Sermons

Sermon for 2nd Sunday after Trinity

by FrAnders

Trinity II

St Anselm’s Anglican Church, Pacific Grove

1 John 3:13-24

Luke 14:16-24

Whosoever he be of you that forsaketh not all that he hath, he cannot be my disciple (Luke 16:33). These words of Christ, found a few verses after the conclusion of today’s Gospel reading, were directed at the multitude that followed Jesus. This morning of grace, they are directed at us.

What is our goal in life? When all is said and done, what is the goal of all this spiritual laboring and reading, morning prayer and evening prayer, writing and worshipping? Well, what else could the goal be other than reconciliation with our Creator? That we should walk with God during our time here on earth in a way that allows us to dwell in him perfectly in eternity. ‘Israel’ means to ‘persevere with God.’ The Church–and this has been our faith through the ages–truly is the new Israel; forged in the old covenants and fulfilled and perfected in the new covenant, in and through Christ.

Today’s Gospel reading calls on us to reflect on the demands made on those who persevere with God. The reading from St Luke is the text appointed for the ‘Sunday of the Forefathers’ in the Eastern Orthodox Church, a feast shortly before Christmas devoted to the celebration of Christ’s ancestors according to the flesh. St Gregory Palamas explains that this is done “so that all may learn that the Hebrews were not disinherited nor the Gentiles adopted as sons in a way that was unjust, unreasonable or unworthy of God who did these things and made these changes. Rather, just as among those Gentiles who were called, only the obedient ones were chosen, so the race of Israel… only those among them who lived according to God’s will were true Israelites. To them the prophecies belonged, through them future events were prefigured, and to them the promises were given” (Hom LV).

When the prophecies were fulfilled in and through Christ, this was not what many of them had expected, and they rejected him. When God made good on His promises in and through Christ, many received Him as an impostor and an inconvenience, rather than a blessing. When the Messiah really did come, many of the chosen ones were no longer interested. This relationship, this changing response of the people of God to God’s loving mercy, is at the heart of the parable recounted by St Luke. It is among the most straightforward parables in Scripture, the dramatis personae are easy to recognize, and their responses are easy to interpret. That said, it is commonly the case that layers kan be peeled away to reveal something not immediately evident, and this parable is no exception. A piece of ground, five pairs of oxen, and a wife–these are the excuses recounted in the parable. Earthly possessions had become more important than heavenly treasure. But what kinds of earthly possessions are these? St Augustine (of Hippo, not Canterbury) saw these possessions as pointing to something beyond themselves (Hom LXII). The possessions are not problematic. It is perfectly possible to be a married, cattle owning farmer and still follow Christ. To St Augustine, the issue is not with the possessions, but with the way in which the possessions have ensnared the people and diverted their focus. In his homily, St Augustine suggests that the piece of ground that the first man had bought indicates a sense of dominion as opposed to stewardship, an imperative to own and control that is ultimately grounded in human pride and ambition. The second man’s five pairs of oxen indicate–as part of an extensive explanation that I will not go into here–the five bodily senses: sight, smell, hearing, touch and taste. This St Augustine understands as our preoccupation with worldly things; with things that we can see, smell, hear, touch and taste. That is to say, an interest in the world around us, rather than the interior, spiritual world. And, suggests St Augustine, the third man’s excuse of having taken a wife indicates, not a preoccupation with family life–because married life is in and of itself eminently Christian–but with carnal desires and lust. Put differently, and less specific, what causes the invited guests to reject the invitation are various expressions of materialism. Corrupted passions and warped priorities are the root of the explanation for why these invited guests turned away the servants when they came to inform them that the supper is ready; that preparation is complete and, in the words of Christ on the cross, it is finished (John 19:30).

Friends, nothing in this parable is specific to the Israelites. This is not merely a historical anecdote about other people long ago and far away. This is an ongoing spiritual truth for those who profess to persevere with God; for those who have received the invitation to the supper. Just as the prophecies and the promises belonged to the faithful among the Israelites, and to them only, so too do the prophecies and promises belong to the faithful among the Christ followers, and to them only. We are the branches grafted onto the Israelite tree planted by God; a tree has the roots that ground us and through which we receive the nourishment necessary for survival and growth. We are neither better, smarter or more sophisticated than the Israelites. Therefore, friends, are we called to pause and ask ourselves, holding up this parable as a mirror before our faces: is all this spiritual toil of ours really leading us towards that blessed goal of redemption and reconciliation. Let us not run aimlessly or box as one beating the air (1 Cor 9:26) as St Paul writes to the Corinthians.

