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Listen

Posted on by Fr. Peter

A large part of my spirituality comes from my formation as a Benedictine Monk. Although it has been many years since I lived within the monastery walls, the Rule of St. Benedict still speaks to me, and the rhythm of work and prayer are a large part of my life.

Listen is the first word in the Rule of St. Benedict, for listening is of the utmost importance in the spiritual life and other parts of our lives. In his masterful commentary on the Rule, Terrance Kardong writes that “This beginning sets the tone of RB (Rule of St. Benedict) as practical wisdom on how to live the monastic life.” (pg 5). He goes on to write that “The first verse explains the full significance of listening: complete attention of the whole person; good will; implementation.” (pg 5)

“Complete attention of the whole person.” In modern terminology, this would be called active listening. In active listening, one does not listen to speak but listens with the whole person. We listen with our eyes as well as with our ears. We listen with full attention to what the other is saying. We take it in and ruminate on it. Finally, we remain silent and still with our minds given entirely to what the other is saying.

Listening is essential in prayer as well as in human interactions. Most of the time, we pray to give God our laundry list of the things we want. Then, dear God, please pray for so and so and such and such. When we finish, we get up and get on with our day. We do not linger with God. We do not hang around for God’s answer. We are not attentive to that still, small voice waiting to guide us and comfort us on our journey.

In his rule, Benedict explains why we need to listen. “Listen, O my son, to the teachings of your master, and turn to them with the ear of your heart.” There was a double meaning for Benedict in his words. The “Master” is both the rule and God. By listening to the rule, we find a more intimate relationship with God, who speaks and guides us in all we do.

For those of us outside of the monastery, the admonition to listen is just as important. We may not have a rule of life, although this might be a topic for another essay, we can and should listen to God. Prayer, another word for conversation, is a two-way street. Exchanges are not one-sided; otherwise, they would be lectures. We speak, and then if we listen, God speaks.

Listening is a skill that takes time to learn and master. As previously mentioned, listening involves all our senses, not just our ears. We watch for body language and clues. We feel the energy in the room, and we might even taste the sweetness or bitterness of the words spoken.

There is a saying attributed to St. Moses the Black, “Go, sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything.” Abba Moses was one of the Desert Fathers, and folks would come to him seeking advice. In this case, the advice Abba Moses was giving had been given to him some time before. For the monastic, the cell is their room, the place for private prayer and contemplation. The monastic sits alone and in silence—just the monk and God. At first, it is exceedingly difficult as the mind wanders. We are not used to silence, and we get nervous with too much silence. But sit in silence we must, for it is in the silence that God comes.

Go and find a quiet place and sit in silence with God. Be thankful for those moments of silence and “listen, O my son, to the sound of the Master’s voice.”

Kardong, Terrance G. Benedict’s Rule: A Translation and Commentary. Collegeville, Minnesota: The Liturgical Press, 1981

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A Look Back at 17 Years of Ministry

Posted on by Fr. Peter

This will not be my usual Sunday Scripture Meditation, for today is the 17th Anniversary of my ordination as Priest in the One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church. I have been ordained longer than I have done anything else in my life, and it has been the most blessed as well as the most challenging.

Ordination day is a bit of a blur for me. I remember it being a hot day at Sts Constantine and Helen Romanian Orthodox Cathedral in Chicago. The previous days had been spent in the annual gathering of clergy and laity of the Romanian Archdiocese, and I was ordained deacon the day before. The Holy Place was filled with the priests of the Archdiocese gathered around our Bishop and the altar.

At the appointed time in the Liturgy, 2 of the senior priests led me out of the Holy Place and presented me to the Bishop. After I was led, for the first time through the royal doors, those in the center led around the altar three times, pausing each time in front of the altar for a prostration. While the deacon, soon to be Priest, is led around the altar, the chanter, and choir sing psalms, the same psalms sung and chanted at the wedding ceremony as the couple is led around the table.

I knelt at the consecrated altar, placed my hands on it as the Bishop read the prayer of ordination. I recall sweat running down my back, and not sure if it was because it was so hot or because of the immensity of that moment. You kneel alone, but you are surrounded by all of the others who have gone before you and those present with you. Then the Bishop prays:

“The divine grace, which always heals that which is infirm and completes that which is lacking, ordains the most devout Deacon Peter-Michael to the office of Priest.  Let us, therefore, pray for him, that the grace of the All-Holy Spirit may come upon him.”

“O God without beginning or end, Who are before every created thing, and Who honors with the title of Presbyter those whom You deem worthy to serve the word of Your truth in the divine ministry of this order: You, the same sovereign Master, preserve in purity of life and in unswerving faith this man whom You have been pleased to ordain through me by the laying on of hands, graciously imparting to him the great grace of Your Holy Spirit, making him wholly Your servant, well-pleasing to You in all things, and worthily exercising this great honor of the Priesthood which You conferred upon him by the power of Your wisdom.

For Yours is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, of the Father, the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, now and always, and to the ages of ages.”

