We stand with them in that dissonance — drawn to the radiance, yet recoiling from the cost. Still, the vision is given as strength, not explanation. It is enough to know Him, even when the road descends into suffering. The memory of glory becomes a quiet fire we carry into the valley.

And so we are told not merely to admire, but to listen — to hear Him when He speaks of the cross as the only road to life, when He asks us to lose what we cannot keep. The promise is not that we will understand, but that we will be transformed.

He refuses them all. Not because He lacks power, but because He will not define Himself by it. Hunger does not define Him. Approval does not define Him. Dominion does not define Him. He lives instead by the word of the Father — trusting, receiving, remaining. And in doing so, He shows us that our worth is not something we construct or defend, but something already given, already held in God. 

So we fast, not to become less, but to see more clearly. To loosen our grip on what cannot satisfy, and to remember the quiet truth beneath it all: that we belong to God, and it is from Him alone that our life is sustained.

Christ does not tell us to abandon treasure. He tells us to seek it with all our strength — but to seek the treasure that cannot perish. Every act of love, holiness, mercy, and trust becomes a storehouse in heaven, carried beyond the grave. The season of Lent simply invites a strange exchange: we give God our sin, our distrust, our small sacrifices — and He offers us a kingdom. 

It is, in the end, a question of trust. The enemy taught us to doubt God’s goodness, yet the Psalms remind us who He truly is — the one who stills the sea, feeds the valleys, and raises the poor from the dust. Lent begins with ashes, but only because God intends to fill empty hands with something far greater.

We who have been grafted in must not grow comfortable. Our fathers passed through the sea, ate spiritual food, drank from the Rock — and that Rock was Christ. They had Him, truly. Yet many fell in the wilderness. Baptism is not immunity. Eucharist is not entitlement. The race must be run; the body disciplined; the lamp kept filled.

Two thousand years is a long time to live in Babylon. It is long enough to mistake exile for home, to build our stone houses and forget the fire that will test every work. But Christ is not distant. Through anamnesis He is as present now as He was in the cloud and the sea. There is no excuse for cold love.

Only one thing will endure the burning: love for God and neighbor, made visible in holiness and good works. All else will pass.

Are we still running — or have we begun to settle?

To live in this world rightly is to see through — not to escape creation, but to receive it as a sacrament. Even the ordinary (tea, trees, toil, touch) becomes an enchanted ladder. Anamnesis is the name for this seeing — this remembrance that does not only look back, but forward too, into the feast to come, where all love finds its source.

We are not asked to invent this vision, only to recover it. The miracle has already begun.

What Herod meant for evil, God received as an offering. These little ones, the Church’s first blossoms, were matured not by years but by innocence. Their deaths recall Egypt and exile, Rachel’s weeping and Mary’s sorrow — but also the promise: they shall return. They shall come back from the land of the enemy.

This is how we dare to rejoice. Because Christ is born. Because death is now the servant of glory. Because no cruelty can touch what is held by Love.

And yet this mystery, so vast and cosmic, is made intimate through His birth. The font becomes a womb, the womb becomes a tomb, and in each — a beginning. In Him, we are born again, not from Adam, but into the new race of the redeemed. The stain is blotted out. Mortality is overcome.

Though shadows still linger — the Innocents, the flight, the cross to come — joy remains unshaken. In the light of His coming, every sorrow is recast. Let us be glad. There is no proper place for sadness when we keep the birthday of the Life that has overcome death.

The light has come, but the darkness does not comprehend. Recognition requires purification. Illumination follows repentance. Not all darkness is sin — some is mystery, some is trial — but sin blinds. The heart must be made clean to see what is already here: the Christ, in the breaking of bread, in the midst of our lives, in every sorrow and grace.

He has given himself to us fully. The only question is whether we will turn again, and let him be born in us — again, and again, and now. Repentance is not one of many ways. It is the only door. Let us walk through.

We are meant to see in John not only the forerunner of Christ’s ministry, but the forerunner in His suffering. He walks every step before the Lord — even into death, even into hell. His question is not confusion, but consummation. He is living the answer with his life.

So we ask again: do we know what we already know? Can we trust Him, even when the heavens are silent? Even when the cup is not taken away?

The Church does not shy away from final things. She begins her year not with nativity but with apocalypse, calling us not to despair but to readiness. Repentance is not merely sorrow, but preparation. Wakefulness is not anxiety, but faith. We are not meant to drift. We are meant to walk in the light, clear-eyed, prepared.

And yet — beneath the sternness, there is joy. For the judgment of Christ is also our redemption. And to live Advent fully is to become capable of joy — the kind that does not flinch from the truth, but finds in it the way home.

This means setting aside the constant itch of opinion, trading cleverness for obedience, and joining the life of Christ already at work in our midst. Salvation is not received in isolation — it is revealed in our life together. The more we insist on being our own, the more we estrange ourselves from the joy of being His.

