Monday, March 29, 2021

Palm Sunday - March 28, 2021

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Luc Thuku, OHC

Palm Sunday  - Sunday, March 28, 2021






Today we gather to celebrate the beginning of the commemoration of Holy Week, also called the Great Week by the Eastern Churches. It is called the Great Week because great things happened during this particular week in the history and execution of our salvation. The deeds, with the exception of the resurrection, are however only GREAT when we put them in the perspective of salvation  otherwise they were horrible. A human being who is also God is betrayed by a friend and killed with the consent of religious authorities by civil authorities with the approval of the masses. It is all about pain and suffering and that is not something we would ordinarily call great! 

It also painfully reminds us that humanity has been two faced since time in memorial… the crowds that shouted “hosanna blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord” shouted with equal enthusiasm “crucify him” before a week went by!

In the first reading from Isaiah, we heard a portion of the so called  ‘Song of the Suffering Servant’. We heard the prophet fussing or lamenting, trying to make sense of some painful realities, in this case exile. If we are able to make sense or grasp the message of this text, which is, that even righteous people suffer for no fault of theirs, then we will be able to start having an idea why Jesus had to die, and a horrible death at that, and also our own sufferings especially those that come our way for no fault of ours. However, although the idea of righteous suffering is prevalent in our passage this morning, the emphasis is on the cost of being a faithful disciple or servant, and God’s vindication of the servant’s obedience or faithfulness. 

The passage from Isaiah reminds and tries to focus us on the fact that when we were called by God, we were called to faithfuness and that the communication of God’s intention is fundamental to, or the core of, our calling. We therefore should listen attentively to God for the message and then use our tongues to convey it to support the weary. We may ask who the weary are that need a word from the servant of God…on top of the poor, the sick, the lame, the hungry, the widow, the orphan, the prisoner and the ones we know well; the weary also include people who see no purpose or meaning in their life, people who think their work is in vain, people who are in the depths of despair, people who see no reason to continue in their labor. Above all the weary are sinners…people like you and me at some point in time! They are people who see their sin and their shame, they are people who know that they are, or feel, alienated from God and exiled from His presence, people who know their unworthiness, people who admit they don't do the right they really want to do.

Although Isaiah does not tell us what the word for the weary is, Jesus, the obedient servant of the sovereign Lord does tell us that the word is REST. He tells us in Matthew 11:28 “Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest”. The rest he is speaking about, though, has nothing to do with relaxing in bed, or on an armchair sipping wine, or on a hammock with a book or newspaper, or soaking in the sun on a beach in Hawaii for eternity. It is believing in him and following him and as we heard in today's lengthy gospel passage, that path is rocky and may, or will, lead to death!

We should keep our ears open to both those whom we serve and to God. This is the character of obedience because we are not our own. This however will produce suffering. Prophets do advocacy work on behalf of the marginalized and at the same time try to encourage or give hope to the suffering. They find themselves sandwiched between the oppressor and the oppressed and this may lead to resistance from the powerful and even from those who suffer. Suffering in this context is a result of speaking truth to power and is therefore not passive. We are called to resist violent oppression because acting otherwise makes us and the survivors we are advocating for in the name of God, lose their human dignity.

Jesus whom we follow gave the message he has entrusted to us with boldness. He gave the message in the face of opposition and ridicule but that did not deter him from giving a word of rest to the weary, to sinners and all. Once again as servants of the Lord, like Jesus, we are called upon to speak boldy with an instructed tongue in the face of ridicule, mockery, opposition and death. We should never be afraid to speak the truth regardless of what the itching ears of our audience wants to hear, regardless of the hostility of the worldly powers and authorities! Even if death becomes our end, the God who calls and sustains us will vindicate us and our death will not be in vain. Suffering and/or shame does not have the last word. With God on our side, the expected result is victory despite how bleak a situation looks. 

