The Gift of Authority

Our Lord’s grace, His gifts to us for our well-being, His compassion and goodness—all of that includes His authority. That’s part of the daily bread that we petition from Our Father. When we pray, “Give us this day our daily bread,” we ask that our Father exercise His authority, using others, for our good. And when we implore Him to lead us not into temptation, we ask Him to lead us—by His strong arm, making use of various leaders. And when we beg Our Father to deliver us from evil, we ask Him to use whatever means and agencies are necessary to snatch us from the jaws of evil, and sometimes even our own self-destructive ways. To use authority to turn evil to good—that’s part of the Lord’s grace, His gift, His compassion, His love.

And today’s Gospel shows us how He does it. It gives us a clear look at how Our Lord exercises His authority. And how our leaders are to be His servants for our good, for our welfare. Using compassion. Measured words. Truth. Humility. And true justice which seeks both to correct the wrong and protect the most vulnerable.

How does Our Lord do this? What example does He set? How does He exercise His authority?

Consider the scene of our Lord’s coronation and enthronement. We see that

Forgiveness tamps down rage
Compassion overwhelms insult
Truth outshines indecisiveness
Love blunts hatred and converts indifference
Humility outlasts arrogance
The poor man outlives the greedy
The betrayed embraces the traitor
Weakness defeats strength

These are not the tools of rage politics. These are not the tactics of extremists who seek to squeeze the middle using anger and malice and violent speech. But these are the methods of Christ the King—methods He enjoins us to employ in our relationships and dealings.

Anger, forcing the agenda, demonizing your opponents, incentivizing meanness, and setting yourself up as the only true patriot—these will win in the short-term, but in the end they are always destructive. For this ethos and its values are inimical to God’s way, undermine Christ’s cross, and oppose the Spirit of unity and truth.

As He hangs on the cross, Our Lord refuses to see His opponents as enemies. For He wrestles then, and always, not with flesh and blood. He suffers for His opponents well as His fleeting friends. He pleads the Father’s forgiveness for those who are killing Him. Our Lord wrestles not with these men. He wrestles with the Deceiver, the Accuser, the Adversary and his minions—Satan and his devils who want to suck us into hell.

And so He employs not the weapons of division, but the strength of His mercy by which He will reconcile and return to Himself, and to His embrace, every living thing which He created.

Notice: Our Lord makes peace not by shedding the blood of others, but by shedding His own blood; not by sacrificing the lives of others, but by sacrificing His own life; not by making the vulnerable and those with no voice to pay the price, but by ransoming Himself.

In this way, Our Lord seeks much more than relief from economic distress, or bad policies, or corrupting ways. Our Lord’s way—His goal—is to deliver us from all of the powers of darkness and then translate us into the kingdom of the Son of His love.

The coming of that kingdom is announced by the sign that hangs over His head. The dead one on the cross—He is the King of the cosmos. The man oppressed, tortured, stricken, smitten by God and afflicted—this man of sorrows because He endures our every sorrow—He is our Emperor and Monarch, just as His clothing declares.

We do well, then, not merely to hear about this King, or to take comfort for a few moments in this story, or to wish others would hear these words. We do well when we actually imitate and follow this King—by taking up our cross daily. Which means, by sacrificing our notions, seeing the good in our opponents, living true humility by refusing to control outcomes, and by seeking real justice with the actual forgiveness that tamps down rage, with the heartfelt compassion that meets insult, and with the love He graciously gives us at this altar—His sacrifice which is able to blunt our hatred and convert our indifference.

As we follow and imitate this King, then the truth Our Lord speaks to Pilate may begin to sink down into our being: we are children of a King whose kingdom is not of this world, whose servants do not fight for material advantage, whose kingdom is not from here. And for that reason we need to strive, each one of us, to have compassion for one another, to love as brothers, to be tenderhearted and courteous, not returning evil for evil or reviling for reviling, but on the contrary blessing, knowing that you were called to this: that you may inherit a blessing—through Our Lord Jesus Christ the King, to whom belongs all glory, honor, and worship: now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.

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Getting Comfortable with Silence

Everyone in black. Precise movements. Dignity by both clergy and the people present. All the women in hats (of one sort or another). No one looking at a phone. Everyone dressed ready to meet the monarch. No one entering in a rush. Attentive listening to the sung words. No whispered small-talk and no fidgeting.

Those are my impressions from watching the funeral services for Queen Elizabeth II. It formed, in my mind, a decorous reception of and means toward worship. No doubt, this resonates with the culture of my Midwestern childhood—when folks ‘dressed’ for church and ‘dignified’ worship had a certain look. Those looks can be different in other cultures and generations. But that was, for me, how church was done back there, back then.

However, what really struck me was the silence. The silence in transition moments (from singing to speaking, or vice versa), the silence during some of the movements, the silence in the midst of reverential speaking, singing, and movement. And most of all, the two minutes of silence observed not only in Westminster Abbey, but also by those viewing outside the Abbey—and even in other countries. Reuters News headlined the “deafening sound of silence to honour Queen Elizabeth.”

The power and necessity of silence is not cultural or generational. It is especially biblical. “Be still,” says the Lord God. “Be still and know that I am God” (Ps 45.11). Only when we are still and silent, then, can we truly begin to know God, to pray, and to consider the Lord’s mercy. Especially in the midst of death. For, truly, what can we say when a person has died. We can only remain still and wait the Lord’s kindness in the midst of tears, His loving embrace, and His comforting word (even if it is a “still small voice” [1 Kng 19.12]).

Perhaps that’s why silence—specifically, a moment of silence—is associated with respect for the dead. It’s not so much about honoring the dead person. This practice lets us “both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord” (Lam 3.26).

Silence is an increasing challenge for generation and our culture. We are addicted to distraction. Which explains why we have a hard time being still; and why silence—even during Mass—disturbs us.

