Feast of James Huntington - Tuesday, November 27, 2018

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Bob Pierson, OHC
Feast of Fr. James Huntington - Tuesday, November 27, 2018

Click here for an audio version of the homily

A few days ago I ran across a post on Facebook that asked the question: “If you could spend an hour visiting with any person from the past, who would it be?” I didn't post a response, but as I think about it, I would really like to spend an hour visiting with our founder, Father James Huntington.
He was an amazing man from all accounts. Like Abram, he heard the call of God and walked away from an upper class lifestyle to live as a monk at a time when monks were held in derision by many in the Episcopal Church. Initially he had the support of two friends, Fathers Dodd and Cameron, but when they both dropped out, Fr. James persevered and made Life Profession by himself on November 25, 1884.

In the wider church, he is remembered for his concern for the poor. His biographer, Vida Scudder, describes the life of that early group of monks, making them sound a lot like the worker priests of Paris. But they were also monks, and very dedicated to the liturgy, especially the Divine Office, and their own personal spiritual growth. The whole thing proved to be too much for them, and eventually they gave up the very active service of the poor in New York City for the more contemplative setting of rural Maryland. I wonder how Father Huntington felt about that move? He certainly did not give up on the cause of the poor, and he continued to travel far and wide to promote things like labor unions, the single tax, and help for the working poor. He evidently did not see a conflict between monastic life and concern for the poor.

I always look forward to the celebration of his feast at this time of year. I am especially fond of our celebration of Matins and Vespers, where we use those wonderful quotes from his Rule as antiphons for the psalmody. Of course, his most famous quote is:

“Holiness is the brightness of Divine Love; love must act and light must shine and fire must burn.”

If we could sit down and visit with Father Huntington today, I suspect he would ask us about how we are acting in love, as individuals and as a community. He would want to know how we are showing our own concern for the poor. And he would want to know that our commitment to our own spiritual growth is just as strong as his was.

Of course, he had his faults, as we all do, and I suspect that he would be compassionate with us even as he would continue to urge us to do better. He said: Humility, obedience, love: this is the holiness without which we cannot see the Lord.” As we continue to follow the example Father Huntington gave us, may we humbly listen for the voice of God in our day, and recommit ourselves to responding in love as he did.

"The cross is our all-sufficing treasure, and His love our never-ending reward."

Christ the King B - Sunday, November 25, 2018

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Bernard Jean Delcourt, OHC
Proper 29 B – Sunday, November 25, 2018

2 Samuel 23:1-7 or Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14
Revelation 1:4b-8
John 18:33-37

Click here for an audio version of the sermon.

I have ambivalent opinions and feelings about the phrase “Christ the King.” I will readily admit that Christ may be King of the Universe regardless of my opinions and feelings about it.

After all, Jesus is part of the one and indivisible Trinity. So when we read about Jesus announcing that the Kingdom of God is close at hand, we retrofit Jesus into the phrase the Kingdom of God. We see God the Creator and Sustainer of All as putting Jesus, his Anointed One, the Christ, on the throne above all earthly thrones.

But biblical or otherwise, there is no metaphor we can use about God that fully encompasses God. Each and every one of our metaphors for God grasp at some aspect of the Godhead without fully capturing God.

Can you hear me struggling with the phrase “Christ the King?” So I tried to not deal with it in this sermon. And as is usual, in such instances, God would not let me get away with it. So here go the musings of one who prefers other titles of Jesus.

*****

Illogically, I have no problem with the title “Lord.”  As a child, I learned to address Jesus as “Seigneur,” French for “Lord” without thinking about what a lord was in the world. It was like a term of endearment between me and Jesus.

But I should have similar problems to call Jesus “Lord”, if I have problems with “King.” Lord is an appellation for a person who has authority, control, or power over others acting like a master, a chief, or a ruler. It can also be used to refer to a deity with the same attributes.

I think that is also how I think of King in the title “Christ the King.” It makes me think of an overlord who can be arbitrary in his exercise of absolute power.

*****

Somehow, my admittedly limited concept of God focuses more on attributes of caring, empathizing, guiding, teaching and unifying. I do understand that Jesus is not always meek and sweet. But I do think of him primarily as a Lover; my Beloved and lover, your lover, your lover. I’m not worried about sharing my divine lover.

I guess that’s why I am always so moved by the passage of the gospel according to John where Thomas exclaims ‘My Lord and my God!’ (John 20:28)


*****

As for the image of a King, I suppose the Psalms don’t help me when they state “Do not put your trust in princes, in mortals, in whom there is no help.” (Psalm 146:3) King is an attribute I see in humans not in God.

It seems to me that in his lifetime, Jesus shirked the title of King. I think he was aware that it was a political construct that reduced him to a zealot who would overthrow the Roman occupiers to restore the Kingdom of Israel.