We are not drawn upward by ideas alone, but by love made visible in the lives around us — a people made one not by preference, but by peace. Each of us, all of us, turning as one toward the Shepherd’s voice.

This is not a lesson in sentiment, but a call to conversion — from anger to intercession, from resentment to blessing. Even as we wrestle with pain and memory, we are given power: not merely to refrain from hate, but to seek our brother’s good. Forgiveness is not a boundary; it is the ground on which we stand if we wish to be forgiven ourselves.

The ember of anger may burn unseen, but left unchecked, it razes the soul. Christ does not flinch from saying so. And still — even still — He offers us the path back.

The battle is not metaphor. There is an enemy, and Christ our King enters the fray not with fear, but with justice and mercy. In His Annunciation, His Ascension, His ministry, and even His trial, the question echoes: are You a king? And He answers not with denial, but with destiny — for this cause I came into the world.

He makes of us a kingdom of priests. He lifts us into His victory. The crown He wears is not taken but given — and now He reigns, not afar, but near. His kingdom has no end. And we? We are already within it.

St. Paul calls us to be confirmed in this grace, established and unwavering. Not merely recipients of a gift, but those who carry it forward — blameless, enduring, waiting for the coming of Christ. This is what it means to offer a sacrifice of praise: not words alone, but a life rooted in gratitude, resolute in the storm, joyfully alive in Him.

It is not enough to be enriched — we must abide. Will we remain in Him?

We are warned: theology without love is dead. Faith must take form. Zeal is not enough. Words are not enough. Truth must be enfleshed, made manifest in devotion, obedience, and the vow paid in love. This is not a new commandment. It is the first, and it is everything.

The ones who knew the most were the furthest from Him. What might we not see, even now?

This is not a tale of moral instruction. It is the revelation of Christ — meek, majestic, descending to the lowest place. The Psalms speak with his voice. The parables are shaped by his descent. Even our own lives only take on meaning in the light of his — our grief, our birth, our prayers: they are his first.

We fast, we pray, we serve — not for reward, not even for virtue — but because we want to be like Jesus. Because we love Him. And that is enough.

Eusebius saw its triumph in crumbling temples and rising churches. We see it in our own flesh — when we suffer, forgive, endure, obey. The Cross is everywhere present: on our walls, on our bodies, in our prayers, in our pain. And it is beautiful.

The world calls it shame. We call it sweet. Because through it, God's love is poured out for us — turning darkness into light, death into joy. Every sorrow, however small, becomes a path. Every burden, however bitter, becomes a blessing. The Cross does not merely save us. It teaches us how to live. And so — we should be happy.

There is a difference between being cleansed and being saved. Gratitude is not sentiment — it is the shape of faith itself. Worship is the only fitting response to a God who hangs for us, who rises for us, who lives now within us. To see clearly is to thank Him. To thank Him is to live.

We are all clothed thus, for now. But through daily dying, we too may become what he became: a witness, a martyr, a friend of God. This skin will not last. It is not our shame but our passage. What if death, for us as for him, is not an end but a bright and terrifying door?

To be healed, we must not only know our need but speak it aloud. Faith begins in recognition, but it lives in the act of turning — to pray, to cry out, to come near. This is the narrow way: not self-assurance, but surrender. Not complication, but the clear voice of devotion. And always, it begins today.

This is not irreverence. It is resurrection-shaped courage. We mourn and rejoice in the same breath. We see Christ in each other — on couches of pain, in voices of comfort, in saints who teach us how to die, and how to live. There is no contradiction in joy amid sorrow. God has entered our suffering, yet remains eternal gladness.

Despair is the lie. The martyr’s laughter is truth.

We are stewards, not owners. What we hold is not ours to keep, but to offer. If we give freely, even of the unrighteous mammon, we make friends who will welcome us into the everlasting home. Our alms are not lost. They are kept in heaven — moneybags that do not grow old, freight trains of mercy.

Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

But Christ will not be deceived. He looks not at appearances, but at what grows beneath them. Talk is cheap, He says — it is the will of the Father that bears weight. So we watch for our own fruit. We bring our thoughts into the light. We confess, not to be punished, but to be made real again. This is the path to union. And joy begins wherever pride breaks.

We do not possess this holiness. We receive it. And when we fail — as we will — we are not cast away, but called again to rise, to confess, to walk the narrow way. This is not a system. It is a life. A life tethered to His, shaped by His words: Go, and sin no more.

We are not spectators to this story. We, too, are asked to leave the shore — to stop patching the familiar and to trust the voice that says, Put out into the deep. What we fear to lose may be what is keeping us from the Kingdom.

And if the bucket is empty, if the nets return void, it may be mercy.