In his letter to the Philippians, St Paul laments the many Christians of whom I have often told you and now tell you even with tears, walk as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their end is destruction, their god is their belly, and they glory in their shame, with minds set on earthly things (Phil 3:18, 19). Does this not sound exactly like those three men in the parable, who reject the invitation because of sinful passions and materialism? St Paul talks about the necessity of a living faith, and tells us that to keep that living faith is a struggle. There is no hint anywhere in Scripture that there is anything easy or guaranteed about salvation. That notion, so common today within evangelical Christianity, that salvation is like a spiritual vaccine–one shot and your done–is simply not scriptural. In his letters, St Paul tells us repeatedly of living Christianity as an ongoing struggle. So are we truly struggling? Is our spiritual toil and our belief leading us to reconciliation, or to self-righteousness? Does the Word stir us to action or sooth our egos? Are we on the right path forward? I don’t mean we as ‘the Church,’ but we as individuals confessing the faith of the Church—are we serious about this confession and all its implications or are we, like the Israelites, getting too comfortable?

God’s holy prophet Jeremiah was sent to prophesy against Jerusalem. As the nation of Israel wallowed in sin and selfishness, Jeremiah warned them: Thus says the LORD: If you will not listen to me, to walk in my law that I have set before you, and to listen to the words of my servants the prophets whom I send to you urgently, though you have not listened, then I will make this house like Shiloh, and I will make this city a curse for all the nations of the earth (Jer 26:4-6). Repent and serve the Lord. That’s it. God tells his people to straighten up and fly right, and he does so out of love; the everlasting, tender love of a parent who, with the heart of a father and a mother, seeks nothing but blessings for his children.

But the reaction against Jeremiah was what? They wanted to put him to death. Then the priests and the prophets said to the officials and to all the people, This man deserves the sentence of death, because he has prophesied against this city, as you have heard with your own ears (Jer 26:11). The priests and the prophets in Jerusalem itself, the servants at the Holy of Holies wanted to have the messenger of God killed. Small wonder then, that Jesus underscores the wickedness of the chosen people by referring to Jerusalem, the holy place were God dwelled, as the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it (Luke 13:34). He does so shortly before offering the parable that is today’s Gospel reading.

Again, these are not mere historical anecdotes about other people long ago and far away, but an ongoing spiritual truth for those who profess to walk with God. We get comfortable in church. This is a fact. Tradition and liturgy gives stability to our lives. Church attendance provides a nice frame. We are told form the pulpit that God loves us, that the Church to which we belong is the mystical body of Christ, and so on and so forth. Soothing and stabilizing, lovely and comfortable. So the question remains: am I ready to respond to the servants when they bring that message that the supper is on? Am I content simply with being chosen, or am I eager for that for which I have been chosen—discipleship?

Let’s not kid ourselves that living Christianity, persevering with God, is easier today than it was for the Israelites of old. We live in a world that constantly hammers home the point that material possessions are the be all and end all of life. Where everything seems to be about prestige, power and lust. Where greed is good and the most important benchmark for success is to be more successful than the neighbor. In a world where our churches are teeming with priests and priestesses who accept, condone, encourage and engage in activities and lifestyles that are contrary to God’s will and unworthy of those chosen to sit at the table of the Lord. In a world where many church leaders lack the moral fiber to say no to that which is contrary to the faith, while clergy and laity who do say no find themselves shunned or even sued by the very churches to which they belong. In a world where life is grand for the superficial Christian who contents himself with dead faith, but hard and perilous for those who wish to follow Christ in the footsteps of the apostles. In this world, in these surroundings, are we able to say ‘yes’ without reservation, to the invitation?

As we ask ourselves these questions, let us remember that we already have the invitation. By grace are we chosen, and by grace are we able to persevere with God, guided by His holy Word and trusting in His love and mercy. With a living faith in our hearts, a living and life-giving passion that is divine love and love of the divine, we can steer clear of the pitfalls and run the race to the end. St Peter writes, He has called you out of darkness into His marvelous light. Once you were no people, but now you are a people. Once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy (1 Pet 2:9b-10).

May the Lord continue to have mercy on us. Amen.

Sermon for 1st Sunday after Trinity

2011/06/27

by FrAnders

TRINITY I

St. Anselm’s Anglican Church

1 John 4:7-21

Luke 16:19-31

Burial shrouds do not come with pockets. How rich we are, how well dressed or well groomed we may be does not matter when we are called to account for our lives before the judgment seat. In today’s Gospel reading, the rich man finds out that all those things–those costly items and valuable trappings that had been so important to him in life–were useless to him in eternity. In fact, he had allowed himself to be ensnared by the good life. Greed—the passion for more and more and more—had come to govern him and in the end, he had remained spiritually destitute even though he had amassed great worldly fortunes. The truth that we are called to reflect upon this morning of grace is this: we are not judged by what is in our storehouse, but by what is in our hearts.

