The Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 21 A, September 27, 2026

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, New York

Br. Scott Wesley Borden

The Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost, September 27, 2026

Ezekiel 18:1-4,25-32

Philippians 2:1-13

Matthew 21:23-32

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This morning's reading from Mathew begins with Jesus' teaching in the Temple. The chief priests and elders come to challenge him. By what authority are you teaching? They demand. Who gave you this authority? The chief priests and elders assume, reasonably enough, that they are the authorities...

Jesus’ answer is audacious, to say the least... Jesus says: I will ask you a question first, and if you answer then I’ll answer your questions... Jesus is putting himself on equal footing with the chief priests and elders... They asked Jesus about authority, and he is telling them his authority is equal to theirs... I can’t imagine that the chief priests and elders are greatly impressed... but it's too late because Jesus asks a question about the authority of John the Baptist. This is a question that the chief priests and elders, the authorities, dare not answer.

These questions seem to make perfect sense today – but they may not mean exactly what we think they mean. Our modern understanding of authority unusually has to do with the right to apply power and control. But that is not the only form of the word. Authority also has to do with expertise and mastery of knowledge. This is the form of authority we seem to be dealing with – not power, but knowledge.

In any case, it seems that Jesus is done with the challenge to his authority and moves on with a parable...

“What do you think:” Jesus asks, “a father had two sons...” I think that makes me nervous... I have one brother. My father had two sons... So right away this parable feels a little too close to home for comfort. But part of the power of Jesus’ parables is that we can locate ourselves in them.

A father had two sons – one who pleasantly agreed to do what he was asked, the other who disagreeably refused. But Jesus adds a wrinkle.

The nice son turns out not to be so very nice. He can pleasantly agree to anything – because he doesn’t do it. There is no cost to him in being nice and saying yes.

And the nasty son turns out to be not so bad – he gets done what needs to be done. But he seems to pay twice – there is the cost of refusal and the cost of doing what was asked.

Two things jump out at me - First: if I were the father in this story, I’m not sure I’d be the world’s most proud parent. Second: both sons don’t tell the truth - and I wonder: are they lying to their father or to themselves about what they will or won’t do?

We don’t know much about these two sons. It's risky to try to determine their motives for their behavior. But I do know a thing or two about my own behavior...

It is not too uncommon – if I can bare my soul – that somebody asks me to do something and I cheerfully agree. And yet somehow the task goes undone. It's not that I really don’t want to do what I’ve been asked, or that I’m being passive-aggressive, or giving an easy answer just to end a discussion – though those are all sometimes true. I agree, with all good intentions, to do something... and still I just don’t get it done.

It is also true in my life that sometimes somebody asks me to do something that I know needs to be done but really don’t want to do – clean up my room... file the stuff piled on my desk... and I just flat out refuse. My inner two-year-old rears his ugly head and says – no, I don’t want to... but then my more adult self takes over. Most of the time it's easier just to do whatever needs to be done, rather than invest the energy in bickering about not doing it.

I’m willing to bet I’m not the only one here who sometimes doesn’t do what he says he will – and sometimes does what he says he won’t... I think that is pretty much part of the human condition.

It's tempting to say that growth means we grow in the direction of putting the first son’s words with the second son’s actions. And in fact, I think, as we become more whole, it is true that our words and actions are more likely to go together.

But the beginning of becoming whole is the realization that each of us is both sons. In this parable, Jesus is talking about us... about you... about me... We are at the same time obedient and rebellious. Sometimes our words and actions don’t match.

And it's one of those ironies of human nature that the harder I work to deny that I am like either son, the more I am likely to be like both sons.

When I pretend that I’m so good that I can’t be bad – that is when I’m most capable of really wicked behavior. I lose touch with my failings and with my shadow, and they start to have lives of their own.

What do you think? A father has two sons... a good-natured slacker and a surly guy Friday. To the degree I can acknowledge that I am both sons, I can do a better job of matching my actions to my words. And it is, after all, through my actions that I live in my baptismal covenant – a covenant made with words and actions.

For these two sons, becoming whole doesn’t mean curing them of their failings. It means becoming aware of them. For the first son, maybe it means learning that he makes commitments to easily, or perhaps just learning that it is OK sometimes to say no if that is what he really wants to say. For the second son maybe, it means learning to keep his mouth shut a few moments longer, realizing that the first reaction isn’t perhaps his best reaction.

