Sunday, April 12, 2026

The Second Sunday of Easter, April 12, 2026

Holy Cross MonasteryWest Park, NY

Br. Scott Wesley Borden

The Second Sunday of Easter, April 12, 2026

 

Here we are on the Second Sunday of Easter – a Sunday that has been traditionally a bit under-loved. In the Anglican tradition it is sometimes known as Low Sunday... It does pale a bit sat next to Easter. And yet there is some important work for this Sunday.

The Gospel Reading has the disciples hiding, as they seem to do a lot these days, in fear of the authorities. The disciples have reason for fear – it is these same authorities who crucified Jesus. Peter, in particular, has lied through his teeth to deny Jesus, so great was his fear. Fear is a big part of our Easter experience, but not a highlight...

Jesus comes to the disciples and presents them with his wounds. Well – that is to say, most of the disciples. Judas is gone. And Thomas is off doing something. So, Thomas misses the close encounter with the wounds. He also misses the first stirring of the Holy Spirit when Jesus breathes on them. These days it is not too clear, but back then Spirit and Breath were absolutely understood to be the same thing. In word and deed Jesus covers the disciples with the Holy Spirit.

Apparently, Jesus makes a quick exit as we hear nothing more from him for the time being. Jesus goes and Thomas returns. The disciples immediately tell Thomas that they have seen the Lord. Thomas seems not to believe them – and why should he. What they are telling him is impossible. He declares that if he doesn’t see the wounds for himself, he will not believe.

But the next week, when the disciples are once again hiding behind a locked door, Jesus appears – this time with Thomas present. And Jesus makes the first move – he goes right to Thomas and invites him to examine the wounds, even to go so far as to put his fingers in them. John does not tell us if Thomas took up Jesus on this offer... but Thomas is completely convinced.

It's an interesting thing that Jesus knows exactly where Thomas needs to be met. No challenges. No confrontation. Just Jesus essentially saying I know what you need... come see my wounds for yourself. Our loving God in the person of Jesus meets us where we need to be met. Not necessarily where we would like to be met; or in the way we would like to be met; or in the way we find most comfortable.

Sadly, for Thomas, this interaction with Jesus has come to almost totally define his identity – Doubting Thomas. Over about two thousand years Thomas has become the embodiment of doubt, even perhaps an archetype. And yet his actions are quite reasonable. He just wants the experience that the others had – they saw the wounds...

John is a bit vague in the narrative. Is Thomas doubting Jesus? Is he doubting the resurrection? John never tells us that. I suspect what Thomas is doubting is the trustworthiness of his fellow disciples. He doubts that they have seen Jesus. And let's be honest – the disciples have not exactly distinguished themselves as the most trustworthy folks on the planet recently.

Does Thomas earn his nickname “Doubting”? Who can say with any certainty. What we can be certain about is that he takes his faith seriously. Jesus asks “do you believe because you have seen? Blessed are those who have come to believe and yet have not seen.” That would be us – and so I think we owe thanks and gratitude to Thomas.

So, what do we think Thomas may have come to believe? The most obvious answer is that Jesus is Lord and Savior. What might that mean?

Well, it's not all that long ago, last Thursday – Maundy Thursday – to be clear, that Jesus gave us a mandate for how to believe. Jesus called it a new commandment, but in fact it was, even then, a very old commandment: Love one another. The new part is how Jesus clarifies: as I have loved you, so you are to love one another. This is how we are to be known as followers of Jesus. It follows that if we don’t love one another that we cannot be known as followers of Jesus.

But John’s Gospel is not through telling us about love... A few brief chapters later Jesus tells us that if we love Jesus, we will keep God’s commandments. All of this occurs as part of the telling of the Easter story. Clearly John has linked Easter with love. And it would seem we are called to do the same. God so loves the world that his son, his only begotten son, is given to us.

But this year part of the story has hit me a bit differently. Jesus and the Spirit and God are one, so their experiences must be one. Jesus comes to dwell among us so that we can gain experience of God, but also so that God can gain some experience of what it's like to be human, truly human. Our response is to crucify Jesus.

But even after that, God still loves us. God, it seems, handles rejection better than we do... We have done our very best to rid ourselves of God. Not only have we failed, but we have failed to change God’s love toward us. God’s call to us is still that we love God and love our neighbors and ourselves. This hasn’t changed since the Book of Genesis. But at the same time, it appears that we haven’t changed either.

