2 Cor. 1: 21-2:4
Matt. 22: 1-14

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

Since the normal Sunday School teacher was ill, another woman volunteered to be the substitute teacher for the day. When she arrived, she found that she had forgotten the combination to the locked supply cabinet, so she went to the Pastor and asked for his help. The pastor came into the room and began to turn the dial. After the first two numbers he paused and stared blankly for a moment. Finally he looked serenely heavenward and his lips moved silently. Then he looked back at the lock, and quickly turned to the final number, and opened the lock. The teacher was amazed. "I'm in awe at your faith, pastor," she said. "It's really nothing," he answered. "The number is on a piece of tape on the ceiling."

Sometimes, even faith can come in a practical guise. Sometimes, a command can come in the form of an invitation. The point of this morning’s parable is that we should realize the command within God’s invitation to us.

The parable that Jesus tells this morning is not really about weddings, but about the danger of our being locked into a mindset of indifference:
“A certain king arranged a marriage for his son, and sent out his servants to call those who were invited to the wedding; and they were not willing to come… they made light of it and went their ways, one to his own farm, another to his business.”

In other words, they did not take the invitation seriously.

Those who were hearing this story when Jesus told it would have been shocked. In those days, a large wedding was the social event of the year. The feast lasted for days and sometimes even weeks. Messengers would have gone out months in advance and delivered personal invitations to all who were on the guest list. The thought that someone would refuse to attend any large wedding feast would be almost unheard of. The thought that someone would refuse to attend a wedding feast given by the king, would have been inconceivable.

And yet… Jesus specifically says, “They made light of it.” It is quite clear that Christ is implying that the king in the parable represents God the Father. We here this morning probably think, “I would never make light of God’s command.” And yet… through Jesus Christ, God the Father has sent us an invitation to come and be in relationship with him… but do we take that invitation seriously?

As the Pastor’s sermon passed the one-hour mark, a little girl became very restless, and as they brought the collection basket around she said, loudly enough for all around to hear, "Mommy, if we give him the money now, will he let us go?"

Even an act of self-centeredness in a child can be cute; in an adult… not so much. Ultimately, self-centeredness is deadly for the one who embraces it. We here this morning may automatically assume… our first mistake!... that we are not self-centered. But if we are not, then why do we make light of God’s incessant call to us to change and become more like him? Why do we make excuses for not coming to church on Sunday and receiving him? Why do we think that God’s commands are only suggestions for us?
One Sunday the Pastor felt especially inspired and his sermon went on and on. During the interminable sermon, suddenly, a young wife in the congregation remembered that she had left the Sunday dinner in the gas oven without turning it down to the “keep warm” setting. Signaling her husband, who was an usher, to come over, the woman hastily wrote a note, folded it, and slipped it to him. Assuming, for some reason, that the note was for the Pastor, he walked up and handed it to him at the pulpit. The minister paused, took the note with a smile, and read: "Please hurry and turn off the gas."
One wonders if the Pastor thought the criticism was a bit harsh. People have also wondered about the ending of this morning’s parable, about the man who appeared at the wedding feast not suitable attired, and about the King’s instructions to “Bind him hand and foot, take him away, and cast him into outer darkness; there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” With our modern-day sense of justice this passage seems to us to be about the King’s anger and vengeance.
But we make a mistake in thinking so. In this parable Christ is saying that the feast is ready, and asks us this morning if we are ready, and if not… why not? When it comes time for each of us to enter the eternal banquet hall, will we be suitably attired in righteousness, and if not, then even God himself cannot save us from the foolishness of our disregard.

God is compassionately persistent, sending us invitation after invitation, trying to save us from the foolishness of our myopic view of things. The question that Christ means to leave in our minds this morning is: Are we as persistent as God? And are we persistent in being indifferent to him?

Glory to Jesus Christ!

1 Cor. 16: 13-24
Matt. 21: 33-42

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

George was very old and was a horrible husband to his wife and a terror to his children. One day, George died. At the funeral service the minister went on and on and on about what an honest man George was, and what a loving husband and kind father he was. Finally, Elvira, the widow, leaned over and whispered to one of her children, "Go up there and see if that’s your father in the box!”
No matter how bad we are, we expect everyone to think that we are as wonderful as we think we are. Unfortunately, that self-centeredness is taught to us by our culture which tells us we are our reference for everything, that anything that we want to do is okay, and that, therefore, nothing is either right or wrong. It was just such a mindset that enabled this morning’s vinedressers to do what they did.
In this morning’s Gospel reading Jesus speaks of a landowner and the farmers to whom he rented his land. The farmers were to tend to the crop and the land, and when it was time, they were to give the landowner his share of the harvest. But when it was time for the harvest a problem arose: the farmers, no longer content to be the tenants of the vineyard, acted as if they had a right to everything.

Year after year we hear this parable, and, most probably, we identify with the wronged owner. But Jesus did not tell this parable in order to comfort landowners who have been cheated and abused; rather, Jesus was giving a warning to those who misuse and abuse what has been entrusted to them. In other words, this parable is really a lesson about stewardship and responsibility.

We are in serious spiritual danger today and we don’t know it because our culture tells us that we are just fine, that anything that we want to do is fine, and that there is no standard of goodness against which we need to measure ourselves other than our own desires. As a result we do not want to be accountable to anyone but ourselves. We don’t want someone telling us what to do and what kind of people we ought to be, even if that someone is God. Our lives belong to us! So far as our culture is concerned, the whole world belongs to us.

As a result of this mindset we misuse what God has given us. The motto to live by that our culture teaches us is: It is my life and I will do with it as I please. But this is not what Jesus Christ teaches, as we see in the parable of the Good Samaritan. Jesus Christ’s Gospel is about our interconnectedness, and our responsibility to care for one another.

A Sunday school teacher was teaching her class about the difference between right and wrong. "All right children, let's take another example," she said. "If I were to reach into a man's pocket and take his wallet with all his money, what would I be?" Little Johnny shot his hand up. “Yes, Johnny?” his teacher asked, “What would I be?” Without hesitation Johnny replied, "You'd be his wife!"

We all think that we know right from wrong… but do we? Are we willing to do anything at all for others, or is my life only about me? Have we bought into our culture’s lie that we should be the center of all that we desire? Let us honestly ask ourselves: If we were the vinedressers in this morning’s Gospel, might not we also have been willing to… if not kill, at least cheat in order to get what we want?

In this morning’s Epistle to the Corinthians St. Paul says: “Watch, stand fast in the faith, be brave, be strong. Let all that you do be done with love.” Like the Corinthians, we live in a culture in which truth is regarded as relative, and where every person’s opinion is considered to be just as valid as anyone else’s. Our culture teaches us to confuse opinions with “truth”. We cannot be a Christian and believe this. Only Jesus Christ is the Truth, and his teaching is not “It’s every man for himself!”

A traveling Pastor arrived in a small town to preach a sermon. Wanting to mail a letter, he asked a young boy where the post office was. When the boy told him, the Pastor patted him on the shoulder and said, "If you'll come to the church this evening, you can hear me tell everyone how to get to Heaven." The boy frowned and replied, “No thanks. You don't even know your way to the post office."

Our culture is lost and doesn’t know the way to heaven, and yet we believe it when it says that we should look out for ourselves at the expense of everyone else. We need to decide whose disciple we are: our culture’s, or Jesus Christ’s. God has given us his vineyard, the world, in order that we might provide for one another, no matter what lies our culture might tell us.

Our culture also gives us the impression that there are no consequences to not following Jesus Christ’s command to self-sacrifice. Not so, according to Jesus Christ. Let us listen, once again, to the ending of the parable that he told in this morning’s Gospel reading:

“He will destroy those wicked men miserably, and lease his vineyard to other vinedressers who will render to him the fruits in their seasons.”

In other words: We will be held accountable for the stewardship of our lives… or the lack thereof.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

1 Cor. 15: 1-11
Matt. 19: 16-26

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Glory to Jesus Christ!

As Fred approached an intersection the light turned yellow, so, rather than race through the intersection, he stopped, and the light turned red. Loretta, the tailgating woman behind him, went ballistic, pounding on her horn, raising her hands in an unfriendly manner, and screaming in frustration that she had missed her chance to get through the intersection before the red light. While in mid-rant, she heard a tap-tap-tap on her window. When she turned her head, she was looking into the face of a seriously angry police officer. He ordered her to exit her car with her hands up. He took her to the police station where she was searched, fingerprinted, photographed, and placed in a cell.

Loretta prayed aloud, “Lord, get me out of this.” After a couple of hours a policeman approached the cell and opened the door. Loretta was escorted to the booking desk where the arresting officer was waiting with her personal effects.

Loretta decided to let him have a piece of her angry mind. “It seems to me,” she lectured the officer, “that the police have better things to do than to arrest someone just for honking their horn.” The arresting officer replied, "I'm awfully sorry for this mistake. You see, I pulled up behind your car while you were blowing your horn, flipping the guy off in front of you, and swearing a blue streak at him. But then I noticed the "Choose Life" license plate holder, the "What Would Jesus Do?" bumper sticker, and the chrome plated Christian fish emblem on the trunk, and… naturally… I assumed that you had stolen the car.”

Before losing her cool at the traffic light, Loretta would have done well to follow the example of this morning’s rich young man and asked herself “What do I still lack?”

In this morning’s Gospel reading, a rich young man approached Jesus and asked, “What good thing must I do that I may have eternal life?” Jesus responded by telling him to keep the commandments, to which response the young man replied, “All these things I have kept from my youth.”

One can almost taste the self-gratulatory self-righteousness in this statement. Like this morning’s rich young man, however, we too sometimes presume that we are better than we actually are. But if we are such morally good people… then why do we gossip? Why do we cheat when no one is looking? Why do we lie when it is less convenient to tell the truth? Why are we jealous of someone else’s sudden good fortune? Let us ask ourselves: Are we any better this morning than we were last year at this time?

To the credit of this morning’s rich young man he asked Christ, “What do I still lack?” Most probably, he (as well as ourselves) was expecting Christ to say, “Nothing; you are perfect just the way that you are!” Such an approach, however, is not that of Jesus Christ. In his book, “good enough” is not even good! Do we begin our day by asking ourselves, “How can I be better today? What do I still lack?”

This morning’s question of “What do I still lack?” turns out to be a profound one. In our case, it is not that we think that we are perfect; rather, the problem is that we think we’re not so bad: We don’t rape, we don’t shoplift from Walmart, we haven’t mugged any old ladies this past week. The problem is that with the standard of “I’m not so bad”, it becomes impossible for us to perceive that I’m really “not so good”.

In an effort to make sure that her grand-daughter knew her colors, Grandma pointed to the bananas on the table. “What color are those?” she asked. “Yellow,” her grand-daughter replied. “Very good!” her grandmother enthused. And pointing to the ginger cat she asked, “And what color is Bitsy?” “Orange,” her grand-daughter replied. “Very good! And what color is that?” She asked, pointing to her old cast-iron stove… to which her grand-daughter replied, “Really Grandma, you should try to figure out colors for yourself!"

Our problem is that we try to figure out what goodness is according to what our culture says it is… which, often enough, seems to be relative to the intensity with which we desire something or want to avoid knowing something. And yet, just because we want to avoid unpleasant truths about ourselves does not mean that we don’t have to come to see them.

Some things need to be searched for in order to be seen, and when we presume that we are not really a sinful person then we become oblivious to the very real “badness” simmering deep within our hearts. For example… the desire to continue disliking someone, simply because we have disliked them for so long. While we may not be committing the external sin of robbing banks, Jesus Christ makes clear that the origin of our sins and of our sinning is rooted within the deep orientation of our heart. What we lack is a heart that is convinced that there is a real and subtle sinfulness that lays hidden deep within our heart and our feelings. In short, what we lack is the conviction that we are, in fact… and not just theoretically… a sinner.

We have much to learn from recovering alcoholics who, in order to be “recovering”, had to accept, at some point, that no matter how many drinks they never drink again, they are, and will always be, an alcoholic. We need to obtain the mindset that convinces us that no matter what sins we do not currently commit, we are, and will remain, basically a sinner because our heart is chronically attracted to the false glitter of sinning. Being convinced that we are still capable of sin engenders within us an orientation of repentance… the realization that that there are impulses and desires within myself, no matter how blind to them I might be, that require the vigilance of an ongoing repentance on my part.

Unfortunately, we are surrounded by, and immersed in, a culture that preaches a false gospel of our being ok just the way we are. This secular gospel tells us that that we should engage in nothing that makes us feel bad about ourselves. This secular gospel both urges us to distract ourselves from our inner reality, and provides us with the means to do so.

As a young boy entered a barber shop, the barber whispered to the customer in the chair, "This kid has got to be the dumbest kid in the whole world. Watch this.” The barber put a dollar bill in one hand and two quarters in the other and then asked the boy, "Which do you want, son: The ONE dollar or the TWO quarters?" The boy took the quarters and left. "What did I tell you?" said the barber. "That kid never learns!"

After the haircut, the customer saw the same young
boy coming out of an ice cream store down the block and called out to him, "Hey, son! Can I ask you a question?” The boy came up to him. The man asked, “Why did you take the quarters instead of the dollar bill?" As the boy licked his cone he replied, "Because the day I take the dollar, the game's over and I get no more quarters!"

Society teaches us many tricks by which to survive, not all of them based upon the Gospel. Being children of our culture, we find it hard to read a chapter in the Bible, but easy to read 100 pages of a best selling novel. We find that we need 2 to 3 weeks notice to fit a church event into our busy schedule, but that we can adjust our schedule at a moments notice for other events. We find it hard to tell someone a summary of Sunday’s Gospel, but easy to repeat gossip.