But as John the Evangelist has Jesus answer to Pilate: “My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.” (John 18:36)

Jesus is willing to play with the King metaphor because that is how Pilate understands the dynamic between them. Pilate is guarding the supremacy of the Roman Empire against any competing claims to political power. But Jesus is beyond that power dynamic. His purpose is to testify to the truth (John 18:37); a higher truth than that of any Kingdom, especially an earthly one.

*****

The only time I understand Jesus as implying he will be King in the Gospels is in the Gospel according to Matthew where Jesus speaks privately to the apostles.

“Jesus said to them, ‘Truly I tell you, at the renewal of all things, when the Son of Man is seated on the throne of his glory, you who have followed me will also sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.” (Matthew 19:28)

If the apostles are on twelve thrones, who is this Son of Man seated on his throne but Jesus himself? Did the apostles understand this saying as referring to an earthly restoration of the Kingdom of Israel? Maybe.

Is that what Judas told the High Priest Jesus was up to? That may be why they accused him of calling himself the “King of the Jews,” a title we don’t find claimed directly by Jesus anywhere in the Gospels.

In any case, that would have been a reductive interpretation of what Jesus was trying to tell the disciples. It seems to me Jesus was referring to a metaphorical Kingdom beyond secular ones; a throne he would ascend to after his resurrection.

*****

The feast of Christ the King is a fairly recent one in the Christian Church having been instituted in 1925 by Pope Pius XI, in his encyclical letter Quas Primas (In The First). It came in reaction to the horrors of World War 1 and the rise of totalitarian regimes (fascist as well a communist ones).

In his encyclical, Pius writes "...the Word of God, as consubstantial with the Father, has all things in common with him, and therefore has necessarily supreme and absolute dominion over all things created."(Pope Pius XI, Quas primas, §7).

In the Gospel according to Matthew, Jesus says: "All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me." (Matthew 28:18)

*****

I do understand the Christian impetus to establish the primacy of God’s dominion on creation over that of secular regimes and ideologies. In the face of imperialism or totalitarianism, it is very reassuring to think of God as an almighty monarch who can protect us from the abuses of earthly powers.

Maybe there is mileage yet in the title of Christ the King as a means of resistance in the face of abusive uses of political powers.

*****

In the meantime, I will focus on what my Beloved taught us: “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Lord Jesus Christ, Beloved, you are the Alpha and the Omega. You are my Lord and my God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty. Make me an instrument of your Love.

Amen.

A Thanksgiving homily - Thursday, November 22, 2018

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Bernard Delcourt, OHC
Thanksgiving B - Thursday, November 22, 2018

Joel 2:21-27
1 Timothy 2:1-7
Matthew 6:25-33

Click here for an audio version of the homily

Good Morning! Happy Thanksgiving!

We all have so many God-given gifts to be grateful for. I hope you take some time today to count your own blessings.

Here at the monastery, we are particularly grateful for 116 years of prayer and worship in this location in West Park. The sixteen monks who call this monastery home are the stewards of 26 stunning acres of river-hugging land and 75,000 square feet of beautiful buildings, some dating back to 1902, 1921 and 1965.

We wouldn´t be the stewards of this wonderful inheritance without the vision, care, hard work and commitment of generations of monks and benefactors of this monastery. Today, we give thanks for each one of them.

We hope more monks and benefactors will continue in their tracks for generations of prayers and worship to come on these hallowed grounds. And we pledge ourselves to continue to be visionary, careful, hard-working and committed to the flourishing of monastic life in this place.

Three years ago, we started planning for our Open Doors, Open Hearts capital campaign. The impetus came from the need to upgrade this church of Saint Augustine which will celebrate its centenary in 2021. We wanted to raise the necessary funds soon enough to hopefully complete all the improvements before celebrating that milestone.

Of course, there was a need for capital improvements beyond just our worship space so we widened the scope of the campaign to encompass our ministry of hospitality, our financial sustainability, as well as our worship.

Today, we are officially closing the full year of public solicitations for our Open Doors, Open Hearts capital campaign. If you didn´t contribute yet, don´t worry, we won´t refuse further gifts to the campaign, but we will stop asking!

By the generosity of over 350 donors, we have been very successful in this campaign. Our initial goal was to collect pledges for $2.550.000. To date, the capital campaign has received pledges totaling $2.658.000. We are blessed with benefactors who understand the value of the life and ministry of this monastery. We are blessed and very grateful.

In a few moments, we will bless all the pledge cards received in our Open Hearts, Open Doors capital campaign to honor the many givers who contributed to our efforts. Thank you for a successful fundraising campaign. And to every one of you who sus
tains us in prayer, companionship, volunteering, and treasure: Thank You Very Much Indeed!