Following a litany, the Bishop prays the following:

“O God, great in might and inscrutable in wisdom, marvelous in counsel above the sons of men: You the same Lord, fill with the gift of Your Holy Spirit this man whom it has pleased You to advance to the degree of Priest; that he may become worthy to stand in innocence before Your altar, to proclaim the Gospel of Your kingdom, to minister the word of Your truth, to offer to You spiritual gifts and sacrifices; to renew Your people through the font of regeneration, that when he shall go to meet You, at the second coming of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ, Your only-begotten Son, he may receive the reward of good stewardship in the order given to him, through the plenitude of Your goodness.

For blessed and glorified is Your all-holy and majestic name, of the Father and the Son and of the Holy Spirit, now, and ever and to the ages of ages.”

When the Bishop and priests are gathered, they stand around the altar in order of seniority, the oldest serving priest to the Bishop’s right, and so on around the altar. The youngest in ordination stands at the back of the altar. However, after one is ordained Priest, he is considered senior for that time and stands to the Bishop’s right for the consecration. A liturgy book is placed in your hands and the first words spoken are from the newly ordained.

I remember after my deacon ordination, I was serving Vespers that evening. The deacon has a relatively significant role during Vespers as they do during the Liturgy. As I was about to exit the Holy Place for the first of the Litanies, the Archbishop leaned over to me and asked, “you know what to do right?” I answered that I did, and he responded with a grin, “we shall see.”

It is hard to describe the feeling one gets standing at the altar during the consecration of the gifts of God that will be shared with the people of God. Knowing that God can and does work through me, a sinner, is an incredible feeling and experience. My theology teaches me that although the bread and wine do not change in their form and matter, the Holy Spirit comes upon them and blesses and sanctifies them, and Jesus is present in them, and through the reception of these gifts, grace is poured out upon his people. Standing at the altar, I am standing in the actual presence of Jesus Christ. This is a lot to take in.

After the consecration and before communion, the newly ordained Priest is led to the back of the altar. Once there, the consecrated bread is placed in his hands; this is the first time that the Body of Christ is placed in his hands. The Bishop says the following as he puts the Body of Christ in my hands:

“Receive this Divine Trust, and guard it until the Second Coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, at which time He will demand It from you.”

Being a priest is a “Divine Trust.” The souls of those that the Priest will shepherd are placed in your trust, and Orthodox Theology is that the Priest will be held responsible for those souls at the judgment. Standing there with the Body of Christ in my hands, the reality of all that has taken place indeed hits home. This is not just a job or a profession; this is a vocation, a calling from God.

Although I am no longer a priest in the Orthodox Tradition, I still believe that the care of souls is a divine trust. I still believe that I will be held responsible for each soul that has been or will be placed in my care. I still believe that the elements of bread and wine or juice become sanctified, holy, and are the real presence of Jesus Christ. The celebration of the Lord’s Supper is not just some reenactment of an event that took place more than 2,000 years ago.

“Holy Communion is remembrance, commemoration, and memorial, but this remembrance is more than simply intellectual recalling. Holy Communion is a type of sacrifice. It is a re-presentation, not a repetition, of the sacrifice of Christ. Holy Communion is a vehicle of God’s grace through the action of the Holy Spirit. The Church asks God to make them be for is the body and blood of Christ, that we may be for the world the body of Christ, redeemed by his blood.” (This Holy Mystery)

There is a transformation of the bread and wine, and if you allow it, there will be a transformation in you.

A lot has happened since the day of my ordination. I have been blessed to have served God’s people in four congregations as well as countless hospice patients and others I have come across in my chaplain work. It has not always been easy, but it has been a blessing.

As I embark on my 18th year, I recall the words of Psalm 110:4 “The LORD has sworn and will not change his mind: ‘You are a priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek.'”

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Book Review: Dear England – Finding Hope, Taking Heart and Changing the World

Posted on by Fr. Peter

Are you a dreamer? Do you have a vision for what the Church can and should be?  Archbishop Stephen Cottrel, the 98th Archbishop of York, certainly does, and he outlines that dream in his new book Dear England – Finding Hope, Taking Heart and Changing the World.

The book is written as a letter to England but can undoubtedly be placed in the context of any nation. Cottrell writes after an encounter with a young woman in a coffee shop. On his way to a conference, he had stopped in to grab a coffee before boarding a train. The young woman approached him, and seeing that he was in clericals, asked him a simple question, “What made you become a priest?”

As he was in a hurry, he did not have much time to answer. He had two answers for the young woman, God and because he wanted to change the world. I share this answer with the archbishop, but I am not as eloquent when I answer. The woman answered by saying that most of the Christians she knew fell into one of two categories, those whose faith is a hobby, and the second “embraced their faith so tightly, it frightened everyone else away.” And then she asked, “Is there another way?

The answer to the young woman’s question is what the book is all about.

Written in three parts, Finding Hope, Taking Heart, and Changing the World, Cottrel shares some of his most intimate and private thoughts on where the Church is, how it got here, and with much hard work how it is going to become that beacon of hope it once was.