What does it matter what our culture tells us constitutes happiness and goodness when such an approach leaves the heart bereft of true awareness of ourselves? And how can we ever hope to know God when we do not even know ourselves?
This morning we commemorate the Falling Asleep of the Mother of God. Throughout her whole life she manifested the belief that God knew better than she what she lacked. She incarnated that belief by allowing God to lead her down roads that he knew were best for the salvation of the world. And let us not fool ourselves into thinking that she knew, beforehand, the entire itinerary of the journey. Her whole life is a story of trust. And look where it got her: Assumed straight into heaven. Talk about a payoff!
Let us not presume that we are not like this morning’s rich young man just because we are not rich. Nothing is so satisfying as self-satisfaction, and nothing is so blinding as the presumption that we are not so bad. Like the Theotokos, let us learn to automatically presume that God knows better than we where we need to go and what we need to do. And then, again like the Theotokos, let us follow his Will.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

1 Cor. 9: 2-12
Matt. 18: 23-35

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

There were four ministers who were good friends, but whenever they got into a theological argument three of them were always in accord against the fourth. One day, while the four were fishing in a boat on the lake, the odd pastor out, after the usual "3 to 1 majority rules" statement that signified that he had lost again, decided to appeal to a higher authority.

"Oh, Lord!" he cried out to the sky, "I know in my heart that I am right and that they are wrong! Please give me a sign to prove it to them!" And even though it was a flawlessly beautiful day, a storm cloud moved across the sky and stopped directly above the four; it rumbled once, and then dissolved. The fourth pastor exclaimed to the other three, "See! A sign from God! I'm right! I knew it!" But the other three disagreed, pointing out that storm clouds often form on hot days.

So the fourth pastor prayed aloud once again: "Oh, God, I need a bigger sign to show them that I am right and they are wrong!” This time, four storm clouds appeared, rushed toward each other to form one big cloud, and a bolt of lightning slammed into a tree on a nearby hill. "I told you I was right!" exclaimed the fourth pastor… but his friends insisted that nothing had happened that could not be explained by natural causes.

Frustrated, the fourth pastor once again cried out, "Oh Lord..." but no sooner than the words were out of his mouth when the sky turned pitch black, the earth shook, and a deep, booming, authoritative voice from within the cloud proclaimed, "HE IS RIGHT!" Turning to the other 3 pastors, the fourth grinned and asked, "Well?" One of the other 3 just shrugged and said, "So now it's 3 to 2. So what!"

How come we always think that we know better than God… especially when it comes to forgiveness?! When Christ speaks about forgiveness in this morning’s reading, he makes crystal clear to us that forgiveness is about mercy, and not about justice.

Right before this morning’s parable, Peter legalistically asks Jesus a question: "Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?" Peter's problem was that he was still thinking in terms of justice and legality, of law… just as we often do when we are hurt… although, were we to be honest with ourselves, we would admit that it is not a matter of justice that we wish to see accomplished, but one of vengeance. But Jesus' reply was not based on law and justice, but upon the gospel of mercy:
“I tell you, not seven times, but seventy times seven.”

In other words… we must forgive unconditionally.

During the campaign season a candidate for the Senate travelled to a small town to address a church there. As he began his speech, he suddenly realized that he had forgotten to which Christian denomination he was speaking. “My brethren,” he began, “I must tell you that my Grandfather was a devout Presbyterian.” To that, there was no reaction from the congregation. So he quickly continued, “But my Grandmother was an even more devout Episcopalian.” Again, there was complete silence. “However” he quickly continued, “I must tell you that my Uncle was a seriously spiritual Roman Catholic.” Still nothing. Desperate, he added, “even though he was married to my Baptist Aunt.” At that, the church erupted into a loud and sustained applause. When the noise had died down, the candidate concluded, "...and I have always considered my aunt's path to be the right one!"

When we are duplicitous we may think that we have gotten away with something without any cost to us… but this is not so. A person who is duplicitous has to become deliberately deceitful, like a CIA agent spy who can't just come home and spill forth the events of the day. But even though the lies are not discovered, they change the liar who goes from being open and candid to being secretive and furtive. The point is that we pay a price for everything that we engage in, for good or for ill: Like the campaign candidate, duplicity turns us into a liar, and unwillingness to forgive turns us into a hostage of our own hard heart.
When it is our heart that hurts, it can be very difficult for us to remember Christ’s injunction to forgive; in fact… were we to be honest with ourselves… at such a time we often don’t want to remember his injunction to forgive! Our trouble is that when we hurt we think we don’t have to forgive. The sting of the offense feels unjust to us, and the worst part of us wants the offender to pay until we feel better.
Sometimes, we carry around a small seed of bitterness and resentment about another, only to find, as we age, that our unwillingness to forgive has sprouted into a vine that has so entangled itself around our heart that we cannot become free of that unwillingness. It is possible that our unwillingness to forgive can become a habit from which we cannot free ourselves. From a spiritual point of view, we cannot be legalistic when it comes to sinning and we cannot be legalistic when it comes to forgiveness.
The following actually happened. One rainy afternoon as a woman was driving through town with her small son buckled into the backseat, the boy spoke up. “Mom”, he began, “I’ve been thinking of something.”
“Oh,” his mother responded, “And what’s that?” “Mom, the rain is like our sins and the windshield wipers are like God, wiping our sins away."
The mother was amazed and surprised herself by asking, “What does it mean that it keeps on raining?” Without hesitation, her son in the backseat replied, “We keep on sinning and God just keeps on forgiving us."
Sometimes, children can see how simple something is. Yes, God keeps on forgiving, and yes, we can sometimes find it hard to forgive. One of the messages that Christ teaches us in this morning’s reading is that just because it is hard for us to forgive does mean that we don’t have to do it! He commands us: No more keeping score! No more dictating terms for forgiveness! No more making the other suffer until we feel better!
Jesus Christ makes clear that forgiving is not about keeping score… it is about wiping the scoreboard clean because forgiveness is not about legalistic justice; according to Jesus Christ, forgiveness is about mercy.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

1 Cor. 4: 9-16
Matt. 17: 14-23

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Glory to Jesus Christ!

Little Johnny, a very bright 5 year old, told his daddy he'd like to have a baby brother and offered to do whatever he could to help. His dad, a very bright 35 year old, paused for a moment and then replied, "I'll tell you what, Johnny, if you pray every day for two months for a baby brother, I guarantee that God will give you one!" So little Johnny responded eagerly to his dad's challenge and went to his bedroom early that night to start praying for a baby brother.

He prayed every night for a whole month, but then he began to get skeptical. He checked around the neighborhood and found out that what he thought was going to happen had never occurred in the history of the neighborhood: You just don't pray for two months and then, whammo- a new baby brother. So, Johnny quit praying.

After some months, Johnny's mother went to the hospital. When she came back home, Johnny's parents called him into the bedroom. When he walked into the room there, in his mother’s arms on the bed, was a little blanket-wrapped bundle. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing. His dad pulled back the blanket and there was… not one baby brother, but two!! His mother had had twins! Little Johnny's dad looked down at him, grinning with pride, and said, "Now, aren't you glad you prayed?" Without hesitation, little Johnny replied, “Aren't you glad I quit when I did?"

At some point, we all stop being faithful to prayer. Hearing St. Matthew’s Gospel reading this morning, we might, at first, think that its focus is about Jesus curing the epileptic boy. The real focus, however, is on faith, and on the faith-fulness that it requires of us.

The disciples asked Jesus why they had been unable to help the epileptic boy. Jesus, with his typical straightforwardness, replied: “Because of your unbelief; for assuredly, I say to you, if you have faith as a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you.”
This is what Faith is, this tenacious clinging to God no matter the circumstances happening around us. But Faith is not just a concept; faith is the living out of our relationship with God. When Jesus speaks of a lack of faith, what he is addressing is a lack of a lived relationship with God. Ultimately, Faith is faith-fulness to our relationship with God.
So why is it that, at times, faith-fulness to God feels impossible for us? I would posit that, because of all the things with which we fill our lives, we feel no need for God, and therefore no hunger for God as is expressed in Psalm 63: “O God… I am seeking for you, my soul is thirsting for you, my flesh is longing for you like a land parched, weary, and waterless.”

A young man was at the end of his rope, without hope, and seeing no way out he dropped to his knees in prayer. “Lord,” he said, “I can’t go on. My cross is too heavy to bear.” Then, he heard the Lord reply, “My son, if you can’t bear its weight, then give it to me and I will place it in this room. Then, come inside and pick out any cross that you wish.” Filled with relief, the young man gave God his cross, and then entered the room.

Inside the room, he saw many crosses, some so large that their tops were not even visible. Then he spotted a tiny cross leaning against a far wall. “Lord,” he said, “I’ll take that one.” The Lord replied, “My son, that’s the cross that you just brought in.”

Many of us would prefer our Christianity to be a comfortable one, a discipleship that does not inconvenience us. In other words, we want God on our terms, not on his. It seems to be only when life inconveniences us, or adversity falls upon us like an avalanche, that we remember to reach out to God. In other words, for many of us, it is only when we are awakened out of the lethargy of our comfortableness that we remember God and pray to him.
When we are in the midst of adversity it can be difficult for us to see that adversity as a blessing. But it is often in adversity that we are moved to pray, that we are moved to a deeper relationship with God. In my book, that qualifies as a blessing.
Prayer can take many forms. It can be small, like a mustard seed, and yet still be authentic prayer. About prayer, Fr. Florovsky has written: “The true aim of prayer is to enter into conversation with God. It is not restricted to certain hours of the day. A Christian has to feel himself personally in the presence of God. The goal of prayer is precisely to be with God… always.”
Ideally, this is what the Fathers speak of when they mention “unceasing prayer”; it is a constant “being with God.” And this is precisely the prayer of which Jesus speaks this morning, what we might call “personal” prayer, this never-ending orientation towards God. And personal prayer is something that we each are personally responsible for, no matter the pleasant or unpleasant situations in which we find ourselves.

A Jewish lady by the name of Mrs. Rosenberg was stranded late one night at a fashionable resort, one that everyone knew did not admit Jews. The desk clerk looked down at his book and said, "Sorry, no room. The hotel is full." He then indicated all the people in the lobby. Mrs. Rosenberg replied, "But your sign says that you have vacancies." The desk clerk stammered, got red in the face, and then said curtly, "You know that we do not admit Jews. Now if you will try another hotel down the block!"

Mrs. Rosenberg stiffened noticeably and said, "I'll have you know I converted to your religion. I am now a Christian.” The desk clerk, skeptical, replied, "Oh, yeah, let me give you a little test. How was Jesus born?" Mrs. Rosenberg answered, "He was born to a virgin named Mary in a little town called Bethlehem." "Ok," said the hotel clerk, "Tell me more." Mrs. Rosenberg continued, "He was born in a manger." "That's right," said the hotel clerk. "And why was he born in a manger?" Startling all those in the lobby, Mrs. Rosenberg very loudly replied, "Because a jerk like you in the hotel wouldn't give a Jewish lady a room for the night!"

She got the room.

In a strange way, when adversity banishes comfort, it can beget blessings. Let us not be so quick to judge our difficulties as a sign that God has abandoned us. Since God is “… everywhere present and fillest all things…” how could he abandon us? In truth the real abandonment occurs on our part long before the adversity hits. We abandon God because our “things” and our comfort causes us to feel no need for him.

Just because we show up for the Sunday Divine Liturgy does not mean that we are a praying people. This morning, Christ tells us, “If you have faith as a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you.” All it takes is a small prayer to grow that seed and move that mountain.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

1 Cor. 3: 9-17
Matt. 14: 22-34

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, andof the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

A Pastor announced to his congregation, "Next week I’m going to preach about the sin of lying. To help you understand my sermon, I want you all to read Mark Chapter 17”. Before the sermon on the following Sunday, the Pastor announced, “Now, I would like to see a show of hands of all those who read Mark Chapter 17.” Almost every hand went up. The minister then smiled and said, "The Gospel according to St. Mark has only 16 chapters. I will now proceed with my sermon on the sin of lying."

Sometimes, we try to fake it, but when we do, often it comes back to bite us. And what often fuels our faking it is fear.

In this morning’s Gospel reading, Jesus went off by himself to pray, sending his disciples to set out fishing. The Gospel text then states:
“But the boat was now in the middle of the sea, tossed by the waves, for the wind was contrary…Jesus went to them, walking on the sea…They were troubled, saying, ‘It is a ghost! And they cried out for fear.” Jesus immediately called to them, saying, “Be of good cheer! It is I; do not be afraid.”

Jesus then called Peter to venture out onto the angry sea and walk over it and come to him. Peter starts out, but becomes fearful and panics; he takes his gaze off of Jesus, and then begins to sink.

A passenger jet was suffering through a severe thunderstorm. As the passengers were being bounced around by the turbulence a young woman turned to a minister sitting next to her and with a nervous laugh asks, "Reverend, you're a man of God, can't you do something about this storm?" To which he replied, "Sorry lady, but I'm in sales, not management."

When we are distressed, we are not so different from Peter. Panic and fear sometimes cause us to do and say things which are not in our best interests. It is exactly at such times that we are tempted to take our focus off of Jesus Christ and place it on ourselves. In the midst of our storms, we sometimes act as if we don’t trust Jesus Christ: We don’t pray, we stop coming to church, we dismiss fasting as irrelevant. In short, we try to solve the pain by ourselves, assuming that God cannot be found within our storm.

There are only two kinds of people in the world: Those who wake up in the morning and say, "Good morning, Lord," and those who wake up in the morning and say, "Good Lord, it's morning." The attitude with which we face situations makes all the difference in the world, especially when we are facing situations that frighten us. When we are in a storm of pain and distress, we need to call to mind that God is even there in the distress, just as he is in the happiness and blessings. When we are in distress, we need to keep our eyes fixed on God and less on our pain and fear.