Becoming whole means knowing who you are – the good and the bad, the strength and the weakness. God knows us as we are – our greatest virtues and our worst vices. God loves us whole. It's not that God loves us in spite of our faults. God loves us. Period.

I said a while ago that if I were the father of these two sons, I would not be the world’s most proud parent. That’s because I’m human. One of my weaknesses is that my love is conditional. I love the things that are easiest to love. I rationalize it by saying I love the things that deserve my love.

But God’s love is not conditional. Thank God!

So, am I saying that it doesn’t matter what we do since God loves us? Of course it matters. Growing in wholeness does not mean growing lazy, or wicked, or whatever. It means growing in the knowledge of who you are and in the knowledge of the love of God. This doesn’t make you free to do anything that comes to mind. It makes you free walk in the ways of justice and peace; in the ways God calls us to walk.

Acknowledging that I lust for money, or for control, or whatever, takes away the power of that lust. Saying that I don’t lust for money, or power... is simply not telling the truth... like the son who said “I go.”

It is, after all, the refusing son who does his father’s will. Ultimately, his actions tell the story of who he is.

And so, it is with us – our actions tell the story of who we are.

We are God’s children – loved by God. Those of us who follow Jesus are called on to share that love – to build God’s beloved Kingdom. A kingdom where the meek inherit the world, where the poor are blessed, where we hunger and thirst for righteousness.

We are known as Christians by our love.

The Exaltation of the Holy Cross, September 13, 2026

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Robert Leo Sevensky, OHC

The Exaltation of the Holy Cross, September 13, 2026

• Isaiah 45:21-25
• Galatians 6:14-18
• John 12:31-36a

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We venerate your cross, O Christ, and praise and glorify your holy resurrection for by virtue of that cross, joy has come into the world.  Amen.

Although some of my brothers find it difficult to believe, when I was an adolescent in the early 1960s, I was a member of the Boy Scouts of America, faithfully attending weekly meetings, working on my merit badges, and going on various outings and camping trips. And though I've forgotten a lot of details, I've never forgotten either the Scout Oath or the Scout Law.  In case you're not familiar with the Scout Law, let me recite it:

“A Scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent.”

I was reminded of this when, back in 2025, our chapter spent some days generating a list of qualities or attributes that we were looking for in a Superior. It had a lot of resonances with the Scout Law. I won't burden you with the whole of it, but here are some of the attributes we named:

Clear, consistent, calm, trustworthy, Gospel-grounded, person of prayer and of service, seeker of the Face of God, able to disagree and remain in relationship, focused, integrated, intentional, inclusive, open to the Spirit  

Some of these qualities or attributes come directly from the Rule of St. Benedict, others from the Rule of the Order of the Holy Cross. Still others reflect current appraisals of what seems necessary for the right functioning and mission of our community in this season of our corporate life.  

Many of these same qualities and competencies appear in lists that parishes and churches produce when they are looking for a new pastor or rector or minister.  And they always make me laugh.  They seem to want Jesus…though even he himself might not tick off all the boxes.  It all seems a bit crazy and unrealistic. But is it?

The Rule of Benedict is not shy about claiming that the abbot is a leader who takes the place of Christ.  Right at the beginning of the Rule, Benedict states boldly: “He [the abbot] is believed to hold the place of Christ in the monastery….” (RB 2:2) And Rule of our Founder is only slightly more circumspect, echoing Benedict when he says that the Superior: “… must be the representative of Jesus Christ, whose likeness in each of its members it is the purpose of the community to create.” (Rule of OHC, Chapter XXXI).  

The Superior of the Order of the Holy Cross needs to be an able administrator. But that’s only a part of the job, perhaps especially at this point in our institutional and wider cultural history.  Yes, we always need good administration.  But we need something more as well…something spiritual, if you will, in addition to what has been traditionally termed ‘temporalities.  