Here is the bread that came down, the gift that is not partial, not diminished. To eat is to receive the whole: not a piece, not a taste — but all. All that He is. All that He has done. The entire mystery, in humble form. We lift the host, not to remember, but to enter. The veil is thin. The signs are radiant. We are surrounded.

We are not left as orphans. We are indwelt, infused, ignited. The Spirit does not come for comfort alone but for conquest — not ours, but Christ’s. The land is His. The call is ours. To refuse is peril. To go is joy. The fields are white, and we have been made ready — not by strength, but by love.

This joy, impervious and unstealable, does not bypass sorrow but is born through it. It is not understanding that clarifies, but the Spirit. The Spirit who Christifies, who makes many minds into one, who takes the very life of the Son and gives it to us. This is why He leaves — that we may not be left.

In this age of realized hope, joy is no longer a future promise but a present vow. It is not the absence of sorrow, but the fruit of faith — faith that acts, decides, praises. Not led by feeling, but by truth. And when we fulfill that vow, not as a performance but as obedience, we discover: joy is not just strength. It is the rightful atmosphere of resurrection life.

What scatters us — fear, isolation, lack — is undone by his presence. We are no longer alone. We are no longer empty. We are no longer prey. Even now, surrounded by dangers seen and unseen, we rest. Because Christ is our Shepherd, and he will bring us home.

This week, we gathered again and again, not out of obligation, but desire — to savor hymns, to hear stories of the risen Christ, to taste and see.

Faith, too, is not born from proof but from hunger. Like Mary at the tomb, we look again — not because it makes sense, but because love won’t let us leave. We remember: doubt is not defeat, and fear is not foreign to the saints. But joy is not optional. It is our inheritance. It is work. And it is worth everything.

The age of the Sabbath — of shadows and striving — is over. Christ has fulfilled it. He rises not just for himself, but with all of us in him. The silence is broken. The new day has begun.

We are asked to take up the cross as well. But not His. Ours is smaller, shaped for us. It may feel sharp or too much to carry — but it is not. It is light, He says. It is bearable. And when we believe this, even through tears, despair loosens its grip.

This sorrow is not the end. It is the way to joy.

He enters our isolation fully. Judas sells Him. Peter denies Him. The others sleep or scatter. And still He trusts. From the tree where man once fell, He restores what was lost — not by might, but by surrender. In His obedience, trust is reborn. In His love, we are made free.

Now, no betrayal can sever us. No silence can isolate. We are no longer alone.

And yet, in this abandonment, Christ takes on the full weight of our fear: that no one will stay, that even God might withdraw. He enters that silence and carries it. “There was no one to help,” says the prophet. Still, He goes — and binds us forever with cords that do not break.

What was shattered, He makes whole.

He giveth power to the faint, and to them that have no might, he increaseth strength. Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall, but they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength.

Today Our Lord sets forth the standard of conduct for his followers. Fr. Patrick reflects on this commandment, its implications for Christian thought and action, and one of the greater temptations to threaten Christians along the way.

And yet, we often fish the night away and greet morning empty-handed. The net tears and breaks and we are left bruised and battered with nothing to show. Often the boat feels as though it may be dragged down into the waters, leaving us to the cold, unfeeling deep.

How do we see darkness if we are with the Light? How is there turmoil when the Prince of Peace sails with us?

Fr. Patrick talks today about the very first commission, the call of the Lord to his chief soldiers. And how even at the beginning, we see what is to come.

Fr. Patrick discusses spiritual warfare, the power of peace, and trust; and what God himself tells us is the way of Life.

Is it not said that we are as we eat? Is it not true that the matter we consume is the same matter of which we are comprised?

.…is it really so surprising that the God of body and spirit should save us with the same means by which we fell?

On this Blessed Feast of Corpus Christi, Fr. Patrick reflects on the great mystery of salvation, the true presence of the Lord, and the most powerful commandment we have ever received.…

All of these have been promised by many in the name of our reading today. Some have even promised direct material gain from it. Riches, a new car, a full tank of gas, a pantry full of incredible delicacies.

Will we really be given anything we ask for? Are there no limits to this promise?

Ought we ask for anything at all?

Today Fr. Patrick discusses the true abundance and provision of God. The real, supernatural blessing of The Lord. And the only true request worthy of the name of Jesus Christ.…

The Lord is risen from the dead, and has trampled death underfoot. How is it that we still experience sickness and sorrow? What last holdout must death have that we must pass through it to reach the Lord?

Fr. Patrick talks about peace and joy reigning in the midst of sorrows. And finding Our King as he reigns among his enemies.

If any have toiled from the first hour, let them receive their due reward; And if any delayed until the ninth hour, let him not hesitate; but let him come too. And he who arrived only at the eleventh hour, let him not be afraid by reason of his delay. For the Lord is gracious and receives the last even as the first. He gives rest to him that comes at the eleventh hour, as well as to him that toiled from the first.