Peppered throughout the book are nuggets of wisdom that I call “Tweetable” as they are perfect Tweets. As I was reading, I was wondering if he wrote in this style with Twitter in mind.

Although written to and about England, this book rings true with me as a minister in the United States. Archbishop Stephen writes from a position of hope, and the vision he casts of a less inwardly focused church and more outwardly focused is refreshing. He writes of how we must first change our lives before we can change the world. But, in fact, the change we need to make in ourselves will change the world one little place at a time.

The book is pastoral and evangelical. Archbishop Stephen admits the faults and shortcomings of the Church and makes no excuses for them.

In the end, he offers hope, the hope that only Jesus Christ can bring to the darkened world. “It is never so dark that the radiance of Christ cannot illuminate the way, though sometimes the light seems very faint indeed.”

The world may seem dark, and the Church might be on the ropes, but this book comes as a beacon to light the way for the future. “In every moment, in the darkest hour, and in the eye of every storm, we have the opportunity to repent, to turn around, to receive this chance to start again and change direction.”

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Publication Date: 2021
Pages: 184

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Scripture Meditation: Healing Powers

Posted on by Fr. Peter

Mark 5:21-43

In my hospice work, I am called upon most days to offer prayers for those placed in my care. Very rarely am I asked to pray for someone’s healing but rather for a peaceful death. I also pray, which usually surprises the folks gathered around; I pray for those taking care of them: the ones who have been there and who will be there. Most of the time, the caregivers are the ones that need our prayers, but we forget about them.

Today we have two prayer stories presented to us in the Gospel of St. Mark. I call them prayer stories rather than miracle stories because the focus should be on the immense faith of the father as well as the woman who comes to Jesus. I have said this before, but it bears repeating, the focus should not be on the actual miracle but on the lesson that the miracle is trying to teach us, and in this case, as in many of the stories, that lesson is faith.

The story begins where the last one left off. The disciples and Jesus have come across after a night of storms. They have survived their harrowing journey and are now safe on the other side. As usually happens, a crowd starts to gather around Jesus. Jairus comes to Jesus and falls at his feet. This is not an unusual occurrence, except that Jairus is a leader in the Synagogue, and as such, he is taking a significant risk of coming to Jesus in this way. His daughter is very sick and Jairus, being the good father that he is, is willing to risk everything to make her well again, so he comes to Jesus. Jesus leaves with Jairus to go and attend to his daughter.

As they are walking to Jairus’ home, a large crowd begins to follow them. Perhaps they have heard what is going on, and they wish to offer prayers along with Jesus. But, on the other hand, maybe they are just following the crowd as so many do not know what is happening, regardless of why a large group follows Jesus.

Here the focus shifts a little. A woman, we do not know her name, only that she has had a blood issue for most of her life. This woman pushes her way through the crowd to only “touch the hem of his garment” that she might be healed. On the surface, this may seem like any other healing story but, if we drill down, we will see how extraordinary this scene is.

In the world that Jesus lived in, this woman would have been a social outcast. Her condition would have made her ritually unclean, and anyone she met would face the same fate. She would have been isolated from the rest of society to maintain the ritual purity that was required. Instead, she had come to a place in her life when she was willing to risk it all for a chance to be healed. Sure, her bleeding was a problem, but she has been isolated her entire adult life. She has no physical contact for years.

Many of us will have a better understanding of this isolation because of this last year. So many of us have been cut off from physical contact with others. We have been prevented from giving hugs to parents and grandchildren. Think about it; we experienced this isolation for a year; this woman isolated her entire adult life.

Mark tells us that she “pushes her way through the crowd” to get to Jesus. By “pushing her way,” she has come in contact with others and has made them ritually unclean. But she does not care. She has had enough and is willing to risk it all for a chance to be healed of her isolation. So great is her faith that all she feels she needs to do is touch his garment, and she will be made whole again.

She touched his garment and, scripture tells us she felt that her illness had left her that she had been healed. She tried to shrink away, but Jesus “felt power leaving” and asked who had touched him. I can almost see the faces of his disciples as he asked this question. How were they to know who touched him? The crowd was large and pushing and pulling as they walked. But Jesus knew, and the woman knew.

Mark tells us that she came forward and “threw herself at the feet of Jesus.” She was all in on this one. She had risked it all pushing through the crowd, and she still had more to risk. She threw herself down, begging to be healed. Jesus looks on her not as someone to be avoided, not as someone who is unclean and unfit to be in his presence. No, Jesus looks upon her and calls her daughter. Jesus looks past her illness to see that she is a blessed child of God. Jesus confirmed what she already knew, she had been healed, and Jesus tells her to “go in peace.”

Someone comes to tell Jairus that his daughter has died and that they are too late to do anything. Leaving the crowd behind, Jesus pressed on to the house. He arrived and found them all gathered around her bed weeping. He told them not to be sad, for she was only sleeping, and they laughed at him. But Jesus took her lifeless hand and said, “little girl get up,” and she rose. She was restored to health because of her father’s faith, who was willing to risk it all for his daughter.

