The Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost B - October 13, 2024

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Randy Greve
The Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 23 B, October 13, 2024

• Amos 5:6-7,10-15
• Hebrews 4:12-16
• Mark 10:17-31

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“Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.”
Christ has come to inaugurate the way of life, which he calls the kingdom of God or the kingdom of heaven. He inaugurates through power.  His power is the power of love. He expresses love in the way he invites and liberates; in his surrendering and suffering love.  He does not inaugurate by domination and never uses power over to impose, coerce, or control.  The way of life comes in freedom, or it does not come at all.  His freedom in inviting meets our freedom in responding. Each of us chooses to enter or we do not enter at all.  He calls forth the desire in every human heart for meaning, hope, community, purpose, and promise and reveals that this very desire has its source and end in God.  Being created by God and for God, we discover our true identity, our true home in responding to the invitation to follow the way of life and receive the gift of life, real life.  We bear the divine image and no substitute identity will ever satisfy.  Jesus appeals to our goodness, enlivens our longings, and illuminates the obstacles within and around us on the path to life. The gates are always open to any who will hear the call to repent, be liberated, be unburdened from the weight of attachment to the transitory and the temporal, and come. 
 Christ welcomes so-called “sinners” into the way of life.  In the gospels, they almost always know their need, seek him out.  Many in the out groups seek out Jesus, touch him, call to him, cry to him, interrupt him, get in his way as they discover in him the power to restore their dignity and their hope.  He relieves their pain, reconciles them from their status as outcasts, as unclean and sends them joyfully back into community and connection. For those of us who in some way or at some time have been outsiders or the victims of prejudice and judgment and met by a Christ who loved and accepted us, we know that the power that brought life to the lepers and demon possessed, the prostitutes and tax collectors, can and does bring power today in the hearts of so many who experience harm.
The gospels also include another kind of conversion story.  The so-called “insiders” are invited into the way of life as well.  In the religious culture of Jesus’ day, the religious elites, the rich, those with positions of power thought of themselves and were believed to be blessed by God - they had arrived into the realm of the “converted” because they were not “sinners” or “unclean”.  These are often, but not always, those who are scandalized, confused, or, because he represents a threat, oppose Jesus.  For Jesus, “no” is an answer. Today’s gospel is a story from this second group.  This man sees the world through the lens of his status and wealth. Eternal life is a possession like all my other possessions and I can obtain it like I have obtained all my other possessions - by some act, or price, some access to improving my insider status.  He is not in need of the same kind of compassionate, healing touch that the leper or demon-possessed need. His pain is more in his heart than on his skin.  His isolation is more spiritual than social.  His sense of emptiness hidden and buried under the illusions that his possessions can satisfy.  Yet, even if the awareness is only a glimmer, the ache of dissatisfaction only a faint echo that appears in the silence of the night, he still desires real life.  The desire is inescapable, relentless, haunting the edges of his storehouses and treasure chests, refusing to leave him alone.  He is in need. He has money. He will satisfy his need like he has satisfied every other need. Jesus surprises him. Jesus’ response is about to send him away in shock and grief.  
Entrance to life costs.  The kingdom exacts a price.  In our myriad delusions about our identities and our own programs for individual happiness, we keep ourselves outside, resist life.  We may believe we desire life, but not act in ways that lead to life.  Jesus presents no utopian vision of instant bliss. The way to the kingdom is a narrow, difficult, and winding way.  We may seek to avoid the difficulty and search for an easy road, for cheap grace. We may desire entry through power or status, money or education.  We may rely on seeking moral goodness or conformity to social norms of purity for special access.  These are dead ends that seduce us into believing we have capacities we do not actually have, means to negotiate what we want at a sale price.  But Christ in his grace brokers no shortcuts, no exceptions, no earning or deserving our way in by what we have or do.  The way to life is not a philosophy, an ethic, or the accumulation of good deeds. It is surrender, emptying, death and resurrection. Whatever I bring with me to the entrance to life to get me in are the very things I must leave in order to be made ready for entrance.  Entry is a continual process.  I am always only beginning to enter the kingdom - never arriving, never possessing its fullness in this age.  Therefore the way to life is a scandal, a crisis, and a gift. The crisis is to surrender whatever appears as essential to meaning in order to receive the true gift which is the actual fulfillment of meaning.  We are all too eager to fixate on the instant, the easy. Jesus warns that these are illusions which in fact are obstacles to the most valuable way of being, obstacles to real life.
As modern listeners the temptation is often to hear the text in order to get an answer or to follow an instruction - bridge the meaning into our world by reducing the story into mere moralisms, yet more performing and achieving and being good. Such a response misses the deeper truth.  Life is discovered not in having, but in belonging. And we cannot be attached to anything and receive the gift of belonging at the same time.  Jesus says, “It is you I want for myself, not anything you may accomplish. I will not rest until all of you is enlivened by love and grace and you abide in the fullness of your glory as beloved sons and daughters made in God’s image.” We enter life by allowing the burning away of all that cannot enter, until we walk through with empty hands, claiming no rights, hiding nothing.  It is precisely by owning up to and inhabiting our void that we are offering ourselves up to God’s mercy. The invitation to this man and to us is what Eugene Peterson calls a centered, submissive way of life.  He writes,
“Americans in general have little tolerance for a centering way of life that is submissive to the conditions in which growth takes place: quiet, obscure, patient, not subject to human control and management. The church is uneasy in these conditions. Typically it adapts itself to the prevailing American culture and is soon indistinguishable from that culture: talkative, noisy, busy, controlling, image-conscious.” 
So this other kind of conversion, the conversion of those of us who enjoy some level of possession and status and goodness, is to be utterly stripped, dispossessed, emptied, made void, plunged into the terrifying emptiness, consumed by God’s love, offered up to God’s mercy, and then given away. Self-sufficiency, the impulse to dominate, hoard, defend, control all die on the cross with Christ.  Then the seeds of life - searching for good, receptive soil in which to root - will appear green and full. We will become generous, free, receptive people so that we might enjoy the riches of God’s goodness in God’s good world more abundantly.  Then we will receive good things as gifts to be shared. 
“Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age…and in the age to come eternal life.” Amen.