Today Fr. Patrick preaches the hope and assurance of the resurrection. And meditates on where we go and what we should do now that Our Lord is victorious.

“Behold: I set before you life, and death; blessing, and curses.” No longer can the curtain of darkness shroud the secret plottings of the night. For Light is on Death’s doorstep, and its gate shall not prevail.

These are the words used by St. Luke the Evangelist to describe the prayer life of Christ. Yesterday we were given an example in Mary, sister of Lazarus, of piety, devotion, and sacrifice. But what of the Lord himself?

Today Fr. Patrick discusses the piety and devotion of the Son of God. The perfect manifestation of the Law of God, who lacks nothing in his love for the Father and Spirit. In his lived experience, and shining Gospel we find every answer to our lives. For his righteousness is everlasting, and his Law is truth.

The age in which we live seeks to divorce Religion and Spirit. To put a rift between a heartfelt, genuine faith - and any real, tangible acts or expressions of that faith. “Be spiritual, not religious” is a maxim found on many street corners and rear windshields.

But who can actually separate these two? Can love be true and genuine if it is devoid of action and expression?

Fr. Patrick takes on piety and devotion this week as we enter the final days before Pascha. And reflects on a living icon scripture gives us of just such a piety, to guide us on our way to the object of our true desires.

Behold: the Humble and Holy Man. He who fills the hungry with good things, but sends the rich away empty. Who puts down the mighty from their seat, and exalts the humble, and the meek.

Fr. Patrick today reflects on the greatness of humility; and the God who loves it - and is perfect in its practice.

Fr. Patrick discusses faith, unity, and the call to action today. It is not enough to not be evil. It will not do simply not to hurt someone. The bare minimum has fallen away, and it is time to choose a side.

Fr. Patrick talks about faith and hope in the midst of this Lenten journey. And reflects on the power of knowing who it is we really serve.

Lo, the time for battle has come! Into the wilderness our Great Champion has gone before us, and we are to follow. For who is God beside the Lord? Who teaches our hands to make war, and makes bronze bows of our arms. He has set out to destroy all those who would harm his creation. “I shall pursue and overtake them, and will not turn until they have fallen. They shall cry out, even to the Lord, but none shall hear them; and I shall grind them to powder”

Fr. Patrick speaks on spiritual warfare, its nature, and how to conduct ourselves amidst the battle. A Blessed Lent to you, as we struggle on to Pascha!

The seed of the Gospel has been scattered in every direction, and it shall land on every heart. But it is up to us to till the ground and prepare to receive it. We must drag away the heavy rocks, and break the hardened shell of a well-trodden path. And then we shall spend our days tending to weeds and thorns, lest they spring up and take what we have from us.

With Lent almost upon us, Fr. Patrick sets out with this meditation to prepare us all for the hard work of tilling and toil ahead.

But what happens when the scales are really balanced? When every person is given an equal share of the perfect, loving, overwhelming, generosity of God are we really satisfied? When our brother is restored to a new inheritance, having already squandered what he had, are we glad he is home?

Today Fr. Patrick prepares to enter the Lenten season with a meditation on one of the greatest dangers in the Christian life, one so poisonous it can cause us to attempt to judge God himself.…

“I thank God upon my every remembrance of you.”

These are the words which begin St. Paul’s address to the Church at Phillipi. And they are followed by all manner of confident and joyful proclamations from the Great Apostle concerning both their conduct, and their trajectory.

Today Fr. Patrick discusses salvation, and direction. And the proper context for trusting in God’s promises.

~ Whence an arrow is pointed, there it shall fly.

Why must so much be hidden from us? Truth is often so shrouded in mystery, and buried beneath symbols and types, that we can hardly see it at all.

Fr. Patrick takes on the device of parable itself today, and sheds some light on darkness as a vessel for the truth.

As Salvation himself is cradled and presented, the First Age looks upon him with peace. At long last his time has run its course; and the darkened eyes of the Old Man find rest in the Light of the New.

The first and most important question is always theological. What is the Christological significance of this passage? How does this passage reveal Jesus Christ and his saving work? Our parable today of the Good Samaritan is one of the best examples to illustrate what I mean because, while it has an obvious moral message, it has an even more profound Christological revelation.

If you do all the stuff without the right interior disposition, you have false religion. If you try to have the right interior disposition without obedience, you have no religion, and end up with the subjective god of self.

We do not see Him in the flesh like He once was among us, but still just as John has promised we look upon Him who was pierced for our transgression, we look upon Him in the water and the blood, in baptism through which we are washed and receive the Spirit, and through the Eucharist in which we receive His life giving blood and divine immortality.

Lucifer was envious of what God had planned for man. He was envious that man had been made in God's image and when he was perfected, man would surpass the angels in glory. Instead of rejoicing in God's goodness, Lucifer was eaten up with murderous envy- He didn't just want what man was promised, he wanted to destroy man and keep him from ever attaining it.