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;
Praise him, all creatures here below;
Praise him above, ye heav’nly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Life Profession of the Monastic Vow by Br. Josép Martinez-Cubero - November 20, 2018

Life Profession of the Monastic Vow by Br. Josép Martinez-Cubero - November 20, 2018
Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Robert James Magliula, OHC

Well, I admit that I’m feeling like a proud father today as we gather to celebrate this love story. The significance of being created in the Image of God is that we always remain capable of a relationship with God. This is a human potential that is never lost. We are made to meet God, and it is in this encounter that we become simultaneously fully human and fully divine.1

The underlying purpose of all human development, including spiritual, is to dismantle the obstacles to full humanity and to help us to grow toward a humanity that is more complete. Desire for God is not a merely personal, or even an eccentric choice, but it is a consequence of what we are as humans.

The dynamics for divine intimacy and human intimacy are the same. I believe one is a school for the other. Most start with human intimacy and move from there to divine. But some begin with the divine, first learning how to be vulnerable before God, and then passing it on to others. A few follow the road less traveled, to give themselves over to God alone, in solitude and silence, in prayer and willing surrender in community. In responding to God’s call, a monk fulfills an important role in the Church: he visibly witnesses in his life to the absolute priority of God.

Josép, the God who searches hearts has shown you the path for your life and you have come to know it in this Order, with these brothers, running, as Benedict says, “on the path of God’s commandments, with your heart overflowing with the inexpressible delight of love”.3 Over these years your love and dedication have been an inspiration to us. That love has been deepened by the trials you’ve experienced. Today you make your commitment for life, knowing that the paschal mystery of Jesus’ dying and rising will be the pattern of your monastic life.

In a few minutes, you're going to affirm that you are making your commitment freely. To be completely honest, I think this might be stretching the truth. What I would like to suggest is that the call of God to this Order has so taken root in you and grown over these last years, that to describe it in words that resonate with the idea of consumer choice is hardly the truth. You have found and been found by God here, in the life that you share with your brothers, in a way that makes this next and ultimate step entirely necessary. No human force compels you, but the love and presence of God is compelling you at a deeper level. And to that call you are giving your consent. To do anything less would be to deny both God and your very self. Parker Palmer wrote:

Our deepest calling is to grow into our own deepest authentic selfhood, whether or not it conforms to some image of who we ought to be. As we do so we will not only find the joy that every human being seeks, we will also find our path of authentic service in the world.4

People come to monasteries to achieve their full potential. Monastic discipline aims simply at removing the obstacles to this goal.

In his latest book, Michael Casey muses on the possibility that perhaps we have put too much emphasis in the monastic life on “seeking” rather than on “finding”, on keeping rules rather than on personal growth. 5 While the monk comes here seeking God, it becomes more and more evident that God has sought us out. In the depths of the heart we hear the invitation to abide with Christ. We cannot live this life apart from abiding in the love of Christ. He is the source of our life and love and all that flows from it in community. Jesus challenges us to love as we have been loved by him. Love is a transforming power more than a superficial emotional expression. It is a disciplined habit of care and concern, that like all virtues, can be perfected only over a lifetime. Your monastic life is the call to the all-inclusive love of God. Giving a witness to that love, leads deeper and deeper into the meaning of joy, of being chosen by Christ, and of preferring nothing to Christ.

You have come into an Order and a community which is far from perfect. In your time of formation and temporary profession, the character defects of this community made you wonder more than once, as all of us have: is this for me? God intends us to live together in the fragility of human imperfection. In this we come to know ourselves, each other, and God. We need the other to be like a mirror for us. A mirror doesn’t change the image; it simply shows it as it is. Those closest to us hold a mirror up to us, revealing our good side and our dark side and reminding us that we still haven’t really learned to love. The Gospel gives us an assurance that we are operating inside of an abundant, infinite Love. So even though we will constantly fail, it is not the final word. We also have hope that everything can be healed and restored. We ask one another for forgiveness, as we confess to one another that once again we didn’t do it right. It’s when we do it wrong that we are taught vulnerability. It’s not a vulnerability and an intimacy that we need just now and then. Eventually, it becomes second nature to admit we are wrong, to ask for forgiveness but not to hate ourselves for it.

