Pentecost XIV
Matthew 16: 21-28 St. Mary’s Episcopal Church Sean C. Kim 3, September 2023 In last Sunday’s Gospel reading, we found the Apostle Peter in an exalted state. He had been blessed by Jesus for his bold confession of faith. While the other disciples were silent, Peter responded to Jesus’ question, “Who do you say that I am?” with the resounding proclamation: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God” (Matthew 16:13-16). Jesus praised Peter, saying: “you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church” (Matthew 16:18). But in today’s Gospel reading, we find a dramatic turn of events. Ironically for Peter, following the praise comes condemnation. When Jesus foretells of his impending suffering, death, and resurrection, Peter takes him aside and rebukes him: “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.” Jesus turns to Peter and tells him: “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things” (Matthew 16:21-23). Peter must have been stunned by this sudden reversal of fortune. One moment he is the rock on which Jesus will build his church. The next moment he is a big obstacle to Jesus, compared with none other than Satan himself. What just happened? Well, it looks like Peter didn’t quite get Jesus’ true identity after all. He seems to be still clinging on to traditional Jewish expectations of the Messiah. Grounded in the historical experience of the Israelites, the Messiah was believed to be the deliverer to come. As Moses led his people out of their bondage in Egypt to the Promised Land and as King David drove out the Philistines and established his kingdom, the Messiah was supposed to deliver the Jews from Roman occupation and oppression, and usher in a new and glorious age for God’s people. But, far from such hope of deliverance and restoration, power and glory, here we have Jesus talking doom and gloom. He informs his followers that he will undergo great suffering, be killed, and on the third day be raised. Although Jesus here mentions the resurrection, Peter and the disciples don’t seem to even notice. What has caught their attention is the part about suffering and death. If we might read a bit into Peter’s psychology, it’s not just concern for Jesus’ well-being that leads to his vehement protest. Peter loves and cares for his Lord, but he must also have been wondering what’s going to happen to him now. Yes, this movement that Jesus started is not about Peter; it’s about Jesus. But Peter didn’t leave everything behind to join Jesus so that the movement would end with the leader’s death and execution. And what would then happen to him and the other disciples? Peter had been hoping to share in the power and glory that would come with being part of Messiah’s inner circle. Imagine becoming Jesus’ lieutenant. Moses’ right-hand man, his lieutenant, was Joshua. And look what happened to him. Joshua succeeded Moses and took charge of the Israelites to carry out the conquest of the Promised Land. He brought himself and the Israelites wealth and power. When Jesus promised Peter that he would be rock on which he would build his church, Peter must have been heady with visions of grandeur of being the Messiah’s right-hand man. But before Peter has had time to fully enjoy his fantasies, Jesus utters something strange and disturbing. He is going to suffer and die soon. We can understand why Peter reacts the way he does: “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you” (Matthew 16:22). What kind of Messiah suffers and dies at the hands of his enemies? Jesus presents a radically different vision of the Messiah than what the Jews had believed. As he explains to Peter, “you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things” (Matthew 16:23). What are these human things with which Peter is preoccupied? Simply put, power and glory.[1] Jesus’ chastisement of Peter finds a parallel with his rebuke of Satan earlier in the Gospel of Matthew during his temptation in the wilderness.[2] Satan takes Jesus to a high mountain and shows him the kingdoms of the world in all their power and glory, and he makes an offer: “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.” Jesus responds: “Away with you, Satan! For it is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him’” (Matthew 4:8-10). Jesus’ rebuke of Peter “Get behind me, Satan!” is a direct allusion to “Away with you, Satan!” It isn’t that Peter has actually become Satan; Peter is expressing Satan’s opposition to God’s will. Or to put it another way, Peter would have been happy with Jesus the Messiah taking possession of all the kingdoms in the world. The kingdoms of the world stand on the foundations of power and glory. They rely on mechanisms of domination and coercion, and make war on each other. But the reign of the Messiah, as preached by Jesus, rests on a different foundation. The great theologian Saint Augustine, whose feast day we just commemorated this past Monday, wrote a book in the fifth century titled The City of God. He composed it soon after the city of Rome was overrun and sacked by Germanic tribes in the year 410. In the book Augustine juxtaposes two different visions, an earthly city and the City of God. Here is a brief excerpt: “Two cities have been formed by two loves: the earthly by love of self, even to the contempt of God, the heavenly by the love of God, even to the contempt of self. The earthly city glories in itself, the heavenly city glories in the Lord. . . . In the one, the princes, and the nations it subdues, are ruled by the love of ruling; in the other, the princes and the subjects serve one another in love.”