Most pointedly, “we’re addicted to disturbance. We love to be disturbed. And if we haven’t been disturbed for the last 20 seconds, we find something to disturb us. Part of the soul pain and frustration, and even aggression, that that experience can release in people is an indication that, fundamentally, we’re constructed for a different mode of interacting with the world” (Bp Erik Varden).

The mode of interacting that we’re constructed for is not constant, non-stop interacting. We’re constructed and designed, by Our Lord God, to listen, think, contemplate, ponder, meditate, pray—all of which requires silence. Not total silence all the time, but at least some times of silence that are deliberate, unplugged, with no music (even church music) or sounds.

The Queen’s funeral gave millions a taste of elongated silence. A silence which we should cultivate, perhaps little by little, so that we might actually begin to hear God. Remember: we get to know God, and rejoice in His uplifting love, when we are still.

– Fr John W. Fenton

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O Give Thanks

On the day the temple in Jerusalem was dedicated, when King Solomon finished praying, fire came down from heaven to consume the innumerable sheep and oxen offered in sacrifice, and then the glory of the Lord filled the entire house of the Lord—so much so that the priests could not enter. (2 Chrn 5 & 7) But they were not afraid. They were overwhelmed. Because, after Solomon’s prayer of dedication, after the King dedicated the Lord’s house—then everyone knew that the Lord’s glory was not terrifying. Rather, it was merciful. The holy place radiated a mercy so kind and gracious, so good and benevolent, that the people prostrated in reverence because they knew, deep down, that the Lord was drawing them into Him.

Gratitude caused them to fall to their knees and cover their faces. The Lord determined to come into the house they built, and inhabit their temple, and promise always to hear and to help. And so gratitude inspired their worship.  Not fear that He might crush them; or the obligation to obey; or a sense of fair play—but gratitude. Heart-felt appreciation. Thankfulness.

The Lord’s love moves Him to reach out to us, even when we pull back from Him. The Lord never pushes us away, even when we think little of Him. And the Lord will always lower Himself to us, even when we think He owes us a favor. His compassion for you—that evokes true thanksgiving.

Now those who enter the Lord’s house can say: “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.” (Gen 28.17) Because when the Lord descends onto this altar, when His Spirit enables us to see that Christ is in our midst—then He lifts up our hearts, He embraces us and draws us into His own self, and He invites us to sit with Him in His heavenly place.

That’s the Lord’s mercy. Not pity, but unending empathy, and overabundant generosity, and limitless benevolence.

That’s what the healed Samaritan perceived. He didn’t just see that he was healed or that Christ had completely turned his life around. The other nine knew that much. But the Samaritan saw more. He believed that the Lord Jesus was making him whole so that he could stand, with God, alongside anyone else. And so, he was grateful. “With a loud voice he glorified God, and fell down on his face and Jesus’ feet, giving Him thanks.”

Groveling gives way to joy. Heartfelt love displaces fear. Love expands the sense of duty. And grace satisfies and fulfills all hope.

Compared to the Samaritan, we have been given a great deal! We have more than enough! And not just material things, but much more than that. We get to have Christ Jesus, our Lord and God, make His home in our own bodies and souls. By the gifts and grace of the Spirit, we commune with God, and partake more and more of His love. So even if you are poor according to others, you are rich! For we have the fullness of God!

Whenever we empty our souls by confessing our sins, He fills them with the riches of His righteousness. Every time we confess our sins to the priest, our Lord is faithful and just to give us generously His absolution. Remember: this is the same Lord who chooses the weak of this world to shame and astound those who think they are mighty. He used a fisherman named Peter to begin the eventual conquest of more than one Empire. So, certainly, He can raise us up.

Thanks to Our Lord’s mercy, thanks to His grace, we get to give thanks. But it’s not really a repayment, is it? For what can we really give to the Lord for all the goods that He has given to us? How can we repay Him for our life, our food, our ability to approach Him, and our hope in the world to come?

Our Lord does not create, or help, or save us because He wants to be rewarded. He reaches out regardless of our impiety and lack of devotion to Him. He searches for us when we do not look for Him. He finds, redeems, and liberates us from the clutches of the devil and our own oppressive addicting passions. He draws us to Himself in order to purify us by Christ’s faith, which then releases us.

But if we choose to go our own way—if we kick against the goads and push aside Our Lord’s attempts to embrace us—He will not fight us. He will not restrain those who won’t have Him, and who do not wish to be cleaned by His love. Our Lord lets haters revile, mock, and accuse Him of not caring. But this does not change Christ’s attitude toward them. Or do we not see that, when these curses are uttered, they fade away like so much noise; but the Lord’s blessing and mercy lives forever?

In truth we give Our Lord only what He has first given us. And we can give Him what He asks—that we receive, with a sincere and true heart, His salvation offered in the Holy Eucharist. He gives Himself. And we give thanks by receiving, here together, the gift of Himself at this holy altar.

That is why Metropolitan PHILIP consecrated this altar, and dedicated this church 32 years ago. Now we, and those who follow, can give thanks by gathering in this sanctified space within the loving embrace of our holy mother the Church. She is our strength so that we may be strong. She warms us when our faith grows cold, and when our hope wavers. She alone makes us wise by feeding us with divine Wisdom

Let us love our Lord God by loving His Church. He is our Father, she is our Mother, and we are their children. The Church is weaker whenever one of us is absent; and she is unable to help us when we are distracted by other pleasures. So, if we say, “I believe in God the Father,” then we shouldn’t neglect our Mother.

This is the place, then, where we get to give thanks to Our Lord God—by confessing our frailty, imploring his mercy, and then receiving the gift of His flesh and blood. In truth, the Lord’s mercy anticipates us. He is good enough not only to guard us and restore us. He is also good enough to increase His gifts or benefits, which come both from His kindness and, even more so, from His own being. For Our Lord is the only One who truly gives us Himself; Who, with the Father in the unity of the Holy Spirit, lives and reigns: world without end.