A young woman teacher with obvious liberal tendencies explained to her class of small children that she was an atheist. She then asked her class if they were atheists too. Not really knowing what atheism was but wanting to be like their teacher, their hands exploded into the air like fleshy fireworks. That is, except for Lucy. So her teacher asked her, “Lucy, why didn’t you raise your hand?”

“Because,” Lucy responded, “I’m not an atheist.” The teacher then asked, “Well then, what are you?” Lucy responded, “I’m an Orthodox Christian.”

Annoyed by that answer, the teacher demanded, “Why do you think that you’re an Orthodox Christian?” Lucy replied, “Because my parents taught me to love Jesus. My mom is an Orthodox Christian, and my dad is an Orthodox Christian, so I am an Orthodox Christian.”

Really peeved at Lucy’s response, the red-faced teacher snapped back, “What if your mom was a moron, and your dad was a moron. What would that make you?"

With the sweetest smile, Lucy replied, “Then, I'd be an atheist."

The moral of the story is “Be Careful What You Ask Children, Sometimes They Know More Than You Do”! If Lucy, in the midst of her adversity, could remember that she belonged to the Lord, then why can’t we? We can, if we truly take to heart Christ’s words to us this morning: “It is I; do not be afraid!”

Glory to Jesus Christ!

1 Cor. 1: 10-18
Matt. 14: 14-22

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the holy Spirit. Amen.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

A Sunday school teacher was telling her class the story of the Good Samaritan, in which a man was beaten, robbed and left for dead by the side of the road. She described the situation in vivid detail so that her youngsters would catch the drama of the situation. Then she asked the class, "If you saw a person lying on the roadside all wounded and bleeding, what would you do?" Without hesitating, one little girl said, "I would throw up."

We’d all like to think that we would, unhesitatingly, come to the man’s aid… but would we? In this morning’s Gospel reading Jesus Christ asks us if our mindset is really his. He asks this because, all too often, the problems of others never seem to us as important as our own concerns. Much like the disciples in this morning’s Gospel reading, we often want others, and their needs, to just go away.
“When Jesus went out he saw a great multitude; and he was moved with compassion for them, and healed their sick.” His disciples, however, saw the great crowd, and their needs, as a burden, and advised Jesus, “Send them away, that they may go into the villages and buy themselves food”.
Jesus, of course, had a different idea: “They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.” The disciples, however, immediately found reasons for why they couldn’t do what Jesus had asked of them: “We have here only five loaves and two fish.”

A college drama group presented a play in which one character would stand on a trapdoor and announce, "I descend into hell!" A stagehand below would then pull a rope, the trapdoor would open, and the character would plunge through, down into hell. Each performance of the play went well until the actor playing the hell-bound part became ill. Another actor, who was quite overweight, took his place. When the new actor announced, "I descend into hell!" the stagehand pulled the rope, and the actor began his plunge, but then became hopelessly stuck. No amount of tugging on the rope could make him descend. Searching quickly for an excuse, the actor suddenly yelled, "Hallelujah! Hell is full!"

Excuses. We all make them. The fact is that, spiritually speaking, at least, we are not honest with ourselves. We make up excuses for not facing up to the spiritual task of the work of our Transfiguration and, in the end, we fool ourselves into thinking that our excuses are valid. But, excuses for our lack of Transfiguration are, according to Jesus Christ, just that: Excuses.

Some people are so proud of being a Christian that they slap a sticker on their car bumper announcing that they are a devout follower of Jesus Christ. If only we could overhear conversations in the cars following them, we might hear:

"Don't worry, Billy, those people are Christians; they must have a good reason for driving 90 miles an hour."
"Stay clear of that car, Martha. If they get raptured, that car's gonna be all over the road!"
"Oh, look! That Christian woman is getting a chance to share Jesus with a police officer."

The fact is that, no matter what how we might advertise ourselves, quite often we are not the glowing incarnations of Christ’s gospel that we think we are. Like the original Disciples in this morning’s reading, many times we don’t want to have to extend or inconvenience ourselves for others: “Send them away, that they may go into the villages and buy themselves food”.

As a result, just because we don’t have an hour free to talk with someone who is depressed, we don’t even take five minutes with them. We use the reality that we cannot afford to surprise someone who is alone to a fancy restaurant as an excuse to not even bring them a casserole. The mark of our spiritual delusion is that we are ok with this, with our not-caring about others.

So then, what do we do about Christ’s words this morning: “They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.”

Not wanting to be inconvenienced by or for others is the fruit of our self-centeredness. We do not grow spiritually because self-centeredness thinks up all sorts of reasons for why we should not expend ourselves:
“I have to make a living”… “It costs too much”… “I haven’t the time”.

What Christ shows us in this morning’s Gospel reading is that having to make a living is no excuse for not living like a Christian; the issue of “cost to us” is often a cover-up for our own miserliness of heart; and what little time we have can often prove to be more than enough… if we simply stop making excuses for thinking only of ourselves. And we think excessively of ourselves when we have convinced ourselves that we have no need of God, when we are sure that if we do not look out for ourselves, then no one will.

As Fred was walking into the doctor’s office, a nun came rushing out, screaming at the top of her lungs. When Fred went in to see his doctor, he asked, "As I was coming in I met a nun running away in great distress. Is she alright?" "Oh, yes," smiled the doctor, "I've just told her that she's pregnant." “What?!” Fred exclaimed. “Pregnant? A nun? Really?” "No," replied the doctor, "but it sure cured her hiccups."

Let us start to speak the truth to ourselves about ourselves. Let us no longer make excuses for our spiritual mediocrity. Let us no longer carry around a mindset of miserly self-concern. Since Jesus Christ has called all Christians to preach the Gospel to all the world, we must have an attitude of abundance, since there is enough Good News to feed all, and then some!

This afternoon, let us ask ourselves: What is my attitude about others? Is it one of scarcity, of excessive self-concern, or one of abundance? Let us ask ourselves if our automatic response to this question is that of the this morning’s Disciples: “But we have here only 5 loaves and 2 fish”?

Glory to Jesus Christ!

Rom. 15: 1-7
Matt. 9: 27-35

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

Every Sunday, two elderly women sat in the front pew so that they could encourage their fiery preacher. When the preacher condemned the sin of lust, these two ladies cried out at the top of their lungs: “AMEN, BROTHER!” When he condemned the sin of stealing, they yelled out: “PREACH IT, REVEREND!” When the preacher condemned the sin of lying, they jumped to their feet and screamed: “TELL IT LIKE IT IS!” But when the preacher condemned the sin of gossip, one of the old ladies turned to the other and said, "Now he's meddling."

Even believers don’t always want to be told what we don’t want to hear. Even when we shouldn’t, we want what we want and we can become annoyed when our desires are crossed up. In fact, even Jesus Christ can annoy us. He tells us that if we ask, we will receive… and yet he insists upon our do the asking! He tells us that if we seek, we will find, and then he insists upon our doing the seeking! Sometimes we may wonder why he doesn’t just give us these things. Why does he insist upon our participation in our spiritual life?
In this morning’s Gospel reading two blind men come to Jesus, begging him for mercy. Christ’s response is the curious question, “Do you believe that I am able to do this?” The blind men answer “Yes, Lord,” to which Christ replies “According to your faith let it be to you.”
In other words, the faith of the blind men WAS their participation in their own healing. Their faith was not just an interior reality; it was incarnated exteriorly by their following after Christ and by their asking him to give their sight to them. What this little scenario teaches us this morning is that faith is not just a belief, but a belief that is incarnated in some way.
Two young church members were going door to door, and knocked on the door of a woman who was not happy to see them. She told them in no uncertain terms that she did not want to hear their message and then slammed the door in their faces. But to her surprise, the door did not close; in fact, it bounced back open. Once again, she hauled off and let the door fly… and it bounced open again.
Convinced that these rude young people were sticking their foot in the door, she reared back to give it a slam that would teach them a good lesson, when one of them spoke up and said, "Ma'am, before you do that again you need to move your cat."
We’re not as smart as we think we are. We don’t always see the big picture. Let us ask ourselves: Are we so used to calling ourselves a “Christian” that… unlike this morning’s blind men… we have ceased actually pursuing Christ! Could our cat in the doorway possibly be our spiritual laziness?
Instead of fleeing uncomfortable questions, let us walk straight towards them and ask ourselves: Despite the inconveniences involved, do I really believe that what Jesus talks about in his Gospel IS “good news”? Is it not possible for us to have memorized Orthodox theology and terms and services, and yet be an unbeliever? Could it be said that our lack of Transfiguration is the manifestation of an unbelief which results from our spiritual mediocrity, which results from our reluctance to be involved in the sacrifices that faith in Jesus Christ requires? In the end, are we so spiritually lazy that we view believing as just too much effort?
Fred went to a psychiatrist for his phobia. "Doc," he said, "I've got trouble. Every time I get into bed, I think there's somebody under it. I’m so worried that someone is under the bed, and that he’ll get me as soon as I fall asleep, that I can’t get a good night’s sleep for nothing!”
The psychiatrist said, "Just put yourself in my hands for two years. "Come to me three times a week, and I'll cure your fears." Fred asked, "How much do you charge?" "A hundred dollars per visit," the psychiatrist replied. Fred said, "I'll think about it.”
Six months later the doctor met Fred on the street and asked him, "Why didn't you ever come back to see me again?" Fred replied, "For a hundred buck's a visit? A preacher cured me for free." “Really?” the psychiatrist said, “You’re no longer afraid of someone being under the bed? You can sleep now?” Then, intrigued, the psychiatrist asked, “How did he cure you?” Fred replied, "He told me to cut the legs off the bed!"
Sometimes, the answer can be simple: There can be another way of looking at the demands of faith, other than as a burden. We could look upon them as the invitation to the new life that Christ intends for us. If we accept his demands upon us… who knows, perhaps our everyday blindness will be healed, and perhaps we will then see eternity staring back at us from within the ordinary demands of our ordinary days.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

Rom. 12: 6-14
Matt. 9: 1-8

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Fred was walking across a bridge one day and saw a man standing outside the railing, right on the edge of the bridge, about to jump off. "Stop! Don't do it!" Fred cried, running over to the man. "Why shouldn't I?" the man muttered. Fred replied, "Well, there's so much to live for!" "Like what?" the man asked, dangling one foot beyond the bridge.

"Well…” Fred began, stalling for time while he tried to think of something persuasive to say, “…well, are you religious or atheist?" "Religious," the man replied. At that Fred brightened up and said, "Me too! Are you Christian or Buddhist?" “Christian," the man said, jiggling his foot beyond the bridge. Fred gulped. "Me too!” he replied. “Are you Catholic or Protestant?" "Protestant." Fred cried, "Me too! Are you Episcopalian or Baptist?" "Baptist!" "Wow! Me too!” Fred said, breaking into a big grin. “Are you Baptist Church of God or Baptist Church of the Lord?" "Baptist Church of God!" "Me too!” Fred enthused. “Are you original Baptist Church of God, or are you Reformed Baptist Church of God?" "Reformed Baptist Church of God!" “Wow,” Fred cried out, “Me too! Are you Reformed Baptist Church of God, reformation of 1879, or Reformed Baptist Church of God, reformation of 1915?" "Reformed Baptist Church of God, reformation of 1915!" "Die, heretic!" Fred said and pushed him off.

The spiritual danger for us is to think that forgiveness is only for “family”, or only for those like us… or only for those whom we like. Jesus Christ’s view of forgiveness is that it has been granted to us so that we might grant it to others… all others.

In this morning’s reading a paralyzed man is brought to Jesus. When we hear this morning’s reading we immediately see, in our mind’s eye, the man on a litter at Jesus’ feet, and can be tempted to think that his only problem was a physical one. But, as with all issues that Jesus directs us to examine, the real problem for us humans is usually not physical, but spiritual.

Sometimes, the sins that we have committed, and the wrong choices that we have made, paralyze our hearts, leaving us to limp through our lives. In this morning’s Gospel reading Jesus shows us that we are given to one another for healing, and that it is forgiveness which frees the other’s heart; without that forgiveness, hope expires and we become hostages to our mistakes and transgressions.