We want to be closer to God, but something unexpected happens when he takes a step toward us: we often step back away from him. This is just what happens when God shows up at the door of your heart, but if you let Him have his way, your whole house will be illumined and filled with Joy.

To be with Jesus, to be holy and good is to gather. It is to reconcile, to make peace, to forgive, to sympathize and understand, to come along side and defend, to remain loyal, to work through conflict with humble sincerity. It is to be loyal to those you are in the fox hole with, not to turn on them and bite and devour- we are on the same side, we have a common enemy, and it is not one another.

If that sounds daunting and even impossible (I can't do it! I'm too weak! Too bad! I give up!), we should remember that any kid can do it. In fact, only a kid can do it- so we have to be little Children. It takes the faith of a child, the simplicity of a Child, the trust of a Child, the utter dependence of a Child. Jesus not only told us this in plain and direct terms- You must become like a child to enter the kingdom- but He demonstrated it for us by becoming himself a little child.

He did not need to undergo the suffering and humiliation of circumcision for his own sake- He was the lawgiver he did not need to subject himself to the law. But we needed him to come to where we were and rescue us, and so ...when the fulness of the time was come, God sent forth his Son, made of a woman, made under the law, to redeem them that were under the law, that we might receive the adoption of sons. Gal. 4:4-5

Even though the King of Justice has come and brought Judgment- that judgement is still largely redemptive, it is for the purpose of leading us to repentance. The day will come that He will come again bodily and the time of repentance will be over, the time of redemptive judgment will be over, that will be the final judgment- the reconciling and closing judgement- when the tares are pulled and burned, when the goats are separated from the sheep.

The Judgment on the other hand, while being a negative experience for some, is in reality, the great and final victory dance for those who have prepared for it. It is the consummation of the power of God poured out on those who love Him. It is their hope fulfilled, the final destruction of their enemies, and their complete and total perfection brought to completion.

Paul runs with vigor, fights with force, presses on towards the high calling. This is what he earnestly prays for when he prays that our love would abound. If you have been sitting on the sidelines, it’s time to get back in the race.

Would we have God become darkness, so that we might feel a little better about Him in this parable? Would that make Him kinder, gentler, more merciful? If He became a little bit dark? So that this poor old sap didn't get thrown into outer darkness? If He were to become part of the evil? Is this the kind of God we would imagine that would be more loving? Or do we cry out with the holy ones for justice, for God to destroy evil in the world, and in our hearts? To liberate us from the tyranny of sin and death, to set all things in order? To set all things rightly: that is what justice is.

It is only through the lens of love that you will understand the Law and the Prophets, the Divine revelation in the Holy Scriptures. He is not depreciating the Scriptures by his statement but raising them to the highest order.

The Sabbath now is a journey to being fully alive, and we pass through times, and seasons, and cycles of life, in which this journey must be consecrated to God continuously. There are many side ramps along the way which would distract us, so we need something to hold on to that will lead us home: and that is the liturgical life. A major part of us keeping the Sabbath is to prioritize the sacrifice of the Mass and a life of prayer.

We can get angry and resentful and accuse God of all kinds of things, or we can trust in His goodness, and justice, and love, and know that while we still exist in a place where death and sorrow must be passed through, we know through godly hope that Jesus will have the last word, He will be there to say "stop weeping and arise".

The enemy of our soul is the divider of the brethren, he plots and schemes as to how he can divide and fracture and tear asunder the unity of the brethren, this is his primary goal, if he can do this he has set the stage for the kill. We must be wise to his schemes, and not allow ourselves to be drawn into this trap, to be lured away from the sheepfold.

And it's not just something that happens spontaneously, you realize that feasting requires asceticism and discipline every bit as much as fasting does? We fast so that we can offer the sacrifice with purity of heart, we feast so that we can offer the sacrifice in joy. But they're both so that we can offer the sacrifice.

He still didn't get what He asked for. Neither did Job. I'll tell you who got their prayer answered: it was Satan, when he asked for access to attack Job. God granted Satan his request and refused both Paul and Job. He refused their prayer requests unto their salvation, and granted Satan's request unto his condemnation.

In these sweet days of light and happiness their cups run over with joy even as he was preparing them to die- but they could not be sorrowful because he had Risen from the dead and they would die no more- in these days even death was a joy to them because in the Risen Lord they were witnessing the net result of a holy death- eternal glory.

There are many lessons to be learned from this but I want to emphasize one thing which is necessary for our perpetual gladness. In all the passages about bad shepherds and good shepherds there are three aspects which come up again and again, three things which the bad shepherds fail to do and three things which The Good Shepherd does. The Good Shepherd feeds the sheep, protects the sheep and gathers the sheep together into one flock. That is the last line of our gospel lesson today, Jesus says: "and there shall be one fold and one shepherd."