I said at the start that this was not a miracle story but rather a story of faith, and it is, but it is also a story of risk. Both people in this story risked everything to approach Jesus. Their faith was so great that it drove them to forget about the danger of their actions. Instead, their faith moved them to do something extraordinary and outside of themselves.

What is your faith calling you to? What are we willing to risk making that calling a reality? These two had great faith, but scripture tells us that we can do amazing things even if we have faith the size of a mustard seed. So, push through the crowd, take the risk, for God is with us and will never leave.

Amen.

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Sermon: Pushing the Boat Out

Posted on by Fr. Peter

Mark 4:35-41

Growing up, my family lives a few streets over from the water. I can remember waking up on summer mornings and smelling the fresh salt air. We were not close enough to hear the waves crashing, but we could smell that ocean, and it is some of my fondest childhood memories.

But the sea can also be deadly. We were always conscious of when storms would be on the horizon. We lived far enough away and high enough from the water that flooding was not a real issue but, this is New England after all, and one never knows.

My father owned a couple of sailboats when I was growing up, and he taught my brothers and me how to sail. Learning to sail was more than just knowing what rope to pull and when it was also about safety on the water. Whenever we went out on the boat, we always had our life jackets on and always made sure the other safety equipment was present and working.

The passage from the Gospel of St. Mark that we just heard is a boat story. The people that Jesus chose to work with him were sea people; they were fisherman for the most part. Sure, there were a few exceptions, but they all knew something about fishing. They were “crossing over,” and the sea turned violent.

A “furious squall” came up, and the waves were crashing over the sides. I love this next part, “Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion.” The whole world is crashing in around them, and Jesus is sleeping on a cushion!

They woke him and sort of yelled at him, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?” He rebuked the wind was calm. Except, Jesus had some words for those who woke him.

“Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”

Now we come to the matter at hand. How many times have we been the disciples in the boat? How many times has our world been crashing all around us, and rather than turning to God, we turn to ourselves?

Before we get too deep, God is not a magician, and this story is not about the calming of the waters; this story is about faith or the lack of faith when we face difficult situations in life. God has never promised us that life would be easy; what God did promise us is that God would never leave us during the storm.

For most of my ministry, I have been involved in disaster relief work. I am one of the guys that head in when others are heading out. Sitting with people recovering from a disaster of any size is blessed work, and I am privileged that I get to do it. People ask all sorts of questions at times like this, but the most common question is, “where was God? Why didn’t God protect me?”

I usually point out that they are alive, and although their stuff might be gone or damaged, they have their life. As important as our stuff is, and I have some stuff that I would miss for sure, my life and the lives of my family are far more important.

It took me a long time to come up with an answer, and sometimes, folks don’t want to hear the answer. But the response I have come up with is, God was and is right here with you. God will never leave our side, no matter what. Again, folks don’t always want to hear this as an answer, but it is the only one I have.

There is an old story of a man who dies and goes to heaven. He greets God and tells God that he has a question for him. You see, the man died as the result of a storm. The storm was coming, and the man was watching TV. The weatherman said that the storm was coming, and they should seek higher ground. The man thought God will protect me, so he stayed. The rains came, and the water rose, and the man thought, God, will protect me. Another man in a boat came by and shouted to the man that he would take him to safety, and the man yells back, God will protect me. The water continued to rise, and the man found himself on his roof. A helicopter appeared, and they threw down a rope. But the man pushed it aside and said, God, will protect me.

Well, the man died, and standing before God, he asked, why didn’t you protect me. God said I sent you a weather report, a boat, and a helicopter; what more do you want?

We all have or have had storms in our lives. We have all been in a position of the waves crashing over us and not knowing what we will do. Sometimes the solution is obvious, and sometimes, not so much. Sometimes it’s a kind word from someone, and sometimes it’s a rope from a helicopter, but, at those times, we have to be looking for it.

June is the start of the Atlantic Hurricane Season. If we live near the water, we need to prepare just in case. Preparation for a disaster is essential, but many of us just fluff it off. We have been through this before, and we don’t need to prepare.

Preparing for the storms in our lives is just as, if not more important. How are you preparing? How is your prayer life? Do we spend time each day reading Scripture and meditating on it? All these things help us get ready for when the time comes. Preparation needs to take place before the storm, not during the storm.

At the start of this, I mentioned that this passage was not about the storm or the fact that Jesus claimed it. Many times, in these stories, we miss the meaning because of the magic. This story is about faith, faith in good times, and faith in bad times. How is our faith? Does it need a tune-up?

When we are going through something as individuals or as a community, we need to turn to God. We need to get on our knees and pray, really pray, and seek the wisdom to understand and accept what comes along. We need to discern if this is my will or God’s will. Spend time reading God’s word, seeking guidance from those around us, and finally getting a spiritual guide. We do not have to go it alone.

Jesus calmed the winds, and all was well. Jesus will calm the winds in your life if you ask and have faith that it will happen.

