could just be like me or you! Parishes like to believe there are “perfect” pastors; pastors like to believe there are “perfect” parishioners, and no one wants to settle for an imperfection of any kind, least of all in their own lives.

The reality is the very reality of “signs and wonders”-a reality that we have all been a part of:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls.[10]

“Signs and wonders”:  an empty tomb with seated angels; the resurrected Christ appearing to Thomas still bearing his wounds; grave clothes neatly folded and left in the tomb; a messiah mistaken for a gardener, the outpouring of the Spirit at Pentecost upon all the world, with the promise of that same Spirit making his dwelling within us, and if all that were not enough, there on the altar is the greatest “sign and wonder” of all: the Eucharist where the imperfections of bread and wine are made perfectly holy by the power of the Holy Spirit, and where such a meal is fed by a perfect Father to his less than perfect children so that by the grace of a perfect Son, a bullied and “imperfect” faith might become stronger, as you and I become more able to love and to obey He who has called us out of darkness into his marvelous light.[11]

The issue is never “perfection,” but rather the process of being perfect-ed.

[1] Chrysostom

[2] John 20.25

[3] Matthew 14.31

[4] 14.33

[5] Matthew 8.26

[6] 8.27

[7] 1 Peter 2.2-3

[8] Mark 9.24

[9] Luke 18.11

[10] 1 Peter 1.3ff.

[11] 1 Peter 2.9

What if they don’t?

“What if they don’t?” seems to me to be a question no one within the church asks when considering same-sex relationships. On the table behind by desk is a pile of books that I read in the order that I purchased them, and in the stack are several texts on homosexuality vis-à-vis the church. Yet another is on the way written by Dr. Thomas Hopko, the former Dean of St. Vladimir’s Theological Seminary. I noticed in the most recent edition of The Reporter that a college workshop-or series of them-was being held on the topic of homosexuality under the rubric of “Taboo.” The works on my desk are written from both sides of the debate, and while I appreciate Hopko’s work, my guess is that neither Hopko nor workshops like “Taboo” nor any LCMS “series” on homosexuality is going to answer the question I started with: “What of they don’t?” Continue reading What if they don’t?

Reformation ’14

imagesCA1N16NJ“Let freedom ring,” could well have been a theme shouted from the castle tops of reformation-era Germany, in fact Luther himself spent a great deal of time on the topic of “freedom” itself as it relates to the life of a Christian. It could well have been that each time Luther’s hammer hit the nail that held up the Ninety-Five Theses, it too shouted out “FREEDOM!” Continue reading Reformation ’14