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Dormition or Assumption?

The Feast has two different names. It’s the same feast, just with two different names. Some call it “The Dormition of the Theotokos” and some call it “The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary.” Why the two names? Is there are difference? Is one better or more correct than the other?

The word “dormition” means “falling asleep.” Specifically, it denotes the death or passing away of the Holy Mother of God. With that word, then, we confess that the Virgin Mary truly died, as did her Divine Son; and then was raised from the dead as Christ raised the little girl when He said, “The child is not dead, but sleeping.”

The word “assumption” refers Mary being taken up, in her body, into heaven. This is similar to the ascension of her Divine Son. Although he ascended by His own power, the Holy Mother was aided in her going up—just as the prophet Elijah went up to heaven, not under his own power but in a ‘fiery chariot.’

These two words, then, focus on two different aspects of this gracious act of the Son for His Mother. She was raised from the dead (dormition), and she was raised in her body (assumption) to be seated “in heavenly places.” (See Ephesians 2.4-7)

In no instance does the Orthodox Church teach that the Blessed Virgin did not die. Like her Son, she tasted or experienced death. But also like Him, her body was glorified and transformed so that she might be with Him, at His side.

Our Lady did not endure an extended rest in the grave. According to St John of Damascus, after she fell asleep in the Lord, Mary’s body was buried in a coffin in Gethsemane

where for three days the singing of the angelic choirs persevered relentlessly. After the third day, those songs having ceased, the attending apostles opened the coffin at the request of Thomas, who was the only one who had been away from them, and who, on the third day, wanted to venerate the body that had [given birth to] God. But … they found only the funeral dresses put there, from which an ineffable perfume emanated that penetrated them, and they closed the coffin. Overwhelmed … here is the only thing they could conclude: the one who in his own person deigned to incarnate in her and become a man, God the Word, the Lord of glory, and who kept her mother’s virginity intact after his birth, had still wanted, after his departure from below, to honor this virgin and immaculate body with the privilege of incorruptibility; and with a translation prior to the common and universal resurrection.


Therefore, the Lord honored His Mother by raising her on the third day, and then transporting her in her glorified body to heaven.

Yet, the Dormition or Assumption is not just about Mary. She enters heaven to show us that our mortal bodies, made of the same earth, can also be joined to heaven; that the lowest person can sit with God; that her prayer to be exalted by humility has been answered. For the woman was despised by her own kin, nearly disowned by her own spouse, and closeted by so many Christians. Yet in the Assumption, she exalted and literally lifted up to be what she always was: the best of all humanity.

-Fr John

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Our Lord’s Desire

The Sixth Sunday after Pentecost
Mark 8.1-9

Our Lord’s desire for the crowd drew them to Him. His compassion moved them to stay put for three days. They forgot to eat; they lost track of time; they were caught up in being with Him as much as hearing His voice and chewing on His words – because of His love, His empathy, His desire for them.

Our Lord’s desire leads to His compassion for the crowd primarily because they have not eaten. They have entered a three day fast, and may faint on the way home. But the fast and the fainting that concerns Our Lord—that makes plain His desire—is not simply about lack of food for the body, but also being deprived of food for the soul. Not only have they not eaten. They have not sat down and banqueted with God, as He designed them to do. And so, just as they are drawn to Him, He desires them to eat with Him.

Seven loaves and a few small fishes—that’s more than enough. For the point is not what and how much. The point is that they dine with their saving Lord – with the Jesus who will give His all for them. Making little more than enough, then, is easy when compared with laying His life down. A broken body and shed blood—that is the all that Christ gives, and not just for them, but for the life of the cosmos. And so, for the moment, in a deserted place, Jesus provides more than enough. Yet He is anticipating the time when His desire will be to feed with Himself as many as desire Him.

Our Lord desires that the crowd—and that we all—truly encounter Him. Not just see His miracles and hear His words. Not just be soothed by His teaching or find truth in His way of life. And not just be uplifted with His stories or inspired by His example.

A true encounter with the Lord Jesus means that everything Our Lord is and does is not all used up in that past time. A true encounter means that the newness of the Word made flesh never grows old. God in our flesh is always new, always enlivening and revitalizing our flesh.

So what you’ve heard happens then is not just about then. Our Lord still desires us to eat with Him.

‘We may not even be aware of it, but every time we go to Mass’ we are there first of all because ‘we are drawn there by his desire for us.’ We are drawn by His desire for us to be with Him, inseparable from His body. We are drawn by His desire for us to be in the always now and never ending present – in Him and the life-saving event that He does and is.

Our Lord desires us. Each one of us. Regardless of our struggles, or fears, or disordered passions. He desires us even if no one else does, even if we don’t really desire our own selves. He desires us, most especially when we are hurting and broken, or feel unseen and place-less, or are overwhelmed with sadness or apathy.

Our Lord desires us. He desires you as an individual, and me as another, so that with all His own we may be all be ‘us’ in Him. Jesus desires you, so that He might embrace you in an ‘us’; and by embracing us, let us intimately commune with and in Him; and by communing, transform us to be, all together, the version, the image, the person, the likeness, the humans He designed us to be in Him.

Our Lord’s desire for us draws us to this Mass. And when are truly present in this Divine and sacred work—then we are aligning our desire with His desire; our will with His holy will. And then we are making the most of our love, since our love is authentic and real only when it is tied to His love for us.

This desire for Our Lord, drawn by His desire for us; this alignment of our will with His will—this is the foundation of true asceticism, and demands more than any self-restrain or fast or discipline or habit. For His love moves us to give up what we love, and what others say is most important. And Our Lord’s care for us leads us to a true self-care which is located, not in how we improve ourselves, but in what Our Lord offers in order to convert and better us. When we surrender to this love, this compassion and care and desire of God for us, then we are in line and participating in His Spirit and His desire.