Proper 23 A - October 15, 2023

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Robert James Magliula OHC

The Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 23 A, October 15, 2023

 

Isaiah 25:1-9
Philippians 4:1-9
Matthew 22:1-14

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Today’s gospel is a collage of contradictions and inconsistencies: a wedding banquet and a blood bath; messengers of good news, and killers of those messengers; an enraged king who sends troops to destroy his own citizens; an open invitation to all and the exclusion of one who accepts the invitation. This parable is so outrageous, so shocking, that it begs to be taken seriously not literally. It just does not fit with the God revealed by Jesus Christ throughout the gospels. It’s a mirror holding before us all the contradictions and inconsistencies of our lives, our country, and our world. Jesus, in today’s gospel, is challenging our preconceived ideas and expectations so that we might see, hear, think, and ultimately, become something new. Every text invites us to struggle not just with the text itself but with the text in our life, and to work out our faith in light of that struggle. 

My first thought on reading the Gospel was Jesus was not describing God’s kingdom but the one we have created for ourselves. We have more than enough leaders and groups throughout the world who are abusing their power, where violence is perpetrated on a daily basis, where people’s lives are being destroyed, where cities are bombed and burning, where many are excluded and told they don’t belong. Over the centuries we haven’t needed God’s help to bring this about. We’ve gotten very good at it ourselves. The contradictions and inconsistencies in our lives, country, and world are telling us that we are betraying ourselves, one another, and God.
 

No doubt, this is a parable of judgment, but it may not be the judgment we think it is. We tend to get nervous and fearful when God begins making judgments. It leaves us wondering whether we are in the right group. Are we unworthy or worthy? I suspect our nervousness and fear about God’s judgments arise from the assumption that God judges us in the same way as we judge others. More often than not our judgments of others are judgments of exclusion. What if it’s just the opposite with God? What if Jesus is trying to shock us into seeing that the kingdom of God is not business as usual according to our standards? What if God’s judgment on our lives is one of grace, acceptance, and invitation; a judgment of inclusion?
What separates or distinguishes the first guests from the second in the parable isn’t that one was more deserving than the other. Both the first and second guests were the recipients of the king’s invitation and favor. And so was the person who showed up without a wedding robe. They were all invited. They were all favored. None of them had done anything to earn or deserve an invitation. The king‘s sole motivation is to share his banquet, to join in his joy and celebration. Both groups were given the same opportunity. There’s no distinction made based upon behavior, beliefs, attitudes, or morals. To the contrary, with the second round of invitations the king sends his servants into the main streets with the instruction to “invite everyone you find.” And they did. They “went out into the streets and gathered all whom they found, both good and bad.”
 

The only thing that distinguishes the first guests from the second is that the second guests showed up. The first guests did not. The key to our life in God is to show up, to be present. That’s a lot easier said than done. To be present is difficult work. I’m reminded of how true this is whenever I make a visitation to one of our houses. To be present to another requires establishing the other as a priority, seeing them for who they are and not who we want or think they should be. It means opening ourselves to vulnerability. It means listening, letting go of our own agendas, distractions, fears, and prejudices. If we’re not doing that with others we’re probably not doing it with God. Instead, we too often go our separate ways. We’re too busy, too tired, too distracted. To be present. We’re convinced we have better things to do and better places to be. That’s what the first guests did.
 

To show up and be present is to be worthy before God. We don’t earn or prove our worthiness as a prerequisite to entering the banquet. We show up and discover for ourselves the worthiness God has always known about us. But what about the one who showed up without a wedding robe? This is about more than just a dress code. I think that something else was missing. “He was speechless”, we are told. It was as if he wasn’t really there. There are times when we show up but we’re not really present. Our body is there but we’re not. Jesus is telling this parable hoping to shake us up, hoping to wake us up. When we are present, we will know his Presence. It is that simple and that hard. God is always inviting; Christ is always present. It’s we who are not!
 

To ignore and gloss over the contradictions and inconsistencies in today’s gospel is to ignore and gloss over the contradictions and inconsistencies in our lives and world. Showing up comes not from willpower but from a wholehearted acceptance of the invitation. And it is the task of a lifetime.  +Amen
God of Love who holds all things together in yourself.  Draw us ever nearer to you and to one another, that all may come into the reach of your saving embrace.  Amen.

 

Proper 23 C - October 9, 2022

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Ephrem Arcement

Pentecost, Proper 23 C - October 9, 2022

Jeremiah 29:1, 4-7
2 Timothy 2:8-15
Luke 17:11-19

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"Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving…be to our God forever and ever!  Amen.”  -Revelation 7:12

The babe in Christ is thankful when they receive something they really want.  The adolescent in Christ, on a good day, is thankful for the hope of one day receiving something they really want.  The mature in Christ is just thankful, whether they do or do not receive something they really want. 

Unconditional gratitude is a sure sign that one is well on their way to putting on Christ, who on the night before he was crucified gave thanks that God’s will was being accomplished through his own gift of self in the sacrificial offering of his body and blood.  In light of this, St. Paul would be inspired to write, “In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.”  Easier said than done!  It’s one thing to be thankful to God when your diagnosis turns out not to be life-threatening and quite another to be thankful when it does!  Is it really possible to have a heart so touched by God’s grace that it can’t help but give thanks whatever the circumstance?  Today’s readings are lessons on how to attain such unconditional gratitude.

The prophet Jeremiah lived during one of the most difficult times in Israel’s history.  Her identity as God’s own people along with her hope of God’s promises for her future were suddenly dashed when the powerful kingdom to the northeast, Babylon, invaded, plundered and took her away captive.  Who was she now?  And where was her God?  

The knee-jerk reaction of the vast majority of us who find ourselves in circumstances which we dread, like living in captivity in a foreign land, is, no doubt, to do everything in our power to liberate ourselves from the weight of the dread and, like Israel, to get back home as soon as possible.  Surely, this is God’s will, right?

Jeremiah, however, steers Israel in quite another direction.  Instead of being preoccupied about how you’re going to get yourself out of the mess you find yourself in, Jeremiah says to the Israelites, “build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce…take wives and have sons and daughters….” 

In other words, resign yourself, Israel, that you’re going to have to bear this yoke for quite a while and seek a new way of being in this world and living with your God.  

The temptation when bad things happen and our lives aren’t going according to plan, is to react by spending all of our energy on changing our circumstances instead of allowing the stripping away of our regular existence to cause us to find a deeper, perhaps more authentic, way of relating to God.  