You are to be compassionate with your weaknesses and those of your brothers, and obedient in service toward all. A spirit of cooperation emerges only as we develop a forbearance toward one another. Your pursuits will include your own happiness but will always be measured by the needs of others and a generosity of spirit. Your love must be filled with courage and tenacity. As you advance in this way of life, you will strengthen your brothers to become what God has intended for us: men of prayer and work, of gracious hospitality, of humble service for all who come seeking God. The discipline of obedience to the Superior and the community is the school in which each brother practices his obedience to God. Our fundamental obligation in obedience is to be or to become what God wills. To do what God wills is secondary. We act according to what we are. The Rule sets out good and gentle guidance as to how a community can seek to identify God's will. But the task is always to discern, not to decide. Your life commitment to God is indeed a new beginning and a sign that you, with God’s help, will be able to live the good zeal Benedict encourages in all of us.6

For a Benedictine, the stability of knowing your place and community for life, provides the context for faithfulness in the instabilities of life. Contemplative life for us is the challenge of remembering God in all that we do, say and are during the day, as we live and are molded by the rhythm of our daily routine. The challenge of the vow is that it gives less opportunity to run away from those parts of us that God is seeking to convert and transform. Day by day and year by year God reveals to us more and more of the true self we are made to be. The task of conversion is not that of a moment but of a lifetime. It is a sign of our commitment to allow God to continue that work within us.

The only people who change, who are transformed, are people who feel safe, who feel their dignity, and who feel loved. That’s what we try to do for one another—offer relationships in which we can change. We need a combination of safety and conflict to keep moving forward in life.7

Of course, that can only be done with divine love flowing through us. In this way, we can love things and people in themselves, for themselves—not for what they do for us. We look beyond what Thomas Merton calls “the shadow and the disguise”8 of things until we can see them in their connectedness and wholeness. That takes work: constant detachment from ourselves—our conditioning, our preferences, and our knee-jerk reactions. We can only allow divine love to flow by way of a transformed mind that allows us to see God in everything and empowers our behavior.

Your life vow will not put an end to doubts, and that is not a bad thing. Unlike answers that presume the static nature of God and life, doubt stretches us beyond ourselves. It is what leaves us open to truth, however difficult it may be to accept. Without doubt, our faith would be the kind that happens around us but not in us—we would go through the motions, without passion, without care---which makes the living of this life a senseless misery. Facing our doubts, we forge the beginning of real faith.

Paul reminds us in the Epistle that when faced with and wearied by life’s difficulties, we can count on God’s nearness to us in Christ. He uses the language of rejoicing to encourage us. Christ’s presence is the source of our joy. Joy is a discipline of perception, not an emotion dependent on circumstances. It’s not an escape from the pain of life; it’s a reconsideration and reinvestment in life from a liberating perspective. By perceiving and rejoicing in Christ’s living presence with us, one let’s go of being one’s own savior.

We who are here in this holy place today represent both the journey you have taken thus far and the one that lies before you. We assure you that our love and prayers will be supporting you in the times ahead. But above all we know that this step which you are taking will be a blessing to you, to us, to the Church, and to the world. +Amen.

1. Michael Casey, Grace: On the Journey to God (Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press, 2018),41.
2. Benedict, Rule of St Benedict, Prologue 49.
3. Parker Palmer, Let Your Life Speak: Listening to the Voice of Vocation (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass,
2000), 49.
4. Michael Casey, Grace: On the Journey to God (Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press, 2018), 36.
5. Benedict, Rule of St Benedict, 72.
6. Adapted from Richard Rohr: Essential Teachings on Love, eds. Joelle Chase and Judy Traeger
(Orbis Books: 2018), 224-225.
8. Thomas Merton, The Asian Journal of Thomas Merton (New Directions: 1973), 236.

Proper 28B - Sunday, November 18, 2018

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Robert James Magliula, OHC
Proper 28 B - Sunday, November 18, 2018

1 Samuel 2:1-10
Hebrews 10:11-14 (15-18) 19-25
Mark 13:1-8

With something so unexpected that defies explanation, what else was Hannah to do but sing. She sings of the God who turns wrong things right, who judges justly, who delivers the needy and puts down the oppressor, who brings death and makes alive, who blesses the barren with children. Her voice joins that of the prophet Miriam and Mary of Nazareth in praise of a God who works deliverance through extraordinary circumstances. Our understanding of God’s power is born within the struggles of our history.

As elsewhere in Scripture, a story on an epic scale begins with a small domestic scene. Hannah is unable to conceive. In a patriarchal culture, childbearing was a woman’s only unique ability. To be unable to conceive was a cause for great shame. It was often viewed as a sign of divine punishment. Her barrenness is the subject of ridicule from her husband’s second wife. She is accused of drunkenness by the inept and insensitive priest, Eli. She asks God to remember her and she makes a promise that a child will be dedicated to God for life.

Hannah embodies both the patriarchal assumptions of her worth as well as God’s concern for her. Her prayers are sincere expressions of her anguish and her dependence on God. She did not come with formal petition or traditional sacrifice. Hers is a prayer of groaning that comes from a place of utter vulnerability. She comes in loneliness, isolation, and despair. She comes as a human being who knows herself to be known and loved by God. God is responsive and present to her. Her humility and honesty in this relationship allows her to unburden herself. Strength springs from her intense awareness of God’s power. Her connection with God transforms her even before she conceives. She is empowered not by might, or by political influence, but by her intimate connection to God, by being spiritually awake.