From the very beginning, the Spirit has enlightened the Church to perceive and believe that Our Lord’s desire is fully realized not in a mental construct or an emotional experience. Rather, Our Lord’s desire centers around food. In fact, you can say that God created the world as a fruitful garden so that we would eat with Him. For eating with the Holy Trinity is both Our Lord’s desire for us, and the way He honors and nourishes our dual nature of body and soul.

This ‘eating with God’ reaches its highpoint in the Eucharist. ‘That which was visible in Jesus, that which could be seen with the eyes and touched with the hands, his words and his gestures, the concreteness of the incarnate Word — everything of Him had passed into the celebration of the sacraments’—and most specifically, into the Eucharist.

Let us come to see, then, that the Mass guarantees an unparalleled encounter with Christ.

In the Eucharist, Our Lord’s entire being enters into our entire being—both our being as individuals who consume Christ, and our being as those tied together into His one body, the Church. In this way, He bears our burdens as He becomes literally one with us; and we bear one another’s burdens since we all partake together of the one bread and one cup of His body.

The Mass, then, is not some vague memory or commemoration or reminder of the Last Supper all those millennia ago. That kind of historical remembering does us no good. We need the remembrance that draws us into Christ; that places us at the foot of the cross; that immerses us in the full effects of His resurrection.

The remembrance that does us good, then, is His remembrance – where Our Lord sees us and truly desires us, and brings us into His mind and His ever-now, so that we join the Holy Apostles at the Lord’s table.

‘We need to be present at that Supper, to be able to hear his voice, to eat his Body and to drink his Blood. We need Him. In the Eucharist and in all the sacraments we are guaranteed the possibility of encountering the Lord Jesus and of having the power of his Paschal Mystery reach us. The salvific power of the sacrifice of Jesus, his every word, his every gesture, glance, and feeling reaches us through the celebration of the sacraments.’

Then we can say, ‘I am Nicodemus; I am the Samaritan woman at the well; I am the man possessed by demons at Capernaum; I am the sinful woman pardoned; I am the woman healed of hemorrhages; I am the daughter of Jairus raised from the dead; I am Zacchaeus with Christ entering my house; I am Lazarus called from death to life; and I am Peter.’ For like them, I am healed, raised from my dying body, pardoned, renewed, and given boldness, confidence, and fearlessness in the face of death.

Here, then, is the whole reason God became human—He fervently wants us eat with Him. The Lord prepares us to sit with Him by washing and purifying us in the blood which flows from His most sacred heart. And that same blood, together with His life-giving flesh, continues to pardon, to heal, and to save as we consume Him while His love consumes us.

So His desire is more than a heart-felt longing. He invites us to receive the offering of Himself which He Himself offers. This is now Our Lord love us concretely. This is the way He satisfies his own thirst for us, which existed from the moment we were conceived, and which took Him all the way through the cross.

Through the prayers of His saints, may we desire Our Lord as His desire draws us into Him and to each other in Him; to whom belongs all glory, honor, and worship: world without end.

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Holy Flesh

This homily is based on two paragraphs in St Cyril of Alexandria’s commentary on Luke 4.

John 6.1-15

Dearly Beloved:

Observe the efficacy of Our Lord’s holy flesh. Notice how revitalizing and restorative is His blood. For It drives away diseases and a crowd of demons. Christ’s flesh overthrows the power of devils and is capable of healing a great multitude in one instance.

This is why the crowd followed Christ Jesus into the wilderness. And why they camped out at the bottom of the hill.

They followed Him because they had seen His miracles which He did on the diseased;

  • how He had healed the sick,
  • restored sight to the blind,
  • opened the ears of the deaf, and
  • chased away those whose addictions had made an opening for demon possession.

The crowd followed Jesus because they sought relief. For themselves and for their loved ones.

The crowd was camped out because they were desperate. They wanted help. Not a show, but real healing.

Since He is God, Jesus might have said to the crowd, “Fly away, every disease. Be gone, every affliction. Depart and leave, every sorrow.” But he adopted a different approach.

  • To show that His flesh possessed the power of healing,
  • to demonstrate that Our Lord’s human hand is actually the hand of God Himself,
  • to let us know without a shadow of doubt that His skin and bones are infused and interpenetrated with His Godhead so that it is impossible to separate, mentally or actually, His humanity from His divinity—

this is why Our Lord Jesus often reaches out His hand and touches those who are sick, even sometimes without words.

And so when He saw the great company of people, Jesus had compassion. Not just on their bodies destined for the grave. He saw their yearning for God, their desire to believe in Him, and most of all their soul-sickness.

So Jesus comes down to restore. And not just humans, but all creation—the entire universe. His mission is grand. And so it is not limited to human bodies. But it begins there—in a body like ours. A body that He does not put on as a persona, or some identity. But a body which He completely deifies—even as He desires to deify our bodies and souls but His touch, by His word, by His own flesh and blood.

By coming down to meet the crowd, to feed the crowd, to feed us—our Lord shows that His mercy is not just for the body, but also for the soul. His desire is not merely to relieve slight momentary afflictions, but also to seat us together at the table with His Father and the Holy Spirit, and in their fellowship, to also banquet with the saints and angels.

And so, in a precursor of His Supper, Our Lord took the loaves, gave thanks, and gave them to His disciples, who then ministered this miraculous life-sustaining bread to those who desired it.