This dialog or conversation surrounding leadership is not new for us in the Order of the Holy Cross.  Back in 2015 we held a series of discussions around what leadership might look like and work well, at least in this monastery.  Br. Scott shared with us a conversation he had with Abbot Notker Wolf, Abbot Primate of the Benedictine Confederation, while in Rome.  I quote:

“One of the things that struck me in talking with Abbot Notker… was his concern that we make too little distinction between administrative leadership and spiritual leadership within Holy Cross. The clarity he sees in the Rule is that the Abbot is a spiritual leader, a chief pastor if you will. The prior is an administrator, more or less a chief operating officer… And the cellarer—a title we don't use but the bursar can reasonably be construed in this position—is primarily concerned with the worldly assets of the monastery, more or less the chief financial officer. Abbot Notker was very energetic around the differentiation between administrative and spiritual leadership. He was pretty adamant that one person could not be in both positions.”

Perhaps Abbott Notker was being a bit rigid here, but the truth is that this Order has come to a place where we not only need but also want and desire a spiritual leader, which is to say, a teacher, a preacher, a pastor, a model/example, a brother…and perhaps most of all, a man of prayer.   

We chose Br. Ephrem to serve as our Superior because we recognize in him one who has already exhibited many of these attributes.  We recognize too that we are a community that needs to be invited, persuaded, nudged—and perhaps on rare occasions even dragged—into newer or deeper expressions of Christian witness rooted in sixteen centuries of monastic living.  

The Order of the Holy Cross has changed in the past almost 150 years, and that change has been life giving for us. I think of the move from New York City to rural Maryland in 1892 and then the move to the banks of the Hudson and the establishment of schools and missions and ministries and works. And I think of the turbulent 1960’s and 1970’s—ferment and change were everywhere, including in the church and monasteries and other examples of vowed or consecrated life.  

We are now, I believe, far enough away from those years to see where we have come from and perhaps where we are going. The pivotal point for us remains the 1984 decision to adopt the Rule of St. Benedict as one of our two foundational documents. But truthfully, we were only partly prepared to begin our growth into a more nuanced communal identity rooted in this ancient spiritual lineage.  

Over forty years have passed since then.  And we—the Order of the Holy Cross—are not who we were back in those days of great experimentation and chaotic change.  Then we were a society of ten or so quasi-independent monasteries and priories.  Today we are two, along with a handful of brothers living independently.  And I believe it is precisely this contraction which allows us to see what it might mean to be vowed Benedictine men living into the 21st century.  A vison is emerging of who we are…smaller to be sure, but also perhaps more flexible and more solidly grounded in an OHC/Benedictine ethos.

In a brilliant article titled “The Abbot as Leader” Benedictine scholar Terence Kardong, OSB, writes about two controlling images that shape the role of an abbot.  The first has to do with The Journey.  Kardong stresses that Benedict in his Rule insists that monastic life is a dynamic process. It may be stable, but it is never static. We are going somewhere and, hopefully we are going there together.  In some sense, the abbot is a Pilgrimage Leader: “The art of Benedictine leadership is to help all to stay with the company and eventually arrive as the destination.” (p. 61)

The second image that shapes the abbot’s work is The Dream, that is the vison of a common or shared goal which is internalized by a community, and which moves us toward our common destination, our telos, our end.  Kardong insists that monks and monasteries must have a dream, a goal, or they are jeopardy.  And the abbot’s task or role is to serve as the steward or custodian of that dream/vision/goal.  He draws it out of us and articulates it and reminds us repeatedly of why we are in this monastery through his teaching, preaching, counseling, and example.   

Ephrem, we believe that you are now the one to lead us along this journey with this vision firmly held before us…the vision of the RB as well as that of our Father Founder who admonishes us to hold the Cross firmly before the eyes of others even as we ourselves embrace it in our monastic profession.  

You may be our last Superior, Ephrem, but you may also be our first Abbot…even if the title never changes.  May you be an able administrator.  But by all means—all means—be as well our spiritual leader, pastor, guide, teacher, friend.  

Reflect regularly on that list of characteristics or attributes generated by us in 2025…our version of the Scout Law…trustworthy, loyal, helpful…  And when the going gets rough…as it inevitably will…and when this list seems too daunting, too impossible, then take time to step back and remember an even simpler motto, that of the Cub Scouts of America, a program designed for children aged 5 - 10. Their motto says simply: “Do your best”.  The Lord asks nothing more of you or indeed of any of us. Do your best.  And trust that the Lord, who has begun a good thing in you and in us will bring it to perfection in God’s time and in God’s way.  