Jeremiah, speaking on behalf of God, tells the Israelites that they should “seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile…for in its welfare you will find your welfare.”

He reassures Israel that God has not abandoned her at all and that this dreadful situation in which she now finds herself is serving to make God known in places God would otherwise not be known and is, in the process, serving to make Israel herself a more mature people.  

“O the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!”

Yet, let us be very careful here.  The fact that oppression exists in the world and that God can make good come out of it never justifies it, and the church must continue to do everything it can to rid the world of it.  But, the fact remains that the oppressive weight of the cross will at some level always remain as long as fallen humanity is a part of this broken world and sometimes we’re asked to bear its weight.  

Jesus Christ came not to save us from the cross but to save us through the cross.

Think of St. Paul, the one who told us to be thankful in all things.  This is the same Paul who, writing to Timothy, relates the many hardships he suffered for the sake of the gospel, even being chained like a criminal.  Yet, even in this, he gave thanks because God was at work bringing the saving power of Christ to those who would not encounter it if it weren’t for those very chains.  

Paul’s heart of gratitude was not that of a babe or adolescent in Christ whose gratitude is determined by what one does or does not receive from God but of one fully mature who knew how to be grateful in any circumstance.  What happened to Paul that allowed him to be so unconditionally grateful?  One thing is certain, it wasn’t simply something he just decided to do one day!

The Scriptures make clear that it was the encounter he had of the revelation of God’s corresponding unconditional love and mercy to one who so utterly did not deserve it, recounted three times in Acts and referenced by Paul himself in Galatians.

We don’t often associate humility with St. Paul, but I don’t think we should allow his bold confidence to be mistaken for personal arrogance.  Paul was not confident in himself.  His confidence came from a much deeper place.  His heart, like the heart of all the great saints, had become utterly humbled and held captive by the love of God he found in Christ.  Literally nothing else mattered than this love and making this love known.  It owned him, it defined him, it possessed him!  And if his personal inconvenience or suffering meant that this love would be magnified, then, thanks be to God…so be it.

So, gratitude isn’t just a choice we make when we wake up each morning.  Gratitude, especially unconditional gratitude, is what happens when a heart that was once trapped in its own broken world and maybe even antagonistic to the things of God is embraced nonetheless by God’s overwhelming love and mercy…when one undergoes the transforming power of the cross and rises to the freedom of no longer being one’s own but God’s from whom nothing in this world can separate us.

Let us not be mistaken, God is calling us to much more than a life where we simply return thanks for favors granted.  The call is to a far more radical way of being with God in this world…one that transcends the quid pro quo mentality that characterizes much of human, if not Christian, existence.  

Like the heart of St. Paul wholly possessed of the love of God, I think of another saint which the church will remember this upcoming Saturday, the great Teresa of Avila, who recounts in her autobiography the experience, which Bernini helped make famous, of the event when she is pierced with the Cherubim's arrow.  She writes, “I saw in his hands a long dart of gold, and at the end of the iron there seemed to me to be a little fire. This I thought he thrust through my heart several times, and that it reached my very entrails. As he withdrew it, I thought it brought them with it, and left me all burning with a great love of God. So great was the pain, that it made me give those moans; and so utter the sweetness that this sharpest of pains gave me, that there was no wanting it to stop, nor is there any contenting of the soul with less than God.”

This is mystical language of the highest order where pain and ecstasy coalesce in one overwhelming moment of absolute surrender and transcendence.  This is the passion of the cross and the bliss of the resurrection in one transformative encounter where nothing is left for the heart to desire but God and where gratitude for such a great gift is the heart’s only response…no matter what!   

And, yet, while we may never have such an intense mystical encounter as a St. Teresa or a St. Paul, over the course of our lifetime we do have such transformative moments of pain and ecstasy, of cross and resurrection, that likewise give us a taste of what life can be like when lived totally in the new creation of God’s love.  It is there, and only there, that God’s grace abounds no matter what the circumstance and no matter what hell we face and where we, along with St. Paul and St. Teresa, can in all things with bold freedom offer our lives of gratitude to God.  

In this Eucharist, may the veil be rent, and may we see in the crucified and pierced Christ the gratitude of God grateful for the opportunity of showing forth unconditional mercy and love in the flowing blood and water from the Savior’s side…and with Teresa be pierced straight through the heart that such a love is ours!

Proper 23 B - October 10,2021

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

The Rev. Janet Vincent

Proper 23 B - Sunday, October 10, 2021

Job 23:1-9, 16-17

Hebrews 4:12-16

Mark 10:17-31

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Preached from notes - no text available. Click on the audio link above to hear the sermon.

Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost - Proper 23 A - October 11, 2020

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Luc Thuku, OHC

Proper 23 A  - October 11, 2020

Isaiah 25:1-9
Philippians 4:1-9
Matthew 22:1-14

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There are 2 things hated with passion by the kikuyu tribe of which I belong. These are 1) dogs and 2) uncircumcised boys. The reason for dogs being hated is a story for another day. As for the boys, there are two reasons. 

The first one is envy, because if you are uncircumcised and therefore not initiated to adulthood as per the culture, then you are still regarded as a kid despite your chronological age, and therefore you can do anything you want and get away with it. 

The second reason and I guess the most important, is to show the boys that they are nothing important till they are initiated and therefore incorporated fully into the tribe.That act of always being treated with contempt made one look forward and even pressure his parents to let him go through the rite.

This is important to prepare them psychologically because it is a painful business and with it also comes responsibility for family and tribe, and one needs to go through it voluntarily. Young initiates graduated to being  warriors who protected the tribe and later would marry and procreate to ensure the continuity of the tribe.

 

When my tribe embraced Christianity, this practice of shaming was to some degree carried on to the new faith and if you did something wrong, as a young person, it was not uncommon for parents to punish,(or according to them challenge or encourage) you in form of a song if caning and tongue lashing failed. The song went like this: 

Kihii giki mukuru thiini Ukaharuruka urio wiki Haha hatiri onaumwe ugaguteithia Na niukarira uri o wiki. 

Caitani nake ndagaguteithia Na riria ukwihia mwihagia nake akehugura na thutha aguthekerere  ha ha ha na niukarira urio wiki. 