In addition to a prophetic act, the foot washing also has the symbolic power of demonstrating humble servitude as the norm amongst his family. But it is a humble servitude rooted in the willingness to die for one another because Christ has died for us. It is not just about servitude, it is about dying.

The physical act of taking fresh clean air into our lungs, moment by moment, as a natural, life sustaining rhythm of assimilation is a very good metaphor for what this collect says we are to be doing, and this is how we avail ourselves of God's pardon, this is how it becomes real, and immediate in our life, prayer is breath.

What happens today is a foreshadowing of His ultimate and final entry into the heavenly Jerusalem, which occurs at His bodily Ascension into heaven. This is the significance of our procession halting at the doors of the Church and the Subdeacon banking on the door with the cross. Lift up your heads oh ye gates, that the King of Glory may come in- who is this king of glory? The Lord strong and mighty- it is through the cross that the doors are opened to the heavenly kingdom.

Christ's perfection through suffering was, essentially, the reversal of the human attempt for autonomy. Christ took our humanity to subjugate the human will and person to the Heavenly Father- even in the midst of suffering, even unto death, especially unto death, it was a destruction of autonomous human will: a total burning and holocaust of our independence from God.

Our life is full of choices. Full of choices. Moment by moment, we have choices: what we're going to think about, what we're going to do and not do. A good and holy life depends, largely, on making very deliberate and wise decisions. Not just the big long term decisions, but the immediate, little ones. One of the consequences of the fall, and our mortality (and really, the permeation of death in all creation, one of the most insideous consequences is really our lack of ability to focus. We are distracted. This is perennial for all of us. There is an inner dividedness, this aimless wandering, even in our thoughts. It's hard to know what we are to do.

This is the source of a lot of woe in this world. This problem is so serious, in fact, that the entire apparatus of the liturgical and devotional life (of which Lent is part) has been constructed by the Church, in the Spirit, to deal with it.

What's our attitude as we charge off into this Holy Season of Lent? Are we, like our elder brother driven into the wilderness by the Spirit to fight the devil, with fasting, and penitence, prayer and sacrifice? Every day in Lauds I love saying verse 6 of Psalm 149: "Let the praises of God be in their mouth; and a two-edged sword in their hands." Praise God, and slay the enemy.

Remembering is always the first step in turning to God. Man's first step away from God was a failure to remember. It doesn't sound nearly as hideous as it is, but what really lies at the root of all our sin, and all our woe, is forgetfulness. It's not so much what we have done that is man's great failure, but what we have failed to do. The on-going power of sin, even in our lives, those of us who have come to chirst and been baptized, is simple neglect. And a Holy Lent for us will consist of attentiveness and remembrance.

Saint Paul says that we can be eloquent, we can be eloquent to the point of the angelic, we can see the mysteries, we can expound upon them, we can enlighten those around us. We can do miracles. We can give all that we possess, and be great altruists. We can suffer in our body for God and for others. But Saint Paul says that if we do these things without Love, then all of these things that we might do are meaningless. Without love, all these works, and amendments, and satisfactions, turn to dust.

Jesus spoke in parables. Is Jesus still speaking in parables? The obvious answer is, we just read the parables this morning, and we take the reading of scripture in the context of liturgy as Jesus directly speaking to us, so we have to say yes, He is still speaking in parables. But beyond and past the Holy Writ, is he speaking to you in parables, in your life? Is he speaking to the world in parables? Or has he given up parables? Maybe he's given up parables and gone on to more straightforward means of communication in your life. That shouldn't be too difficult of a question to answer. If he does still speak to us in parables, do we get what he's trying to say to us? Or are we left scratching our heads? Does the seed of the word of christ penetrate the soil of our heart? Does it take root? Or does it get swept away by the wind, snatched up by the birds? Do we get additional information from Christ? Well, if we're left in the dark, which we so often are, there's a reason for it.

Since we have been redeemed by the Blood of Christ we live for Him now, there is a kingdom coming down out of heaven of which we are citizens, he has delivered us from the power of darkness and transferred us to the Kingdom of the Son. Our loyalty lies with the Kingdom of Jesus Christ, his body the Church.

The letter itself testifies that the events being described show us an example of martyrdom which is conformable to the Gospel- which is to say we are going to describe for you the exemplary death of a great and holy man who died in the same holy way that our Lord and the Apostles died.

The Epistle of the Smyrneans which describes Polycarp’s death is the Proto-Martyrology- the first work of its kind in the Church. It is notable not just because it is the first- it really set’s the tone for all subsequent martyrologies- it is Polycarp after Jesus and the Apostles of course, but it is Polycarp who teaches us how to die- and there is little in this world more beautiful than a holy death.

Leviticus 14:1 begins: “The Lord spoke to Moses….” What follows in chapter 14 are the complex instructions for what to do when a person thinks they have been cleansed from leprosy. These detailed instructions are given to Moses directly from the Lord.