So, what is in our hearts? Another way of asking the same question is—does my heart belong to the world or to God? Yet another way to ask the same question is—which passion fills my heart? Which passion moves me, compels me, drives me forward? There are many passions to choose from, including the seven mortal sins. Is my heart governed by greed? Or anger? Perhaps lust or gluttony compels me? Friends, the seven mortal sins are real, and they have real consequences. In what today is, of course, extremely unfashionable language, they have been likened to seven devils (Laestadius, Dhj). These devils may move into a person’s heart at any time, change the locks and take control of it. Once lodged in our hearts, they compel our thoughts, our desires and our actions. They direct our lives. Many a life has been lived under the guidance of the passion called greed, including that of the rich man in today’s reading. For this reason, St Josémaria Escriva remarked: “Remember that the heart is a traitor. Keep it locked with seven bolts” (The Way, § 188).

The Christian passion is love. Love is a more than a core element of the Christian faith: it is the core. It is the beginning, the content, the frame and the end of true faith. It is the indispensible foundation for our fellowship with God and with other human beings, as well as for our stewardship of creation. God’s love for all of mankind—for all of His creation—is reflected in every aspect of His revelation throughout the Scriptures, and it is the only basis for our fellowship with him: by grace are we saved, and God’s grace is nothing other than a product of His love. For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life (John 3:16).

Our redemption in Christ through His passion, death and resurrection has no other basis than God’s love (Læstadius, Dhj. § 33), nor does it have any other purpose than to bring us into that love; to allow us to dwell in love and thereby in God. God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him (1 John 4:16). To be sure, we acknowledge and worship God’s majesty, might, justice and glory—but all these ‘attributes’ are expressions or functions of His love.

The love of God for all of humanity is infinitely greater than man’s hatred against fellow men. It is worthwhile pausing before the gravity of this truth and to consider its implications. Or, perhaps more accurately, consider the implications that we are called to transform into reality. God’s love is not some ethereal cloud that hovers above us, or swooshes around us like a gust of divine wind. It is not an otherworldly object or a distant supernatural notion. God’s love has implications through God’s people; it works in and through individuals of flesh and blood.

Love is also a passion. It is as real, it as is forceful, it is as compelling as any other passion. When it comes to human love, it affects our senses and our intellect and prompts us, compels us to take action. Perhaps to move from one city to another in order to be closer to the one we love. To marry, to have children, to work hard, to deny one’s own needs in order to fulfill the needs of loved ones. We know this. Everyone who has ever been in love knows it: love is a passion that affects the way we order our lives.

Why, then, do we so often allow ourselves the cozy illusion that loving God is different? We know that God’s love for man moved God himself to send the Son to fulfill the Law, and then send the Spirit to teach, comfort and guide us. We know that God’s love for man moved Jesus to sweat blood in the garden of Gethsemane, and then press on in order to repair once and for all the broken relationship between the divine and the human. God’s love is powerful enough to move God himself—but what about us? Why do we systematically assume that God’s love is some abstraction, or at least live our lives as if it were?

Many believe, because they have been so taught, that there is something so utterly ideal and idealized about the teachings of the Gospel that fulfilling is simply beyond the grasp of humans. Instead, we ought to be content simply to have faith that the ideal exists ‘up there’ while we remain utterly incapable of achieving it ‘down here.’ The Gospel teachings viewed in this way serve simply to demonstrate how utterly unworthy we are. In many denominations it is taught that this is as it should be because it causes us to rely on grace rather than achievement, which in turn is the central aspect of our salvation, our ability to become and remain Christian. Any ideas we might have about actually fulfilling the demands made in Gospel are written off as works righteousness, a theology of self-reliance rather than a theology of grace.

For the hardhearted sinner who has not reconciled with God in faith; for those whose hearts are ruled by the passions of this world, this is true. But what is our excuse? Does not something fundamentally change when, as Christians, we claim to be enveloped in God’s love? Again, St John writes that God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him. Is this merely a pretty sentiment, a Hallmark moment, or does it have real world implications? I am not saying that we can attain perfection in this life. Nor am I saying that we can ever avoid failure. But to acknowledge our human limitations is very different from making excuses to not be moved at all. Again, the passions of the world—greed, ambition, lust and so forth—move us to commit all kinds of more or less openly heinous acts. Love between human beings has the power to change lives. God’s love has the power to move God himself–to send the Word and the Spirit in order to heal the rupture caused by sin. Yet among so many who call themselves Christians, God’s love is somehow less real, less forceful, than the seven devils; it is a ‘divine abstraction’; an ideal that is beyond our reach—and then we turn around and make our inability to be moved by God’s love into a corner stone of our salvation.

Why would believe that we have not been given the capacity to love in the way that God requires of us? Some reasons suggest themselves. Seven reasons, in fact. Friends, convenience, which is a product of sloth, is one answer. Not wanting to appear odd to friends and neighbors, which is a product of ambition and self-righteousness, is another answer. Wanting to live our lives as we see fit, which is a product of egoism, is yet another answer. Those seven mortal sins are mortal because they have the ability to lodge themselves so firmly in our hearts that they prevent the one passion that can save, love, from entering—all the while persuading us that we’re doing alright, we’re decent types, we observe moderation, we try our human best.