In much of the Hebrew Scripture, our response to anything we didn’t like was to fight. And sadly, that hasn’t changed much either. When I was born the Korean War was mostly over, but in fact, technically, North and South Korea are still at was. On the heels of that came the Vietnam war. Then the Cold War, the war on drugs, the war on poverty, the war on crime. War seems to be our go-to answer for whatever we perceive as a problem.

This way of thinking defines our culture – just as it defined Roman culture in Jesus' time. It pushes our thinking into sorting our world into friends and enemies. But Jesus call to love our enemies notwithstanding. We prefer to crush our enemies. Where is the love in that?

In the so-called war on poverty, poor people were enemy adjacent. But the super-rich were not. And yet, the unjust conditions that create poverty are surely not caused by poor people. Bill Gates and Elon Musk have much more to do with creating poverty than all the poor people in the world.

The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King made clear that as long as we fight in a model that has winners and losers, the fighting can never end. For it will always be up to the winners to defend their stuff and the losers will always be driven to try to become winners... It's a horrific cycle that we have seen play out many, many times.

But the call of Easter is to break that cycle. And the tool that we must use is love. It is the tool that Jesus gives us. It the only tool that Jesus gives us.

Thursday, April 2, 2026

Maundy Thursday, April 2, 2026

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Randy Greve
Maundy Thursday, April 2, 2026



Liturgy is the means by which we are renewed in faith in the present moment by remembering salvation history.  Days of remembrance are ever the same and ever new.  Into this remembrance, this history, we bring our present lives - griefs and hopes as well as the longings of people whom we remember who are hungry, who live in places of war, who are victims of oppression - Christ is with them and us in this moment.   We share in the hope of the apostles and saints through the ages who groan for salvation - for life in the reign of justice and peace that is promised and in which we share even as this world is passing away.  

Once again, the witness of Christ in his passion is proclaimed to our lives and to the world as the heart of our Lord’s self-emptying love for us.  But that witness raises questions.  What does Maundy Thursday have to do with today?  Does the Jesus movement have anything to say to our nation and world which are volatile, uncertain, chaotic, and ambiguous?  How might remembering our stories inform our disagreements about the meaning of justice and freedom in this political atmosphere?  Many are processing how to cope with the time faithfully.  It is stressful.  We seek relief, resolution.  And where there is chaos, there is temptation.

Before us in our collective life are two great temptations.  One is to become zealots and fight for our side.  The other temptation is to tune it all out.  Some Christians have succumbed to the first temptation - they know who is right, who is wrong; they know the country needs defending from its enemies, whatever the means.  Jesus is cast as the sword-wielding warrior who will come to bring divine wrath on the enemy.  Some have given into the second temptation and view their faith as a defense against the call of the moment, a vacuum untouched by outside events, a way to go numb, regress into a bubble of isolation and illusory safety.  Jesus here is cast as the detached mystic, only concerned with the life of the soul.  So which will it be?  Catastrophize or opt out?  Is there not another way?  Yes, yes there is, actually. It is staring us in the face.

Jesus has spent four days in the temple teaching and confronting the corruption of the oppression system with pointed and confrontational language and action.  The tension has been building, the plot forming, the opportunity has come.  In the garden, tonight, they will enact their plan to destroy this dangerous troublemaker from Galilee.  Jesus knows what awaits him.  Perhaps he considered saving his own life with violence or sparking the rebellion against the Romans that some around him wanted.  I wonder if Jesus was tempted to slip away under cover of darkness toward Bethany or Emmaus or Jericho -wait until tempers cooled, keep a low profile in the countryside until Jerusalem was safe.  

In the upper room, Jesus is a marked man.  He knows this is his last night, a final few hours with the disciples before everything changes.  We are gathered on this night to remember what he did and why it matters.  We remember what he did not do.  He did not fight.  He did not leave.  Instead, he shared a meal.  He prioritized relationships.  He gave us bread and wine - his very self in perpetual remembrance.  Our call is as simple and revolutionary as that -a steadfast focus on what is ultimate and our allegiance to Christ:  When the zealots declare that the sword is the way, we gather around a table.  When the church seduces us into factions and divisions, we gather around a table.  When the politicians want to sell us strife and blame, we gather around a table.  We do not fight.  We do not escape.  We gather, we receive, we celebrate, we remember.   We answer the chaos around us by being stable, reliable, orderly, and clear in our identity and our calling. 