Loosely translated it says: 

You uninitiated one to the valley of hell you will descend all alone there is not even one here who will help you and you will cry all alone 

Satan too will not help you and when you sin you sin together he will just turn and laugh at you Ha ha ha and you will cry all alone  

As you can imagine, this song was sung to me numerous times when I faltered and it used to disturb me a lot. I used to question myself why I had to suffer in hell for a life I had not chosen to live in the first place. I was not baptized by choice or born a Kikuyu by choice, and when I was old enough I was forced to go to church and punished if I got there late and so the entire God/ church and tribe business became very confusing and oppressive. 

This question presents itself again in today's gospel reading(Matthew 22:1-14) where those invited to the wedding don't seem to have a say or freedom to choose to go or not. When they attempt to assert their freedom, although some did it in an unacceptable manner(murder), they get killed. Then idlers are invited or rather forced to come to the wedding feast, and to the credit of the host both good and bad are invited, but one of them who did not have a wedding garment is bound up and thrown into the outer darkness. One would imagine that the host would have been more forgiving or understanding to this second group because they were picked up on the road going about their business, but it seems it is either his way or no way at all. This gets even more concerning when it is presented as coming from the mouth of Jesus explaining how things will be at the end of time and yet, Jesus had come to reveal a loving, forgiving and respecting God, and the explanation given that it is because “many are called but few are chosen” doesn’t make any sense at all! This passage can be and is very depressing right?… No!  

Today's gospel passage will only make sense if read and interpreted in context as opposed to literally. Matthew is writing to an ethnic Jewish congregation that first and foremost thinks it is entitled to salvation due to it’s descent from Abraham; and that also is familiar with the language of right or wrong, reward or punishment, life or death, male or female, heaven or hell, righteous or evil, God or satan… In short a language of black or white with no grey areas in between, although most of them lived their lives in the grey areas. This could therefore be basically the language of Matthew teaching, and not a verbatim quote from Jesus. However, it doesn’t diminish its value or validity as the word of God as we shall soon see.  

If we want to know God's language in this regard, we should not look further than the first reading that we heard from the prophecy of Isaiah chapter 25:1-9. In this prophecy especially from verse 6, God promises a feast on "this" mountain which is not named and could therefore represent any city…remember cities were built on hills or elevated land those days for easier protection from invaders, hence the imagery. Isaiah was writing to give people hope that despite the destruction of their city by invaders, in this case the Babylonians who will exile them, God will have them return and reward them. Isaiah continues  and says "the Lord of Hosts will make for ALL people a feast of rich food, a feast of well aged wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well aged wines strained clear”. Despite the feast sounding delicious and sumptuous(my apologies to vegans and teetotalers), the catch phrase is that The feast will be for ALL, not for some or for those dressed for the occasion. He continues to say that the Lord will also wipe away the tears from all faces(not just of the good ones), and the disgrace of His people he will take away from all the earth! This doesn't sound like a mean God who seems to derive pleasure from punishing those who exercise freedom or those who make simple mistakes like our inappropriately dressed fellow at the wedding in the gospel passage. 

The language in today's gospel therefore should not be taken to mean God is unforgiving, death happy, or one who looks for the slightest mistakes to punish and does so out of proportion to the offense. It should be taken as an encouragement to the hearers not to take things for granted and think they can live life without a care and get away with it. Like the uncircumcised kikuyu boys who are born Kikuyu yes, but are not fully Kikuyu, until they are initiated into the tribe voluntarily, Jesus through Matthew is reminding the ethnic Jews that being born a Jew does not guarantee them eternal life. They have to accept the invitation and choose to be in relationship or communion with God. 

The gospel today is also reminding us, albeit through reverse psychology, that although we are christians(most of us “ethnic Christians” as a result of infant Baptism and regular church attendance), we should not take it for granted that we will be saved, but we have a responsibility to make a conscious choice every day to cooperate with the divine plan of salvation. Being a Christian alone does not guarantee anyone eternal life…It is living as a Christian daily that puts us on the path to eternal life! 

In the second reading that we heard this morning from Philippians Chapter 4:1-9, Paul lays down for us the strategy of cooperating with this divine plan and of living daily as a Christian. In verse 8, He tells us that whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is anything worthy of praise, to think about these things. Finally in verse 9, he urges the Philippians and us to keep on doing the things that they have learned, received, heard and seen in him and the God of peace will be with them. Simply put, Paul is telling us that as followers of Jesus, we should not be self centered, egocentric, selfish and narcissistic. Whatever we do should be done with the next person in mind and for the good of the other person. This is however easier said than done especially in our  contemporary society which is driven by profits, selfishness, greed and all that accompanies these vices. If every single person who call themselves Christian in America today were to practice the recommendations of Philippians 4 verse 8, we would have a model of a just Christian society, a paradise on earth. However, our sense of entitlement that emanates from capitalism gone wild, and distorted interpretation of scripture where wealth is confused with blessings and its lack a curse; leaves us dangerously unprepared for life here and now and for eternal life for it robs us of joy.

The mark of true Christianity is joy that comes not from material things but from knowing and being in relationship with God through others. Paul therefore urges those of us who are true followers of Jesus Christ this morning in Philippians verse 4-7 to rejoice in the Lord always and to let our gentleness be known to everyone for the Lord is near. He urges us to worry about nothing but in everything through prayer and supplication with thanksgiving to let our requests be known to God. When we do so, the peace of God which surpasses all understanding will guard our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. 

My dear brothers and sisters, are you experiencing joy and peace?, are you able to rejoice in the Lord always despite  the circumstances you find yourself in? If so thanks be to God! If not, the message in today's readings is encouraging us to take a step towards our loving savior who is forever inviting us to experience joy and peace here and now and to eternity… and as Paul reminded, there is no better time than now because the Lord is near... 

Come to the Savior make no delay, 

Here in his word He's shown us the way; 

Here in our midst He's standing today, 

Tenderly saying "come!" 

Joyful, joyful will the meeting be, 

When from sin our hearts are pure and free, 

And we shall gather, Savior with Thee 

In our eternal home. 

Pentecost 18C - Sunday, October 13, 2019

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Josép Martinez-Cubero
Pentecost 18C - Sunday, October 13, 2019

2 Kings 5:1-3, 7-15c
2 Timothy 2:8-15
Luke 17:11-19

Click here for an audio version of the sermon.