On October 2, 2006, a gunman entered the West Nickel Mines Schoolhouse and killed five young girls belonging to the Old Order Amish community, before killing himself. Fighting the passion we know as hatred, the Old Order Amish community reached out to the family of the perpetrator, counseled them, brought gifts, and sought reconciliation rather than reproach. They attended the funeral of the man who had killed their children, and they invited the killer’s family to their children’s funerals. Through their lives, these anonymous saints reflected the all-forgiving love exemplified by Jesus on the cross at Golgotha

In Auschwitz, on August 14, 1941, Franciscan priest Maximilian Kolbe, volunteered to die in the place of a stranger who had been randomly selected for execution. When Kolbe heard the man cry with despair for the future of his wife and children, he took the man’s place, was tortured and eventually killed, while the stranger went on to live and survive the camp. Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends (Jn 15:13). St Maximilian’s life and death absolutely reflected what Scripture itself calls the greatest form of love.

On April 15, 1889, Jozef de Veuster, better known as Father Damien of Molokai, died of leprosy after sixteen years of service to the leper colony quarantined on Molokai. He had volunteered for the mission, knowing that it meant daily exposure to this horrific disease. Six months into his mission, he wrote in a letter, “I make myself a leper with the lepers to gain all to Jesus Christ.” St Damien entire being was a reflection of God’s love for the poor and the sick.

These are acts of Christian heroism, but they are actually not that uncommon. We live in a world where the church is still persecuted, where disease and poverty are rampant, where oppression and tyranny are endemic—and where the nameless workers of the church, clergy and laity alike, are moved to serve, minister and sacrifice for love. Where Christians are still repaid for their love with imprisonment, torture and death. These people serve as examples to us all that it is indeed possible to be moved by God’s love, to follow Christ by loving God above all and our neighbors as ourselves. We must remember that people who are not Christians are also moved by love to selflessly serve others and they must be also be held up as beacons–beacons of the power of love to cause real-world action.

As Christians trying to live in and through divine love, we must prayerfully ask–what is my calling? How am I meant to transform divine love into human action? Where has God placed me? Whom has God sent in my way? What am I skilled at? What do I have to offer? We are not all called to be a St Maximilian or a St Damien. Most of us are not called to perform deeds that are noticed around the world. In most of our lives, the small things are what must be transformed by love into a sacrifice. If we are moved by love we are moved by love–and it matters not one bit if the action is small or great. The point is not the magnitude or global importance of our actions, but rather that we allow ourselves to be truly envloped by God’s love; to be lovers of God by allowing His love to compel us into action, whatever that may be. At any rate, even the great saints have begun their journeys by transforming the little things through what is known, again somewhat unfashionably, as interior mortification. St Josémaria wrote:

The appropriate word you left unsaid; the joke you didn’t tell; the cheerful smile for those who bother you; that silence when you’re unjustly accused; your kind conversation with people you find boring and tactless; the daily effort to overlook one irritating detail or another in those who live with you… this, with perseverance, is indeed solid interior mortification. (The Way, §173)

If it is divine love that compels us, that drives us forward, it does not matter one little bit if our deeds are great or small. With love comes humility, which in itself is nothing other than a loving response to a love that we have in no way merited or deserved. I will conclude by reading you a few lines from a prayer by St Therese of Lisieux, who in small things was always able to both find and offer great love:

But, you know my weakness, Lord. Every morning I make a resolution to practice humility and in the evening I recognize that I have committed again many faults of pride. At this I am tempted to be discouraged but I know that discouragement is also pride. Therefore, O my God, I want to base my hope in You alone. Since you can do everything, deign to bring to birth in my soul the virtue I desire. To obtain this grace of your infinite mercy I will very often repeat: ‘O Jesus, gentle and humble of heart, make my heart like yours!’ (Prayer for Acquiring Humility)

May the Lord continue to have mercy on us all. Amen.

Trinity Sunday Sermon

2011/06/20

by FrAnders

THE FEAST OF THE MOST HOLY TRINITY

St Anselm’s Anglican Church

Rev 4:1-11

Jn 3:1-15

We believe in Father and Son and Holy Ghost;

one Godhead in three hypostases;

one will, one operation, alike in three persons;

wisdom incorporeal, uncreated, immortal, incomprehensible,

without beginning, unmoved, unaffected, without quantity,

without quality, ineffable, immutable, unchangeable, uncontained,

equal in glory, equal in power, equal in majesty, equal in might, equal in nature,

exceedingly substantial, exceedingly good,

thrice radiant, thrice bright, thrice brilliant.