Some peole are tempted to think that Jesus used his divine nature in a selfish way to escape pain but that was not the case. Like the rest of us, when he ministered here on earth, he lived by faith. By faith he humbled himself to the point of death because he trusted in God and depended on the power of the Spirit. By faith Jesus listened to God. By faith Jesus set his face resolutely towards Jerusalem. By faith he submitted to suffering and to shame. That is why Paul is urging us in our second reading today from Philippians 2:5-11, to let the same mind be in us that was in Christ who humbled himself and by so doing  God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow in heaven and on earth and every toungue confess that He alone is Lord.

In the gospel which is long and loaded with information, We hear Peter being put into a corner by a servant girl with a very depressing question. The question posed to him which is best framed in John 18:17 is… “are you not also this man’s disciple?” 

For once let us shift our minds not to the response Peter gave or how many times the cock crowed, and take liberty to re-word the question to “are you this man’s disciple?”  I am suggesting we do so because it will put us in the picture and by that underline the importance and relevance of the question to us modern day disciples. “Am I this man’s disciple?”….“Are you this man’s disciple?… seriously, I mean to ask “Are you this man’s disciple?” 

This man’s disciples live by faith…This man’s disciples live with intergrity…This man’s disciples listen attentively for the word of God and convey it to the weary…This man’s disciples are humble and not full of themselves… this man’s disciples don't look down on others or walk on their heads… this man’s disciples are not egocentric and nothing is always about them….This man’s disciples don’t shout others down or discriminate in any way!   

Are you this Man’s disciple?…seriously “are you this man’s disciple?” This man’s disciples identify with the poor and the oppressed… This man’s disciples face oppression head on without fear of the consequences … this man’s disciple speak truth to power not worrying about what might happen to them…this man’s disciples don’t mind being associated or indentified with the nobodys of this world….This man’s disciples are themselves nobodys because like their master Jesus, they have humbled themselves even to the point of death. the death of self first and possibly physical death! 

Are you seriously this man’s disciple?… This man’s disciples are currently fighting racism in all of its many forms, they are fighting oppression, inequality, corruption, sexism, and are in the forefront campaigning for an equitable distribution of the covid-19 vaccines that are being hoarded by the super wealthy nations of the world while the so called third world countries are going without! This man’s disciples are calling for gun law reforms because innocent people continue to be murdered enmasse mainly in this country and elsewhere, this man’s disciples are kneeling on the roads in Burma to create a buffer between trigger happy millitary officers and innocent unarmed protesters!… are you really this man’s disciple, or are you at least willing to try to live as per the example of the master?

On Easter morning at the vigil of the resurrection, the Church will give us a chance to renew our baptismal promises. Baptism as we well know is the outward sign of an inner commitment to being a disciple. You and I have a full week during this great week, to retreat, discern and decide to re-commit ourselves or to even commit ourselves afresh to this Man’s discipleship which leads to the death of self and at times to literal death, but our vindicator lives, praised be HE, and therefore death does not have the final word!

My brother, my sister, are you this man’s disciple?

Thursday, March 25, 2021

The feast of the Annunciation - March 25, 2021

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Aidan Owen, OHC

Feast of the Annunciation  - Thursday, March 25, 2021






In the name of the One God, who is Lover, Beloved, and Love Overflowing.

In 1920, Rilke wrote a verse dedication to Frau Theodora van der Muhll:
The final thing is not self-subjugation
but silent loving from such centeredness
we feel round even rage and desolation
the finally enfolding tenderness.
We know the paintings so well they’re cliché. There she sits, usually surrounded by books with a lily in her hand and a feathered angel bending toward her. Sometimes she’s holding her breviary, sometimes demure, sometimes with fiery cast to her eyes. Thanks to biblical and historical scholarship, we know that Mary would have been a teenager and a poor villager. We know she had courage or was foolhardy—probably both—she was a teenager, after all. Tradition tells us that she was next to sinless, the archetypal saint, so empty of self that she could receive God’s fullness.

After centuries and centuries of interpretation and imagining the scene, it’s too easy to think of the Mary whom Gabriel greets as either a demure, faceless vessel, waiting to be filled, or the Cosmic Feminine Divine, Sophia incarnate, who knew inherently how to open herself to God’s indwelling. 

