Posts Tagged ‘Belonging’
Good Gatekeepers – Br. Keith Nelson
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Br. Keith Nelson
The Fourth Sunday of Easter
John’s gospel prominently features seven instances when Jesus reveals something essential about his identity to his listeners. These images are arresting, like the burning bush which Moses turned aside to get a closer look at. From this bush God revealed the divine name, translated, “I am who I am.” The gospel writer means us to recall this pivotal moment in salvation history each time we hear Jesus say “I am…”
I am the bread of life.
I am the light of the world.
I am the door for the sheep.
I am the good shepherd.
I am the resurrection and the life.
I am the way, the truth, and the life.
I am the vine.
These revelations of self both illuminate and obscure who Jesus really is. In a way, all metaphorical speech does this. It points to a deeper reality behind or beneath a thing, so it opens an opportunity to grasp what we might otherwise miss, rolling along as we do on the well-worn highways of literal speech. Read More
Brought to Jesus – Br. Lain Wilson
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Br. Lain Wilson
In the last decade of his life, my grandfather’s progressive hearing and memory loss caused him to turn inward. He would sit silently at meals, both unable to hear what was said and unable to follow the conversation. We loved him, of course we did, but it was also easy to notice that the everyday currents of relationship could skirt him by, like a boulder in a river – in the water but not moving with it.
I imagine that this is the kind of life that the deaf man in today’s gospel reading led. Unable to hear, with limited, if any, ability to speak, he would have been cut out of so much of the life of the community. I can’t help but notice how often in scripture we hear or read words like “spoke,” “said,” “proclaimed,” “shouted,” “cried,” and “sang.” How isolated must this man have felt in a time before widespread literacy and automatic captioning? Read More
Our Metamorphosis in Christ – Br. Keith Nelson
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Feast of the Transfiguration
Exodus 34:29-35
2 Peter 1:13-21
Luke 9:28-36
At its heart, the Feast of the Transfiguration is about the revelation of who God is in and through Jesus Christ – and in and through his followers as we are transfigured by this experiential knowledge.
At first, this innermost identity is like a “shared secret” among Jesus’ early followers: it participates in the elusive quality of light, something that cannot be directly named. But after the resurrection, the light of Christ is made manifest in word and deed by those baptized into Christ’s body.
In this way, the transfiguration of Christ is about who we are at our secret core; and about who we claim to be when we tell our full story in broad daylight. On this side of Easter, the Transfiguration is always a foretaste of Resurrection glory; silence dissolves into proclamation, with or without words.
There are two scriptural keys in the New Testament that illuminate our participation in Christ’s deepest identity as God’s Beloved Son.
The first is in the twelfth chapter of Romans, where St. Paul writes: “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God – what is good and acceptable and perfect.” Read More
Everything You Do Matters – Br. Lain Wilson
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Feast of Saint James of Jerusalem
When was the last time you wore a uniform?
I remember all the uniforms I’ve worn over the years, whether for sports or school or choir. They each signaled commitment, belonging, and interest, and equipped me for performance. I also remember something my parents told me: that when I wore a uniform, I wasn’t only representing myself—I was representing the group I belonged to. I took on the reputation of the group when I put on the uniform—and, just as importantly, my behavior contributed back to that reputation. Whose you are matters, and everything you do while wearing the uniform also matters.
I have these two themes, belonging and action, on my mind today, the feast of Saint James of Jerusalem. The early Church recognized him, as we do, as a brother of Jesus, as attested in our Gospel lesson. But he wasn’t just a relative. Other biblical texts, including our readings from Acts and 1 Corinthians, show that James was one of the leaders of the Christian community in Jerusalem. Nonbiblical sources, meanwhile, signal that James was not only one of but the leader of the Jerusalem Church, a figure of towering importance for a community that faced fundamental questions of identity and mission. In particular, James was the leader of the group that argued for continued observance of at least some Jewish laws by followers of Jesus, in contrast to leaders like Paul who advocated for the development of a Christian community free of requirements of the law. Read More
Marked as Christ’s Own Forever – Br. David Vryhof
Br. David Vryhof
A sermon preached at the Baptism of Josephine Leach Curtis
Romans 6:3-5
Psalm 23
Mark 10:13-16
Babies fascinate us. They are objects of wonder. Tiny fingers grasping tightly, with even tinier fingernails. What a miracle! Eyes wandering, then beginning to focus and take in the world, then recognizing and responding to the adults who love them. Lungs that can give a powerful shout; tears that flow when crying. Tiny eyelashes and soft, soft skin. Learning new things every day and slowly becoming the persons they are meant to be.
To hold a baby is an experience of wonder. You are a miracle of God, Josephine. We hold you, look into your eyes, and praise God, echoing the words of the psalmist,
“…You created her inmost parts; you knit her together in her mother’s womb. We will thank you because she is marvelously made; your works are wonderful, and we know it well.”