Hannah’s song of celebration gives voice to the praise and surprise any of us might feel after a dramatic reversal. She gives birth to her son, Samuel. The birth is not a private wonder but a gift of possibility for all of Israel. Samuel is one of the most significant figures in their history. There’s a strong metaphorical connection between Hannah’s barrenness and despair and the emotions of a nation, not unlike our own today, looking for a way to feel secure and hopeful in turbulent times.

Hannah’s story conveys a strong word of hope and encouragement to us by her bold trust in God, receptivity to God, and her praise for the goodness of God. For a pilgrim people, which is an apt description of Israel and the Church, there will always be need for endurance, perseverance, patience, and hope. God’s people live out of the past and into the future, a future that has been promised but is yet to be fully realized. The vision of reality sung by Hannah invites us to see the world as God intends, to behold what God is bringing about. It’s a vision surprising to some and threatening to others.

As we approach the end of the liturgical year, we’re invited to see our life as God’s people in light of the Song of Hannah. We’re given a fresh vision of the new world that is on its way, a world that is not dependent upon human efforts, plans, or strategies, but a world that is God’s gift. Her song summons us to offer ourselves to the One who alone is worthy of praise.

The letter to the Hebrews also holds up that vision. It’s written to a tired and discouraged congregation. They are tired of trying to live the Christian life in a time and culture that offers no support for it. They’re discouraged about how evil still seems to persist. As a result, they have begun to question the value of being Christian. Attendance at worship has slipped, zeal for mission has waned, and the kind of congregational life that is rich in love and compassion has begun to dissipate. The writer offers an invitation for the community to be organized in a new and living way, by trusting more deeply in Jesus Christ. He reminds them that holiness is a Spirit given ability to live in a posture of confidence before God. It is one lived in hope--- a hope that is not rooted in human effort, but solely in the faithfulness of God. This sanctified life is also lived in community. It is there that we are able to stir up and be stirred up to love and good works. The gift of Christ is not one that we receive and keep to ourselves. It is meant for the building up of the whole body, living in solidarity with others, and living with a sense of urgency.

That urgency is expressed in the eight short verses of today’s Gospel. They’re in Jerusalem in the week of his Passion. As the disciples are leaving the temple, they marvel at the buildings that seem so immoveable. Jesus then predicts the horror of an apocalypse of political unrest, disasters and persecutions. He tells them and us that when chaos comes, not to be worried. Things may seem to have fallen apart and anarchy loosed on the world. Nevertheless, the center will hold. He sets out a way to live that does not focus all attention on the chaos but on trust in God. Today, our focus must not only be on the signs themselves, but rather on the One who enables us to look up in chaos and claim the certainty of blessing. Life in our country today summons us to acknowledge the unfinished nature of what God has set into motion. Our transformation personally and communally is not yet complete. To dwell in that place requires trust and encouragement. If you want to know the whole truth pay more attention to the Gospel you hear than to the evil you see.

Jesus’ call to vigilance is an implicit command to keep following his word and example despite the chaos. Perhaps the most daunting challenge for us in the North American context, so set on instant gratification, is this one left to us by Mark: “Beware…keep awake,” watch, resist, hold out for the coming of the Son of Man. Like Hannah, enter into and experience God’s presence fully, honestly, authentically--- luxuriating in God’s loving acceptance which first requires our own self-acceptance. The freedom of knowing that God loves and accepts us translates into selfless service as we become creative participants in the ongoing saving work of God. +Amen

Proper 27 B - Sunday, November 11, 2018

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Roy Parker, OHC
Proper 27 B - Sunday, November 11, 2018

1 Kings 17:8-16
Hebrews 9:24-28
Mark 12:38-44

For a clearer understanding of the character of the scribes of whom Jesus speaks in this passage it will be helpful to give a description which will allow us a more accurate understanding of the poor widow’s contribution to the temple treasury, some culled from the Anchor Bible commentary.

In Mark, the scribes are the principal opponents of Jesus and they are frequently mentioned — twenty-two times in all,  The present instance is the only recorded example of Jesus inveighing against the conduct of the scribes, as distinct from their teaching. Although the scribes and the Pharisees are linked in the condemnation of legalism in Matthew, it is important to draw a proper distinction.

Whereas the Pharisees had an established position, and an honorable one, as interpreters of the Law and its traditions, and were also regarded as highly patriotic, the scribes as “bookmen” were regarded mainly as recorders or collectors of opinions and less authoritative than the Pharisees. As is often the case with those of lesser status, they are represented in the New Testament as not only argumentative, but given to ostentation to magnify their public image — like a classmate of mine at the Webb School in Claremont, California who, having failed to win an athletic varsity letter — a large red capital E — from his previous school, purloined one and injudiciously wore it to breakfast the day after Webb’s football defeat by the Emerson School.