When we refuse to forgive another, we not only paralyze them, but our own heart as well: we wrap round our heart tight bands of miserliness which, eventually, we come to realize is a prison of our own making. To be human is to make mistakes. To not forgive others their mistakes is to be less than Christian. Forgiveness is central to all of Jesus’ teaching. How often have we heard Christ’s command to forgive “seventy times seven” (which was a Jewish way of saying: without limit)? This morning we also heard St. Paul advise:
“Be kindly affectionate to one another with brotherly love, in honor preferring one another; not lagging in diligence, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord: rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulation, continuing steadfastly in prayer.”
Grandma took her precious little grandson Billy to the beach. They were having a good time until a huge wave came in and swept Billy out to sea. Immediately, Grandma fell to her knees and, with arms open wide, shrieked to the heavens, "Please return my grandson… that's all I ask! PLEASE!!!" A moment later, lo and behold, a wave swelled from the ocean and deposited the wet, yet unhurt child, at her feet. She checked him over to make sure that he was okay. He was fine. Then, looking heavenward with a scowl on her face, she said, "When we came he had a hat!"
Perhaps we do not forgive others because we are not grateful, grateful for the forgiveness which we have received every day from God? And because of our lack of gratitude we keep others paralyzed by refusing to forgive them, by refusing to be part of their healing. In the Color Purple Miss Ceily lays a curse upon her husband by saying, “Until you do right by me everything that you touch will fail.” Because of the abuse that we know she suffered, everyone cheers for her when she says these words. But the fact is that when we refuse to forgive WE become the one whose heart is paralyzed.
What was the real miracle in this morning’s Gospel reading? Was it that a paralyzed man got up and walked? Or was it that the hearts of the crowd, seeing the healing, were turned towards praising God? The miracle in this morning’s reading is that self-centered hearts became grateful hearts… which is as much a miracle as that of a paralytic walking.
A minister waited in line to have his car filled with gas just before a long fourth of July weekend. The attendant worked quickly, but there were many cars ahead of him and the wait seemed to take forever. Finally, the harried attendant motioned the minister toward a vacant pump. "Reverend," apologized the young man, "I’m awful sorry about the delay. It seems as if everyone waits until the last minute to get ready for a long trip." The minister grinned and replied, "I know what you mean. It's the same in my business."
Let us not wait until the moment of our death to start forgiving others. We do not have the right to withhold forgiveness from others. What if God did that to us in response to our misguided choices, silly mistakes, and wicked desires? Christ’s message this morning is: Forgive… forgive now… and forgive often.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

Rom. 10: 1-10
Matt. 8: 28-9:1

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

Each week during a service at an old synagogue in Eastern Europe, while the Shema prayer was being said, half the congregants stood up and the other half remained sitting. And the whole time that the prayer was being said, the half that was seated groused at those standing, telling them to sit down, and the ones standing countered that the ones sitting down should stand up. Every week, the same thing: the angry muttering, even while the prayer was going on.

The rabbi, learned as he was in the Law and the commentaries, didn't know what to do about this ongoing and dis-edifying conflict. So he decided to consult one of the original founders of their temple, a housebound 98-year-old man. The rabbi hoped that the elderly man would be able to tell him what the actual temple tradition was. So the rabbi went to the nursing home with a representative of each faction of the congregation.

The one whose followers stood during the Shema asked the old man, "Is the tradition to stand during this prayer?" The old man answered, "No, that is not our tradition." Encouraged, the one whose followers sat asked, "So then, the tradition is to sit during the Shema?" The old man answered, "No, that is not our tradition." The rabbi, at his wits end, demanded of the old man, “Please! Help us! The congregants fight all the time, yelling at each other about who’s right and who’s wrong." At that, the old man said, "Now THAT is our tradition!"

It is possible for us to be possessed by our delusion that we are always right. And because we think that we are always right (even if we have sense enough to not announce this to the world) we often view our relationships with others in the same way that this morning’s men in the tombs viewed Jesus: “What have we to do with you, Jesus, you Son of God? Have you come here to torment us?”

Not only do we think that we are right in our opinions, but… precisely because we think that we are right we see no need for us to change. Unfortunately for us followers of Jesus Christ, “to change” is what repentance is about, and repentance is the message that Jesus is relentless in proclaiming to us.

Our culture places extreme emphasis on ease and convenience, on things being fast, easy, and of no cost to us. Unfortunately, on some subtle level, we have come to believe that this also applies to our discipleship to Jesus Christ. Given all of this, even while we call ourselves Christians (followers of Jesus Christ), and even while we come to church faithfully, it is all too possible that our real attitude towards Jesus’ unrelenting call for us to change and become as we should be, is: Have you come here to torment me?!!!

Perhaps our mistaken attitude stems from a mistaken understanding about our sinfulness. I once had someone come to Confession and actually say that the individual had nothing to confess because they don’t sin. While most of us would not say such a thing, there is at least the tiniest possibility that we think that way… that because we don’t rape and rob, we are sinless.

And yet…How often do we repeat a nasty rumor about another to someone else because of the wicked thrill that we feel in relaying the news? How often do we tell a lie so that we will not have to face up to something? How often do we try to get away with involvement with those things that are poisonous to our soul, so long as no one else knows? Let us ask ourselves: Is it not possible that we have become comfortable with being a sinner?

A little country church had a small congregation of very faithful people; that is, all but Marvin the farmer, who had quit coming to church. So one day the Pastor took himself out to Marvin's farm, and asked him why he didn't attend anymore. "Gee, Father," Marvin said, "I only have these coveralls and old boots, and I don't want to come to the Lord's house dressed so shabby." So the Pastor offered, "I've got a spare shirt, a sports coat, nice pants and shoes that I can give you if you'll promise to come to church."

So Marvin agreed and the Pastor brought the clothes to him. But the next Sunday, Marvin still didn't show up. So back out to Marvin’s farm went the Pastor who asked the farmer, "I gave you all those clothes, why didn't you come to church?" "Well, Father," Marvin began, "I got up and showered and shaved, and I put on those neat duds, and when I looked in the mirror and saw how good I looked, I figured there was no reason why I needed to go to church!"
When we become content with our sinfulness, we become blind to our mediocrity. The problem is that Jesus Christ will not let mediocrity be. Like a little boy with a stick, he will relentlessly poke at our mediocrity until we either change, or, like this morning’s townspeople, depart from him. And if we depart from Jesus Christ, we slowly become possessed by our desire to do nothing about the sinfulness that we have become comfortable with and which we have come to see as “the new normal.”
Let us honestly ask ourselves: Is it not possible that, for us… just as it was for this morning’s villagers… we, too, don’t want to get involved in our own healing, in our having to change… and as a result we tell God to leave us be?
The air conditioning broke down in the church, so a fellow by the name of Higgins was hired to crawl around in the ducts and find out what was wrong. As Higgins peeked down through one of the vents in the Nave, he saw little old Mrs. Nagorny kneeling by the left side of the Iconostasis, her hands clasped and deep in prayer. Being a bit of a rascal, Higgins decided it would be funny to try and mess with Mrs. Nagorny’s mind. In his most authoritative voice, from within the vent Higgins said, "This is Jesus. Your prayers will be answered." Unperturbed, Mrs. Nagorny gave no indication that she had even heard, and just went on praying. Higgins tried again. "This is Jesus, the Son of God!" Higgins boomed from deep within the vent, "Your prayers will be answered!" Without even looking up, Mrs. Nagorny replied, "Wait your turn. I'm talking to your Mother!"
Is our response to God’s demands upon us, “Wait your turn”? Is it “Have you come here to torment me?” Is it “Go away”? Is there not a chance that we, like this morning’s villagers, are blind to our own need for deliverance? And finally, are we more possessed by our desire for the blindness of comfortable mediocrity, than by trying for the change to which Christ calls us?

Glory to Jesus Christ!

Rom. 6: 18-23
Matt. 8: 5-13

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, nad of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

In a small town way out in the country, a local farmer, at the urging of his wife, invited their elderly Priest to come out to the farm for supper. When the Priest, the farmer and his wife and young son came in to supper, there in the middle of the table was a plump and perfectly roasted chicken. It was at that very moment that the farmer’s young son spoke up.

“Hey!” he yelled. “I thought you said we were having a bat for supper?” While the wife was aghast that her son had just said such a thing in front of her Priest, the farmer was more puzzled than embarrassed. “Whatever gave you that impression?” he asked his son. The young boy replied, “Because you said to mommy that we should get it over with and have the old bat to supper!”

Well, apparently not everything stays in either Vegas or the closet. Sometimes, what we really think or feel manages to wiggle out and expose itself… even our own anger with God when he won’t do what we want. Why, in the midst of our annoyance with God, does it not occur to us that… maybe… we shouldn’t want all that we feel we are entitled to? Perhaps we don’t “want” the right things? Not so the Roman Centurion in this morning’s Gospel reading who wanted healing… for someone other than himself.

The Roman centurion in this morning’s Gospel reading was a Gentile and not a Jew. The Jews felt an extreme hatred of Romans, who they viewed as their oppressors. And yet, when Jesus saw his people’s enemy coming to him for a favor he didn’t focus on the uniform, or the sword; rather, Jesus heard the heart of a man who was concerned about someone else, and that’s all that mattered to Jesus.

When Jesus said to the Centurion, “I will come and heal him,” the soldier stunned Jesus by his response:
"Lord, I am not worthy that you should come under my roof.”

A Priest, a Deacon, and the pompous lead tenor from the choir were visiting Israel when, all of a sudden, they were captured by Arab terrorists. They were informed by the terrorists that they were going to be shot. Indignantly, the Priest informed them, “You cannot shoot us; we are men of God!” When the terrorists failed to be impressed, the Priest tried another ploy and asked the terrorists for one last request for each of them. "Okay," replied the head terrorist, “but then we shoot you!”

Pointing to the Priest, the head terrorist asked, “What’s your request?” The Priest replied, “I want to give a six hour sermon and not have anyone either leave or fall asleep." Pointing next to the tenor, the head terrorist asked, “And you?” The tenor replied, “I will give a ten hour concert of my favorite hymns." Finally, pointing to the Deacon, the head terrorist asked, "And what about you?" The Deacon fell to his knees, raised his hands in supplication, and cried out, "Oh please… shoot me first!"

For many of us it’s always about “me me me”, unlike this morning’s Centurion!

Many of us have been subtly poisoned by our society’s Gospel of the Self, leaving us with the impression that we are who matters, and that we are entitled to everything and anything that we might want. Such a belief leaves no room for concern for others. And, also unlike this morning’s Centurion, we automatically think that we ARE worthy! After all the Great Lents that we have gone through in our lives, our interior mantra still seems to be that of the Pharisee in the Temple: “I thank you Lord that I am not like that man!” Unlike this morning’s Centurion, we do not really care about others.

During the Sunday Divine Liturgy, the Priest was so overwhelmed with religious fervor that he dropped to his knees and cried aloud, "Before you Lord, I am nothing." Immediately, the Deacon also got down on his knees, extended his arms wide and cried out, "Before you Lord, I am nothing." Moved by their humility, someone in the back of the congregation fell to his knees and also cried, "Before you Lord, I am nothing"… at which point the Deacon muttered to the Priest, "Look who thinks he's nothing."

Why is it that we seem to need to have someone beneath us, someone we can look down upon, someone we can consider inferior to us? Why do we assume, even if the thought is unvoiced, that the homeless have chosen their lot and deserve their hardships? Why do we think that is all right with God for us to mock those whom we find annoying?
We just don’t get it. Christ commanded that we love one another… not just the “others” here in this church this morning, but also that co-worker who annoys me, that cashier in Walmart who goes so slowly, and even… God forbid!... our spouse when they dare to disagree with us.
The young assistant Priest rushed into the Pastor’s office and excitedly exclaimed, "Father Murphy, come quick! Our Savior is in our church!" So the two clerics rushed into the church and sure enough, there was the Lord Jesus praying at the altar. The young Priest whispered, "What should we do?" Father Murphy whispered back, "Try to look busy."
Let’s stop trying to fake it. During this week, let us ask for the healing of our heart’s blindness, for the thawing of our un-caring hearts, and for the letting go of the prayer “Thank you Lord that I am not like this man.” Rather, let us pray that the grace of the presence of the Holy Spirit might grow within us the attitude of, “Lord, I am not worthy.”

Glory to Jesus Christ!

Rom. 5: 1-10
Matt. 6: 22-33

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

An atheist was spending a quiet day fishing when suddenly his boat was attacked by the Loch Ness Monster. In one easy flip, the beast tossed him and his boat at least a hundred feet into the air. It then opened its mouth and waited for the atheist to fall down into it. As the man sailed into the air, head over heels, he cried out, "Oh, my God! Help me!"

Suddenly, the scene froze in place. As the atheist hung in midair a booming voice came out of the clouds and said, "I thought you didn't believe in Me!" The atheist replied, "Come on, give me a break! Just seconds ago I didn't believe in the Loch Ness Monster either!" "Well," said God, "now that you are a believer, you must understand that I won't work miracles to snatch you from certain death in the jaws of the monster, but I can change hearts. What would you have me do?"

The atheist, remembering that God had, once upon a time, said, “Thou shalt not kill,” said, "God, please have the Loch Ness Monster believe in You also.” "God replied, "So be it."

At that, the scene started up again, in slow motion, with the atheist falling towards the ravenous jaws of the monster. As he fell closer to the monster he could hear it mumbling something, and as the newly converted atheist got closer still he heard the monster saying, "Lord, bless this food which we are about to receive.”

Why is it that we only pray to God when we want something?

The answer to that question is that we are influenced by the culture which surrounds us, and that culture does not look upon praying as the way in which we are in a relationship with God, but rather, as a form of barter: I give God a prayer, and he gives me what I want.

Our culture teaches us that it’s every person for himself, and as a result, we sometimes act as if we do not believe that our “heavenly Father knows that you need all these things.” Not really believing that God will provide for us, we live as if we alone have to look out for ourselves, and, therefore, we worry. And when we worry excessively, we let God know that we do not trust him to take care of us, despite his promise.

In this morning’s Gospel reading Jesus Christ has a few words to say about worrying: “…I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink. Is not life more than food…Which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature? Your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you.”

After finishing his business in the local bank, Fred turned to leave… and saw the Angel of Death waiting outside the front door. Terrified, Fred ducked out the back door and drove home as fast as he could. Running into the house, he immediately started packing a suitcase.

“Fred,” his wife asked, “What are you doing? Why are you so white? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” “Worse,” Fred replied, “I saw the Angel of Death waiting for me outside the bank. I’m running to Atlanta to stay with my brother for a few days.” Then Fred jumped into his car and roared off.

Fred’s wife wanted to see for herself and went down to the bank, and… sure enough!... outside the bank stood the Angel of Death, still standing by the front door. Being bolder than her husband, and not a little ticked off, she walked up to the Angel and scolded him for frightening her husband so. The Angel of Death replied, "Well actually, I was also somewhat surprised to see your husband here. I was sure that I had an appointment with him later today in Atlanta."