Amen

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Scripture Meditation: 3rd Sunday after Pentecost

Posted on by Fr. Peter

Room at the Table
Luke 14:16-24

Have you ever planned a party, and no one came?  You have made all of the preparations, cooked all of the food. Set the table with the finest china and silver, and at the appointed time, no one came? Just think for a moment about how you would feel.

On the surface, today’s lesson from the Gospel of Luke is a story about “a certain man” who planned a lavish banquet, but no one came. At the time of the party, he sent his servants out to remind everyone of the big day, but they all had an excuse. One had just completed a real estate transaction. One had just bought some oxen. And one, I think with the only legitimate reason, just got married. Although one would think he would have known that when he accepted the invitation in the first place.

At the time of the writing of this Gospel, to accept an invitation beforehand and then refuse it when the day came was a grave insult.

So, let’s unpack this story a little.

In this parable, the master is an image of God. Those who were initially invited to the party are the chosen ones of God who, throughout all of their history, waited and looked forward to the day when God would come. When he does finally arrive, they refuse the invitation.

The poor people from the lanes and streets represent the tax collectors and sinners who welcomed Jesus. Those gathered from the roads, and other places are an image of the Gentiles for whom there was still room at the feast of God.

Although this parable was written long ago and aimed at people who refused God’s invitation, some truths apply to us today. In the parable, the guests made excuses for not coming to the banquet, and sadly, those excuses are not much different from those we hear today.

The first man bought a field and was going out to check out his new purchase. He is allowing his business dealings to get in the way of God. As we have seen, perhaps in our own lives, we can be so immersed in our affairs that when the time for worship comes, we simply do not have the time.

The second man bought five yoke of oxen, and he needed to take them for a test drive. It is very easy for a new thing, a new hobby, a new car, or other possessions we might have to get in the way of our worship.

The third man said that he got married and could not come. Now I have to ask when he accepted the invitation did, he not know it was his wedding day? But I digress. There is a law in the Book of Deuteronomy that says when a man is newly married; he shall not go out with the Army or be charged with any business; he shall be free at home for one year, to be happy with the wife he has taken. (Deuteronomy 24:5).

Perhaps the man had this law in mind when he refused the invitation to the banquet; we may never know. But we cannot let the lovely things in life crowd out time for God.

I have called this sermon “Room at the Table” to indicate that there is room for all of us, even those of us that make excuses at God’s table. In a few moments, we will celebrate the Sacrament of the Eucharist, and at this table, all are welcome. All are welcome to come, and all are welcome to eat. Do not feel there is any reason that should keep you away.

We make time for what is essential in our lives. The point of the parable that we have heard today is that worship of God should be one of those essential things in our lives. Just as there were varied excuses in today’s story, there are various ways to worship God, and we must find what works best for us. Perhaps it’s attending a service like this, or maybe it is a walk in nature. Whatever it is, find it and make time for it.

Amen.

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Trinity Sunday: Mysterious Encounter

Posted on by Fr. Peter

On the Liturgical Calendar, this is the Sunday known as Trinity Sunday. It is the Sunday set aside for a commemoration or a remembrance of the Holy Trinity. We have completed Eastertide, and last Sunday was Pentecost, the fest of the descent of the Holy Spirit. All last week was Whitsunweek or Whitsuntide when the focus is on the power of the Holy Spirit. Now we turn to the Holy Trinity.

I chuckle a little because, for those of us who write and preach on religious and theological topics, this is the Sunday we fear the most, for this is the Sunday when one can sail dangerously close to the line of heresy!

I have studied theology from both the eastern and western Christian perspectives, and one of the significant differences between the two approaches is the sense of mystery. The wester, scholastic method has all but taken the mystery out of theology. The scholastic approach tens to look for answers where sometimes, there are no answers. I should not say there are no answers because there is always an answer, but it might just be so complex that we cannot understand it.

The western scholastic approach has done wonders for the study of theology. However, this approach has all but taken the mystery out of it all. There used to be a sense of awe and mystery to theology. Take the Roman Catholic and Anglican Liturgy, for example. Before the liturgical reforms of the 20th century, the priest-celebrant celebrated the Holy Mysteries facing in the same direction as the people. All the people prayed together and offered the bloodless sacrifice to God jointly. You knew something was going on up there on the altar, but we did not and could not witness it.

Roman Catholics used Latin as the language of the Liturgy. As far as we know, Jesus did not speak Latin, but Latin was the Imperial Language of Rome and was universal for some time. But the priest speaking Latin during the parts of the Liturgy that are the most spiritual added a sense of mystery to the whole thing. Please do not get me wrong; I am not advocating a return to Latin; I am simply putting my comments in perspective.

So, what about the Doctrine of the Trinity? After all, that is what this Sunday is all about.

Danger, theological content ahead!

“The Christian doctrine of the Trinity holds that God is one God, but three coeternal and consubstantial persons: the Father, the Son (Jesus Christ), and the Holy Spirit. The three persons are distinct, yet are one “substance, essence or nature” (homoousios). In this context, a “nature” is what one is, whereas a “person” is who one is.”