This gathering is no mere sentimental routine.  When we gather, we participate in making present the outward and visible sign in bread and wine that declares Christ is alive and present and is the way to the life we most long for.  Sacraments are not additives to life; they are windows into the very nature of reality.  This gathering meal we call the Holy Eucharist is the sign that love will triumph over hate.  The forces of division and malice may have their days, but those days are numbered; evil is marked for destruction.  How like Jesus that it is a table of remembrance and sharing - even while the forces of tyranny and violence were right outside - a table that becomes the way the world is changed, that new life and new community come into our world?  

Every time we gather in a Eucharistic community, we are committing to do what Jesus did in the face of anger and despair, when tempted to rage or escape.  We are disrupting the fundamental structure of empire. Coming to the table is our act of renunciation of the forces of evil and division, it is declaring that we will not be defined by or aligned with the demonic powers of cruelty in word or action.   Jesus' way to relate to the powers of evil is to expose, renounce, subvert, but never retribution, never harm.

When you come to receive Holy Communion, you are choosing life and resolving that you will not be bowed in fear or provoked to vengeance. 

God exists in an “eternal now”.  This is how in speaking about the Holy Eucharist we speak of one table, one offering, one priest.  Here the Church is what it always and eternally is - one.  At the table we join heaven and earth, past and future, this old earth and the new heaven and new earth into one singularity of the gift that is eternally offered to us and through us as long as the sun and moon endure.  This is a foretaste of heaven where there is no conflict and no hiding.  But we must meet the requirements to come - we open our hands empty and stand side by side with brothers and sisters.  We belong to one another, and any other story about who we are is a lie.  Our testimony is that we are still here.  We are not leaving.  Christ is our vindication.  We come to the table again and again because we are hungry and this is where we are fed, and the Lord who loves us is happy to feed us with himself abundantly and eternally.  Amen.

Sunday, March 29, 2026

The Sunday of the Passion/Palm Sunday, March 29, 2026

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Robert Leo Sevensky, OHC

The Sunday of the Passion/Palm Sunday, March 29, 2026

We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you, because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.  Amen.

As a self-confessed liturgy nerd and a closeted anglophile, my eyes were glued to my computer screen this past Wednesday as I watched the installation service of the Most Reverend and Right Honorable Dame Sarah Elisabeth Mullally as the 106th Archbishop of Canterbury. It was a deeply beautiful and moving service, filled with joy and tenderness. And of course, with glorious music and Anglican pomp and ceremony.  But for me the most touching point came at the very beginning when the new Archbishop was welcomed at the West door of the Cathedral.

Three children from a nearby school met her there saying:  We greet you in the name of Christ. Who are you and why do you request entry?

The archbishop replied: I am Sarah, a servant of Jesus Christ, and I come as one seeking the grace of God, to travel with you in his service together.

The children then asked:  Why have you been sent to us?

The archbishop again:  I am sent as Archbishop to serve you, to proclaim the love of Christ and with you to worship and love him with heart and soul, mind and strength.

Then the children asked: How do you come among us and with what confidence?

And the archbishop simply said:  I come knowing nothing except Jesus Christ and him crucified, and in weakness and fear and in much trembling.

The children then invited her and us saying:  Let us then humble ourselves before God and together seek his mercy and strength.

“I come knowing nothing except Jesus Christ and him crucified.” These are, of course, words echoing those of Saint Paul, and if we are to be servants of Jesus Christ, they need to be our words as well. But these are not easy words. They are perhaps the most difficult words in scripture, especially for us contemporary folk.