We can find absolutely anything to worry about, and, often, worrying is exactly what we shouldn’t do. It seems as if we are never so happy as when we are making ourselves miserable by worrying. Worrying is corrosive: It will steal our joy, steal our contentment, and steal our happiness. The English word “worry” comes from an old German word meaning “to strangle, or choke”. And that is exactly what worry does: It chokes the spiritual life out of us by convincing us that God does not look out for us.

We mistakenly think that our worrying is caused by finances, or by job insecurity, or by living in the wrong neighborhood, when, in fact, we worry excessively because, by not staying in relationship with God… which is what prayer does… we abandon God, and that abandonment is the real source of our worry.

Listening to these words this morning, we might think: I haven’t abandoned God… I’m right here in church this morning, aren’t I?! But it is all too easy to abandon someone, even while still living with them. This happens when conversation between two people becomes reduced to the days plans, where the kids need to go, or what bills need to be paid. When a couple’s conversations become simply sets of instructions, it can be said that they have abandoned one another without ever moving out of the house. And the same is true of our relationship with God. Do we talk to God each day, or do we relegate our relationship with him to either Sundays or times of distress?

A middle aged woman had a heart attack and was taken to the hospital. While on the operating table she had a near death experience and, during it, saw God and asked him if it was her time to go. God told her no, and explained that she still had another 40 years to live. Upon her recovery the woman decided to just stay in the hospital and have a face lift, liposuction, breast augmentation, tummy tuck… the whole works!... since she wanted to make the best out of the next 40 years.

Upon eventually being released from the hospital, she walked out the front doors and was killed by an ambulance speeding up to the hospital. So the woman arrived in front of God in a foul mood and demanded of him "I thought you said I had another 30-40 years?" God replied, "I’m sorry, but I just didn't recognize you."

What a terrible thing it would be to hear God finally say, “I just didn’t recognize you.” But if we don’t trust God and therefore abandon him, then what can we expect? The plain fact of the matter is that our excessive worrying is not a sign of our being a responsible person, but rather, the manifestation of our conviction that we are alone and that we have to look out for ourselves.

A mountain climber began to slip as he climbed a dangerous section of the mountain. In a flash, he had fallen over the edge of a cliff and began to plunge downward when he thrust out his hand and grabbed a small tree that had grown out from between two rocks. As he hung there fearing the worse, but trying to figure out what to do, he suddenly heard a voice calling him from above, "Just trust me, let go of the branch, and I will save you." Pausing for a moment while he glanced down, the climber called out, "Hey, is there anyone else up there I could talk to?"

That’s us; we assume that God does not know what’s best. So: Do we trust God, or not?

Glory to Jesus Christ!

Rom. 2: 10-16
Matt. 4: 18-23

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

A teacher gave her fifth grade class the assignment of getting their parents to tell them a story with a moral at the end. The next day, the children came in and started telling their stories of not crying over spilt milk, a penny saved is a penny earned, etc. Finally, only William was left to tell his story, and the teacher sweetly asked, “William, do you have a story to share?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” William replied. “My daddy told a story about my Aunt Karen. Aunt Karen was a pilot in Desert Storm, and her plane got hit, so she had to bail out and all she had with her was a flask of whiskey, an army pistol, and a survival knife. So she drank the whiskey on the way down and threw the flask away as she landed right in the middle of 20 Iraqi troops. Using her pistol and her knife and her bare hands she killed them all.”

In horror at what she had just heard, the teacher blurted out, “Good heavens, William!” Then she asked, “What could your Daddy possibly have told you was the moral of this horrible story?” William replied to the class, “My Daddy said the moral of the story was to stay away from Aunt Karen when she’s been drinking!”

It is natural for us to want to present ourselves in the best light, but sometimes that’s just not possible. Unfortunately, we sometimes come to believe our own propaganda; sometimes, we really think that we are Christians simply because we call ourselves Christians. Not so the Saints whom we commemorate this morning who proved themselves to truly be followers of Jesus Christ.

Each year, on the second Sunday after Pentecost, each local Orthodox Church offers us examples of Christian sanctity, since holiness, being the manifestation of the Holy Spirit’s presence, is the fruit of Pentecost. In accordance with this custom, this morning the Orthodox Church in America remembers the saints of All-America.

In this morning’s Gospel reading, we heard Christ invite the disciples with the words “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” They became his disciples…not only because they heard the invitation, but because they got up, left their old life behind, and actually followed Christ, as did this morning’s Saints. And in this morning’s Epistle reading, St. Paul warns us: “…it is not the hearers of the law who are just before God, but the doers of the law who will be justified.”

Father Murphy walked into a pub and said to the first man he met, "Do you want to go to heaven?" The man said, "Sure, an I do Father." So the priest said," Then leave this pub right now!" The Priest then approached a second man and asked, "Do you want to go to heaven?" "Certainly, Father," was the man's reply. "Then leave this den of Satan right now!" yelled the priest. Father Murphy then walked up to O'Toole and asked, "Do you want to go to heaven?" O'Toole replied: "No, Father, sure an I don't." Startled, the priest looked the man right in the eye and said, "You mean to tell me that when you die you don't want to go to heaven?" O'Toole broke into a great smile and replied, "Oh, when I die is it? Well, yes Father, when I die. I thought you was getting’ a group together to go right now."

Christ’s call to discipleship is always “right now.” Jesus Christ does not wait to call us until our schedule is cleared, or until we have gotten our act together, or until we have gotten used to the idea of following him. He passes by and simply says, “Follow me.” When Jesus Christ calls each of us to leap into the deep end of the pool of discipleship, we must trust him. Jesus’ call to discipleship is the call to truth, a call to a new life, to a new way of living. And hearing that call, The Gospel reading this morning says that the Disciples “immediately left their nets and followed him.”

This morning’s readings, and the example of those whom we commemorate, present us with questions for ourselves: Am I REALLY Christ’s disciple just because I call myself a Christian? Can I be a Christian if I do not change and grow? Is my lack of change and growth a manifestation of my lack of real and lasting repentance?
We all consider ourselves “an exception to the rule” to Christ’s call to change, to follow him by leaving our old nets behind. Without giving it much thought, we seem to assume that the sacrifice central to being a Christian is not really required of us. Too often we opt for the mediocrity of being arm-chair Christians. Christ had a word for such people: It is “hypocrite”, and not “disciple”.
Just as last Sunday’s All Saints were a call addressed to us, so to this morning’s Saints of All-America are a call addressed to each of us. Today we are called by the Gospel, we are encouraged by the Epistle, so to love God as to truly become Jesus’ disciples, to get up out of our comfortable armchairs and to follow him. So how do we begin?
For most of us, there is no sudden leap into spiritual maturity, but rather, it is a step-by-step journey through the small crucifixions of the self that each day affords, and it is how one lives the life that one has been given that determines one’s sanctity. Step by step, denial-of-the-self by small denial-of-the-self, we become Saints through the “opportunities of little things” in each day.
It was the first day of school and a priest was walking along the corridor of the parochial school near the preschool wing when a group of little ones went trotting by on the way to the cafeteria. Suddenly, little Johnny stopped and stared up at the priest and asked, "Why do you dress funny?" The priest replied kindly, “Because I am a priest and this is the uniform that priests wear.” Little Johnny considered that for a moment, and then pointed to the priest's plastic collar tab and asked, "Do you have a boo-boo?" The priest was perplexed by the question until he realized that the collar tab looked like a band-aid to little Johnny. So the priest took the tab out of the collar and handed it to Little Johnny. Little Johnny turned the tab over and saw, on the back, the printed name of the manufacturer. Guessing that little Johnny was too young to read, the priest asked, "Do you know what those words say?" "Yes I do," proudly replied Little Johnny, who pretended to read aloud: "Kills ticks and fleas up to six months!"
We all need to be taught things in life. And the teaching does not end once one has a diploma in hand. This is why the Church commemorates the Saints this morning… to teach us what we have forgotten since Great Lent ended: To teach us that the way that we follow Jesus Christ as his disciple is by manifesting repentance in each day, no matter where we work, where we worship, where we play. After all, repentance isn’t just for Great Lent anymore!

Christ’s call to follow him is shown in his call for us to be members of this parish, so that in attending to the parish’s needs and life we might have a venue in which to become Orthodox Saints. Let us reflect upon the sacrifices that our parish members make for our parish, just as we reflect upon the sacrifices that made this morning’s saints of All-America holy. And then, after reflecting, let us follow Christ by emulating these people, both Saints and parishioners alike.

Glory to Jesus Christ

Heb. 11:33-12:2
Matt. 10: 32-33, 37-38, 19: 27-30

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

An atheist complained to his Christian co-worker, "Christians have their special holidays, such as Christmas and Easter. Jews celebrate their holidays, such as Passover and Yom Kippur. EVERY religion has its holidays except for us atheists! It’s not fair that we are discriminated against like this!" His Christian co-worker responded, "What do you mean, atheists have no holidays? People have been observing a special day in your honor for years." Surprised and puzzled, the atheist replied, "I don't know what you're talking about. What special day honors us atheists?" His co-worker smiled and said, “Why, April 1st… April Fool’s Day!"

We all want to be honored, but not all of us are willing to pay the price required for being regarded with distinction. Not so those whom we honor this morning. The Sunday following Pentecost is dedicated to All the Saints, both those who are known to us, and those who are known only to God, who were faithful, in large and in small ways, to their discipleship to Jesus Christ. This feast originated at an early date, perhaps as a celebration of all martyrs, but then it was broadened to include not only martyrs, but also all men and women who had borne witness to Christ by their virtuous lives, even if they did not shed their blood for Him.

In this morning’s reading from Hebrews, we have just heard: “We are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses.” Those Saints whom we commemorate this morning are all those who have heard Christ speak in their hearts, whose hearts and minds have been set afire, and who went out into the world to bring to the whole world the good news: the news that God has so loved the world, that He has entered into it never to leave it, and that in His Resurrection He has taken all that is the world and brought it home to Himself.

In this morning’s Gospel reading we heard Peter ask a question which, upon first hearing, might have struck us as crass; basically, he was asking what was in it for them if they followed Christ? The question, however, might be better understood as Peter’s seeking reassurance that in their following of Christ he and the other Disciples had made the right choice. They had, in fact, left everything to follow Jesus. While they had not always understood nor had they always selected the proper course of action, they had still sacrificed everything to follow Him. What they were really asking Christ was: Were we right to do this, or was it foolishness on our part?

A new Pastor, wearing his clericals, was eating at the counter of the local diner when a man slid onto the stool next to him and asked, “You some kinda preacher, or something?” Continuing to eat, the Pastor replied, “Yeah, some kind.” “Where?” his cryptic interrogator continued. “Down the block,” said the Pastor. At that, the other man brightened. “Hey,” he exclaimed, “I’m a member of that church!” Turning to face the man, the Pastor said, “Well, I’ve been there now for three months and I’ve never seen you there.” The other man replied, “I said I was a member; I never said I was a fanatic!”

A serious follower of Jesus Christ gives all that he can to that discipleship. I am sure that all of us have, at one time or another, asked the same question: “See, we have left all and followed you. Therefore, what shall we have?” To this question Christ gave a definitive answer: “He who does not take his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me.”
Are we serious disciples of Jesus Christ, or do we think that such discipleship is for the fanatics? Do we prefer our discipleship to be convenient? Do we here this morning think that we are not called to the same level of holiness and commitment as were those whom we commemorate today?
What the Church stresses in today’s commemoration of All Saints is that this feast is a call to each of us, a call to personal discipleship to Christ. As Christ makes clear in this morning’s Gospel reading, there can be no Christian without the cross! Are we willing to obey Christ’s command, and embrace the crosses that come to us in the ordinariness of our days, the crosses sometimes great, but mostly small?

The taking up of one’s cross is not a matter of convenience or of having nothing better to do. At the heart of the cross is kenosis, or what we might call “self-emptying”. There is no way that self-emptying can be comfortable; it must cost us something. This morning’s Saints knew this, and yet embraced this. All one has to do is to look at Christ on the cross to see that his being there cost him everything. And if we are to follow him we must do as he and the Saints have done… have it cost us our most prize possession: Ourselves.
A State Trooper stopped a minister for speeding. When he approached the driver’s window the Trooper could easily smell alcohol and saw an empty wine bottle on the passenger’s floor. Frowning, he asked the minister, "Sir, have you been drinking?" The minister replied, "Just water." Pointing to the bottle on the floor the Trooper asked, "Then why do I smell wine?" Feigning surprise, the minister looked down at the bottle and said, "Good Lord, He's done it again!"
Miracles needn’t be performed in order for us to be holy. And yet, we might wonder where in our ordinary lives we can find opportunities for such saintly holiness. When a fellow office-worker makes a joke at our expense, how do we react? When our spouse dismisses something as irrelevant that we think is important, what do we say and do? When someone frustrates us on the road while driving, how do we act? Does it ever occur to us that how we react to these things… how our striving for holiness is incarnated… either inspires or discourages others? Do we even care?

For most of us, holiness is not something spectacular, accompanied by shouts and trumpets; for most of us, holiness is our daily striving to simply be as faithful as we can be in this day to following Christ’s command to love others. Our vocation as Christians is to be sent as lights into the darkness of our narcissistic culture, enabling others, through our example, to find their way home to God. Daily examples of our self-emptying in our ordinary lives should give others hope that in the midst of their ordinary lives they too can behold God’s generous love; that, in seeing us, seeing how we live, seeing who we are, people can believe that Christ has come to save the world, and that He is worth following as a Master, a Teacher, and as the One who loves us beyond all measure.