But if Jesus was fully human, then his mother certainly was, too. She was a real, historical person. She had hopes and fears. She loved and wept and twisted her hair in boredom. The demure, faceless vessel and the Cosmic Feminine Devine both rob of us of a foothold in this mysterious comingling of a human life with God’s life. 

Mary was girl who said yes to God, with whatever freedom was available to her. We know her decision produced a great number of trials. Teenage pregnancy out of wedlock; a precocious child to raise, always running off to the rabbis; watching the torture and death of her child; wrapping herself in the mystery of his rising, this one who was and was not the man she had raised.

But, of course, all those trials were to come later. For now, in this moment of Annunciation, the angel sings his ave. And Mary pours herself out as best she can. This greeting from the Holy One is the key that unlocks her heart, the sun that warms the rose of her soul, coaxing it into bloom. For now, she knows the rose’s sweetness, even as the thorns hint their sting under her thumb pads.

This pouring out of herself to God, this making herself empty and hollow was not, as Rilke points out, self-subjugation. The virtue of Mary’s response, Be it unto me according to your word, is not that she obliterated her humanity, but that, at least for the space of a breath, she allowed God to fill and surround that humanity. She became alight with herself, even as God overshadowed her.

Falling as this feast usually does in Lent, I cannot help but wonder how this experience followed Mary throughout her life. Did she hear the rustle of the angel’s wings as she stood at the foot of the Cross? As her son cried out his consummatum est, did she remember her own cry of astonishment and joy those thirty odd years before? Seeing the thorns wrapped around his brow, could she still smell the sweetness of her soul opening to God? As Jesus surrendered his Spirit, was she emptied of self once more, barren or fallow or hollowed out for God?

Every so often Good Friday and Annunciation fall on the same day, uniting into one the moment God’s Spirit took birth in Jesus and then left his body. The two poles of living and dying wrapped round each other, like the snake eating its tail.

Although this concurrence will not come again in our lifetime—the next time will be 2157—we are living in such a moment today. This year of pandemic, which has seemed an endless Lent in its way, will not resolve itself on Easter. Our joy will be tempered and quiet. The tomb may be empty, but so will most of our churches. Like those first disciples, like Mary, we will throw our alleluia out on the wind to echo in the heedless world.

It’s not only our churches that have been carved out. Our hearts have been, as well. Whether we wish to be or not, we have been hollowed, emptied of all our certainties and easy assurances. We are left wide open, waiting for God to fill us up, to be born and then reborn in and through us. What is the angel’s call to us, then?

Perhaps they are Rilke's greeting to Frau van der Muhll:
The final thing is not self-subjugation
but silent loving from such centeredness
we feel round even rage and desolation
the finally enfolding tenderness.
We don’t need to obliterate ourselves to be open to God. Like Mary we can gather round us all our courage or foolhardiness. We can speak our yes, however timorous or weary it may be today. We can trust, or even pretend to trust if that’s what we have available to us, that God will wrap us up in her finally enfolding tenderness.

Sunday, March 21, 2021

Lent 5 B - March 21, 2021

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Robert James Magliula, OHC


Some of Christianity’s harshest critics accuse it of focusing too much on suffering, death, and the next life, destroying our capacity to enjoy this one. This isn’t totally wrong. A lot of fear and anxiety has been generated by the Church through the centuries, but it’s naïve to think that human beings are naturally content, or that suffering and death don’t make us anxious. No spirituality can pretend to be mature without grappling with the haunting questions of suffering and death. This was certainly raised for us this week with our brother Tom’s death.

Christianity does not apologize for the fact that within it, the most central of all mysteries is the Paschal Mystery, the mystery of suffering, death, and transformation. Christ is central, and central to Christ is his death and rising to new life so as to send us a new spirit. This is central but misunderstood and often ignored. We pay lip service but seldom try to understand what it means and how we might appropriate it within our own experience. Most human beings flourish on condition that they do not think of dying. We collude with one another in denying our mortality even in the midst of a pandemic. Spiritual teachers, including Benedict, are unanimous in telling us that freedom depends on overcoming our forgetfulness of death. Yet we fill our lives with preoccupations in order to not face death. We all have our drugs of choice in attaining this end. If we are free to look in the face of our death in the midst of life our energy can be released for trusting, hoping, and loving. In a state of denial, we postpone doing the unfinished business we need to do, thinking we have all the time in the world. When we give voice to the self that has the courage to break silence about death, it will change our life. Ultimately, I think our happiness depends on it.

“Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain, but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” These words of Jesus define the Paschal mystery. In order to come to fuller life and spirit we must constantly be letting go of present life and spirit. Grains of wheat must in a sense die to what they are if they are not to remain alone and fruitless. Humans must die to their love for their own lives, lest loving themselves above all else, they lose their lives and destroy themselves. Jesus both taught and illustrated this in his own life.

In our Gospel today, Jesus anticipating his death, says that his very soul is troubled, yet he does not ask to be spared, but sees in it the reason for his life. His surrender to God invites us to live in that precarious day to day dependence on God. This surrender is not the surrender of submission to an enemy, but the laying down of resistance to the One who loves infinitely more than we can imagine, the One who is more on our side than we are ourselves. 

Jeremiah’s prophesy of God’s new covenant is a harbinger for us of the good news of Jesus Christ. When the Babylonians razed the Temple and dragged King Zedekiah off in chains, the twin symbols of God’s covenantal fidelity were destroyed. Not only did the people lose power and prestige, freedom and security, they also lost the assurance of God’s faithfulness in the devastation of destruction. The prophet assures the exiled Israelites and us that our God will bring newness out of destruction and give hope where there was none. God offers us the means from within to be faithful by removing distinctions of class and privilege and writing on our heart the capacity for keeping the new covenant. With the Greek Gentile seekers who request to see Jesus, all will be drawn to him. In him we see the vulnerability of the God who meets us in our trials, ultimately liberating and redeeming us. 

This paradox of the cross is also on display in the Letter to the Hebrews which portrays Jesus and his redemptive work using the extended metaphor of the Jewish High Priest in the Yom Kippur liturgy. Jesus as high priest stands before God on behalf of humanity. His obedience in suffering leads to new life and makes him the source of salvation to those who trust in him. He stands with us not over us. He bears in his person all the cries, tears, and supplications of the people.

If we are to follow where he leads, it’s important to distinguish and choose between two kinds of death and life. There is terminal death and paschal death. The first ends life and all possibilities. The latter ends one kind of life and opens a person to receive a deeper richer form of life. The image of a grain of wheat falling into the ground and dying so as to produce new life is an image of paschal death. There is also resuscitated life and resurrected life. The first is when one is restored to one’s former life and health. The latter is not a restoration of one’s old life but the reception of a radically new life.

The Paschal mystery is about paschal death and resurrected life. It begins with suffering and death and moves on to the reception of new life and spirit. It is a process of transformation. Only after the old is grieved and let go of is the new spirit given. Jesus’ great Passover from death to life is our model, and we will soon to re-enact it liturgically from Holy Week to Pentecost. Death is marked on Good Friday, new life on Easter, grieving the old and adjusting to the new in the forty days of Easter, refusing to cling, letting go, and letting the old bless us on Ascension, and finally accepting new Spirit on Pentecost. 

We observe the paschal cycle liturgically once a year, but in fact it is a daily re-enactment since we experience many deaths in our lives. There’s the death of our youth, our wholeness, our dreams, our honeymoons, our health, our ideas of God, of monastic life, of the Church. Unless we mourn properly our hurts, our loses, life’s unfairness, our shattered dreams, and all the life we once had, we will live either in an unhealthy fantasy or an ever-intensifying bitterness. Grieving is key but unfortunately our tolerance for it is limited. It consists not only of letting go of the old, but of letting it bless us as well. It’s necessary to let our roots bless us whether they were healthy or not. We face many deaths daily and the choice is ours whether those deaths will be terminal----snuffing out life and spirit, or paschal---opening us to new life and new spirit. 

The essence of freedom is to act without fear to be who we truly are, knowing that is what is most pleasing to God, and knowing that our actions reflect what fills our hearts. Those who would see, serve, and follow Jesus will recognize him even in the weariness and worry of their paschal journey, letting go, trusting, and surrendering ourselves to the Spirit.

+Amen.