"And now, to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, be ascribed all might, majesty, dominion, and power, both now and forevermore. Amen." 

The Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 18 A, September 6, 2026

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Randy Greve

The Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Year A, September 6, 2026

Exodus 12:1-14

Romans 13:8-14

Matthew 18:15-20

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Our gospel is, on one level, a process for addressing faults and conflicts within the community of believers.  It is so different a way of making amends from much of our public discourse (which does not seem to care much for amends) as to seem laughably unrealistic and naive.  If we take this reading seriously, then we can ask, what does this kind of relating mean?  Where does it come from and what informs such behavior?  What kind of people are we called to be in order to actualize these practices?   So, I endeavor to reflect on just the first act: If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one.
Life gathered in the name of Christ is life in truth, in reality.  Set in the midst of all manner of lies and illusions, deceit and fantasy, we are to be truth-bearers so that we can be practitioners of reality, so that truth becomes who we are.  Spiritual life is not an escape into some alternate reality; it is the entering into the essence of truth which forms all of life.  We are vowed in such a way that avoidance, excuses, rationalizations, and any other form of discernment that is not true and real find no home in us.  Our baptismal liturgy describes this identity as both renouncing the sources and systems of evil and injustice in us and around us and the affirmation of the truth of Christ’s saving power for us and through us as a body.  We practice our identities in such a way that we face what is real rather than run, name what is happening rather than deny.  
What our Lord proscribes here is the practice of our human experience within conscious community.  This way subverts the impulses of punishment and vengeance and orients power as that commitment to the good which expresses itself as for and alongside others, never over or against others.  It is actively nonviolent.  It describes what is the case about us: sometimes I perceive some aspect of the truth that you do not.  Sometimes you are aware of a reality to which I am blind.  So, we need community as the realm in which we offer the gift of our insight and receive the feedback of others.
As our desire turns into deeper acts of love and trust, we encounter our inner resistances.  We all have baggage around sin, forgiveness, and reconciliation.  We have been hurt and we have caused hurt.  Pointing out someone’s fault may hurt their feelings, or they may attack me, our relationship may be harmed.  I don’t want to be judgmental.  It’s not a big deal.  I may also discover beliefs toward my own sin: it’s easier to hide than confess, if the community knew what I had done, they would reject me.  If I am honest, some may look down on me.  These beliefs inhibit common life.  Facing truth liberates us from the besetting distortions that pollute relationships.  Hiding and avoiding might feel safe, but they are flimsy substitutes for the kinds of flourishing relationships we long for.  We must go through the resistance to experience the renewal on the other side.  Living in a community requires the willingness and capacity to live and speak truth for the sake of the health of the whole body, sometimes evoking out of us an honest vulnerability.  My discomfort bows to the greater needs of community harmony.  
This counsel is the liturgy of mercy made visible and ordinary.  The sinner is invited to act from the belief that their sin is unavoidable and real, but not permanent.  Forgiveness really does wipe the slate clean because the community believes and practices that beginning again.  It is dangerous to lead an unconfronted life.  The naming of our errant ways is a gift of grace which we can receive as such.  The truth-teller is invited to act from the belief that although real harm has been done, it can be healed, trust can be restored, and the sword of vengeance must be laid down.  A healthy community is made up of people willing to face their truth and name the truth of others in service of the good of our souls and the integrity of life together.
We are called to be ourselves without performance or pretense, which includes gifts and wounds.  Assemblies of the guarded and defended, where secrets are well-hidden and bitterness carefully concealed under a mask of mere polite friendliness is not the new creation we are made to be.  
Communities caught in the web of defending and rationalizing, blaming and avoiding will expend all their energy on preserving the illusion of independence because the fear of being truly seen and known is not safe or welcome.  Such places are a kind of self-created hell of refusing to be fully human.
What would it be like to live where every member of a community can be seen and known, and can participate in the salvation drama of falling short and beginning again without partiality and with sincere absolution?  The Lord asks us to do something that may sound strange; normalize the inevitability of sin and the beauty of conscious forgiveness and reconciliation.  Faults and failure are not threats to an integrated community, not signs to withdraw and hide - they are opportunities for vulnerable trust in the reality of being imperfect image-bearers.  Lead us into all truth, Lord Christ, and help us love one another as you love us. Amen.