The Pope died and went to meet St. Peter at the Pearly Gates. St. Peter escorted him in, and showed him to his mansion. The Mansion was huge, with angels circling the outside, and a massive deck at the rear where the Pope could watch the heavens in his robe and relax in his golden lounge chair. St. Peter said, "Just make yourself at home, I have some errands to attend to and I'll be back to see that you're settled in."

So the Pope eased into his golden lounge chair, and a small angel brought him a cool glass of water to sip; suddenly, by the side of the chair was a small golden table in just the right spot for the Pope to put down the glass between sips. And amazingly, the glass was always full when the Pope picked it up.

As he sat relaxing, the Pope watched other mansions float by on their clouds, and observed that his was the largest, as befits a Pope. All of a sudden, a massive cloud floated by with a mansion ten times the size of the Pope’s own. At that moment St. Peter returned and the Pope took the opportunity to complain. “Now see here,” the Pope began, “I am the Pope and I should have the biggest mansion. Who is in that one over there?”

St. Peter replied, “A lawyer.” “A lawyer?!” the Pope sputtered. “A lawyer?! But I…” St. Peter raised his hand and said, “Calm down Your Holiness. We get you Popes in here all the time; we don't get many lawyers."

It is natural to want to be rewarded for our good behavior, and let us be honest and admit that our following of Christ is not easy, especially in that it costs us ourselves. In fact, sometimes, our discipleship to Jesus Christ can feel like death by a thousand paper-cuts. Instead of focusing on what we might get by our striving for holiness, this week let us follow the example of the Saints whom we commemorate today and embrace our discipleship in the many small things, the many small paper-cuts, the many small opportunities which constitute our days. Instead of thinking about a reward, let us use those opportunities to help others in their striving to be holy.

In short, this week let us set our preoccupation with ourselves aside so that when we stand before Christ and see his face, we will hear him say that, because of the example and hope that we have given to others, we “…shall receive a hundredfold, and inherit eternal life.”

Glory to Jesus Christ!

Acts 2: 1-11
John 7: 37-52; 8:12

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

Each time Matilda’s husband climbed up one more rung on the ladder of success, she bought a more expensive car, a larger home, and bigger and more garish jewelry. After her husband’s latest promotion, Matilda felt that a talk with the Pastor was in order.

"I'm sorry to say,” she began, “but this parish is now too pokey for my new social status, so we will be transferring to another, more upscale, parish in the next city. I hope that you understand and don’t take it personally.” The Pastor smiled at her and replied, “"My dear lady, I certainly won’t take it personally; it hardly matters what kind of label you put on an empty bottle!"

The temptation to change the external while leaving the internal unchanged is an all-too-human one. In fact, it seems to me that Christ had something to say about this phenomenon when he spoke of whited sepulchers. Staying the same inside is not possible when… and if… one opens oneself to the Holy Spirit, whose coming to the Church, and to us, we celebrate this morning.

In the Church's annual liturgical cycle, Pentecost is "the last and greatest day." It is the celebration by the Church of the coming of the Holy Spirit as the achievement and fulfillment of the entire history of salvation. For the same reason, however, it is also the celebration of a beginning: it is the "birthday" of the Church as the presence among us of the Holy Spirit, and of our new life in Christ.

In the Gospel reading for Pentecost Matins, Christ breathes upon his disciples, bestowing the gift of the Holy Spirit upon them by saying, “As the Father has sent me, I also send you.’ And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.” And in the reading from Acts this morning we also heard, “And there appeared upon them cloven tongues, as of fire, and one sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit.”

The presence of the Holy Spirit burns away our impurities, allowing God to see his reflection in us. Our following of Jesus is about much more than attending church services or holding ethnic festivals; it is about allowing the Holy Spirit to enter our hearts just as the Holy Spirit entered that upper room and descended upon the Disciples. In short, Pentecost is about our allowing the Holy Spirit to make our hearts his abode. But before he can move in, we have to get some of our stuff out of the way.

Five Americans, including a famous brain surgeon, a prominent minister of a large church, a college student, the president of the National Mensa Society, and, of course, the pilot, were flying across the Rockies in the same airplane. Suddenly the pilot emerged from the cockpit with four parachutes. As he strapped one on, he said, "We've developed mechanical difficulties and we're losing altitude." He tossed the three remaining chute packs on the floor, opened the hatch and jumped out.

Immediately, the brain surgeon stood up and said that since he could save lives with all of his skill and knowledge, he should have the first chute. The others agreed; he strapped on a parachute and jumped from the plane. The Mensa Society president declared, "Since I am the leader of America's most intelligent people, I can do much to better the world. I deserve a parachute." Before the others could say a word, he snatched a pack from the hands of the student, slipped into the straps and jumped.

The minister immediately spoke up: "My young friend, you have many years ahead of you. I, on the other hand, have enjoyed a long life and am ready to meet my Maker. I want you to..." Just then, the student interrupted the minister. "Relax, padre,” he said. "We can both have a parachute. One of the most intelligent people in the world just jumped out of this airplane with my book-bag strapped to his back."

We’re not as smart as many of us would like to think. Just as we have throughout our lives, we try the same old solutions to our problems and wind up with the same old disappointing results… and yet we don’t seem to catch on. So why don’t we change?

We do not change because our hearts are divided: We want to hang onto being our same old selves, with our same old dislikes and petty grievances… even while desiring the changing presence of the Holy Spirit. On this feast of Pentecost, we should ask ourselves: Do we truly desire the changing, purifying presence of the Holy Spirit? When we say, “Come, Holy Spirit”… are we asking to be changed, or for the Holy Spirit to come and confirm what we have long suspected: That we are just fine the way that we are?

A pastor was walking down the street when he came upon a group of about a dozen boys, all of them between 10 and 12 years of age. The group surrounded a dog. Concerned lest the boys were hurting the dog, he went over and asked, "What are you boys doing to that dog?" One of the boys replied, "This dog is just an old neighborhood stray. We all want him, but only one of us can take him home. So we've decided that whichever one of us can tell the biggest lie will get to keep the dog."

Of course, the pastor was scandalized. "You boys shouldn't be having a contest telling lies!" he exclaimed. He then launched into a ten-minute sermon against lying, beginning, "Don't you boys know it's a sin to lie," and ending with, "Why, when I was your age, I never told a lie." There was an embarrassed, dead silence for about a minute. Just as the pastor began to think that he'd really gotten through to them, the smallest boy gave a deep sigh and said, "All right, give him the dog."

What we say, and think, matters. One of the ways in which we can begin the work of changing is to stop telling lies to ourselves about ourselves. We are not so good as we think we are, and our motives are not so clean as we assume them to be. What we need to do is to open ourselves to the Holy Spirit and let him come in like a fire that burns away all the dross within us and leaves us purified. In other words, there’s a lot of old junk in our interior house which needs to get thrown out.

In today’s feast of Pentecost, the church offers us the incomparable revelation that the Godhead…the Holy Trinity…even while being the Totally Transcendent One…is imminently present with us. It is no accident that back at Christmas the church referred to Jesus as Emmanuel…God-With-Us. In today’s descent of the Holy Spirit, God tells us, yet again, that he is “with us”: Will we, this morning, open our hearts to him and let him do some interior renovation?

Glory to Jesus Christ!

Acts 20: 16-18, 28-36
John 17: 1-13

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

A pastor, looking over his large congregation one Pascha, startled them with this announcement: "My friends, realizing that I will not see some of you again until next Pascha, may I take this opportunity to wish all of you a Happy Thanksgiving, a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!"

It is amazing how, through ignorance, we do not value things passed on to us… be it our church, or the beliefs bequeathed to us by the Apostles. In this morning’s Gospel passage we heard Jesus Christ say: “I have manifested your name to the men whom you have given me out of the world… For I have given to them the words which you have given me; and they have received them, and have known surely that I came forth from you; and they have believed that you sent me.”

These words, in a nutshell, explain why we are commemorating the Fathers of the 1st Ecumenical Council this morning. Jesus taught the Apostles with words; with those same words the apostles taught those who followed them. Words matter, as this morning’s Fathers knew when the presbyter Arius started changing the words through which the Apostles and the early church had understood Jesus, the Father, and the Holy Spirit.

The Commemoration of the First Ecumenical Council has been celebrated by the Church of Christ from ancient times. It was out of their faithfulness to the teachings of the Apostles that the 318 bishops whom we commemorate this morning assembled in 325 for the 1st Ecumenical Council, in Nicaea. One of the major problems needing to be dealt with was the teachings of an Alexandrian presbyter by the name of Arius, who contended that Jesus Christ was not equal to the Father, that Jesus Christ was not fully God and therefore not co-eternal with the Father. After much discussion, the Fathers came to the conclusion that Arius was misinterpreting what the apostles had taught about Christ.

In this morning’s Epistle reading, St. Paul could have been speaking of Arius and his teachings which departed from those taught by the Apostles:
“Take heed therefore unto yourselves, and to all the flock over which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers, to feed the Church of God which he purchased with his own blood. For I know this, that after my departure savage wolves will come in among you, not sparing the flock. Also men will rise up from among yourselves, speaking perverse things, to draw away disciples after them.”

Little Johnny and his family were having Sunday dinner at his Grandmother's house. Everyone was seated around the table as the food was being served. When little Johnny received his plate, he started eating right away. Horrified, his mother reprimanded him with, "Johnny, wait until we say our prayer!" She was even more horrified when he replied, "I don't have to." Not wanting to give Grandma the impression that her son was being raised incorrectly, Johnny’s mother said, "Of course you do; we always say a prayer before eating at our house." Johnny replied, "That's at our house, but this is Grandma's house and she knows how to cook!"

It is amazing how people can pit others against one another, sometimes without even intending to do so. This morning’s Gospel makes the point that Jesus Christ prayed that we might be one; that being the case, our unity is not optional. Sometimes, however, things happen which can disrupt that unity; sometimes, life just has a way of slipping out of our control.

A rather well-dressed man called on a Pastor and told him a distressing story of poverty and misery in the neighborhood. "This poor widow," the man began, "with four starving children to feed, is sick in bed, has no money for the doctor, and besides that, she owes $1500 for three months rent and is about to be evicted. I'm out trying to help raise the rent money. I wondered if you can help?" The Pastor was genuinely moved by the man’s concern. "I certainly can," replied the Pastor. "If you can give your time to this cause, then so can I. By the way, who are you?" The man replied, "I'm her landlord."

We pursue what we value. Values demonstrate our convictions and priorities. Values are confirmed by our actions. What do we, here this morning, value and hold on to? Do we value unity, or do we think that it is optional? When we are threatened by another Christian, what do we do? At such times, do we lose sight of Christ’s command that we love one another and break our unity?

Unity is crucial for our witnessing to a society defined by conflict, broken relationships, dysfunctional families, and fractured communities. Our unity is a sign, a manifestation, that God is at work among us, and that what unity requires is a costly love, a sacrificial love wherein people are willing to lay down their lives for one another… or, at least, pray with one another.

Praying together, as we do in our services, is one of the best ways to build relationships between Christians and one of the surest ways of ensuring the unity in the church that this morning’s Father’s were trying to safeguard. It is pretty hard for division to exist and take hold when people are praying together.

The local post office received a letter addressed "To God." Not knowing where to deliver it, they forwarded it to one of the nearby churches. The pastor read it at the next charity committee meeting. "Dear God," began the writer. "I hate to bother you, but my family is having it tough right now. The rent is two month's due, my wife is expecting, and my car broke down. Plus I just lost my job. Please send us $1,000 and I won't bother you again."

The pastor read the name and one of the committee members recognized it. "He lives right down the street from the church," she said. "This might be a good way to witness to him and show him we care." The others agreed, but as the church funds were extremely low, they were only able to come up with $500; nonetheless, they wrote out a church check for that amount and sent it to the man down the block.

Months passed with no word of thanks or even an acknowledgement. Some time later they received another letter forwarded to them by the Post Office, again addressed to God. It was from the same fellow. "Dear God," it read. "I hate to bother you again, but I lost my new job at the shoe store, my car is wrecked, and my wife is in the hospital again. Please send me $1,000 to get these creditors off our backs. Thanks again. P.S. Please send it to me directly this time. Last time you sent it through the church down the block and those dirty crooks kept half of it."
We are made one and unified by prayer so that we can continue Jesus’ work in the world… whether or not the world understands that work. Jesus didn’t ask the Father to preserve us so that we could meekly wait until Jesus comes again. Jesus explained it himself: “As you have sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world.” We are in the world even if we are not of the world, and while we are here there is work for us to do.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

Acts 16: 16-34
John 9: 1-38

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Christ is Risen!
Two priests died at the same time and met Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates. St. Peter said, "I'd like to get you guys in now, but our computer's down. You'll have to go back to Earth for about a week, but you can't go back as humans. So what'll it be?" The first priest said, "I've always wanted to be an eagle, soaring above the Rocky Mountains." "So be it," replied St. Peter, and off flies the first priest. The second priest mulls this over for a moment and asks, "Will any of this week count on my record, St. Peter?" St. Peter replied, "No, I told you the computer's down. There's no way we can keep track of what you're doing. The week's a freebie." At that, the Priest brightened and said, "In that case, I've always wanted to be a stud." St. Peter, although a bit surprised by the request, replied, “So be it," and the second priest disappeared.
A week went by, the computer got fixed, and the Lord tells St. Peter to recall the two priests, adding "Will you have any trouble locating them?" St. Peter replied, "The first one should be easy. He's somewhere over the Rockies, flying with the eagles. But the second one could prove to be a bit more difficult." Puzzled, the Lord asked, "Why?" St. Peter answered, "Because right now he's on a snow tire, somewhere in North Dakota."
Clearly, St. Peter and the second priest were not speaking the same language when it came to the meaning of the word “stud”. It is just possible that there are things that we don’t understand… like some of the multiple meanings of a word. What we don’t understand, is a type of interior blindness. In this morning’s Gospel Jesus Christ heals a blind man and gives him back his vision. But this morning’s reading is about much more than physical eyes working again; it is about the assumptions which blind our soul.