Yesterday at dinner, some of you were asking me what I did before I entered the monastery. I said I ran a children’s theatre in NYC. It was a theatre I founded in 1999 and the mission was to teach children and adolescents, through the art of theatre, values such as self-discipline, teamwork, commitment, cooperation, and leadership. We produced great and impressive productions. When you teach youth about self-discipline and hard work, you don’t have to concentrate so much on talent. Great productions will happen! And I have to confess I was not an easy teacher. Teenagers were used to hearing me say somewhat controversial things like: “No whining aloud, please. It is very unattractive.” Or “A little dose of ‘get over it’ with a good measure of gratitude will take you a long way.”

Needless to say that when I found out I was preaching on the Gospel story about the ten lepers, I was delighted. I thought: “Oh how lovely, a gospel lesson about gratitude. I can say a few things about that!” Well, since God has a sense of humor, this Gospel lesson has pushed my every righteous indignation button.

On the surface, it is a Gospel lesson about thankfulness, and yes, there is that. On his journey to Jerusalem, Jesus comes upon ten lepers. He heals them and tells them to go show themselves to the priests. One returns to express his gratitude to Jesus and experiences salvation. So being truly thankful blesses, and restores us. The leper’s enormous show of gratitude and Jesus’ response to it teach us that we are to recognize life as a divine gift, and to find our salvation at the feet of the Giver.

But before I go on let me get those things that bothered me out of the way. “Jesus asked, ‘Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they?’” What?? As someone who is all about following instructions I can picture myself in this scene saying: “What do you mean where are they?? You just told them to go and show themselves to the priests. They are following your instructions, thank you very much!” And then he continues, and this is the statement I found quite annoying: “Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?" Who says that, especially while traveling through a border region that was surely full of these foreigners?!

Perhaps having Jesus ask such a preposterous question is Luke’s way of getting our attention. I can tell you he got mine! You see, in order to get to Jerusalem, Jesus has to cross the region between Galilee and Samaria -- the borderland that marks the boundary between the land where he was raised and the land he was raised never to go. It is the borderland that marks “us” and “them”.

By the first century, the hatred between Jews and Samaritans was old and entrenched. They disagreed on how to honor God, how to interpret the scriptures and where to worship. They did not socialize, mistrusted each other and expected the worse of each other. That’s why the story of the Good Samaritan must have been such a shocker in its time. What, a good Samaritan?? My neighbor is a Samaritan??

So this story is about more than gratitude. It is about the gratitude of a foreigner who receives welcome. It is about exclusion and inclusion. It is a story about the reign of God- about who is invited, who belongs, and who thrives in the realm where God dwells. As Latin American children decay in cages at our border and experience a sense of being less than human and total isolation; as thousands of LGBTQ adolescents live on the streets in NYC and LA and experience utter and complete non-belonging; as racial and religious minorities are in constant fear of being attacked in their own worship spaces, neighborhoods and schools, what does this Gospel lesson have to say about belonging and about our ongoing responsibility to the stranger, the alien, the other?

The lepers in this story also live in the shadows. In ancient Israel, leprosy was a dreaded disease considered the picture of sin. It rendered a person ceremonially defiled. Once healed, the person still had to go to the priest and carry out an extensive ritual of cleansing before being accepted back into the religious community and worship. While the physical disease was horrible, the terrible social consequences in ancient Israel only added to the misery. The Mosaic Law prescribed that lepers be cut off from society, including their family. They had to wear torn clothing, have their head uncovered and their hair disheveled, cover their lips and shout “Unclean! Unclean!” wherever they went, to warn others to keep their distance.

Jesus tells the ten lepers to go and show themselves to the priests without any evidence of having been healed. In this, their situation was similar to that of Naaman the Syrian, whom, by the way, is a foreigner, and whom Elisha told to go and bathe in the River Jordan. There would be no point in such action unless they were cleansed of their leprosy, and yet at this point they were not cleansed. They had to act with obedient faith. And that is one of the important messages of this Gospel story. Faith means we trust God. And most often God is calling us to move before we can indulge in what seems to have become the American privileged obsession of endlessly analyzing what are my best options and what am I going to get from this. Faith reminds us that our ego is not God.

Those lepers are cured because of their faith. And when Jesus heals their leprosy he doesn’t merely cure their bodies; he restores their identities. They can now return to all that makes us fully human: family, community, companionship, and intimacy. They can feel again, embrace and be embraced, worship in community. They can reclaim all that leprosy stole from them. So the response of the tenth leper to Jesus is an expression of gratitude for healing, yes.  But it’s also the expression of a deeper belonging because that tenth leper is a Samaritan, a “double other” marginalized by both illness and being a foreigner.

This is the only time that phrase is used in the New Testament, but it is everywhere in the Old Testament. Foreigners are always showing up in the Hebrew Scriptures stories at key moments to challenge our thinking about the lines between “us” and “them” and where exactly we are supposed to cross those lines. Naaman the Syrian, Ruth the Moabite, Hagar, Jethro, Rahab, all of them had been “this foreigner” and have challenged our ideas of who gets included when we talk about the people of God.

The foreigner is a Samaritan and what, through his otherness, is he able to see that his companions do not? Ten lepers are healed.  But only the foreigner whose kind of gratitude is able to see God’s inclusive welcome, receives salvation. Only the foreigner whose kind of gratitude takes nothing for granted and notices how rare and singular grace is when it comes to the borderlands and says, “come on in; yes, you,” is made whole.

If we find gratitude difficult, maybe we need to examine the places in our lives where we feel most comfortable, most confident, most complacent, most privileged. Maybe we, too, could use a trip to the borderlands of our heart, and step into the places where we are the outsiders, alone and afraid. Maybe we need to sit honestly with our most profound hungers. Maybe we need to recognize once again how desperately we need Jesus to welcome our vulnerable souls and say: “Your faith has made you well. Yes, your way, whatever faith and whatever path led you to meet God. Come on in. You, the one I just called foreigner.”

¡Que así sea en el nombre del Padre, del Hijo y del Espíritu Santo! ~Amen+ 

Proper 23, Year B: Sunday, October 14, 2018

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. John Forbis, OHC
Proper 23- Sunday, October 14, 2018

To hear the sermon in its fullness click here.