Yet the crowd, like us, have a hard time believing that God is in their midst; that the Son of God is feeding them. They simply thought that a godly human was helping them; and they saw God as a quick fix to their troubles. And because of this, the crowd sees Jesus as a politician, a lottery ticket, one of the superrich who could lower their prices and make easier this temporary life. And so they chased. They did not give thanks. They wanted to force Him to be their king. They did not receive the Lord and His gifts as the Eucharist that He is.

But consider this: If Jesus’ hand can heal the sick and multiply bread and fishes, think of what happens when we receive our Blessed Lord’s flesh and blood, His humanity and divinity, His body and soul, into our own flesh in the Holy Mystery of Communion. For when He enters us and we receive Him with a sincere and true heart, confident that the bread and wine have been changed and transubstantiated by the Holy Spirit into His life-saving body and blood—then He will quench the fever of unbefitting and distorted pleasures; He will raise us up to newness of life; and He will strengthen our minds and hearts, as well as our bodies, to see us through life’s hardness and sorrows.

Just as that human hand by which Christ heals the sick is, in truth, the hand of God—in the same way, by His Spirit, the bread which we consume and the cup from which we drink, is now the body and blood of that same Jesus whose hand absorbed diseases, whose feet walked on water, whose touch soothed the anxious and disturbed, whose mouth spoke mercy deep into the hearts of the troubled.

His same flesh and blood is the Living Bread which came down from heaven. His flesh is actually what fulfilling food is. His blood is actually what refreshing drink is. For when we receive it, we receive God Himself.

Let us then take hold not of this rite. Let us take hold of Christ in the way He gives Himself to us. Let us take Him at His word, firmly and devoutly believing that the Son of God, in His human flesh inseparable from His divine self, is being placed into our mouths.

And then let us live from this food. For that is why we limit how much we eat during Lent; and why we deny ourselves certain pleasures; and why we spend more time in church and in prayer; and why we give away what we have and work for. We do these things because we see that the Holy Communion is the food of all foods. And that we will never go hungry, if we have nothing else to eat except the bread with His Christ’s flesh and the wine which is His blood.

Let Christ’s hand, then, hold us. And let us take hold of Him in this place by means of the mystical Eucharist, giving thanks to God for this holy food. For it can free us from sickness of the soul, from the despair of the mind, from heartache and sorrow, and from the assaults of demons. The flesh and blood of Christ can free us—just as His touch helped the diseased. And, more than that, Christ’s flesh in the Eucharist will raise us up on the last day. For this is His promise: “Everyone who eats My flesh and drinks My blood has eternal life; and I will raise them up at the last day.”

To whom, with His Father, in the unity of the Holy Ghost, belongs all glory, honor, and worship: now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.

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Into the Temple

A Candlemas Homily

Dearly Beloved:

The holy prophet Malachi urges us to be ready when “the Lord, whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to his temple.” But that day is not today. That day will come, but not today. Today Our Lord comes into His temple quietly, without fanfare, as an infant. To fulfill a law that does not apply to Him. And it does not apply to the Virgin Mother. Because Our Lord’s birth was not a cursed birth where the womb was opened with bloodshed. And so, both boy and mother do not need to be purified and sanctified. Our Lord with His holy mother enter the temple, then, not because they must, but because He wants to be seen as the light of God living in all humanity; that is, the salvation prepared for all peoples, languages, ethnicities, and nations.

So today, exactly forty days after His birth, the Blessed Virgin and Joseph bring the baby Jesus to Jerusalem to present Him to the Lord and to offer a sacrifice according to what is said in the law of the Lord. It is a joyful day, a day of thanksgiving. For Mary especially, the joy and thanksgiving exceeds the joy and thanksgiving of any other mother. For she holds in her arms God Himself in the flesh. She carries the One who will carry and bear and take away the sin of the world.

Yet notice how they celebrate—by killing animals, by sacrificing pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons. What a strange way to show joy and give thanks! Yet the sacrifice is not just some ancient custom they mindlessly do. These sacrifices point forward to the way the Lord’s mercy, help, and salvation comes. By His later sacrifice and death, coupled with the putting to death and sacrificing of our ungodly desires, our fears and self-serving ambitions, everything that we think matters more than this tiny Christ Child—that is the path of our salvation; the way we will gain what we lost.

Into the temple, then, the Holy Family goes to perform a duty that is not required for them; a sacrifice that does not purify but that anticipates the purification of the entire world; a sacrifice that makes holy everyone washed in this Child’s blood. Truly, then, this is for us a sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving.

And who is there waiting for Jesus and His parents? It is Simeon, a just and devout man. He was waiting for the Consolation of Israel, the Messenger of the covenant, in whom you delight. Simeon is there because it had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Christ.

Notice the juxtaposition of the old man and the divine Child. Just as Our Lord Jesus comes to the temple, Simeon comes by the Spirit into the temple. God comes to the old man, and the old man goes to greet God. The old man will cradle God in His arms, just as God will embrace and hold fast the old man.

As Simeon enters, he is full of anticipation and expectation. For He eagerly looks forward to beholding not simply the fulfillment of some ancient promise, but the actual salvation and mercy of God embodied in this nursing infant.

Learn from old St. Simeon. He not only knows that the Lord sticks to His Word. Simeon also knows where that promise is kept, where his heart’s desire is given, where his longings and expectations come true, and where he can latch onto and cling to the God and Savior that he so desperately desires.

But don’t just learn from Simeon. Imitate his faith and confidence. For what Simeon hopes for and sees comes true today, right in front of your eyes. By entering His temple in this place, the same Christ Jesus stands before your eyes. Here, in this place, you also Behold the Lamb of God, you also behold Him that takest away the sins of the world. And so also, if you can believe it, if your mind’s eyes are opened to see this Light of the world—you also get to cradle here, in this place, that same Christ Child, that same God and Savior, not only mentally or emotionally, but really and truly as He speaks through His ministers, and even more so as His flesh and blood are placed in your mouth.