As we look at Leviticus chapter 14 and read the story of Jesus healing the Leper and then instructing him to go now and follow these very requirements, we should keep in mind just who the Lord is who gave Moses these very instructions.

The Lord who, several thousand years ago gave Moses detailed instructions for a cleansed leper is the very same person telling this leper to go and fulfill these requirements. The Lord in Leviticus is Jesus Himself now standing before this recently cleansed man and referring him back to his original directive.

The things of greatest significance in this life have something to do with birth, death or conjugation. The arch of a life is defined on both ends by baptism and a funeral and marriage at the center holds equal place of import. The very creation and fullness of the human, male and female is summed up in marriage. Likewise the new creation is fulfilled as Christ and His bride the Church.

Not many of us are from noble stock or the aristocracy- (is anyone here from the aristocracy?) we should relish this story which draws attention to the simple poor rustic shepherds who were lowly esteemed laborers in their day. And it is even more impressive that Luke devotes so much space to them. They who were invisible and lowly esteemed by society have been highly esteemed by the Evangelist who goes on and on about them, they were highly esteemed by the angels who put on quite a show for them, they were most highly esteemed by God Himself who arranged all of this and has had it recorded for all the ages to delight in.

Tonight, the Lord of Hosts, Judge of Nations and terror of the wicked- is a small, helpless, vulnerable baby who is crying and wants his mother. The Man of War is a crying baby, and his mother coddles him, wraps him tightly in strips of cloth and holds him close and nurses him. This is the man of war, a plump little baby crying for his mother.

We must feel some tenderness knowing the holy baby Jesus. Tenderness that His mother feels for him. For all the talk of war, and enemies, and hard brutality and destruction- On this night, this festival reveals our God, our man of war as He also is to us, a tender precious, gentle, weak, vulnerable baby.

This sentiment is every bit as central to our faith as that of war and the destruction of the Devils works- more so, because the war will end but the tenderness will only grow and the sweet fragrance that we enjoy in this festival of Christmas will wash away all the residue of the ugly and hard battle of our punishment.

We are often befuddled by the Jews rejection of Jesus. Even with all the physical evidence staring them in the face, the astonishing undeniable miracles- I mean they tried to kill Jesus after he raised Lazarus from the dead- It is bewildering to us to conceive of their rejection of Jesus after all he did. But we are told in the Gospels repeatedly the reason they rejected Jesus- they rejected him because their hearts were hardened. Ok… That’s no reason to crucify Him.  Well this is only bewildering because we do not understand what a hardened heart can do to a person- it makes them insane, incapable of seeing clearly, of making wise decisions, of knowing what’s what. It takes away their reason and makes them beasts. That’s the reality of someone who’s heart has become truly hardened. Now who wants to be a foaming pet on a demon’s leash?  Good news is we know how to avoid such a condition. Repentance- that is the cure and preventative medicine for a hardened heart.

John was a man -sent from God. We know that his conception was miraculous, next to our Blessed Mother and the Savior John’s nativity is the one other nativity feast we celebrate- he was slightly older than Jesus, of the priestly class, they met while in their mothers wombs and John leapt for joy. We read that John was filled with the Holy Spirit while in the womb- he went out into the wilderness and became a great ascetic and to be with God. He knew God in the Wilderness, God spoke to him and told him things as he did the prophets of old but John was greater than all the prophets of old, there had been no one greater born of women.

I have heard recently of a person who is very angry at God for all the awful things he does to people or allows to happen to people- which I suppose, in this person’s mind is the same thing- if he allows it, he might as well have done it himself- in the final tally, He is responsible for all the awful things. It is a somewhat understandable position to assume and one that God anticipates. He is quite aware that this is how things appear and He warns us repeatedly of the threatening delusion.

God is not the author of evil, can not be tempted by evil nor does he tempt any man with evil. And yet all the same he does test our faith that it might be proven. Proven to be true- and proven as in refined and made perfect. And the testing of our faith consists in a fiery trial of suffering- in some form or another. Why does he have to be so mean, can’t he just prove our faith another way, with walks by the lake and mimosas at brunch? We’ll no he can’t as a matter of fact or else I’m sure he would.

There is no one without sin. Our confidence is not in our sinlessness but in the Goodness and mercy of God to forgive the honest sinner who fears and waits upon the Lord. What does it mean to fear and wait upon the Lord? To wait is one who has hope in God’s mercy and goodness, to fear is to recognize the uncompromising nature of reality, that is the Holiness of God- that this eternal blaze of glory, goodness, joy and truth will destroy all that is treacherous and disloyal. Jesus said if you deny me before men I will deny you before my Father in heaven. God does not just forgive the honest sinner but he invites him into his divine counsel and gives him and his descendants the earth.