Br. John Forbis, OHC

So they give me the foundational Gospel passage for monastic life.  Many of the first monks, like Anthony, did exactly what Jesus told the rich man to do.  They gave away all they had, sold it, gave the money to the poor and went to live a solitary or community life in the desert following Jesus in word and action.  So it has been done.  Only, they give this passage to me of all people, a monk, whose perhaps worst struggle with this life is trying to face a passage like this.  

But who’s they?  Each of us brothers are put on a rota for preaching.  And this morning’s Gospel passage happens to be how the chips have fallen.  It’s only Jesus telling this rich young man, telling me and you to perform his injunction.  He is the one facing us at this moment.  And that is important to remember.  It’s him telling us how far we’ve come and how much further to go.

The man coming to Jesus could be looking for some teaching, some words of inspiration, but I would be surprised if there wasn’t the least bit desire for justification or the assurance that all is OK.  He begins with some flattery.  “Good teacher … “.  But Jesus deflects that and gives credit where credit is due.  Then, comes the question, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”  Is there a hint behind this question of “Are you and I square, Jesus?  Am I in good with God?”  

Jesus responds with perhaps exactly what the guy is looking for.  Just follow the commandments.  Whew!  That’s the easy part!  But this guy blew it for us.  He could have walked away at that moment, and we all could have been off the hook.  But he sticks around and is insistent, it seems, to hear it out of Jesus’ mouth.  “All is good.  Keep it up.”

In the society of Jesus’ time, the prevailing thought was that people had wealth and prosperity simply because they were “good”.  They followed the laws and the commandments.  They did everything that was expected of them, and thus, God was on their side.

Not much has changed today really.  There actually is a them, a them, an us and a them.  Privilege comes at a cost.  It’s implied in the word itself.  If I’m privileged, others aren’t.  We have what others don’t.  

Privilege comes at a cost to us as well.  In my preparations for this sermon, I came across the existence of a PBS documentary entitled Affluenza.  The piece defines the neologism as “a painful contagious, socially transmitted condition of overload, debt, anxiety and waste, resulting from the dogged pursuit of more.  The term has also been used to refer to an inability to understand the consequences of one’s actions because of financial privilege.”  A pretty bleak future for us, I must say.    

But what if the prosperity and wealth isn’t enough for this man?  What if on some level he is desperately hoping that his “possessions” are not all there is?  

Jesus probably saw this man’s fear and anxiety about eternal life in the age to come.  Maybe Jesus heard what was behind the man’s question, “Is this all there is?”  Jesus, looking at him, loved him.  He LOVED him!  There is more.  There is an opportunity for non-attachment to and abandonment of possessions, for a freedom beyond separation, isolation, loneliness and fear.  There is the freedom to loosen his grip of control and open his hand to share his possessions, certainly, but also to find and share his true self, his soul, to follow Jesus.  There is the liberation to look beyond himself and respond to those at whose expense he flourishes.  There is the risk of being loved.

But the man walks away, the price is too high.  I’ve walked away again and again.   It’s too much of a shock to our systems, his and mine.  It’s so new, so strange, so foreign, and the repetitive voice in my head continuously hammers home that this life is inaccessible.  There’s no other way and don’t even think you can do it.  Now be a good boy, go out and buy a book that you will never read that alleges to tell you how to acquire eternal life.

Jesus knows what he is asking of us.  It costs as well.  Nothing less than what we hold on to for our own safety and security.  He loves us enough to allow us to walk away.  

But this begs the disciples’ question, who can be saved?  I wonder how many of them ask out of protest or defeat.  

We don’t know what happens to the man, but perhaps that is because his story is not over.  Filling the distance between Jesus’ love and this man’s fear is God.  Possibility is in control now, and yes, eternal life is accessible and given.  Not earned.  Our story is not over either.  For eternal life is given to all.  And we have our work cut out for us.  

For now we have community, “houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.”  We can no longer hide behind our possessions.    

Is the price too high?  I’m afraid I can’t answer that question for you.  I often can’t answer it for myself.

But I’ll say it again.  Jesus, looking at him, LOVED him.  Now what was the question again?

Proper 23 A- October 15, 2017

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Robert James Magliula, OHC

Proper 23 A - Sunday October 15,2017

NEW! Listen to Br. Robert preaching

Robert James Magliula 

The Gospel this week conjures up the unexpected, and also the confusing. This is the second of two parables in which Jesus teaches his audience to expect the judgement that awaits those who decline God’s persistent invitation to practice the ethics of the kingdom. The parable starts out in a rather normal way, but quickly takes a bizarre turn. There’s a reason for it. Matthew brings his own intentions to bear in the story. 

A simpler, perhaps earlier, version of this parable is found in the Gospels of Luke (Ch.14) and Thomas (Logion 64). The probable allusion to the destruction of Jerusalem suggests Matthew’s attempt to pull Jesus’ teachings forward into the new circumstances that have taken a heavy toll on his community. The terrible images of a destroyed city, a desecrated holy place, and a crucified humanity, have been burned into their minds. These are also the daily images that pass before our own eyes.

Matthew moves from parable into allegory with a more exaggerated set of circumstances: an invitation to a royal wedding extended to assorted guests who---to a person---not only decline but violently fend off the invitation to the point of provoking war. No sooner are substitute guests persuaded to attend the banquet than one is called out for being underdressed for the occasion to which he could not have expected to be invited. The urgency of the warning surpasses the logic of the narrative.

We’re confronted with outrageous behavior on all sides, not only by our standards, but especially in the culture of Jesus' day, with it’s sacred duty of hospitality. It would have been unforgivable for guests or hosts to behave in this way, even in the original parable.

Jesus often made unusual and uncomfortable comparisons in his parables to challenge the assumptions of his listeners. We are as confused, and surprised by this story, as those who first heard it. We don’t know what to do with those scriptures which reverse the rules as we know them,  especially challenging our conceptions about who is in and who is out. The temptation is to ignore them, or explain them away. We get the connection between the kingdom and people being invited in from the streets, but then there is the unexpected and extreme behavior of the king toward one of the guests. 