Imitate the eagerness, the longing and the joy of Simeon. He is moved to take the baby Jesus in his arms and bless God. Yet what a strange blessing Simeon speaks to God. He says, “Lord, now I can die in peace. For just as You said, my eyes now see Your salvation.” What does this mean? It is as Simeon is saying this:

“O Lord, no longer do I pin my hopes to a promise I cannot see or a wish I hope for. Salvation is now alive and real, before my eyes, in my arms, ready for me to partake. For salvation is this Child who is the only-begotten Son of God. And just as the priests prepare the Lamb for sacrifice, in this way Thou hast prepared Him before the face of all people. For He comes to the temple, the place of Holy Sacrifice, to be, for our salvation, ‘a pure victim, a holy victim, a spotless victim, the holy Bread of eternal life, and the Chalice of everlasting salvation.’ So now I can rejoice that our Lord is here and that His sacrifice is eminent. And in His sacrifice, this Jesus is the light that reveals Thy grace and kindness to all nations. And in His blood, He shows that is the glory of Thy Israel, Thy Church. In Him, then, I greatly rejoice. For He is everything I hoped He would be, the salvation I have desired.”

What a blessing Simeon speaks. And in it, we see true worship. For Simeon takes the Lord at His Word. The old man does not know how it will all play out, but he is confident that this Child is the Father’s sacrifice prepared for the salvation of all mankind. And with that he is content—to the extent that he now longs for death. Not just because he has seen it all, but because he now holds in his arms the Life of the world. And when you hold to Christ the Life of all the living, death no longer has a hold on you.

Imitate, then, the worship of St. Simeon. Take to heart the Word Our Lord speaks and gives to you. Take in the Christ Child as He places His own flesh and blood within your flesh and blood. Receive Him as He comes to you, as He makes good on His promise, as He keeps His Word. And then relax, knowing that the Lord has made known to you also His salvation, and revealed to you the glory which is His sacrificed Son; to whom with the Father in the Holy Spirit belongs all glory, honor and worship: now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.

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The Gift for God

An Epiphany Day homily
Matthew 2.1-12

The day when God pulled off the greatest wonder of all time by interweaving and interlocking and interpenetrating our flesh with His divinity;

the day when a virgin—think of that, a virgin—became the Mother of God and, at the same time, retained her virginity forever;

the day when the God the Word became a speechless infant;

the day when the Creator made Himself a creature;

the day when the Messiah promised for centuries finally arrived in our world;

the day when the Governor and Monarch of the entire cosmos was found lying in a manger;

the day when the Almighty became a vulnerable baby capable of suffering and death;

the day when the Mediator between God and human beings bridged the unbridgeable gap by becoming completely human while not laying aside an ounce of His divinity—

that day; that glorious day; that day that exceeds all days in joy and gladness—

that day is so revered that its celebration cannot be confined to just one day; or eight days; or twelve days.

Our celebration must now be extended another week so that we can both ponder and rejoice in this mystery that not only brings our redemption, but also lets us be the humans we were designed to be—women and men capable of receiving God, containing God in our soul, and approaching God with boldness and confidence.

And so, the Feast of the Epiphany prolongs our joy of Christmas, even as it reveals to us another aspect of Our Lord’s extraordinary incarnation.

What gift is suitable, appropriate, and right for the one who holds all life in the hollow of His hand? And if God has all, why offer Him anything?

Part of that aspect is that experts who point out where God in the flesh is to be found—in Bethlehem of Judaea as written by the prophets—these experts refuse to believe their own truthful testimony, and the prophets who told them; and so they stay put while the Magi venture forth to find the One revealed by a miraculous star.

Yet not just these experts, but also a king—who is so afraid of his own demise, afraid that someone might take away all that he has, a fool whose soul will be required after he had a chance to prepare—this king will also lie about wanting to following the Magi, not to adore Life Himself, the Living Bread come down to heaven, the King of the Angels; but rather to murder and destroy Him—incredibly believing that he alone can do what no Satan could do—that he, as a puppet king of the Romans, can somehow kill God.

But the Magi—they are unmindful of inconvenience or threats or evil machinations. They are single minded in both reaching the star’s destination, and in adoring the baby who was promised to other people, yet prophesied as savior of all nations.

And what do these Magi wish to do? Treat a stable as if it were a king’s palace. Approach a manger as if it were a throne. Kneel before, and adore, and worship a cooing infant as if he had issued life-altering proclamations. And then present the King of heaven and earth with a few precious gifts—precious and costly and dignifying to them, but meager and inconsequential to the Lord they adored.

Remember what the Lord says: the whole world is mine, and all that is therein. Thinkest thou that I will eat bulls’ flesh, and drink the blood of goats?

So, what do you give to the almighty who holds all things in His hands, and who has no need for anything, and who can create from nothing everything He wants? What gift is suitable, appropriate, and right for the one who holds all life in the hollow of His hand? And if that is the case, why offer God anything?

And the Magi know this. You can see it in their relentless pursuit of the star. You can see it in their belief in the Scripture prophecies from the scribes. And you can see it in the gifts they offer—especially the frankincense. For the Magi know and believe that they are bowing not before the up-and-coming King of the Jews. They know and believe that they are genuflecting in the stable-temple, toward the manger-tabernacle, before God Himself.

The Magi believe that they are genuflecting in the stable-temple, toward the manger-tabernacle, before God Himself.

Yet they still offer Him meaningful gifts: gold, frankincense and myrrh—all for the Child that they are proclaiming, by their gifts, is God the King come in the flesh in order to die for the redemption and salvation of not just people, but particularly for those three.

The greatest present, however, is their presence. For they know that God has all that exists, and that an infant can do nothing with what they give. But their kneeling, their adoration, they determined faith, their trust in the star’s preaching—that is their truest, most authentic, and best offering, sacrifice, and gift.