If you are still with me, congratulations. Let’s see if we can break this apart a little.

The Doctrine of the Trinity was first promulgated, if you will, at the Council of Nicaea in 325 CE. Councils are those places where theological topics are discussed and doctrines are established. These councils lasted years and usually ended with someone being excommunicated. But these councils were also necessary for the fledgling church to come to grips with what is actually believed.

This is where the tricky bits come in. The Fathers of the Council declared that God was one in three persons that were distinct from each other but the same. In the above definition that I totally stole from Wikipedia, the Greek word homoousios was used. Homoousios is the term that describes the relationship of the three persons of the Trinity with each other; they are of the SAME substance, the SAME essence, the SAME nature.

The counter belief at the Council was that the three persons of the Trinity were not the same but was similar and the Greek word for that is homoiousios, meaning SIMILAR substance, SIMILAR essence, and SIMILAR nature.

I often say that when speaking and writing about topics of theology, a precise language is needed. Sure, there can be some ambiguity in some areas, but in others, a clear and concise language is necessary and Trinitarian theology is one of those areas. During the Council of Nicaea, the debate came down to one letter, the insertion of which made on a heretic. Look closely at the words homoousios and homoiousios; in the second word, the letter “I” is inserted between the two “o’s” the insertion of that one letter was the difference between being orthodoxy and being a heretic!

Although it is one letter, the difference is significant. One is saying that the three persons are equal in their essence, and the other is saying they are simply similar. Now, this may not seem like a big deal, but in essence, it is.

But for me, and if you are still reading this you, this is where the mystery comes in. I am okay with not understanding why and how the three are distinct yet the same. I do not need to know how their essence is shared or why; I just need to know it is. I am okay with mystery; mystery strengthens my faith; it does not take anything away from it.

There are those who will fight over that letter “I.” Wars have been fought over these things. People on both sides of the argument have been stoned, beaten, excommunicated, and in some cases burned for their belief and use of the terms similar and same. Doctrine is essential, right belief is important, but it is not worth killing over.

What is crucial for me is that the Trinity represents love and intimate connection between the three persons, Creator, Sanctifier, and Redeemer, and the love shown by these three for creation is what sustains me. Out of love, God created the world. Out of Love, Jesus came to show us a different way to be with each other. And out of love, the Holy Spirit comes to help us stay on that road.

The essence, the substance, the nature of the Holy Trinity is love! And that doctrine is to remind us that our essence, our substance, and our nature is love. Love of God and Love of Neighbor. When we strip it all away, the only doctrine that really matters is the doctrine of love.

Amen

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Spirit for All

Posted on by Fr. Peter

Ezekiel 37:1-14
Acts 2:1-21

Some 50 days ago, we gathered around our computer screens to celebrate the great festival of the Resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. The day of the impossible. How can it be that someone who had died could be alive again?

On that first Easter, all of Jesus’ friends were gathered in the Upper Room. That room where only a few days earlier they celebrated together with food and fellowship. They were behind locked doors, as Scripture tells us, and he came and stood before them offering his peace. How can this be? They saw him die. They witnessed him being placed in the tomb. They watched as the massive stone was rolled, closing off the entrance. But here he is.

And here we are, fifty days later, still wondering about what we witnessed.

It is traditional to refer to the Feast of Pentecost as the birthday of the Church. I do not like to think of this feast in those terms because I feel it reduces this incredible outpouring of God’s Holy Spirit to a day; we wear pointy hats, sing songs, and eat cake. Not that there is anything wrong with cake, but this day, this great festival of the Church is much more than that.

Once again, Scripture tells us that they were gathered. Although the Scripture is not clear, tradition holds that they gathered again in the Upper Room. The Risen Lord had left them again, and they were once again alone. The reading from Acts says that “a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting.”

There is a connection here between what has just happened and the moment of creation. If you recall the story of creation, God spoke all things into being except for humanity. When God created humanity, it was with God’s own hands. God formed humanity from the dust of the earth. But then, a most extraordinary thing happened. God breathed life into the nostrils of humanity and gave them life. The breath of God gave life to God’s creation.

One of my favorite readings from the Great Vigil of Easter is the reading from Ezekiel, the Dry Bones passage. It is a strange passage of a man in a valley that is filled with dry bones. There is this exchange back and forth about animating the dry bones in that valley. “Can these bones live?” This question is put to the man in the valley, and he is told to preach to them. Further, he is told that these bones are the people of Israel and that the man is to preach the coming of the Kingdom of God.

On its own, this passage might seem a bit strange but placed into the feast of Pentecost, it starts to become more apparent. The Ezekiel passage is one of the options for Pentecost along with Acts. This passage is often not read, giving way to the Acts passage, but I hold that these two passages taken together is what this feast is all about.

I mentioned earlier that I don’t like to think of this feast as the “birthday of the Church.” I prefer to think of this day as the reanimation of the Church. The Church existed since the beginning of the creation. That moment God breathed his breath into the nostrils of humanity, the Church was born. But the Church had become dry, like those bones in the valley. Just as God repaired the relationship between God and humanity with the birth of Jesus Christ, God was reanimating the Church by, once again, animating creation with God’s breath.