We may not understand, but we believe with simplicity. We may not understand, but we accept this with humility. This attitude lies at the heart of the Feast of the Most Holy Trinity. Our powers of logic and reason and inquiry fall short of the task of comprehending the nature of God. One is three without division; three is one, yet not the same–nothing created can fully fathom this sublime truth about the nature of the Divine. But we submit humbly and say: Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief (Mark 9:2). By the grace of God, not by our own intellectual abilities, do we live and serve. For this we are gathered to give thanks and praise on this morning of grace.

Last week I talked a little bit about the church calendar–actually, I talked at length about the calendar–and how it all hangs together in a coherent whole. From Christmas to Pentecost we commemorated, celebrated and gave thanks for the earthly ministry of Christ. Now we enter a string of twenty-plus weeks that are ordered quite differently. They are faith feasts in which the mysteries and doctrines of our faith are the focus of our reflection in liturgical worship. The Feast of the Most Holy Trinity is the first of these, and it is also the finale to all the preceding feasts.

All three persons of the Holy Trinity shared in the work of redemption. The Father sent the Son to earth, For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life (Jn 3:16). The Father created us, created us anew in Christ, called us to the faith. The Son, our Savior Jesus Christ, became man and died for us. He redeemed us and made us children of God. He remains with us in his body the Church, and through His body and blood in the sacrifice, His sacrifice, of the Eucharist. After Christ’s ascension, the Holy Spirit was sent by the Father, as the Son promised, to be the Teacher, the Leader, the Comforter, our Guide. Today we are called to relect on a mystery of faith that, in effect, is a synthesis of Christmas, Epiphany, Easter and Pentecost. The fact that this celebration falls on the first Sunday after Pentecost should make us mindful, help us recall, that all Sundays are devoted to the honor of the Most Holy Trinity; that every Sunday is sanctified and consecrated to the Triune God. Sunday after Sunday we should recall in adoration and gratitude the gifts which the Most Holy Trinity is bestowing upon us.

Some might ask, why is this even an issue? There is no mention in the Bible of the concept of Trinity. None. There is no passage that explains it or lays down the law on Trinitarian doctrine. The closest we get is the great commission, when Christ tells the disciples to go and baptize in the name of the Father and Son and Holy Ghost. This is actually very important in the context of the Trinity. Particularly because ‘the name’ of the three is singular; it is not ‘the names,’ but ‘the name,’ and this is not a translation error. Hardly enough for a doubter, though, who could reasonable say, ‘show me a passage where it says, specifically, that there is this mystical reversal of mathematics and logic.’ I can’t. There isn’t one.

We know of the Most Holy Trinity because the first generations of Christians pondered, prayed, read Scripture, and reflected on the way Scripture was connected, is connected, and their insight is preserved for us in, among other things, our creeds. They were able to see the picture behind the picture. The backdrop that looms large but that, if you stare at the details, you will miss. The backdrop that gives color and tone and context and depth to everything in the picture. The backdrop that makes the picture you see the picture you see, and not some other picture. We may not even notice the backdrop as we look at the details, but we are able to see the details because of that very backdrop. The Most Holy Trinity does not need to be explained in detail, not even explicitly mentioned, for it to be present on every page of Scripture.

Johannes Tauler, a great German 14^th century mystic and student of Meister Eckhart, wrote that, “on this subject a staggering amount of things could be said, and yet nothing would have been said… To experience the workings of the Trinity is better than to talk about it… and though there is no subject more joyous and sweet to the taste, there is also nothing more grievous than falling into error concerning it. Therefore, stop your disputations on that mystery, and believe it in simplicity, entrusting yourselves wholly to God” (Hom 29).

For the Christian, life begins and ends by the grace of God. He created us and has given us every minute of our lives until the day we die. This is God’s grace and providence that we partake of every day and for this reason the life of a Christian is very explicitly begun and ended, in baptism and last rites, in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. This concept, then, that we cannot even explain has become one of the single most important doctrinal statement of the Christian Church. The understanding of the Church is that baptism in the name of the Triune God is what provides membership in the Christian Church. This is why no one who has been baptized in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit is baptized again when he or she moves from one denomination to another. And it is why those who are members of groups that claim to be Christian but do not baptize their members in the name of the Triune God are baptized, such as Jehova’s Witnesses and Mormons. Walking by fait in the Triune God, who revealed himself to us in the person of the Son and guides us in the person of the Holy Sprit is what makes a Christian.

I began this sermon with a few lines from a doctrinal statement from the early undivided Church. They were written by one of the Church’s greatest theologians and confessors, St John of Damascus. St John goes on, and let us listen carefully:

Light is the Father, Light the Son, Light the Holy Ghost;

Wisdom the Father, Wisdom the Son, Wisdom the Holy Ghost;

one God and not three Gods;

one Lord the Holy Trinity discovered in three hypostases.

Father is the Father, and unbegotten;

Son is the Son, begotten and not unbegotten, for He is from the Father;

Holy Ghost, not begotten but proceeding, for He is from the Father.