And this should be a relief to us. For God has given us all we have, even our life itself, not to take it back; but so that we might know that He is the giver, and thereby adore Him with the gift of ourselves—in His church-temple, kneeling before His Eucharist-tabernacle, adoring the Word made flesh made the Bread of Heaven into to transform us into His own dear brothers and sisters.

What shall we give, then, to the Lord for all that He has given to us? Shall we not imitate the Magi? We should. We must. And so, like them, we should offer unto God thanksgiving; and pay thy vows unto the Most High. And we should receive the cup of salvation. And we should call upon the name of the Lord.

And as we revere the mysteries devoted to our salvation—the mystery of the Incarnation, and the mystery of Christ before you in the Mass and placed in you in the Eucharist—as we reverse these holy mysteries, let us not be content merely with showing up and giving thanks with our lips.

For the Magi did not simply offer themselves, their worship, and their gifts. They also “went home by another way.” Spiritually, that other way was a changed heart, a mind set on the things of God, a fearless desire, and a faith, hope, and love aimed not at what benefited them here and now, but at what aided others and assisted their salvation.

The worship of the mysteries, the adoration of Christ in His sacraments—that also should urge us to “go home by another way.” As the Magi turned away from Herod and the selfishness he shows, we can heed St Paul and abstain from carnal desires—pride, wrath, greed, lust, envy, despondency, gluttony—which wage war against the soul. Yet it is not enough to turn aside. Like the Magi, our hearts should be filled with love for the chaste life, since Christ is the Son of a Virgin. And we should be as little children with respect to wickedness, because the Lord of glory conformed himself to the infancy of mortals. And we should earnestly pursue true humility—the humility we see both in the Christ Child and in the Magi. And finally, like the persistent and unwavering Magi, we should clothe ourselves in patience—as well as fearlessness, not letting anxiety overwhelm us, but praying that the Lord increase in us faithful perseverance and godliness. (from St Leo the Great Epiphany sermon, paraphrased)

In this way, we offer such sacrifices to God as are well-pleasing. And, above all else, we will increase our joy on this glorious feast of the Epiphany of Our Lord and God and Savior Jesus Christ; to whom, with His Faither, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, belongs all glory, honor, and worship: world without end.

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Who Has Heard Such Things?

Feast of the Nativity of Our Lord
Midnight Mass Homily

Something strange has happened.

A virgin gives birth yet retains her virginity.
A mother bears a child before she is in labor.
A woman delivers a son but suffers no birth pangs.
A child is born, but no blood is shed.
A son begins his life yet has no earthly father.

Who has heard such a thing?
Who has seen such things?

God, who has no beginning, is born of a human mother.
Him, whom the whole cosmos cannot contain, comes forth from his mother’s womb.
The Word through whom all things were made make Himself one of His own creatures.

God becomes one of us.
To suffer our pains
To be tempted like we are
To experience our sorrows
To feel our hurts
To endure our weakness
To die our death.

He takes on our every weakness, He is vulnerable like we are
In order to exchange our death for His life
In order to swap our sickness for His healing
In order to trade our apathy for His love.

So, the holy child is born—something strange indeed.
The Son of God is human—remarkable, earth-shattering, and strange.

And this is all for you. For your good.
To relieve you in your distress
To comfort you in your anxiety
To aid you in your hardship
To console you in your fear
To gladden you in your misery
To encourage you in your time of need
To forgive your secret sins; and
To save you from yourself and everything that threatens you.

For unto you is born this day, in the city of David, the grace of God—God Himself—in flesh like yours, like mine.

The grace that is God appears as a child to rescue us from ourselves by being the rescue we don’t even think we need.

This God of all grace settles down and lives not just among us, but in skin and bones like ours, so that He might both experience what we go through and, even better, bring us closer, into a most intimate union, with Himself and His Father in the Holy Spirit.

And so the God of all grace—the Ideal Man, the Human we were designed to be—He is born to invite you to sit with Him in heavenly places.

Imagine that—
material beings sitting in the immaterial heaven
souls encased in flesh sitting with, and above, the bodiless spirits
lives that can choose to love now being chosen to reside in Love Himself.

Christ is born so that you can share in His eternal glory.
Christ is born so that you may live as God.

For even though we die, because of His birth we get to be sons of the Most Highest
Born as He was—by an act of love and grace
Born as He was—by the will of the Father
Born as He was—into life everlasting.

And so, Christ is born, in order to restore, establish, perfect, strengthen and settle you.
And Christ is born, so that you might live for higher things
For the blessed hope
To see, with your eyes, God Himself
And to live in a love that exceeds your imagination

And so, God is born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem us who are slaves to the law of sin and death.

This is a strange thing indeed.

And it is a miracle greater than medicines, or even resuscitation from the dead, or anything else that we think is so great.

This is the miracle of God breaking into our world,
Not to break us, but to restore us
Not to punish us, but to shower us with His kindness
Not to threaten us or guilt us, but to love us into Himself.

Rejoice, then. For Christ is born!
Not just then, but also now.
Not just for them, but for you.
Not just in that place, but here on this altar, so that He might be born also in your heart.

So let us all rejoice with the angels, glorifying God.
For God has done what we could never have thought to do.

And with the birth of His Son, He has bent the laws of nature to our advantage.

Rejoice then, all who have been justified freely by grace.
It is the birthday of the just one!
Rejoice, all who were weak and sick.
It is the birthday of the Savior, the Healer!
Rejoice, all who are captive to their own ungodly desires.
It is the birthday of the Redeemer who makes your way of escape!
Rejoice, all who are enslaved to fear and anxiety.
It is he birthday of the One who comforts and settles you!
Rejoice, all who are freed from sin and fear.
It is the birthday of the One who set you free!
Rejoice, all who are weighed down.
It is the birthday of the One who bears and carries and takes away your burdens.
Rejoice, all who are confused about your place in life.
It is the birthday of the Beloved Son who invites you to live in and through Him!
Rejoice, all who feel worthless and unloved.
It is the birthday of the One who, in baptism, sets you as the Beloved of the Father who takes pleasure in you as you are.
Rejoice, all who suffer in hardship or distress.
It is the birthday of the One who born to relieve and revive you!
Rejoice, every Christian.
It is the birthday of Christ!