The blindness of our assumptions. We assume that we are good people because we go to church and because we haven’t murdered anyone this week. But, like this morning’s Pharisees, there is always the danger that we followers of Jesus Christ may well be blind to our own spiritual reality. The terrible thing about spiritual blindness is that it lulls us into thinking that we are “good”… when, in fact, we may not even be “good enough”.

We can get into trouble when we assume things. We can see this in this morning’s Gospel where the Pharisees assumed that they were right since they were held to be “the righteous”… and this assumption robbed them of the ability to really see and comprehend: they saw the healing that Jesus had just done before them, but they were blind to the miracle of it.

Boudreaux and Thibodeaux were fishing on the side of the road. They made a sign saying "De End is Near! Turn yo’self around now before it be too late!," and they waved it at each passing car. One car that passed didn't appreciate the sign and shouted at them as they sailed by, "Leave us alone you religious nuts!" A few minutes later there was a big splash, and Boudreaux asked Thibodeaux, "You tink we should just put up a sign that say, 'Bridge out' instead ?"
Just because we see the words does not mean that we understand their meaning, and “understanding” is how our soul “sees”. But, when our emotions are aroused, our understanding can become confused or even erroneous. The thing is that when emotions become unbalanced, they become passions, and when they become passions, they hold us hostage; in such a state, we are, sometimes, unable to even comprehend how our captivity came about. In other words, we are blind to our inner life.
There are a number of stories about people who were born blind, and who, later in life, became able to see because of some sort of operation. But just because they now “saw” does not mean that they were able to understand what they were seeing. Many of them had problems processing what they were seeing. Their brains couldn’t interpret the colors and the shapes because they had never dealt with those realities before. That wasn’t the case with this morning’s blind man once Jesus Christ healed him; Jesus not only opened his eyes but he also opened the man’s ability to understand what he was seeing. Jesus gave this man’s eyes sight. But the real miracle was the gift of sight that he gave to the man’s soul.

At a Saturday night tent revival the preacher announced, "Anyone with 'needs' to be prayed over, come forward, to the front at the altar." So Leroy got in line, and when it was his turn, the preacher asked him, "Leroy, what do you want me to pray about for you?" Leroy answered, "Preacher, I need you to pray for help with my hearing." So the preacher immediately put one finger in each of Leroy's ears and twitching as if with live electricity began to pray up a loud and violent assault of heaven on behalf of Leroy’s hearing. After some time of this, the Preacher removed his fingers from Leroy’s ears, stood back, and, beaming a big grin asked, “Leroy how is your hearing now?" To which Leroy replied, "I don't know yet, Reverend, my hearing ain't 'til next Wednesday."

We can never know so much that we don’t need to understand more. The church is now leading us towards Pentecost, towards the coming of the Holy Spirit, the One whose presence illuminates so that the eyes of our soul might see. Only The Holy Spirit can illuminate; only we can yearn for that illumination, for the ability to understand that which we do not understand. During these days leading up to Pentecost, let us presume that we are blind and not assume that we are not, and let us await the coming of the Holy Spirit with this prayer:

“Come, Holy Spirit. Heal what is infirm in me, and supply what is lacking.”

Christ is Risen!

Acts 11: 19-26, 29-30
John 4: 5-42

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Christ is Risen!
One Sunday a newly ordained young Priest delivered what he thought was an exceptionally good sermon, and there was no question in his mind but that everyone else was as impressed with his effort as he was. In the car on the way home he asked his wife, "Honey, how many great preachers do you think there are in the world?" Knowing her husband, his wife smiled, patted his hand lovingly, and replied, "One fewer than you think, dear."
When we are full of ourselves we leave no room for God, and without a relationship with God, we thirst for him. In this morning’s Gospel reading Christ says to the Samaritan woman, “Give me a drink.” In other words, he is speaking of the thrist that all human beings have, a thirst that has nothing to do with liquid. We run to all sorts of things, searching for that which will quench the thirst in ourselves, that thirst which originates within the soul: It is the thirst for relationship with God.

We might ask ourselves, “What was so unusual in Christ’s interchange with the Samaritan woman that it shocked the disciples who were with him? In those days, Jews despised Samaria and its people and even went so far as to go out of their way not to travel through that territory. The Jews held the Samaritans to be heretics, and the Samaritans returned the dislike with equal fervor. So when this morning’s Samaritan woman comes upon a Jew at her well, an enemy of her people, she… as well as the disciples in her regard… would have been very much on her guard.

Christ said to her, “Give me a drink.” In other words, he spoke of the basic human need of thirsting. Quenching thirst depends upon being connected to the source of that which satisfies the thirst. Just as faucets are useless unless they connect to the reservoir of water, so, too, we remain thirsty unless we are connected to God. It is through prayer that we are able to be in relationship with God, who addresses our thirst by giving us His Holy Spirit’s presence within us, the coming of whose presence we are now moving towards on Pentecost.

In Sunday School they were teaching how God created everything, including human beings. Little Johnny listened particularly intently when they were teaching how Eve was created out of one of Adam’s ribs. Later in the week, his mother noticed him lying down as if he were ill, and asked with concern, "Johnny, what’s the matter?"
Little Johnny replied in an anguished tone, "I have a pain in my side. I think I’m going to have a wife!"

In children, misunderstanding the point can be cute; in adults, it can be deadly. Let us ask ourselves this morning: Do we get the connection between our thirst for God, and prayer?

Each day, how we live is how we go about trying to quench that thirst within us. We yearn for God, and yet… do we bother to talk with God each morning in prayer, or is our coffee and the morning news more important? Do we try to quench our thirst during the day with gossip, or do we take 5 minutes to go into a bathroom stall and talk with God? “I don’t have time to pray” is not a valid excuse; it is ONLY an excuse! We don’t need a prayerbook in order to pray, in order to say the Jesus Prayer. When we are driving to work, we can leave the radio off and talk out-loud to God. While we sit in the Doctor’s waiting room, we can close our eyes and speak interiorly with God.

So why don’t we pray?

There were two rich brothers who looked pious and churchly on the outside, attending every church service regularly, but whose hearts were filled with evil. The church’s congregation grew and soon a fund raising campaign was started to enlarge the church building. It was exactly at that moment that one of the brothers died.

The day before the funeral the remaining brother sidled up to the pastor and gave him a check for the full amount needed to complete the extensions. “But there’s just one condition to this gift,” he said. “At the funeral you must say that my brother was a saint.”

So the Pastor took the check, and at the funeral the next day said the following about the dead brother: “He was an evil man. He was hard on his wife and his family. He was corrupt in business. But, compared to his brother, he was a saint.”

The truth can sting. Why don’t we pray? The truth is that many of us do not pray to God because we do not want to hear what he might have to say to us about ourselves. And yet, we still thirst. Then, because we thirst we blame God for our thirst by accusing him of being absent, when, in truth, by not praying it is we who are not present to him.

So, then, what is the purpose of prayer? The central significance of prayer is not in the things that happen as a result of praying, but in our deepening intimacy and unhurried communion with God. And let us ask ourselves: If I haven’t the desire to pray to God, to be with him in the right here and now, then how in heaven’s name will I bear being with him for all eternity?!

With this morning’s commemoration of the Samaritan woman, the Church leads us further on our journey from the Tomb to Pentecost, towards that meeting with the Holy Spirit, the Living One who is the only satisfaction for our thirst for God. From now until Pentecost, let us prepare for the coming of the Holy Spirit by taking some time each day… even if only 5 minutes!... to pray.

Who knows: Maybe it will even become a habit!

Christ is Risen!

Acts 9: 32-42
John 5: 1-15

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Christ is Risen!
An old couple, having been married for almost 60 years, died in a car crash. For the last ten years they had been in excellent health, mainly due to the wife's zealous interest in health food, so they were quite stunned to find themselves standing at the Pearly Gates. St. Peter took them to their mansion, which was decked out with a beautiful kitchen and master bath suite with Jacuzzi. As they "oohed and aahed", the old man asked Peter how much all this was going to cost. St. Peter replied, "It's free! Remember, this is Heaven."
Next they went out back to see the championship golf course the home backed up to. They would have golfing privileges every day, and each week the course changed to a new one representing the great golf courses on Earth. The old man asked, "What are the green fees?" St. Peter replied, "This is heaven; you play for free."
Next they went to the clubhouse and saw the lavish buffet lunch with the cuisines of the world laid out. "How much to eat?" asked the old man. "Don't you understand yet?" St. Peter asked. "This is heaven. It's free!" But the man was puzzled. “Where are the low fat and low cholesterol foods?" he asked. St. Peter replied, "That's the best part...you can eat as much as you like of whatever you like and you never get fat and you never get sick. I told you: This is Heaven!" The old man glared at his wife and said, "You and your stupid bran muffins! I could have been here ten years ago!!!
So the moral of the story is that not all of the things that we do for “good health” may, in the end, turn out to serve our best interests. The same is true of the way in which we live and how that living affects our spiritual life. In fact, we sometimes do the opposite of what is needed for our spiritual life and, as a result, wind up being spiritually paralyzed. In this morning’s Gospel reading Jesus Christ addresses this very issue in the healing of a paralytic by the pool of Bethesda.
There was a local belief that the waters of Bethesda had healing powers. Some Biblical manuscripts read that "An angel of the Lord came down and stirred up the waters." Some earlier manuscripts did not contain that explanation, and some scholars believe that the stirring of the water was from an underground spring that would occasionally experience extreme pressure. Whatever caused the disturbance, the people believed that when the waters of Bethesda bubbled up, the first one in the water would be cured.
People with all manner of ills were gathered by the pool when Jesus walked among them and singled out one man, a paralytic, who had been ill for 38 years. Jesus asked him, “Do you want to be made well?” The paralytic immediately began complaining: “I have no man to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; but while I am coming, another steps in before me.”
Notice that the paralytic does not answer Jesus’ question. He does not say that he wants to be well; he merely complains about his condition. In today’s language we would say that he sees himself as a victim.
One night a man died and went to heaven. He met St. Peter at the pearly gates and St. Peter escorted him in. As they walked down a long hall there were clocks everywhere but they all went at different speeds. The man asked St. Peter for an explanation. St. Peter explained that each person on earth had a clock and that each time they sinned the clock ticked a tock. As they passed a clock that wasn't moving the man asked whose it was. “Oh”, St. Peter replied, “that is Nelson Mandela’s.” They passed many other clocks along the hall but there was one person’s clock that the man never saw. So he asked St. Peter, “Where’s my clock?” Gesturing over his shoulder, St. Peter said, “Oh, we keep that one in the office and use it as a fan”.
The cry of the perpetual victim is, “It’s not my fault!” The fact is that healthy people do not make excuses. While we are busy viewing ourselves as a victim, we are unable to see what we might actually be responsible for, and it is only when we begin to assume responsibility for our lives and our mistakes that we begin to be healed. Sometimes, we presume that our outlook is healthy and, as a result, ignore any indications that perhaps it is not. As in all situations that Jesus dealt with, it is quite possible that the paralysis that Jesus was addressing in this morning’s Gospel reading had nothing to do with the man’s legs, but, rather, with the man’s outlook.

One of the ways in which we injure ourselves is by refusing to take personal responsibility for our interior crippledness, instead of blaming others or genetics or misfortune. This morning Jesus asks the paralytic… and us… to attempt something that he (and maybe “we”?) hadn’t done for 38 years: To stop making excuses! And… lo and behold!... when the man faced up to himself and made the effort, he was healed at once.

We all have our favorite pool by which we like to lay and complain… and complain and complain… blaming our troubles on the pool, on our lack of friends, on everything but the fact that we will not DO something to help ourselves. This morning, in the middle of the Paschal season…in fact, both the Epistle and the Gospel readings speak about what resurrection is essentially about: A coming back to life. Both readings speak of healing as being given back one’s life, a type of coming-back-from-the-dead.

A bus load of ladies from the Women's Fellowship had a tragic accident and they were all killed; as a result, all 50 ladies arrived at the Pearly Gates at the same time. St. Peter was taken by surprise and said that, due to redecorating, there wasn't room for them so they would all have to spend a little time in hell until their places were ready. So St. Peter called the Devil on the phone and the Devil reluctantly agreed to offer them some temporary accommodation.

Three weeks later St. Peter phoned hell to say that all was now ready and that the ladies could be sent back up to heaven. But the Devil pleaded, "Couldn't I keep them just a little longer?" This confused St. Peter, who asked, "Why do you want to keep them?" The Devil replied, “Because… only 2 more cake sales and we'll have raised enough for air conditioning!"

Hell… heaven… it all depends upon how you look at it. Victim, or the one responsible… it all depends upon how you look at it. Everything depends upon how we look at our inner realities. Christ tells us plainly this morning that if we want to be healed of what paralyzes our hearts, we need to stop laying around by our pool, stop finding excuses for why we don’t change, and do our part to contribute to our own Paschal healing.

Christ is Risen!

Acts 6: 1-7
Mark 15: 43-16:8

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Christ is Risen!