There is nothing created, nothing of the first and second order, nothing lord and servant;

but there is unity and trinity

- there was, there is, and there shall be forever –

which is perceived and adored by faith –

by faith, not by inquiry, nor by searching out, nor by visible manifestation;

for the more He is sought out, the more He is unknown, and the more He is investigated,

the more He is hidden.

The most important question may not be ‘what can be said about the Trinity?’ but ‘what can be felt?’ Johannes Tauler argued that you must “allow the Holy Trinity to be born in the center of your soul, not by the use of human reason, but in essence and in truth; not in words, but in reality. It is the divine mystery we should seek, and how we are truly its Image; for this divine Image certainly dwells in our souls by nature, actually, truly, and distinctly, though of course no in as lofty a manner as in itself” (Hom 29). And St John of Damascus expresses a similar view when he writes:

And so, let the faithful adore God with a mind that is not overcurious. And believe that He is God in three hypostases, although the manner in which He is so is beyond manner, for God is incomprehensible. Do not ask how the Trinity is Trinity, for the Trinity is inscrutable.

But, if you are curious about God, first tell me of yourself and the things that pertain to you. How does your soul have existence? How is your mind set in motion? How do you produce your mental concepts? How is it that you are both mortal and immortal? But, if you are ignorant of these things which are within you, then why do you not shudder at the thought of investigating the sublime things of heaven?

Think of the Father as a spring of life begetting the Son like a river and the Holy Ghost like a sea, for the spring and the river and sea are all one nature. Think of the Father as a root, and of the Son as a branch, and the Spirit as a fruit, for the substance in these three is one. The Father is a sun with the Son as rays and the Holy Ghost as heat.

This is the advice of one of the greatest theologians of Church history: leave it alone. Leave it alone not just because the creature cannot grasp the essence of the Creator, but because it is a virtue to walk by faith alone. Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed (John 20:29). We walk by faith even when it comes to the very nature of our God. I love this fact because, whatever He is, He is most certainly not made in our image. If we could comprehend God, then He could very well be an idol, a mental graven image made in our own likeness. The fact that we cannot comprehend God is to me a good argument for the truth of the Christian faith. Again, St John of Damascus:

Be persuaded, moreover, that the incarnate dispensation of the Son of God was begotten ineffably without seed of the blessed Virgin, believing Him to be without confusion and without change both God and man, who for your sake worked all the dispensation. And to Him by good works give worship and adoration, [and venerate and revere] honor the most holy Mother of God [and ever-virgin Mary as true Mother of God,] and all the saints as His attendants. Doing thus, you will be a right worshiper of the holy and undivided Trinity, Father and Son and Holy Ghost, of the one Godhead, to whom be glory and honor and adoration forever and ever. Amen

Be humble, have a simple faith, and let your love for God be ardent. Embrace God in complete, utter and total trust. Know that he is, instead of inquiring or disputing abou what and how he is. When all is said and done, that may be the most important lesson of the Feast of the Most Holy Trinity—humility, simplicity and love, fundamental as both a point of departure and as end station for our journey of faith.

May the Lord continue to have mercy on us all. Amen.

As we gather to celebrate the birth of the Church, I want to spend some time dwelling on the church calendar. To many, the Church year often seems complicated and antiquated; the ritualistic relics of a distant past that have

little relevance to us today. Only yesterday did I read in a newspaper about how many or most of the Evangelical churches do not celebrate Pentecost. According to one pastor interviewed, other than Christmas and Easter, and maybe Advent and Holy Week, “the rest of the church calendar is viewed as liturgical and ritualistic.” Another pastor was quoted as saying, “I also think we want Jesus to be the main thing. Can’t say if that’s right or not.” The article goes on to say that “in the history of the church, especially among Orthodox, Roman Catholic, and older Protestant denominations, special holidays were created and practiced with flourish. ‘Which ones are worthy of paying attention to?’ he asked. ‘It’s hard to pick.’” Here we are dealing with an age-old tension between individual preference and church doctrine, and I am not going to say more about that today other than noting that it is precisely due to the capricious nature of individual preference that we don’t get to pick.

Often, however, the complaint about the church calendar is that we have these various themes that aren’t ordered in any obviously sensible way. For instance, we proceed from Annunciation through Advent, Epiphany—and then already three months or so later, we are at death, crucifixion and resurrection–with another eight months to go until the first of Advent is again upon us.

The Church’s “year of g

race,” as it has been called, is intimately connected to the natural calendar’s yearly cycle. A problem today is that even the natural year has lost its significance in the modern industrialized world, at the apex of which are currently the United States and Europe. World travel and global trade have created for us a world in which we no longer need worry about the availability of fresh produce, for instance. My mother told me that when she was little, fresh cucumber was a summer luxury, and my grandmother would always go off to the grocer to buy half a kilo of fresh cucumber as soon as it was available; my mother and my uncle thought of this as a summer luxury. The rest of the year was pickle season. To me, the smell of tangerines is the smell of Christmas, because that was the only time they were available when I was a kid. Global trade, the speed of travel, and other features of the modern world have weakened our dependence on, and even our awareness of natural cycles. Hold that thought.