[3] The City of God, for Augustine, is the city based on the love of God and love of one another, in opposition to the earthly city, based on love of self and power and glory. And it is to that City of God that we aspire. To go back to the parallel between Jesus’ rebuke of Satan and his rebuke of Peter, there is one crucial difference. To Satan Jesus says “Away from me!” but to Peter, Jesus says “Get behind me!” In spite of his rebuke, Jesus still wants Peter to follow him. The Greek word here is, in fact, the same one that Jesus used when he first called Peter to be his disciple” – get behind me (Matthew 4:19).[4] Just as Jesus invited Peter to “get behind him,” to follow him, he extends that same invitation of a life of faithful discipleship to us. He calls us away from setting our minds on the human things – power and glory – and to focus on the divine things – self-denying love and service. He invites us to become citizens of the City of God, where love reigns supreme. [1]Audrey West,“Commentary on Matthew 16:21-28,” Working Preacher. https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=4565. [2] Ibid. [3] Augustine, On the City of God Against the Pagans, Book XIV, Chapter 28. [4] West.
Fr. Larry Parrish
August 27, 2023 St. Mary's Episcopal Church Jesus’s disciples had been with him awhile when the story told in our Gospel text begins. They had listened to his teaching and tried to understand what they were hearing. They had witnessed miracles at His hands and tried to understand what they meant, too: miracles of healing, a couple of major miracles involving feeding a rock concert sized crowd using somebody’s lunch and had witnessed him walking across the water of Lake Galilee in a storm and then stilling that storm in an instant. Now their teacher had given them a pop quiz. He suddenly asked them, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” --referring to Himself. The disciples, who had stood in crowds gathered to see Jesus and had been listening to people talk, came quickly back with some answers: “Well, some say John the Baptist; some say Elijah; Some say Jeremiah . . .or one of the prophets.” “But who do you say that I am?” Peter, who had the inclination, that some of us today share, of putting his mouth in gear before his brain was fully engaged, blurted out, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.” Playing with this passage—which by the way is a perfectly acceptable way of studying a story from Scripture—I can see the disciples doing eye rolls—“Ah! Peter just put his foot in his mouth again!” But this time ..Peter was right. Jesus (maybe hugging Peter) exclaims, ”Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in Heaven. And I tell you, you are Peter, (Greek for “rock—his Jewish name was Simon, which means “rock”) and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it.” The thing about Scripture is that it is a living document. When Jesus talks to his disciples in a Gospel story we can’t keep him at a 2000 year’s arm reach back in time, he is talking to us who say we belong to His Church today. When Paul writes a letter to the Church at Rome, he is writing to St. Mary’s, 13th and Holmes. Jesus asks us both the question, “Who do others say that I am?” and “Who do YOU say that I am?” The answer matters, and it matters whether or not we answer both of these questions, and how we answer them. The figure of Jesus looms so large in world history and people have been trying to make sense of the impact of his personality and actions, as well as His crucifixion and resurrection for the past two millennia. In fact, He is the reason we talk about two millennia, as it has been said, “He has split our calendar,” so that we talk about B.C. or A.D. Before Christ, or Year of our Lord. Pre-Christian Era and Post-Christian Era. He cannot be easily categorized, and there are some ways He cannot be categorized at all. And even those who claim to be Christian and call Jesus “Lord and God,” cannot truly say just anything they want about him. Throughout history, well-meaning people, and not-well-meaning people have tried to superimpose on Jesus their own ideology and agenda. His Name has been invoked to reinforce the power of leaders of religious cults and personality cults. He and His movement have been invoked to subjugate anyone who isn’t white, straight, and male, justify slavery, and overturn governments with force or chicanery. Throughout recorded history, It has been a human characteristic to define God as an extension of ourselves, and, accordingly, Jesus, as the human face of God, as well. It is not a new phenomena. As a wise priest I know, and am fond of quoting*once said, “God created us in His image, and we have been trying to return the favor ever since!” -Fr. Robert Layne. It was an issue in the early days of the Christian movement, as Paul wrote his letters and mailed them to the new Christian community in Rome. He was reminding them that they might be