Beyond the issue of ostentation, Jesus condemned the scribes in that they are held responsible for the exactions which effectively destroyed widows’ estates, all on behalf of a temple still in building and soon to come to an end. One of the salient features of Jesus’ confrontation with the scribes in Mark is the connection made between them and the temple. Though one may protest that the costs of the upkeep of the temple and its round of sacrificial observances were the concern of the clergy, Mark’s gospel firmly lays responsibility for extravagance and excess at the door of the scribes, and they are the enemies of Jesus before the clergy enter the picture. The scribes in and around Jerusalem are quite regularly associated with the clergy. Any challenge by Jesus to the temple system and its clergy is accepted by the scribes as a challenge to their standing.

In this light, we are to understand the charge that the scribes offer long prayers. Not that they are responsible for the worship and the liturgies of the temple, but that they consistently urge upon people the fundamental necessity of keeping the interminable round of observances in being. Perhaps we ought to understand the phrase for appearances’ sake not as an indication of pretense, but as a judgment by Jesus that the observances themselves were but an outward show without substance.

The narrative of the poor widow’s offering is, among other things, a continuation of the previous attack on the scribes and their part, as Mark sees it, in the whole official establishment of Judaism in Jerusalem. The judgement of Jesus is that the scribes were like leeches on the Jewish faithful and not the least of their sins was their insistence on the support of the temple system, and all that it implied, even to the sacrificing of widows’ property. Jesus does not commend the widow at all for sacrificing all she had; rather, the story should be read as a lament for a system which could end in the destitution of a widow.

Part of us is attracted to system while another part harbors an expectation which cannot be satisfied by a system, as in Tagore’s aphorism “While God waits for the temple to be built of love, people bring stones.”  This was brought home to me some years ago on a Saturday morning in Berkeley, California some years ago outside the Jesuit School of Theology. The previous evening Raymond Brown, renowned commentator on the Fourth Gospel, had flown in to give a public lecture, and I just happened to meet him that following morning. It also happened that I was to preach the Sunday sermon at a local church on John’s account of the feeding of the five thousand for which I had figured out what seemed to me  a brilliant explanation which discounted the miraculous.  On spying Professor Brown I thought, “What a perfect opportunity to get a verification of my theory.” Dr. Brown, to be sure, listened carefully, but when I had spoken he contradicted me very forcefully regarding the multiplication of loaves, “But they were expecting this!” “Well,” I thought, “back to rewrite.”

Such expectation is displayed by both widows in today’s readings, marginalized women driven to put all their eggs in the basket of God’s promise, persons acting out of the only abundance they had, an abundance of heart.  As a matter of historical interest, by the way, the advertisements our Founder distributed for his mission talks often concluded with the exhortation “Expect Much.”

When operating at the margins of possibility, you are liable to be more ecstatic than cautious and it might land you in trouble. Like Harry James’ solo on “Life Goes to a Party” in Benny Goodman’s 1938 Carnegie Hall Jazz Concert described by the liner notes as “like someone rushing out onto an icy pond and discovering they ain’t got skates.” By that point in the concert, the vibe was so hot that Harry James was possessed by it. This is what Raymond Brown meant: Five thousand people possessed by the vibe of Jesus presiding at Passover — for sure they were expecting this. Once upon a time the philosopher Nietzsche came up with the insight that creation takes place in the realms of music, and so I imagine the expectation of those in the presence of Jesus at Passover might have been a kind of creating musical event, a Passover light opera.

The only formula I can offer for reconciling system with expectation is that they must constantly be wrestled together.

Proper 26 B - Sunday, November 4, 2018

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Robert Sevensky, OHC
Proper 26 B - Sunday, November 4, 2018

Ruth 1:1-18
Hebrews 9:11-14
Mark 12:28-34

To hear the sermon in its fullness click here.

I was recently surfing the internet and came across this headline:  “Tech Community Outraged after SQLite Founder Adopts Benedictine Code of Conduct” The first paragraph of the article reads:

“The founder of the world's most widely used database engine ignited a firestorm in the tech community after it was revealed that he had posted a code of conduct for users based on the teachings of the Bible and an ancient order of monks founded by Benedict of Nursia.”

What he had posted was Chapter 4 of the Rule of St. Benedict:  “The Tools for Good Works.”

The chapter comprises 72 exhortations or commandments, beginning with the Two Great Commandments that we heard this morning in the Gospel:  Love of God and Love of Neighbor, commandments which Jesus quotes from the Torah (Deuteronomy and Leviticus). The chapter goes on to add most of the Ten Commandments and various other behaviors or proscriptions.