The passage from Acts says that there were a great many staying in Jerusalem, and when they heard the noise, the noise of the great rushing wind, they call came. The Church was making noise, and the people came. They came and heard the message of God’s love in their language. They were diverse in their number, and yet they came together. Those who came joked and poked fun and said the Apostles were drunk, and perhaps they were intoxicated with the Spirit of God.

Then Peter arose and spoke. Peter recounted all that had happened and why it happened. This simple fisherman was filled with confidence in his words that all were astonished as I am sure Peter was. If we continue to read this chapter, the outcome of what was spoken becomes evident. Scripture tells us that some three thousand were baptized and added to their number.

The Great Feast of Pentecost does not celebrate the birthday of the Church; the Great Feast of Pentecost commemorates the reanimation of the dry bones of the Church. The Holy Spirit came upon the Church and reanimated the bones, put flesh back on those dry bones, and blew the breath of God, once again into the nostrils of the Church.

For over a year, we have been hold up in the Upper Room. The pandemic has kept us from those we love and from the things we like to do. Sure, we have worshipped together through the miracle of modern technology, but it has not been the same. Many of us are coming out of lockdown, albeit slowly, and our lives are starting to change, and some semblances of our former activities are returning.

Although the Church was never closed, she is also starting to emerge from lockdown in a vastly different place. I think the Church’s place today is a much better place than before the lockdown. I said it early on, the Holy Spirit is calling us to something new. God is breathing a fresh breath on the Church to reanimate its dry bones, and the Church is being called back into a world of relevance and service.

It is time for the Church to make a noise as it did on that first Pentecost. It is time for the Church to speak in the language that all will understand. It’s time that the Church reclaims its boldness of preaching that God loves all without exception and without condition.

Peter rose and spoke the truth of what God has done and continues to do for us. God loves us to such an extent that he sent Jesus to show us the way, and he sent the Spirit to continue to guide us. On this day of Pentecost, let us recommit ourselves to that boldness. Let us recommit ourselves to being bold advocates for the poor and those of the margins of life. And let us recommit ourselves to showing that unconditional love of God for all of creation.

Amen

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Sermon: Guided in Prayer

Posted on by Fr. Peter

John 17:6-19

In the life of one who claims to be a Christian, prayer must be central. When we arise in the morning or before we close our eyes at night, prayer should be on our lips. Before we undertake any task, be it personal or communal, we should offer that task in prayer to God. Christians are or at least should be a people of prayer.

But what is prayer? Prayer, simply put, is conversation. It is a sacred conversation between you and God. The language can be formal or informal. The prayers can be spontaneous or memorized. We can pray with Scriptures like the psalms, or we can pray through the singing of hymns and other songs that bring praise to God. And we can pray by using our very lives as prayer.

If we look through Scripture, especially the Gospels, we will see that prayer is central to the community. Jesus prays often and encourages others to do the same. Jesus left us the perfect prayer, the prayer we say in almost every worship service, the Lord’s Prayer. The critical thing to remember is the words are not as important as the intention behind those words. If we are sincere in our prayer, then that prayer will be pleasing to God.

Now, prayer is not magic. That is not how it works. I was reminded many years ago that all prayers are answered, and sometimes the answer is no. I am not going to get into why this happens or that happens or why this prayer is answered, and this prayer is not. It is a mystery that we are not supposed to understand. But when we pray for ourselves, for the world, and for those who have asked us for prayer, our intention should be that our prayer is heard by God, which it always is, and that the prayer is granted according to the will of God. God’s will is not always our will, and sometimes that is difficult to understand.

In today’s Gospel lesson from John, Jesus is praying to the Father. We are near the end of the story here, and he is about to ascend, and so he is praying one last time here on earth for those he will leave behind. Jesus knows they are ready, but he also knows what they are about to experience, and he is asking God to protect them. Not to keep them from what is going to happen but to protect them whilst it happens.

There is an interesting line here in verse 11. In his prayer, he says that he no longer of the world and will be leaving to return to the Father. Jesus prays for the protection of his friends. But he prays not for their protection from danger, as I have already mentioned, but he prays “that they may be one, as we are one.” At this moment, Jesus is praying for the unity of the Church, for the unity of the witness of the Church, the unity, the oneness that Jesus shares with the Father is the essence of the trinitarian relationship.

So, this should give us pause to ask a question, are we one? I don’t mean are we one homogenous Christian Church, no, and I don’t think we need to be. But are we of one mind?

Jesus came into a world more than 2,000 years ago that is not unlike the world we live in today. There are the haves and the have nots, and the haves want to make sure they continue to have at the expense of those who have not. Jesus preached a radical message of love and inclusion of all, and the Church needs to be a place where that radical theology is lived out.