Recently the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts developed a revised service for Palm Sunday, a revision allowed as well in this Diocese of New York. The revised service changes the focus totally to the triumphal entry of our Lord into Jerusalem and moves the reading of the Passion narrative to the very end of the service…indeed, to after the service. And it makes the reading of the Passion narrative entirely optional. The intention behind this change is not unworthy. It recognizes that our Passion narratives, each different from the other, have often been used or misused to promote anti-Judaism. And it provides a pastoral note explaining the reasoning behind this change, a pastoral note worth reading aloud:

“On Palm Sunday it is a tradition to proclaim the passion narrative so that Jesus Christ’s love for all is made clear. Over time, this narrative has been used to promote anti-Judaism. The responsibility for the suffering and death of Jesus Christ cannot be attributed, in either preaching or teaching, indiscriminately to all Jews of that time, nor to Jews today. The Jewish people should not be referred to or represented as rejected or cursed by God, as this claim cannot be found in Scripture. Christians must remember that Jesus, his mother Mary, and his early disciples were Jewish. We must affirm the long-standing teaching of the church that Jesus Christ entered into suffering and death by his own free will as a sign of God’s saving and reconciling love to the world.”

I get it. We know that it wasn't accidental that Jews in Central and Eastern Europe and elsewhere felt the need to be especially vigilant and perhaps invisible during the Christian Holy Week when pogroms and other forms of anti-Jewish violence became more common. But I do wonder whether avoiding these difficult texts, these Passion narratives, is the best way to engage them. Could there be other reasons operating here? Dean Andrew McGowan of Berkeley Divinity School at Yale, reminds us: “…we actually have no immediate access to the events of Holy Week other than via these texts. Other versions of this story we offer will be our creations and mirror our sensibilities.”

Could it be that our sensibilities include a real desire to avoid or forget the cross in all its scandal? Are we any different from those mentioned by Saint Paul in his First Letter to the Corinthians who find the cross a scandal, a folly and an embarrassment? The Reverend Vincent Pizzuto, a theology professor and pastor of Saint Columba’s Episcopal Church in, of all places Marin County, argues that this may be the deep truth about us. And not just us but American Christians generally.   What the American church wants today, he says, is spiritual uplift, divine intimacy, ‘emotion devotion’--but please, God, not the cross. Anything but the cross. He continues: “Don't we, after all, secretly find all that gibberish about sin, divine wrath, judgment, suffering, sacrifice just foolishness from a bygone age? Vestiges of an archaic (even barbaric) worldview from which all of us undoubtedly bear some collective moral responsibility to unshackle the church in favor of a more enlightened values not centered on the cross but sanitized of it?”  He quotes the famous line from Richard Niebuhr’s 1959 book The Kingdom of God in America: “A God without wrath brought men without sin into a Kingdom without judgment through the ministrations of a Christ without a Cross.”  I doubt that Niebuhr, as wise as he was, could have foreseen churches which leap over Good Friday or who exalt a so-called ‘creation spirituality’ which has no place for the cross.

The cross is a scandal precisely because it holds up a mirror to the human heart. And, as Father Pizzuto says: “… what the cross will reveal with ruthless honesty is that the line between good and evil is never between us and them, but traverses straight through every human heart."

I'm not saying that we are more church-y or advanced because we read Matthew’s Passion narrative here this morning. It's easy even here, maybe especially here, to glide over the historicity and nitty gritty of it and make it a piece of light opera. Nor are we more advanced if we have a nicely developed theology of the cross, because in truth there are many theologies of the cross. Just as each of the gospel narratives of the Passion has its own theology of the cross--today in Matthew the cross is presented as fulfillment of prophecy, on Friday when we hear John's Passion we encounter a theology of the cross as glorification. There is no one theological explanation of how the great act of Godly love that we celebrate this Great and Holy Week leads to life and light and hope. Certainly not— forgive me—a literal substitutionary theory of the atonement.  There will always be questions and divergences about the meaning of the cross, but not about its power to transcend time and help us see ourselves and our present world in its light, transforming that world and being ourselves transformed through it and by it, and being liberated and saved by its mysterious Truth.

Then the children asked:  How do you come among us and with what confidence?”

And the Archbishop replied: “I come knowing nothing except Jesus Christ and him crucified, and in weakness and fear and much trembling.”

We must all come this way, or else we shall never arrive at all.

Amen.

Sources:

McGowan, Andrew. “The Passions of our Lord Jesus Christ—March 24, 2026”  https://abmcg.substack.com/p/the-passions-of-our-lord-jesus-christ

Pizzuto, Vincent. “Passion Sunday—April 13, 2025”  https://www.vincentpizzuto.org/post/the-overture