I hasten to add that our exposure to other peoples, cultures, customs and beliefs is not a bad thing, nor for that matter is the availability of cucumbers in the middle of winter immoral. Diversity and difference is part of God’s plan for mankind. The people in the Land of Shinar were scattered for chastisement, in order to learn humility, not because there was a need to separate the good ones from the bad ones. In the fall, as in faith, we are all equals. In Genesis we read: And the LORD said, “Behold, they are one people, and they have all one language, and this is only

the beginning of what they will do. And nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them (Gen 11:6). There are many ways to read this account, but at the root of every sensible reading lies God’s ultimately inscrutable effort to protect humanity from its own arrogance and vainglory; an arrogance that lies in self-reliance, rather than reliance on Him, and a vainglory that the people express when they say, Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth (Gen 11:4). The old saying, “Man proposes, God disposes” has no better illustration than God’s response to these people: Come, let us go down and there confuse their language, so that they may not understand one another’s speech (Gen 11:7). And the tower of Babel fell.

There is good reason to bring up Babel on Pentecost. As the Western liturgies began to evolve in the second half of the first millennium, the gift of tongues on Pentecost was thought of as having put right the ‘confusion of tongues’ visited upon mankind in the narrative of the Tower of Babel. In other words, the Babel account served as an image of mankind’s fall, reversed by the unity of one faith-confession made possible through the coming of the Holy Spirit. The Eucharistic preface from the ancient Ambrosian rite makes the relationship clear:

Today the confusion of languages which human pride had brought upon the world

the apostles received the profession of one faith and spoke in many tongues,

The angels and the powers of all creation sing the ageless hymn of your glory:

To return to the issue of separation between ourselves and the natural world, this separation lies in our continued human craftiness, despite learning about the experiences in the Land of Shinar, to create distance between ourselves and our natural surroundings–from what God created and gave us stewardship over–and also to create distance between ourselves and the Creator. A hundred years ago, the church calendar would have made much more intuitive spiritual sense to folks than it does today. Farmers and others who work the land still seem to have a better understanding of the joy of Christmas–celebration of light in the midst of darkness, of the seedling of redemption planted in the coldest and most barren season; of Lenten grief and Paschal death at the end of winter’s long stretch; and of the blossoming of the fruits of the Holy Spirit today, as the rays of the sun causes the world around us to blossom.

So the calendar is connected, it is a cycle, or a series of cycles, it follows a natural order. It is a coherent whole. There can be no Resurrection Sunday without Good Friday. Another way to put it is to say that the suffering of Good Friday brings us to the joy of Resurrection Sunday. Advent brings Christmas which in turn brings the Epiphany. The resurrection of our Lord on Easter Sunday leads us straight to the coming of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost. And all of it begins with that blessed greeting to the All Holy Mother of God and Ever Virgin Mary– treasured by the Church throughout the ages: Greetings, O favored one, the Lord is with you!… Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus (Luke 1.28-31) Mary’s response is the Church’s response: Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word (Luke 1:38).

On one level, Pentecost is straightforward. We celebrate the realization of Christ’s promise, as we heard in the gospel reading, that the Father will send the Holy Spirit on his faithful, the Comforter, to help and sustain the church. The words of Christ: But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid (John 14:26-27). This statement is part of Christ’s explanation, in parables and simple language, of what will come to pass.

The disciples are bewildered and occasionally scared, certainly they realize that they have no clue what is really about to happen, and what is really going to be expected of them. Several of them will not die of natural causes, but will receive the crown of martyrdom. They must surely have suspected a tremendous task lay ahead of them, and what comfort—what wonderful reassuring comfort these words of Christ must have been to them. The Comforter will teach you and sustain you in the truth that I have given to you. This morning of grace, friends, we are called to reflect on the grace, the joy, and the reassurance that those very words are directed also at us.

And then Jesus is killed, doubt sets in among the disciples, joy is replaced by grief and anticipation turns into trepidation. And then—Pentecost. This feast exists in the Jewish calendar, referred to as the Feast of Weeks. It is an annual day of thanksgiving for the wheat harvest and also a commemoration of God giving Moses the law in Mount Sinai. As the old foreshadowed the new, the first Christian Pentecost was a celebration of the harvest not of wheat, but of souls; and a celebration of God’s gift of Grace through Christ, in whom the Law is fulfilled.