Taken together they constitute a thorough moral examination of Christian living, ranging in content from observable, external actions such as relieving the lot of the poor and clothing the naked and burying the dead and not being lazy and not giving way to anger to more interior practices and dispositions that we might term habits of the heart:

• Don't nurse a grudge
• Utter only the truth from heart and mouth
• Do not return evil for evil
• Love your enemies
• Don't be a grumbler or a detractor
• Hate no one
• Don't be jealous
• Don't be proud or arrogant
• Don't love quarreling
• Don't be addicted to wine

There are even some explicitly religious directives:

• Prefer nothing more than the love of Christ
• Love fasting and chastity
• Deny yourself in order to follow Christ
• Keep death daily before your eyes
• Put your hope in God

As you might imagine, this didn't go over big in Silicon Valley...and maybe not with most of us if we are honest.  It's an exhaustive and perhaps exhausting list and would be frankly impossible—is impossible—were it not for the final 72nd tool:  “Never despair of God's mercy.”

Most of these “tools” are not commandments or laws in our usual sense—enforceable dictums--but only in an extended sense, just as the Two Great Commandments that we hear from Torah and from Jesus and which begin this list are not.  But they help me, they help all of us to better understand the content of those two great commandments. They “unpack” them for us, so to speak. And indeed the two are fundamentally and ultimately one.  Jesus invites us to acts of love...acts which are both interior and exterior, internal dispositions of the heart and external observable behaviors.  And unless we have both, cultivate both, our loving is incomplete and weak.  And so are we.

Here in this community, we are fond of quoting a line from the rule of our founder James Otis Sargent Huntington: “Love must act as light must shine and fire must burn.”  This too is not a commandment in the usual sense—a demand or directive. It is rather a description of the very nature of love.  It is not the case that we must first get our act together and then be or do something loving. Rather, it is the very nature or essence or character of love to overflow in acts of love, just as it is of the very nature or character of light to shine and of fire to burn. And this is not original with our Father Founder. St. Ignatius Loyola says as much in his Spiritual Exercises:  “Love ought to show itself in deeds over and above words.”

We rightly say that the God the Holy Trinity Itself naturally overflows in creativity revealing God and Godself in an abundance, and overflow, an outpouring of love.

And what is true of God is true of us...all of us.  All of us are lovers, though few of us love well.

St. Augustine says, “Everybody loves: the question is, what is the object of our love?  In Scripture, we are not urged to stop loving, but instead to choose what we love.”  To choose carefully and wisely and sweetly, with all our whole heart and mind and strength.

There's a quote going around on the Internet and available now in posters and note cards attributed to Pedro Arrupe, SJ, former Superior General of the Jesuits  In fact, he never said it, but—like the so-called Prayer of St. Francis—it seems to me, at least for the most part, true. You may have seen it:

Nothing is more practical than
finding God, than
falling in Love
in a quite absolute, final way.
What you are in love with,
what seizes your imagination, will affect everything.
It will decide
what will get you out of bed in the morning,
what you do with your evenings,
how you spend your weekends,
what you read, whom you know,
what breaks your heart,
and what amazes you with joy and gratitude.
Fall in Love, stay in love,
and it will decide everything.

The Tools of Good Works are finally a commentary and explication of the two great Commandments—which are indeed only one.  They teach us how to love, what love must look like, what shape and texture our loving will have.  They offer us some of the signs and signposts of love. Yes: let us be careful what we love. But let us not fail to love and to love as Christians, guarding and guiding both our hearts and our hands: “Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything.”

There is a postscript: SQLite ultimately had to abandon the Rule of Benedict as their Code of Conduct. It didn't meet industry standards. So they re-posted it as their “Code of Ethics,” substituting instead the Code of Conduct from Mozilla, of Firefox fame.  They note however that they and their developers nevertheless pledge to follow the spirit of the Rule of Benedict to the best of their ability and see it as a promise to their clients that this is how we will behave in our community.  They add:  “We will treat you his way regardless of how you treat us.” Not bad.  Not bad at all.

In a hundred years, when Mozilla and even SQLite are forgotten, folks will still be reading the words of Jesus and, I venture to predict, the words of our Holy Father Benedict.  We will still need a school of love, a treasury of tools of good works.  And we will need to be reminded as much as we do today: “Never despair of God's mercy.”

Finally please, if you haven't done so already: vote on Tuesday.”

All Saints - Year B - Thursday, November 1, 2018

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Randy Greve, OHC
All Saints - Sunday, October 28, 2018

Wisdom of Solomon 3:1-9
Revelation 21:1-6a
John 11:32-44

To hear the sermon in its fullness click here.

“Jesus began to weep.”  “God will wipe every tear from their eyes.”