There's a way of understanding this story, of taking it seriously and to heart, without taking it literally.  Yes, it is deliberately provocative by challenging our preconceived ideas about God and God’s kingdom.  It is telling us that it will be like nothing we can imagine.  It reminds us that our knowledge and understanding are limited.  Even though we are made in God’s image, we are not God.  The most we can hope for in this lifetime are glimpses of the kingdom—through story and scripture, through our prayer and experiences.  If we are open to the Spirit, if we listen and pay attention, we can catch a glimpse of the kingdom.

I think that Matthew used this story about the kingdom for more than shock value. He wanted to expand people’s perceptions and ground them in the circumstances they faced.  He was not saying that the kingdom is like the king or the banquet or the guests.  He is saying that the kingdom of heaven is beyond our expectations, beyond our assumptions, beyond what we can analyze and think through. It is always more than what we can see, that God will always surprise us, will always confront us with the unexpected. The point is for us to try to be open to more, not just to rest in the comfortable assumption that we know all about God.

In converting the parable to an allegory, Matthew is telling us what he sees as the central movements of God's actions for us. He insists that the host will go to great lengths, and look in improbable places, to extend invitations to all. He insists that the only sufficient credential for a place at the table is a transformed life. He intimates that not all who believe themselves as guests at God’s banquet actually belong there. The unrobed wedding guest does not show the fruits of living as a guest at the banquet of grace. His downfall comes the moment when asked by the host to account for the way he appears, he is speechless. Gospel living only begins with the invitation that goes out to all. It cannot remain a mere idea. It requires a transformed life, living in a new way, as those who put on Christ. This can seen as a wedding garment, or a baptismal garment, so that the outward effects of Gospel choices will finally settle in the heart.

Within the Christian community there are a range of responses to the invitation. Some want the safe, soft, side of discipleship. Some shy away from the more difficult inner and outer work of practicing love for self and others. Some want the blessings but do not share in the concrete work of service through outreach and social justice. Many are silent and speechless. God comes to us in surprising and unexpected ways which always unsettle us and unmask our fearfulness of life and love.

Throughout Scripture the table serves as a metaphor or word of hope even in the midst of harsh circumstances. Isaiah’s proclamation gives us a glimpse of God’s desire for all gathered together as one. The abundance and inclusivity of this vision are dramatically different from our living from scarcity and fear. God invites us to partner in this vision in our lives. Transformation comes in willing what God wills. The parable leaves us to ponder the question: “How do we appear?”  

Proper 23 C – Sunday October 9, 2016

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Bernard Delcourt, OHC 

Proper 23 Year C- Sunday, October 9, 2016

"Ten Lepers Healed" by Brian Kershisnik, 1997

Today’s gospel tells us a story of gratitude and faith. And Luke, the gospeller, shows us that genuine faith can come from unexpected corners. There were a great number of reasons for the enmity between Jews and Samaritans.

Samaria, the name of that kingdom's capital, was located between Galilee in the north and Judea in the south. The Samaritans were a racially mixed society with Jewish and pagan ancestry. Although they worshiped Yahweh as did the Jews, their religion was not mainstream Judaism. They accepted only the first five books of the Bible as canonical, and their temple was on Mount Gerazim instead of on Mount Zion in Jerusalem.
 
Because of their imperfect adherence to Judaism and their partly pagan ancestry, the Samaritans were despised by ordinary Jews. Rather than contaminate themselves by passing through Samaritan territory, Jews who were traveling from Judea to Galilee or vice versa would cross over the river Jordan, bypass Samaria by going through Transjordan, and cross over the river again as they neared their destination. The Samaritans also harbored antipathy toward the Jews.
 
This enmity between Jews and Samaritans underlines a number of stories in the gospels according to Luke and to John. Jesus, it seems, did not shun crossing Samaria on his way to Jerusalem. His interactions with Samaritans are one indication that his ministry became inclusive of non-Jews.
 
In today’s gospel, ten lepers approach him at the outskirts of a Galilean village at the edge of Samaria and ask him for mercy. Merriam-Webster defines mercy as “kind or forgiving treatment of someone who could be treated harshly.” Lepers, in first-century Palestine, were indeed treated harshly.  People lived in dread of leprosy, a loosely defined term used to describe any skin blemish or eruption that looked suspicious.
 
In Jesus’ time, it was thought to be radically contagious. Skin blemishes could also be an indication of liturgical uncleanness. The result, was that people with leprosy lived in total isolation: banished from their homes, from the loving touch of spouses, children, parents, from their faith community - so feared that even to cross the shadow of one with leprosy was thought to cause contagion.
 
Lepers lived alone, away from the community. Sometimes, they banded together to become a small community of misery, as seems to have been the case of our ten sufferers.
 
So when the ten lepers approach Jesus’ band of disciples and call Jesus Master and ask him for mercy they are being quite daring. In other such cases, the answer they might have received could have been a hail of stones or sticks shoved their way to keep them at a distance.
 
But rather than mete out harsh treatment on them, Jesus offers healing. “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” Only the priests could have put an end to the lepers’ exile. They were the ones, not physicians, who could declare them healed of their leprosy and therefore liturgically clean. This would have heralded their return to community.
 
To the credit of the ten lepers, all of them needed to have faith in Jesus. The way Luke tells their story, they had to turn towards Jerusalem and attempt the journey there to meet the priests while they were still lepers. It is only as they went, that they were made clean.
 
But as that happens, nine lepers continue on their way to meet the priests. No doubt, they are so excited about what’s happening to them, that they can’t wait to be accepted back into their families and community and they forge ahead.
 
Only the Samaritan leper, stops in his tracks, marvels at his healing and is moved to turn back, praise God, worship Jesus and thank him. Only the Samaritan gives primacy to relationship with the Living God vs. religious propriety.
 
Jesus notes the ingratitude of the nine Jewish beneficiaries of his healing as compared to the gratitude of this Samaritan one. Only the Samaritan turned back. We can see this as a symbol of deepening conversion (metanoia). Our Samaritan changes direction. Not only does his healed body turn to Jesus but his life re-centers on God’s Word made flesh.
 
Only the Samaritan worshipped God in the person of Jesus and gave thanks.Not only has he been made clean; he has also been made well. Of the ten convalescents, he has come closest to experiencing the Kingdom of God here and now.
 
Eventually, Jesus sends him back on his way to the priests and greater social inclusion also.
 
We find the story of the ten lepers only in the gospel according to Luke. It focuses on the life of faith in two ways.
 