Pentecost marks the foundation of the Church, and there are some images that may help us to reflect on the importance of this day. The following is a description that I cannot claim credit for, that must go to Pius Parsch, the distinguished German theologian. At Easter, Parsch wrote,

Christ, the divine Sun, rose in splendor. At Pentecost it is high noon, as he sheds upon his vineyard the bright, warm rays that redden and ripen. At Easter the garden of the Church is abloom with beautiful blossoms, Christians newly baptized and confirmed—it is the traditional baptismal feast of the church. At Pentecost, these blossoms have developed and matured into fruit, hanging heavily upon the trees. The gardener who tends the trees is our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ; the Sun that ripens the fruit if the Holy Ghost. At Easter we were born anew as children of God. Like infants we sought our Mother’s nourishing milk, the Holy Eucharist, carefree and happy we grew up in our Father’s House. As we became older, Mother Church warned us that the happiness of childhood would pass, taught us that we were strangers and pilgrims on this earth, that we must suffer and be patient, in the various readings and themes throughout Pascaltide. Now, at Pentecost, we have come of age. This is why this day is the traditional day for confirmation, the rite of initiation into God’s Holy Church.

Strangers and pilgrims. Suffering and patience. Pentecost is a time when we are called to leave our comfort zone, to trust that the Spirit is with us, to move out in the world and proclaim the good news, but also to move inward and contemplate, meditate, on the great gift that had become our inheritance. We are the church. The days of our being individual followers, apprentices, freely roaming seekers are over. We are now, by grace and in the Holy Sprit, transplanted into a family, the church, where we are all brothers and sisters. And through the divine love that sustains us, we are called to see all of humanity, without exception, as brothers and sisters for whom Christ died, and to whom we have a responsibility. A responsibility of love; a responsibility to serve.

By service to others are we able to grow in faith; through closeness to strangers are we able to draw closer to God. But by serving others we are also living witnesses to the transformative power of faith. By going out into the world in truth and love and spiritual joy to proclaim Jesus as Lord by means of the ways in which we lead our lives–that is a journey that ultimately takes us home to the Father, and a journey that has the ability to change the lives of others. A life lived in the footsteps of the apostles is a far more powerful witness than any pithy tract or glossy magazine. Imitate me [mimetai mou], Paul writes to the Corinthians, even as I imitate Christ (1 Cor 11:1). He is referring to his work to save souls for the Kingdom, not seeking mine own profit, but the profit of many, that they may be saved (1 Cor 10:33b). ‘The work’ is not for our own benefit, for our own salvation, but for the benefit of the souls of others, to the greater glory of God. Not by words only, but by deeds, by showing how God redeems and transforms.

We are called, as the Israelites once were called, to be a kingdom of priests and a holy nation; a light capable of kindling the divine light in the hearts of those who are still on the outside. We have an incomparable example of what it means to lead a Christian life, an account found in the Epistle to Diognetus, a 2^nd century description of Christian church and its relationship to the world around it:

For the Christians are distinguished from other men neither by country, nor language, nor the customs which they observe. For they neither inhabit cities of their own, nor employ a peculiar form of speech, nor lead a life which is marked out by any singularity. The course of conduct which they follow has not been devised by any speculation or deliberation of inquisitive men; nor do they, like some, proclaim themselves the advocates of any merely human doctrines. But, inhabiting Greek as well as barbarian cities, according as the lot of each of them has determined, and following the customs of the natives in respect to clothing, food, and the rest of their ordinary conduct, they display to us their wonderful and confessedly striking method of life. They dwell in their own countries, but simply as sojourners. As citizens, they share in all things with others, and yet endure all things as if foreigners. Every foreign land is to them as their native country, and every land of their birth as a land of strangers. They marry, as do all [others]; they beget children; but they do not destroy their offspring. They have a common table, but not a common bed. They are in the flesh, but they do not live after the flesh. They pass their days on earth, but they are citizens of heaven. They obey the prescribed laws, and at the same time surpass the laws by their lives. They love all men, and are persecuted by all. They are unknown and condemned; they are put to death, and restored to life. They are poor, yet make many rich; they are in lack of all things, and yet abound in all; they are dishonoured, and yet in their very dishonour are glorified. They are evil spoken of, and yet are justified; they are reviled, and bless; they are insulted, and repay the insult with honour; they do good, yet are punished as evil-doers. When punished, they rejoice as if quickened into life; they are assailed by the Jews as foreigners, and are persecuted by the Greeks; yet those who hate them are unable to assign any reason for their hatred. To sum up all in one word–what the soul is in the body, that are Christians in the world.

Love, humility, forgiveness—these are not abstract principles but rules of life. And that rule of life is the best witness to the transformative power of faith. We need to take this seriously: by our lives we can change lives. Love humility and forgiveness are not things we merely talk about in here, but things we must live out there. Love and humility are suffocated and will die if we keep them hidden from the world and do not put them into practice. This is what it means to leaven the bread, to be the salt of the earth, to walk in the footsteps of Christ. This is what the Church was anointed to do on that first Pentecost, and that anointing continues to summon us to do for others what Jesus did for us. Guided and comforted by the Holy Spirit, the Church can and must continue to be ‘the hands anf feet of Jesus’ in the world.