Roman citizens, but that they weren’t to adopt Roman attitudes, ethics, and religious values as the way of Christ. In the letter read from today, he pleads with them, and us, to “not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of our minds, so that we may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect. What we THINK is important. We are to give our bodies, i.e. our hands, feet, talents, abilities, to God so that we might love others as God has loved us, and that includes our minds, our intellects and our discernments, too. We are to THINK, really think—not blindly assume—about who God is and who we are in relationship with Him doing the best we can—“by the mercies—grace—of God” “according to the measure of faith” that God gives us. We are not alone. We are not without resources in doing this. A good many of the resources are at hand every time we gather for worship. The reading of Scripture, the Church’s Book, is one. I think that the Sunday morning study here on the texts for Sunday is very beneficial to those participating. I think you have noticed that we are printing the texts of the readings in the service leaflet now. I like that, even though you can now more easily question me on what I didn’t say or whether you can’t see how I got what I said from what was written! I welcome after-sermon conversations! Every Sunday after the sermon we stand and recite the Nicene Creed. It is a compilation of hard thought and hard fought- -for answers to Jesus’s question, “Who do you say that I am.” It keeps us from reinventing the theological wheel each Sunday. The same wise Episcopal priest I quoted earlier once said, “We say the creed right after the sermon, because no matter what the preacher just said, we still “believe in one God, the Father, the Almighty . . . etc”! It centers us in the faith we proclaim. That doesn’t mean we have to understand every word of it—questioning and honest doubt are part of the thought processes that God has created in us to come to a deeper faith. United Methodist Bishop, Preacher and Teacher of Pastors, (and, I think, closet Episcopalian!) Will Willimon tells the story of a time he invited an Orthodox Catholic bishop to speak to a class on basic Christianity he taught at Duke University. One of his students told the Bishop that he couldn’t recite the creed because he didn’t understand or believe all the parts of it. The Bishop told him, “Young man, it is not YOUR creed. It is the Church’s creed. You keep saying it until you come to understanding and belief!” Then there are the stories and collects we find in our Lesser Feasts and Fasts book told and prayed at the weekday Masses here. We get acquainted with those who knew God and how they lived out of that relationship. In the Mass, our souls are fed and our minds renewed by the Body and Blood of Christ that digests within us and courses through our veins. This is another great mystery that I have given up trying to understand and instead let myself experience. I learned a long time ago that there are some things that are true that can’t be shaken up in a test tube or proved by calculus. This is a good place to mention an Anglican tradition of discerning who God is and who we are in His life: It’s an image of a “Three Legged Stool”. One of the legs is Scripture and another is Tradition. The third one is Reason. We are to apply our reasoning and what we know about what is true in the world, to interpreting both Scripture and Tradition for exploring who God is and who we are. Anglican priest and unintentional founder of Methodist, John Wesley, added a fourth leg, Experience. We use our life experiences and those experiences of God that seem to come from “outside” of our experience and yet manifest themselves “within” us, (Wesley’s “Heart strangely warmed” experience of grace and the love of God, for instance.) That is sometimes called Revelation. Jesus’ response to Peter’s blurted out affirmation was “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood have not revealed this to you, but my Father in Heaven. There is another great resource for continuing to think through, and continuing to affirm who Jesus Christ is for us, and we all sit in the midst of it this morning: In the passage from Paul’s letter this morning, he goes on to describe the community of faith, the Church, as a body, as “one body in Christ and individually we are members one of another,” in which “all members do not have the same function” but each of us have a gift or gifts—abilities or talents—to share with others. Taken in the context of “the renewing of our minds” earlier in the passage, and further in the context of Jesus asking for responses to his question of ALL of his disciples, I see an extension of the usual definition of this image beyond pooling our talents and abilities to make the church “work” for God and others: I see it also as an affirmation that in any gathering of Christians, the members not only have abilities to share, but thoughts, insights, learnings and experiences of how God has become real in their lives, and how they experience what it means to be in Christ. I see this especially true about this church, St. Mary’s KCMO, and all of you who are a part of it. You not only have multiple abilities and gifts to share in the ongoing