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Waiting for the Savior

A homily for the First Sunday in Advent

Luke 21.25-33

We are waiting for the Savior. These words from St Paul to the Philippians perfectly fit the Advent mood the Church wishes to inculcate in us. So these are words we should do more than simply hear and then nod our heads. We are waiting for the Savior should be a motto to live by, a simple sentence that shapes every decision, every desire.

We are waiting for our Savior, Christ Jesus. So let us wait not down hearted, not in dread. And certainly not nonchalantly, unconcerned, with detachment, without forethought, and not as an agreeable thought that never affects our daily routine. But we get to wait with uplifted hearts, uplifted heads, with eager expectation, with joyful anticipation. And with the excitement, the confidence, the belief that our Lord is coming, and that his advent will usher us into a better world.

So, let us wait with hope, believing that our Lord’s arrival will bring us good things. That is what hope is: believing that good things await us in the life to come.

Our weakness, and so our challenge, is that we don’t really wait. At least not for the Lord. And not for his imminent return or arrival. Most days it’s the furthest thing from our mind, a barely noticed twinge in our hearts. And when the Lord’s advent comes into our minds, when someone or some event reminds us of this possibility, then as quickly as it enters, we push the thought out. Why? On the one hand, we’d rather not be reminded of our mortality, that our days are numbered and will end. On the other hand, we don’t want to face the truth that we’re living our life in the wrong direction – head down, focused by the things that break, fade, mold; and diverted from the things that truly matter most.

And so, we impatiently seek happiness in the affairs of this present life. Instead of looking up, setting our eyes on Jesus, we make every effort to snatch the prizes this world offers: prizes that really do us no lasting good. We gladly receive the goods this life offers while rarely acknowledging and thanking the Giver. We do not truly look for the good and perfect gift that comes from the Father of lights, but instead we think we’ve stumbled upon the good life because of what our hands have worked for and our minds have done.

Blessed are the women and men who take no notice of the spurious and empty foolishness that this world falsely promises. Blessed are those who are able to live beyond the things that distract, beyond the misspent desires, beyond the misdirected loves. These are blessed because they know it is better to become humble with the meek than to share in the vain promises of the proud, the greedy, and the powerful.

Those are truly blessed who say not just with their lips but deeply within themselves, “The Lord is my portion so I will wait for him. The Lord is good to everyone that trusts in him and longs for him, to the soul that seeks him. It is good to sit quietly readying the soul to greet the Lord.”

The first step in waiting for the Lord is to deny yourself, to deny your flesh by fasting and prayer. There are other steps. But this first step of fasting coupled with prayer cannot be skipped or done halfheartedly if you truly wish to await the Lord’s advent. For this first step gives you the strength and courage to lift up your head above all the things in this life.

Lift up your head means, live not for the peace and contentment this world can never give. To lift up your head means to live for the best life, the life in God, where everything we have is a gift—not something we have to dwell on, or strive for. But all is a gift given to always directs our heart and mind and whole being in thanksgiving towards God.

We are waiting, St Paul says, because our citizenship is not here but in heaven. We are waiting because we believe that this life is a prelude that trains and sets our way for the life to come. And so, we wait with the confidence that our abiding place is in heaven, from where our Savior will come in order to bring us into himself. And then we will be able to say with Isaiah: “Behold, this is our God; We have waited for Him, and He will save us. This is the Lord; We have waited for Him; We will be glad and rejoice in His salvation.”

That was the hope of the Old Testament church. They waited with joy and gladness for the salvation that the Christ child would come to bring. Certainly they wavered, oftentimes they got lost. But when they leaned into the Lord’s promises, they were eager for his advent. His first advent. In the manger. In our flesh. On our earth.

His second advent will not be all that different. In our flesh, on our earth, our Lord will come to let us see and understand fully and without hesitation what he has already accomplished in his first advent. He will come not so much to complete, but to help us see what has always been. He will come to give the fullness of the gifts he has already given, a fullness that we have if only we believe. Rare saints have been blessed with seeing this Lord’s coming, saints like John the Evangelist when he saw what the Lord’s coming looks like, and described it in the book of the Revelation. The record of John’s vision is this: everything we think that matters here and now will fall away and be displaced with the unending glorious Mass where nothing can harm or threaten or frighten.

When will this day occur? When you and I, individually, have been given a time for true repentance. For that is what the Lord awaits. He waits, he delays—not to toy with us, not to build character within us, but so that we might be truly ready when he comes. Time for true repentance for many of us, for myself especially, takes a long time. For true repentance is not about feeling guilty or constantly apologizing. True repentance is living in gratitude for the Lord coming into this place, this church, where his kingdom comes, so that we together might receive his flesh and blood in order to give courage and faith to our weakened body and soul.

So, the day of the Lord’s second advent begins with the reception of his body – the body he assumed from us in his first advent, in the manger, in Bethlehem.

Waiting for Christ, then, begins here at the altar. Where we practice for heaven. Where we learn to lay aside all earthly cares—all tweets and buzzes and notifications and messages and ring tones—that force our head down. The more we can disengage, the more we will be living toward the end, and for the end—in the time of true repentance, with heads and hearts uplifted.

May Christ our true God, by his Holy Spirit, grant us time, and the godly desire to desire his advent. To whom, by the prayers of the saints, belongs all glory, honor, and worship, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.

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