Old Jack and old John had been on the Parish Council from as long as anyone could ever remember, and they were always at odds with one another. They were constantly at each others' throat, especially in Council meetings. When one of them said "yea," you could be assured that the other would say "nay."
One day old Jack died and arrived at the pearly gates where he had to stand in line for admittance. He noticed that St. Peter asked everyone a question, which they had to answer, before they proceeded into heaven. When it was old Jack’s turn, St. Peter said: "Well Jack, to see if you qualify for heaven, I need to ask you to spell a word for me. Spell ‘Jesus’”. "That's easy," Jack said”: ‘J-E-S-U-S.’” St Peter said: "great, you're in… but could you do me a small favor and take over here for a while; I just need to go check on something. I'll be back"
Jack didn't mind at all, and proceeded to ask each person as they came up to spell “Jesus”. And then, the next person in line was his nemesis, Old John, who asked, "What are you doing here?" Old Jack replied, “Oh, I’m just filling in for St. Peter asking everybody to spell a word before they can pass through." Wary, Old John asked, "Oh yeah, well, what's the word?" After thinking for a moment Old Jack said: "spell: ‘Prestidigitation.’”
After our death, I suspect that a spelling bee will not be one of the things which we will have to face. On the other hand, we will have to account for why we avoided facing what frightened us in life.
The third Sunday of the Paschal season is called the Sunday of the Myrrhbearing Women. This refers to the women who came to Jesus’ tomb to perform their last service of love for him, to anoint his body. One of the women in this group was “our” Mary of Magdala… St. Mary Magdalene. When the women arrived at the tomb they were greeted by an angel with these words: “You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He is risen! He is not here.” St. Mark describes how, when the women heard this message, and saw his empty tomb, they turned and ran, “for they were afraid”.
Does it frighten us that Jesus lives? Does this message give us pause as we return to our old post-Lenten way of living? Are we afraid that he will see that we have returned to our spiritually mediocre way of thinking and living?
Mother Esmeralda, an Orthodox nun who worked for a home health agency, was out making her rounds visiting homebound patients when her car ran out of gas. As luck would have it a gas station was just a block away. She walked to the station to borrow a gas can and buy some gas. The attendant told her that the only gas can that he owned had been loaned out, but she was welcome to wait until it was returned. Since the nun was on her way to see a patient, she decided not to wait and walked back to her car. She looked for something in her car that she could fill with gas and spotted the bedpan that she was taking to the patient. Always resourceful, she carried the bedpan to the station, filled it with gas, and carefully carried the full bedpan back to her car. While she was slowly pouring the gas into her tank, two drunks watched from across the street. As Mother Esmeralda was screwing the cap back onto the car, one of them turned to the other and said, "If it starts, I'm turning Orthodox!"
As they say – seeing is believing… unless what we see frightens us, in which case there is the temptation to run away. This morning’s Gospel says that the Myrrhbearing women “Fled from the tomb… And they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” Running away was their first impulse, and at first, they said nothing of what they had seen and heard. But later, the realization that Jesus lives overcame their fear and replaced it with the courage of joy. Is that how it is for us here this morning? Has our Paschal celebration replaced our fears with the courage of joy? Or have we left Jesus Christ out of our everyday living and simply gone back to being afraid of what frightens us?
Two small boys were a constant problem for the pastor, and the parents did nothing to correct them. So the pastor told his assistant, Deacon Vassily, that if the boys were disruptive during the morning’s Liturgy to bring them up to the altar. Sure enough the boys showed up with their usual vigor. After a short while of talking and laughing and making airplanes out of bulletins, Deacon Vassily grabbed the two miscreants and brought them up to the altar behind the Iconostasis. The Priest, wanting the boys to realize that they were in God’s house, asked one of them, "Billy, do you know where God is?" With a look of terror on his face, Billy grabbed the other boy by the hand and they ran out of the altar, out of the church, all the way to Billy's house and into his bedroom where Billy immediately staring packing a suitcase. His buddy asked him, "What are we doing?!" Billy replied, “There’s no time! Father said that God is missing and he thinks we know where he is!"
Sometimes, in our everyday living God asks us something which we misunderstand, and having misunderstood, we run away from looking at it or trying to come to understand it. This afternoon, let us take a moment to reflect upon the Myyrhbearers fear, and their running, and ask ourselves: What response is provoked in me by Christ’s resurrection… flight, or fight? When I am frightened or worried or stressed… do I run from God?

Christ is Risen!

Phil. 4: 4-9
John 12: 1-18

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Glory to Jesus Christ!
Fresh out of the seminary, a young Priest and his wife were struggling to make ends meet. One day, the young Priest was going through their receipts and he came across one for the purchase of a dress that cost $250. The young Priest was livid. "How could you do this?!" he demanded of his wife. “Well,” she began, "I was outside the store looking at the dress in the window, and then I found myself trying it on. It was like Satan was whispering in my ear, 'You look fabulous in that dress. Buy it!'" In self-righteous fury, the young Priest replied, "You know how I deal with that kind of temptation? I say, 'Get behind me, Satan!'"… to which his wife replied, “Oh, I did, but then he said, 'It looks fabulous from back here, too!'"
When we really want to justify our extravagance, we can find reasons. This morning’s feast celebrates the giving of extravagant gifts. The welcome given to Jesus as he entered Jerusalem was extravagance bordering on near riot. Mary’s unfettered anointing of Jesus with expensive spikenard was an extravagance which ignored cost. And yet… the same people who welcomed Jesus this morning will be the ones, on Friday, who will nail him to the Cross. It kind of makes you wonder about what they thought discipleship to Jesus requires.
A preacher said to a farmer one day, "Do you belong to the Christian family?" Eyeing the preacher suspiciously, the farmer slowly replied, "No. They live two farms down." This response frustrated the preacher. "No,” he said, “I mean are you lost?" At that, the farmer brightened up and said, "No, I've been here thirty years." Beside himself, the preacher demanded, "I mean are you ready for Judgment Day?" "When is it?" the farmer inquired. Sensing a trap, the preacher cautiously replied, "It could be today, could be tomorrow." "Well,” the farmer said, “when you find out for sure when it is, you let me know. My wife will probably want to go both days!"
When we are determined to avoid the truth, we seem to never run out of excuses that seem valid to us. How honest are with ourselves about our following after Jesus Christ? How do we view discipleship: Is it extravagance well-spent, or a waste of time and an inconvenience? Do we give generously of ourselves as did the widow with her meager mite, or do we only give the minimum required? Do we come to the Sunday Divine Liturgy only because we “have to”? Do we only come to other services when nothing good is on tv? Such an approach to discipleship to Jesus Christ would be hard-pressed to be called “extravagant”. In fact, such an approach to following Jesus Christ can rightfully be called miserly.
So the question that this morning’s celebration asks of us, is: Are we minimalist Christians, or extravagant Christians?

It all depends upon how we view the requirements for being a Christian. For example: It is a common experience for many of us to give up the reading of Scripture and prayer when it no longer “feels” enjoyable. We fall prey to the misguided thinking that it is of no use to read the Scriptures when we do not enjoy them, and no use to pray when we “feel” no impulse to prayer. The fact is that when we make judgments simply according to “feeling”, we often come to regret the short-sightedness of those feelings.

The truth is that in order to benefit from reading the Scriptures we ought to continue to read them, no matter what we feel, and the way to obtain a spirit of prayer is to continue praying, especially when we no longer feel like doing so! The fact is that the less we read the Word of God, the less we desire to read it, and the less we pray, the less we desire to pray.

If our discipleship to Jesus Christ is characterized by miserliness or by an incorrect understanding, our resulting impoverishment will be of our own doing. Without the extravagant outpouring of ourselves that being a follower of Jesus Christ requires… as evidenced by his own example on the cross on Great Friday… then we are in danger of becoming Christian Pharisees.
An old preacher was dying. He sent a message for his doctor and his lawyer, both church members, to come to his home. When they arrived, they were ushered up to his bedroom. As they entered the room the preacher weakly held out his trembling hands and motioned for them to sit, one on each side of his bed. The preacher grasped their hands, sighed contentedly, smiled and stared at the ceiling. For a time, no one said anything. Both the doctor and lawyer were touched and flattered that the preacher would ask them to be with him during his final moments. But they were also puzzled as neither could remember any indication on the preacher’s part that he particularly liked either of them. Rather, they both remembered his many long, uncomfortable sermons about greed, covetousness and avaricious behavior that had made them squirm in their seats. Finally, the doctor gently asked, "Preacher, why did you ask us to come?" The old preacher mustered up his strength, and then replied weakly, "Jesus died between two thieves, and that's how I want to go."
Without thankfulness fueling our following of Christ, we will be unable to understand love’s outpouring of itself…either on this morning’s unmeasured anointing of Jesus, or on Great Friday’s afternoon on Golgotha. If we are miserly Christians, then… like Judas Iscariot… our cry will be, “Why was this fragrant oil not sold for three hundred denarii?” And we all know that this objection is NOT about the money!

As we journey towards Golgotha this week, let us ask the Holy Spirit to come and enlarge our hearts and to help us to not take such a miserly approach to discipleship, to life, or to one another.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

Heb. 9: 11-14
Mark 10: 32-45

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

A pastor had had a really bad week, and as a result, was in a foul mood on Sunday when he went to give his sermon. Shaking his finger at the congregation, he chided, "Everyone in this parish is going to hell if they don't change their ways." One man in the back began to laugh out loud. This so angered the Pastor that he yelled, “This is no laughing matter! Everyone in this parish is going to hell if they don’t change their ways!” The man in the back laughed even louder. The Pastor, his face red with rage, bellowed, “Why are you laughing?!” From the back, the man replied, "Because I don't belong to this parish!"
Why do we think that the call to repentance is for others, and not for us? This morning, the church offers St. Mary of Egypt’s life to us as an icon of repentance. Sometime during St. Mary’s long night of tears her heart was broken and purged, and gave birth to humility, which enabled her from then on to lead a life of repentance. In short: She changed!
We might well be tempted to think, “But she really needed to change, she was a prostitute!” How easy it is for us to see where others need to change, and yet to be blind to our own need for change.

In this morning’s Gospel reading, we heard the following: “Then James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came to him and said, ‘Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask…Grant us that we may sit, one on your right hand and the other on your left, in your glory.’”

Like the apostles, we all… in one way or another, to one degree or another… want glory. And yet, according to Jesus Christ, the way to greatness is not by being at the top of the heap:
“Whoever desires to become great among you shall be your servant. And whoever of you desires to be first shall be slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.”

In other words, Christ was telling his disciples that their take on what being a disciple meant had to change. According to Jesus, we can become as we should be by serving others; according to Jesus Christ, this is what being his disciple should look like.
A new Pastor arrived at his new office to move his things in, and came across the old Pastor who was carrying his things out. The former pastor said, "I left three envelopes in your desk. If you have any trouble, open them." Well, of course the new Pastor presumed that he’d never need them, and in his enthusiasm, he decided to change the time of the Divine Liturgy from 9am to 10am. Soon, the old ladies of the parish were calling and chewing him out for his inconsiderateness at changing their Sunday routine, and they were really, really upset. The Pastor remembered the three envelopes and so he opened the first one, which read, "You haven't been here long, but you decided to change the time of the Divine Liturgy and the old ladies are up in arms. Just tell them that the former Pastor told you to do this but that you’d be happy to change the time back.” So that’s what the new Pastor did and it worked out well.
The new Pastor had been there about a year and a half when he decided to eliminate parish bingo. He started getting anonymous threatening calls which really shook him up, and then he remembered the two envelopes still left, so he went back to the drawer and opened the second one, and read, "You tried to eliminate bingo and now there's talk of replacing you. Tell them that it is the Bishop who didn’t want it but that it doesn't make any difference to you if the parish keeps it.” Well, this approach put out the fire.
That is, until by the third year of his tenure there, he told the parish Sisterhood that he wanted them turn over all their pierogi funds to him. This put the Sisterhood in open and angry revolt. So the Pastor went back and opened the third and final envelope, whereupon he read, “You've been here about three years and you’ve finally gotten the Sisterhood mad. The only thing to do now is to prepare three envelopes."
We all appreciate repentance, and the change it implies… in theory. It’s when repentance starts getting specific to MY life, though, that the trouble begins, and the reasons occur to me why things should just stay the same. Had that been Mary of Egypt’s mindset, she would have remained a prostitute, and we would not be commemorating her this morning. Is it possible that Jesus wants less of us than he wanted of Mary of Egypt… we who also call ourselves his disciples? So if Christ expects us to change, then why don’t we change?
Perhaps we do not change, do not actually repent, because we are still unnecessarily carrying baggage from the past. Repentance means to put it down, and move on instead of revisiting the irritations of the past. Think about the oyster. It takes an irritating grain of sand and turns it into a beautiful pearl. But we, by clinging to the memory of past irritations, take the pearl that today is and turn it into yet another source of irritation. It would seem, then, that the way to make pearls out of our irritations is to change how we look at the irritations.
That change in viewpoint is what we mean by “repentance”.
Three friends decided to go hunting together. One was a lawyer, one was a doctor, and the other was a preacher. As they were walking, along came a big buck and all three of them shot simultaneously. Immediately the buck dropped to the ground and the three rushed up to see how big it actually was. Upon reaching it they found out that it was dead but had only one bullet hole in the head. Thus a debate followed concerning whose buck it was. Five minutes later a game officer came by and asked what the problem was. The doctor told him their reason for the debate. The officer told them he would take a look and tell them who shot it. A few quick seconds later he said he knew who shot the buck. He said with much confidence, "The preacher shot the buck!" They all wondered how he knew that so quickly. The officer said, "Easy. The bullet went in one ear and out the other."
On this last Sunday of Great Lent of 2010, through St. Mary of Egypt’s life, Jesus Christ expresses a last call to repentance and change before we enter the sacred days of the Passion and the Resurrection. Let us pray, during this final week of Great Lent of 2010, that his call does not go in one ear and out the other. As we so often hear in the Divine Liturgy: “Let us attend!”

Glory to Jesus Christ!