operation of this church, you also have knowledge and thoughts to share about the nature of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and how you have experienced the reality of His presence and the power of His love in your lives. All of the rest of then, can be gifted with your insights! Who do I say that Jesus is? (Remember, “no matter what the preacher just said” I still believe . . . ! –and all insights need to be tested by Scripture and Tradition). I say that the Jesus of the Gospels is not just the Jesus of History, but God in Three Persons, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. The one who appeared in our shape and form to inhabit our humanity so that we could share in His divinity. As part of His shape and form we are His body, in this location here at 13th and Holmes, (but not limited by this location, this parish, or this denomination), to show forth His love and power, and the reality of His presence in the lives of those of us who proclaim him Lord, to others that are not only still struggling to answer the question, but to those who have yet to hear the question! In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen. The Feast of St. Mary the Virgin
Sean C. Kim St. Mary’s Episcopal Church 20 August, 2023 This past July Fourth is one that I will never forget. I received the phone call that I had been dreading. Fr. Charles Everson called to inform me that he would be leaving St. Mary’s. I responded with mixed emotions. On the one hand, I was happy and excited for my colleague and friend for his new ministry in Chicago, but, at the same time, I was seized by panic: “What will happen to St. Mary’s now?” I could not imagine St. Mary’s without Fr. Charles. He had hired me as his assistant priest four years ago, and we had worked closely together. He had guided the Church through the many challenges, including Covid, and placed us on a firm foundation. His departure would create a huge vacuum in the life of our church. After Fr. Charles made the announcement of his resignation to the congregation the following Sunday, my good friend and fellow historian, Dr. Bill Stockton, came up to me and said, “You must be feeling like Harry Truman when he took over from FDR.” To say that Franklin Roosevelt left big shoes to fill would be an understatement. FDR was a beloved leader who had served an unprecedented four terms as president – 16 years, guiding the nation through the Great Depression. And when he died, the nation was in the middle of World War II. I think Truman probably sensed some panic when he heard the news that he would be taking over. So, it’s an appropriate analogy to our situation now, when we are worried by the uncertainties of what might come next. But, actually, when I think about it, I rather like the comparison. As some of you know, I grew up in Independence, Missouri, Harry Truman’s hometown, and even graduated from Truman High School, and hence there’s the personal connection. But, more importantly, Truman turned out to be a great president, providing decisive leadership not only for the United States but for the world during World War II and the Cold War. So, Truman has become a kind of inspiration for me during this time of major transition for our Church. Another source – a much greater source – of inspiration and strength for me these days is the Blessed Virgin Mary, Our Patroness, whose feast day we observe today. Mary knew something about change. She knew what it was like to be suddenly faced with a momentous responsibility. Mary was a teenage girl, recently engaged to Joseph, when one day the angel Gabriel appeared to her and announced that she was to bear the Son of God (Luke 1:26-38). And how did she respond to this extraordinary news that would change her life and the life of the world forever? She could have responded like Moses with a litany of excuses. I’m not the right person for leading your people out of Egypt. The leaders of Israel aren’t going to listen to me. I’m not a good speaker. At one point, Moses flat out told God: “Please send someone else” (Exodus 3 and 4). Or Mary could have responded like Jonah. When God called Jonah to go to Nineveh with the message of repentance, what did he do? He fled, ending up in the belly of the whale while trying to avoid God. No, Mary did not come up with excuses or try to flee. On the contrary, she responded with the words: “Behold the handmaid of the Lord. Be it unto me according to Thy word” (Luke 1:26-38). And with Mary’s act of humble obedience to God’s will began the history of our salvation. Be it unto me according to Thy word. I pray these words every day when I pray the Angelus as part of the Daily Office. The prayer reminds me to set aside my anxieties and worries and leave it all to God. It calls me to turn away from my ego and self-centeredness to focus on God’s will, not my own. Of course, this is much easier said than done. It is a daily, perpetual struggle. Well, you’ll be glad to know that the initial panic has subsided, but the hard work of the transition has begun. Fortunately, my job as Priest-in-Charge has been made a lot easier by everyone who has stepped up. From the Clergy and Vestry to the Staff and Volunteers, many have rolled up their sleeves and committed themselves anew to maintaining