First, Gratitude is central to our faith experience. It puts us more closely in the presence of God’s grace. Jesus does not test the religious beliefs and practices of the Samaritan. His praising God and thanking Jesus are enough.

In our own lives, do we notice our graces? Do we offer thanks for them? Tonight, at the end of your day, count your blessings, if you can, and praise God for them.
 
Second, nothing stops the inclusivity of our loving God. Lepers and Samaritans alike are worthy of God’s mercy and grace.

Do not fear that you are beyond God’s mercy. God delights in your turning towards her and showers you with grace regardless. Do not exclude whom God loves. Look at whom you recoil at and learn to love them like God does.
 

Thank you, Jesus for your presence amongst us. Thank you, Jesus for your love manifested to one and all. We turn our hearts and minds towards you. We want to draw close to you and adore you. Invite us at your table. We are ready for your feast.Amen.

Proper 23 A - Oct 12, 2014

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Roy Parker, OHC
Proper 23 A, Sunday, October 12, 2014

Isaiah 25:1-9
Philippians 4:1-9
Matthew 22:1-14

Scene from the movie "Babette's Feast"

This first part comes from my days in Berkeley, CA during the 1970s and 80s.

As some will recall, Holy Cross brothers, at the invitation of the Dean, Fred Borsch, once occupied a suite of rooms in Parsons Hall on the campus of the Church Divinity School of the Pacific in the 1970s and 80s where we participated in the life of the student body, offering spiritual mentoring, monastic witness, and occasional special events such as Sunday waffle suppers for Parsons residents during intersemesters. CDSP, as itʼs called, is a member of the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, CA.

When students would remark the sparse attendance at the 10 a.m. Eucharist in All Saintsʼ Chapel, the generallyexpressed opinion was that the dayʼs real liturgy was actually lunch, when people felt drawn together in a different sort of way, the meal itself a vehicle for the satisfaction of hungers which had little to do with physical hunger, a reminder of the motto once displayed on the refectorian readerʼs desk of this monastery - Cibor Melior Cibor (Food Better Than Food).

In those days closer to Vatican II when ecumenism was relatively alive and well, students at the Jesuit School of Theology a couple of blocks away enjoyed teaming up with those at the Church Divinity School to plan services which integrated the eucharistic rite into a sit-down meal in such a way that the entire event was a seamless whole.

Those who took these models into their field work parishes were astonished at the enthusiasm with which they were greeted . . . as if ancient hungers were satisfied in ways the traditional rites could not provide. Underlying this cooperative Jesuit and Episcopalian enterprise was the principle taught at the Jesuit School of Theology that the eucharist was crippled by wrenching the bread and wine out of the context of a meal.

A meal: Why were meals and their table fellowship so central to Jesusʼ ministry? Because sharing a meal has always been one of the most effective means of achieving and celebrating reconciliation, and of bonding in general, and one of the great symbols for well-being. Hence the disturbance which this practice exerted on Jesusʼ opponents who were always asking the disciples, Why does your teacher eat and drink with all that despicable riff raff? Well, because those on the straight and narrow donʼt need a physician, but those who are sick, and their healing occurs in the reconciliation and bonding achieved in sharing a meal by which they are reconciled and bonded to God, incorporated into Godʼs very self.

It goes back to the vision of Isaiah that on the holy mountain God will make a feast of rich food for all peoples, rich meats served with oil, marrow extracted from bones, and of course choice wine - a menu calculated to alarm the health-conscious today but in those days standard fare for a banquet. Furthermore, Isaiah proclaims that this banquet accomplishes the defeat of death, the wiping away of tears, the eradication of the disgrace of Godʼs people, in short - the salvation which we await.

God lays on a rich banquet, above all possibilities, as the instrument par excellence for the defeat of death, the wiping away of tears, the reconciliation of enemies, and the bestowal of great well-being.

It should be no surprise, therefore, that the host of the wedding banquet in Matthew would be, to say the least, ticked off by the disdain of those invited. Folks, this is not a McDonaldʼs Happy Meal.

Do you remember the popularity of the film “Babetteʼs Feast” when it was current in theaters some years ago? This beautifully-made Danish film was so appealing then, and remains so, because it depicts the divine chemistry by which a banquet accomplishes everything described about the Supper of the Lamb, why the wretched of the earth were so drawn to Jesusʼ table fellowship.

At a certain point in the feast, General Loewenhieln, a distinguished guest, is so transformed by the magic of the occasion that he must rise to make this rhapsodic utterance, a kind of impromptu eucharistic prayer: 

Mercy and truth, my friends, have met together. Righteousness and bliss shall kiss one another. Humanity, my friends, is frail and foolish. We have all of us been told that grace is to be found in the universe. But in our human foolishness and shortsightedness we imagine divine grace to be finite. For this reason we tremble before making our choice in life, and after having made it, again tremble in fear of having chosen wrong. But the moment comes when our eyes are opened, and we see and realize that grace is infinite. Grace, my friends, demands nothing from us but that we shall await it with confidence and acknowledge it in gratitude. Grace, sisters and brothers, makes no conditions and singles out none of us in particular; grace takes us all to its bosom and proclaims general amnesty. See! that which we have chosen is given us, and that which we have refused is, also and at the same time, granted us. Aye, that which we have rejected is poured upon us abundantly. For mercy and truth have met together, and righteousness and bliss have kissed one another.

Mindful that a eucharistic prayer is a kind of extended toast to God, one can see that the unconditional grace of Jesus embodied in Babetteʼs Feast, as in any such intentional meal, inevitably expresses itself in a kind of eucharistic prayer such as that offered by the General.

Letʼs imagine ourselves at such a supper on a given Saturday night. Of what happened in the evening nothing definite can be stated. None of us later on will have any clear remembrance of it. We only know that the room had been filled with heavenly light, as if a number of small halos had blended into one glorious radiance. Taciturn old people received the gift of tongues; ears that for years had been almost deaf were opened to it. Time itself had merged into eternity. 

Long after midnight the windows of the house shone like gold, and golden song flowed out into the night air. It never occurred to any of us that we might have been exalted by our own merit. We realized that infinite grace had been allotted to us and we did not even wonder at the fact, for it had been but the fulfillment of an ever-present hope. The vain illusions of this earth had dissolved before our eyes like smoke, and we had seen the universe as it really is. We had been given one hour of the millennium.