Sometimes everything just clicks.  Sometimes there are moments when we are alive and happy in a way beyond the ordinary.  I could list decades-worth of such moments from all over the world: certainly in this place, a beach in Texas, a bar in South Carolina, the side of a highway looking at Denali near Fairbanks, Alaska, a game park in Africa, over pasta in Assisi, a seminary chapel in Toronto… 

The one thing they all have in common is that they were moments with people I love, in a beautiful place, with laughter and feasting, whether spiritual or physical.  These moments were not just about the moment, they were glimpses of a home for which my soul longs.  That’s why I didn’t want those times to end.  I could have stayed forever.  But they did end. We part ways, go back to ordinary reality.  Sometimes we say we will keep in touch, but almost always we move on, lose contact.  

Within the joy of the moment is already the sting of loss, waiting to remind me that it was only a moment.  Communion in community begun and ended tells us something about what it is to be human.  We were not made for goodbyes.  Not originally.  Goodbyes, whether in distance or death are not part of how the world was designed to work.  It is tempting to rationalize our grief as inevitable, mask the reality of it with a shrug of the shoulder and an “oh, well.”  But that is not the way we were designed to be, either.

We were designed for close, lasting, abiding communion – for moments that never have to come to an end.  And so the reality of ending and distance and death forces upon us an alien experience that has invaded the Eden for which we were made and set us wandering into a foreign land.

The Bible is wonderfully honest and powerfully poetic about our plight.  Within its narrative, we are caught between being kicked out of Paradise in one direction and the new Jerusalem of some scary apocalyptic future in the other.  What to do?  Do we bet everything on this life, cling to the tangible, to what seems secure or risk everything on a promise that sounds too good to be true?  That is an important question in the Bible, but in the meantime, we are here.  

The Bible’s answer to our present is to have us set up camp in the fierce and barren landscape of mortality and let it teach us about yearning and connection and grief and hope.  If we dare do that, dare to encounter our present condition, at times we will weep.  When our frailty and mortality are visited upon us and those we love, we let out all the contradiction and confusion through our eyes.  Thus the Bible is loaded with weeping.  From Hagar weeping for Ishmael, Abraham for Sarah, Jacob for Joseph lost and found again, Rachel for her children, Mary Magdalene at the feet of Jesus, and Jesus himself both here at the tomb of Lazarus and over Jerusalem as he enters on Palm Sunday, to name but a few.

“You have noted my lamentation; put my tears into your bottle; are they not recorded in your book?” Says the psalmist.  We know, sometimes only vaguely and intuitively, but especially in times of pain and grief, that we were made for something more, some other home, and so, caught between Eden and new Jerusalem, we all stand and lift our lament at the tomb of all the mourning and crying and pain and death that has visited us.  Perhaps God is saving our tears for something, recording their number for some future purpose.  The story does not leave us disconsolate at the grave, of course, it beckons us home.

I don’t recommend interpreting the Revelation to John literally.  It will lead to nothing but trouble, trust me.  Rather, it is sufficient to say that God, in God’s own time and in God’s own way, will bring this world to a merciful and just end and usher in the kingdom of heaven on earth.  As J.R.R. Tolkien has Frodo say in The Hobbit, “everything sad will come untrue.”  The rest of the book you can do with whatever you like.  And good luck.  

Except the reading from chapter 21 we hear today.  That is literal.  Call me a fundamentalist, I don’t care, but it better be true, it better happen.  I’ve staked my life on it being true.  The truth declared in the reading is that of the moment when the kingdom is come, Satan is destroyed, God is among us, dwelling with us forever.  

And what is the first thing that God does in this new dwelling-with-us world?  Wipe every tear from our eyes!  Of course.  However my body is to be resurrected, I take my tears with me.  My tears will go with me to the new Jerusalem.  They are the way I am known.  They are counted.  They are the record of my willingness to live, even in the face of pain and death.  And with my tears are most certainly my memories of where each came from, for whom each was shed, and then the joyful relief beyond words when I know that not one more will be added to my bottle, when we hear that every source of tears, every reason for the pain of separation and death, is gone forever.  

Tears last as long as this world lasts, because as long as this world is, there will always be something to weep about.  As the world is made new, so are our faces.  There is no grander, bolder, more triumphant language in all the Bible than this – fitting for the greatest moment in the universe - to be finally and forever and perfectly home.  And yet it is as intimate and tender as a teardrop on a grief- stained face.  

The hints in Revelation and Hebrews point to something going on, which is what we celebrate today; that those who have gone before us in death are living witnesses of us and for us, and though in God’s presence and free from sin and pain and sorrow, still awaiting the end of tears just as we are.  On that day, God, together with them, knowing every tear we have shed, wipes the last evidence of our earthly wandering, and then invites us all into a party, where with saints and heroes and family and friends and all who have welcomed the mercy of God, we enjoy at long last an endless moment – an endless alleluia of feasting, wine, laughter and memories tearlessly, painlessly, deathlessly, for ever and ever shared. 

Amen.