In verse 14, Jesus says, “I have given them your word, and the world has hated them because they do not belong to the world.” Yes, the world will hate us; the world does hate us because we preach and live a radical form of living that goes against everything that the world wants us to be. The world wants us to care only for ourselves, even at the expense of others. The world wants us to take everything we can, even if it means we leave some with nothing. And the world wants us to justify those actions by saying things like, “they are lazy” or “they need to pull themselves up by their bootstraps.” All of which flies in the face of the radical message of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

It is not easy to be counter-cultural, but it is what Christians are called to be.

How can we come here and praise God on Sunday and then curse our fellow humans on Monday? How can we come here and praise God from “whom all blessings flow” if when we leave, we support policies and politicians that do not lift up the most vulnerable? How can we come here on Sunday and praise God, who is the bridge builder, and then on Monday cheer as we continue to build walls that separate? And how can we come here, lift our voice and our hands in praise to a brown-skinned, nappy-headed, poor carpenter from the middle east and then stand by and watch the rights of those who do not look like us or love like us, or believe like us be taken away?

To be a Christian is to be a person of action!

I read a quote one time, I cannot remember where I read it or who wrote it, and I searched for it this morning whilst I was preparing these words, but it goes something like, “I prayed to God to ask why he has done thinking to help the poor, and God asked me the same question.” I started this by saying that prayer is a conversation. Conversation requires a sender and a receiver, one who talks and one who listens. How often in our prayer do we spend time listening? Is our prayer a laundry list of things we want and people we want to pray for, or is it that and then a time when we say, “speak Lord, your servant is listening.”

It is great that we pray for the world and for the alleviation of all the nastiness in the world, but what are we doing about it? We may not be called to march; we may not be called to protest, but we are being called to do something. We find that something when we take time to listen to that still, small voice urging us on to make this world a better place.

I often quote Michael Curry, the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, because he has a way to take all of the complex theological issues and boil them down into things that we can understand. Bishop Curry says, “The way of Jesus is the way of love. And the way of love will change the world.”

Let us resolve to leave this place today and be more loving toward one another because that love will spread, and that love will change the world.

Amen.

Blog

Are you my friends?

Posted on by Fr. Peter

John 15:9-17

Are you my friends? This is the question that Jesus is asking in this week’s passage from the Gospel of St. John. Jesus does not really ask this question, but he does go about telling those listening and those us reading what it takes to be his friend what the criteria will be used.

For more than a year, I have been working towards membership in the Mayflower Society. If you are unfamiliar, the Mayflower Society has as its members’ direct descendants of passengers from the Mayflower. To join, one must prove their linage to one or more passengers. One does this by researching the various lines in one’s family tree and producing birth, death, and marriage records for each of those persons. After a year or more research, I am still unable to become a member because I am missing one document, a birth record from the 1700s. As frustrating as this is, to join, I have to follow the rules.

Each club or organization one wishes to be a part of has membership rules. Some, like the Mayflower Society, have stringent regulations. Thankfully, the rules to be a friend of Jesus are not so strict and are within the grasp of everyone.

“If you keep my commands you remain in my love.” Notice that Jesus says, “my commends.” Further on, Jesus comments that he has “kept my father’s commands and remain in his love.” But Jesus does not leave us hanging; he tells us exactly what his command is. “My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.” It really is that simple; just love everyone!

We, humans, have made all this so complicated. We have established a system designed not to build bridges but to build walls. Many, many churches focus not on what will teach the love of everyone but rather on what will separate people. Jesus told us that to be his friend; we must love everyone. Jesus never even says we must worship him; he simply states love, everyone.

The great spiritual writer Thomas Merton has this to say about loving others, “Our job is to love others without stopping to inquire whether they are worthy. That is not our business, and in fact, it’s nobody’s business. What we are asked to do is to love, and this love itself with render both ourselves and our neighbors worthy is anything can.” We love people for their sake, but we also love people for our own sake.

Jesus’ command to love everyone has nothing to do with acceptance of their actions or choices. My guess is they don’t really care if you accept them or not. Jesus’ command to love everyone comes from the fact that each of us contains the divine spark, the Ruach, the very breath of God. When God was creating all that we see, God created most everything by speaking it into existence. God spoke, and there was light. God spoke, and there were trees and plants. God spoke, and there were animals.

When God created humanity, God took the dust from the earth with his very hands. God fashioned humanity in God’s image, and when God had created humanity God breathed God’s breath into the nostrils of humanity and gave life to God’s creation. Humanity is the only portion of creation that God breathed life into. This is the Imago Dei, the Image of God, and we love others because, just like us, they contain the very breath of God.

I know I am a little late to the game with this, but in the last year or so, I have become acquainted with the greeting “Namaste.” Quite simply, Namaste means the divine in me greets the divine in you. It is an acknowledgment that whatever else, we all contain a bit of the divine. I believe that we can all benefit from greeting one another with Namaste.

Bishop Michael Curry, the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, says that I think summarizes this exceptionally well. Bishop Curry says, “The way of Jesus is the way of love and the way of love will change the world.”

Friends, let us spend more time loving everyone and less time worrying about what this one or that one is doing. Just love people for who they are because that is the way God loves you!

Amen.

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