Jesus warns us in the gospel this morning that there is a great tribulation coming. Whether he speaks of something yet to happen or something that has already happened- there will be tribulations until the end. He promised us in the world you will have tribulation. Why? He is God, He is good and wants us to be happy, I mean he created us for the express purpose of being filled with delight and joy. So why doesn’t he just fix it all with a wave of His hand- why this tribulation? Apparently it would not be what is best for us or else He would.

A phrase from St. Paul’s letter to the Ephesians caught my attention this morning. He tells the Ephesians to redeem the time because the days are evil. The days are evil… It’s hard to image something written 2K years ago that could sound more contemporary. We are likely in the beginning throws of the collapse of a civilization. It has happened before, and if Jesus tarries it will happen again. Feeling our contemporary demise acutely we may miss the obvious, St. Paul was also in days which were evil, and that was long ago with much historical and social water under the bridge. We have no corner on evil days, mankind has been living in days which are evil for a very long time.

When we study Jesus' life in the Scripture he appears as many things, he is a shepherd carrying for his sheep, a vintner growing and tending his vine, a creator bringing things into existence, a teacher showing the way, a miracle worker setting people free, a destroyer of death, a redeemer who offers his life to pay the price of our salvation and deliverance from enslavement to the enemy. He is certainly all of these things and more. The first clear apostolic proclamation to the world was: JESUS IS LORD!

The temptation of any heresy is to choose. That's what heresy means, to choose. The tension between truth and love, the seeming tension, as if somehow we need to "strike a balance", is a false dichotomy. And whenever a choice is made, in choosing that thing that is chosen, the choice becomes something other than it is, when it is left without its partner. Things that are good and true are only good and true when taken together. As soon as they are broken apart, they become something else. Love becomes "tolerance", niceness, an occasion to blur reality in order to salve our broken psyche. Truth becomes some radicalized system which excludes judges, radicalizes and oppresses people. We have to ask, how can Christ himself, who is the Truth and who is Love, how can Christ be divided? We cannot choose! To choose is heresy.

God has not predestined anyone to perdition- that notion is an obscenity to be denounced and rejected. We are not trapped in a hopelessly irreversible trajectory towards our fate. You can choose the good and the beautiful or you can do nothing in which case by tragic default you will succumb to the powers of this fallen state, the overlords of corruption and atrophy. These harsh taskmasters will carry you down a dark river to a place you do not really want to go but you will go because you did not bother to desire what you truly desire.  That is up to you. That is the power that God implanted in your being and which identifies you as human made in God’s image.

We shall go on living- if you are a follow of Christ that is what you shall do, you shall live, that is not a prophecy that you will not get sick itis a fact- whether you get sick or not you shall live and so live your life free from fear, live courageously in faith.

And we can be valiant because we have been armed with the ashes of penitence. Our foreheads have been sealed with the mark of Christ, we have been branded as his own and our victory is assured by His Resurrection. This call to battle was issued on Ash Wednesday at the conclusion of the imposition of ashes in the following collect:

Grant to us, O Lord, to put on the armor of our Christian warfare with holy fastings: that we, who are to fight against all spiritual wickedness; may be defended by the power of abstinence. Through Christ, our Lord.

Your life too- for all the doubt, uncertainty and vacillation, for all the weariness and wandering- your life, your whole life past present and future is all present before the face of God, God knows you in this way, even the you - you do not yet know is present before His face.

Episode Notes

Notes go here

In the Old they were commanded to walk but they had no legs, in the New we are commanded to fly but now we have wings.

Episode Notes

Notes go here

Notes go here

We often feel like we need to do God’s job for him. That’s a heavy weight to bear, being God - Judge and Jury of the cosmos. A weight we were not designed for. A weight that will crush us if we are not careful. It is a heavy burden holding everyone to account, it is a light yoke to forgive and show mercy to feel empathy for the sinner who is suffering under the weight of their own sin. This is much better than being a critical judge who is eaten up with anger and bitterness which will lead to our own destruction.

The image of shepherd and sheep is a life defining metaphor for St. Peter. As he writes the words no doubt St. Peter has in mind his encounter with the Risen Christ some 30 years earlier. It was an early morning on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, an encounter St. Peter would never forget.

Sin is hard...Holiness is easy...Pentecost VIII 2018

Are we aware of the war we are in?

What should we do first and foremost in our hearts?

Are we welcoming the grace of the Holy Spirit?

What is truth?

Why is the Holy Spirit called the Spirit of Jesus?

We can be saints and we can be filled with the spirit.

What happens when we ask the Son of David to have mercy on us?

Christ risen! Why are you weeping?

What does the gift of Jesus inspire you to give?

Who are we thinking about this week, ourselves or Jesus?

Obedience to Christ is the easy life. To believe in God is freedom.

Wherever you invest yourself, this is what will capture your heart.