(Psalm 139:12-13)
But Josephine’s tiny features and emerging personality aren’t the only wonders today. Today there is also the wonder of God, reaching out to lift her with gentle arms, to embrace and welcome her, just as Jesus did to the children brought to him. This is the mystery of baptism: that God claims us as God’s own, marks us with the sign of the Cross, seals us with the Holy Spirit, and declares that we belong to God forever. In baptism, God demonstrates God’s extravagant love for us.
Josephine’s baptism marks her as “Christ’s own forever.” There is nothing that will ever separate her from the love of God in Christ – no disappointment or failure, no defeat or loss, no suffering or hardship. No matter what life brings, God’s strong, loving arms will always encircle her, always protect her, always carry her. She is in the care of the Good Shepherd, the one who calls each of his sheep by name and loves them as the unique beings that they are.
Our hearts overflow with love when we gaze into Jo’s eyes. We want to protect her, nourish her, and love her; we want to encourage her and support her; we want to guide her and teach her. We want nothing but the best for her; every good thing. And if our hearts so overflow with love and if we want so much to care for her, how much more the heart of God, who has created her and called her by name and claimed her as his own. Blessed be God!
And blessed be you, Jo’s parents and godparents, aunts and uncles, grandparents and friends; you who will be the hands and eyes and voices that will watch over her, protecting and nurturing her. You will be God’s gentle hands and loving voice; you will be channels of God’s love and blessing in her life until she is old enough to enter into a relationship with God herself. God bless you in your task.
All praise and thanks to you, most merciful Father, for adopting us as your own children, for incorporating us into your holy Church, and for making us worthy to share in the inheritance of your saints in light; through Jesus Christ you Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
Living stones – Br. Geoffrey Tristram
Br. Geoffrey Tristram
We are in the Easter season. And for me it is the most exciting and dynamic season of the Christian year. I love the stories we read during these first weeks of Easter, of the Risen Lord calling men and women to follow him. Gathered behind locked doors, walking on the road to Emmaus, having breakfast by the lake side, Jesus appears, and says, today, ‘Come, follow me.’ I am the way, the truth and the life. Come, follow me.’
But what I love is that Jesus chose each person to follow him in a different way. He seemed to delight in all the distinctive gifts which his disciples had, even though sometimes they must have infuriated him! They were a really mixed bunch. Each of them was very different, but Jesus loved every one of them, and loved them for their differences. For Jesus had called them for a purpose. He was building something very great. After the resurrection, he was building a Kingdom. St Peter, in a wonderful image, compares that Kingdom which Jesus came to build, with the building of a great spiritual house. And, Peter tells us, Jesus chooses each one of us, with our very different gifts, to be like living stones to be made part of the very fabric of this house.
I love this image, and it came back to me this year during the Easter Vigil. The vigil began in darkness of course, but slowly, as the sun rose, and shafts of light lit up the chapel, I was struck again by the beauty of this spiritual house. In particular I looked at the stones; how each one is different, different sizes and shapes. but skillfully chosen by Ralph Adams Cram to form this beautiful church. But then later in the Vigil we had the joy of baptizing Eva. During the baptism, the words which stood out for me were those lovely words spoken as her forehead was marked with the sign of the cross: ‘Eva, you are sealed with the Holy Spirit in baptism, and marked as Christ’s own forever’. I remember thinking that Eva and I and you and all who have been baptized, have been marked by Christ and chosen by him, because of our distinctive gifts and shape, to be living stones in God’s spiritual house, God’s Kingdom. Read More
God Does Not Acquiesce; God Celebrates – Br. Curtis Almquist
Br. Curtis Almquist
We have here two prodigal sons, the word “prodigal” from the Latin meaning “wasteful.” The younger son having wasted his share of his father’s resources and his family’s good name; the older brother being wasted by resentment because life is not fair. This is a made-up story which Jesus tells, not because it is historical, but because it is true. I suspect most everyone can relate to both of these two brothers, how we can get so twisted up in life wasting all kinds of time and stuff, and harboring resentments towards others. It is comforting, is it not, that Jesus obviously knows this? Is this story about the sons in any way Jesus’ own story? We don’t know. The story is certainly autobiographical when Jesus speaks of the magnanimous father who knows and loves both sons, without qualification.
The church has remembered this story down through the centuries because the story rings true. This is our story. We are these two children, sometimes more one than the other. And the father in the story represents the God whom Jesus calls “Father. Read More
Sharing in the Divine Nature – Br. James Koester
Hilary of Poitiers
Several weeks ago, we celebrated the feast of St. Martin of Tours[1]. It was Martin, as we saw then, who introduced, even before Benedict, the monastic movement into the Western Church. From Martin, sprang monasteries all over Europe, which ultimately flowered under St. Benedict[2] over a century later. If Martin can be described as the Father of Western Monasticism, then Hilary, in a sense can be considered its grandfather, as it was Hilary who took the young Martin under his wing, and supported and encouraged him in his endeavours to establish the monastic movement into Europe.
Hilary was born about the year 315 and was baptized when he was about 30 years old. In 350 he was made a bishop. The church in the mid fourth century was not unlike ours. It was a time of controversy, division, and fragmentation. Then it was over the nature of God and the person of Jesus. The Arians believed that Jesus was subordinate, and not co-equal or co-eternal to the Father. The Catholics, of whom Hilary was a prime proponent, believed that the Son was both co-equal and co-eternal with the Father. For the Catholics, and for Hilary, the Arian view was problematic in that it denied the full divinity of Christ. But so what? What’s the big deal? Why is it important that the Son is both fully God and fully human, co-equal and co-eternal?
The big deal is what it says about us. For Hilary, salvation was about much more than liberation from sin. It was about sharing in the life of God. As 1 Peter puts it, through Christ we are participants in the divine nature of God.[3] As Athanasius,[4] who lived about a generation before Hilary said, God became human, so that humans might become God. We Brothers pick this same theme up in our Rule of Life when, in the chapter on The Mystery of Prayer we say a ceaseless interchange of mutual love unites the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Our prayer is not merely communication with God, it is coming to know God by participation in this divine life. In prayer we experience what it is to be made “participants in the divine nature” …[5] If in the incarnation the Son is not both fully God, and fully human, then it is not possible for us as humans to share in the life of God. This doctrine, known as theosis or divinization, is central to Catholic theology, and remains so today, because in it lies the Christian understanding of the dignity of all humanity. Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons? Will you respect the dignity of every human being? I will, with God’s help[6] we promise in the Baptismal Covenant. Humans possess dignity, not simply because we are creatures made in the image and likeness of God, but because through the mystery of the Incarnation it is possible for us to be participants in the divine nature of God.
That we can be participants in the divine nature of God is crucial to our self-understanding as humans. It is this understanding that is rooted in the teaching of Hilary, and others like him. He may have lived nearly 2000 years ago, but his teaching on the nature of God and the person of Jesus, is as significant for our understanding of what it means to be human today, as it was then. And for that, we give thanks.
[1] Martin of Tours, feast day 11 November
[2] Benedict of Nursia, feast day 11 July
[3] 2 Peter 1:4
[4] Athanasius of Alexandria, feast day 2 May
[5] SSJE, Rule of Life, The Mystery of Prayer, Chapter 21, page 42
[6] Episcopal Church, Book of Common Prayer 1979, page 305
Home for Christmas – Br. David Vryhof
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Br. David Vryhof
“Did you go home for Christmas?” That’s a question you’re likely to hear these days. “Were you at home for the holidays?” “Did the kids come home for Christmas?” It’s a common theme at this time of year. We naturally associate the holiday season with “coming home.” Retailers pick up on the theme, offering us images of families gathered before the fireplace or around the Christmas tree. “I’ll be home for Christmas” plays over the loudspeaker in the grocery store. The idea of being “home” for the holidays appeals to many of us.
But what does “home” mean, really? Is it a place we can return to, or is it more of a longing? For many of us, the word “home” summons up a whole range of things that are past and that cannot be retrieved. The house we grew up in belongs to someone else. Our parents may have divorced – or died. Our siblings may be scattered across the country. The neighbors we once knew have drifted away. For us, “home” isn’t a specific place anymore; it’s more like a whole set of longings… or a collection of special people… or a treasure chest of memories that combine to make us feel safe and loved.
Many of us love the idea of “coming home.” But for others of us, perhaps, “home” was never that fine a place to begin with. Home was the place where mom and dad argued all the time until they finally split up, or where unkind and even abusive words were spoken. For us, “home” wasn’t a place where we felt safe or loved. We’ve had to find our “home” elsewhere – with different people and in different surroundings.
Being “home” for the holidays is important to many of us. But what can the miracle of Christmas teach us about being home? Read More
Lord, Teach Us to Pray – Br. James Koester
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Several years ago, I found myself in a small, subterranean chapel within sight of the Old City of Jerusalem. It had once been a cave. At some point, a modern church was built over it. The floor was littered with scraps of paper. On them people had written prayers, and then dropped them through a grille in the floor of the upper church, onto the floor of this cave chapel, where I stood with Sr Elspeth. Elspeth was an American. She had begun her religious life as a sister of the Order of Saint Anne, here in Arlington. The deeper she entered the mystery of her vocation, the more she realized it was to the contemplative life she was called. So, there she was, a Carmelite nun of the Pater Noster Carmel, showing me the cave, where tradition says, Jesus taught his disciples the Lord’s Prayer.
Like many of the holy sites in Jerusalem, it is impossible to know if this is the place where Jesus taught his disciples the Lord’s Prayer. None the less, this place has been hallowed by the memory of that occasion, as well as by the prayers of countless believers. Like this monastery chapel, the walls of that cave are soaked in prayer. You feel it the moment you enter.
Of all the prayers we pray, none is so universal, so loved, as the Lord’s Prayer. Wherever we go as Christians, we find others who love, and pray this prayer. We may be divided by language, culture, race, gender, economics, education, ecclesiology, or theology, but we are united by this prayer, and by praying it. Read More