and growing the rich and vibrant life of our Church. St. Mary’s is special in so many ways. To begin with, we are only one of a handful of Anglo-Catholic Churches in the entire country. And here in the Midwest, we are the only Anglo-Catholic parish in a multi-state area. It is rare to find the kind of glorious traditional worship and piety that you find here, and I’m not aware of many Episcopal Churches that have the devotion we have here to the Virgin Mary. Moreover, located in the heart of downtown Kansas City, there are opportunities for service here to the poor and needy that you won’t find in suburban churches. We are a beacon of hope and love in our community. Let me share with you an example. This past Friday afternoon at church, I witnessed Fr. Larry and Mary Parrish, and Raja Reed, our Parish Administrator, ministering to a young homeless person, a victim of abuse. Not only did we provide him with food and other necessities; we purchased a long-distance bus ticket for him to get back home, and the Parrishes even provided a ride to the Greyhound station. The most moving part of the experience for me was when we all held hands in our Church office, and Fr. Larry prayed for God’s protection and guidance. What a beautiful and holy moment. This is what our faith is about. This is what Our Lord Jesus Christ calls us to do. It is truly an honor and privilege to be your Priest-in-Charge at St. Mary’s. I do, however, have a complaint. I don’t like my title – more specifically, the phrase “in charge.” The fact is, I’m not in charge here. I’m just part of the team – yes, with a leadership role but nonetheless still part of the team. God is the one in charge of St. Mary’s. It is God who will lead us through this transition. It is to God to whom we should turn for guidance and inspiration. And it is God who is calling you today. How will you step up? In what way is God calling you to serve? Perhaps you are being called to assist us in our worship by reading Scripture or serving at the altar. Perhaps you are being called to serve behind the scenes to help with reception and hospitality. Or perhaps you are being called to one of our many outreach ministries. This past week’s newsletter featured the Blessing Bag ministry, and we have distributed hundreds of bags filled with food and other necessities to our homeless neighbors. We will be featuring other ministries in our newsletter in the weeks to come. Dear sisters and brothers, the Church needs your help. You are part of the team. I pray that you will open your hearts and minds to God’s calling. And whatever God is calling you to do, I invite all of you to join me in your daily prayers to offer to God the prayer of Our Blessed Mother: Be it unto me according to Thy word. Amen. Maundy Thursday
Sean C. Kim St. Mary’s Episcopal Church 6 April 2023 The dysfunctional family bickering at the dinner table during Thanksgiving has, unfortunately, become a kind of American tradition, one to which many of us can probably relate. Today, in our Gospel reading from Luke, we see some dysfunction in Jesus’ family – his spiritual family, that is, his disciples. Gathered to celebrate the Feast of the Passover, the disciples exhibit some bad behavior. One of them, Judas, is about to betray his friend and master to the authorities. And the others are arguing with each other about who is the greatest among them. And all this in the context of the sacred moment when Jesus institutes the Sacrament of Holy Communion, the central act of Christian worship! The Gospels don’t paint a very favorable portrait of the disciples. In spite of all the time that they spend with Jesus and the friendship and intimacy that they enjoy with him, they often fail to understand his message. They just don’t seem to get it. And this isn’t the first time in the Gospel of Luke that they are arguing over who is number one. Earlier in the book, they had the same argument. Jesus responded back then by placing a little child next to him and telling the disciples, “Whoever welcomes this child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me; for the least among all of you is the greatest” (Luke 9:46-48). But the disciples obviously didn’t know what he meant because here they are again arguing over the very same issue of who is the greatest. So, Jesus repeats the message: “the greatest among you must become the youngest, and the leader like one who serves” (Luke 21:27). Jesus rejects the disciples’ desire for personal honor and status. That is the way the world thinks. Jesus presents a new and different way of life, one that is not motivated by greatness and glory for oneself but rather by humility and service for others. And this is the life that we are called to live as followers of Jesus. But, as we know, this is easier said than done. We live in a society in which the game of status seems inescapable. Whether it is the neighborhood we live in, the car that we drive, or the clothes that we wear, we display our status. Our jobs and professions have their hierarchies, and we work hard to rise up the ladder of promotion and authority. Even the Church is not immune from the competition for status. Have you heard the phrase “purple fever”? It refers to a priest – or perhaps even a seminarian – who does little to hide the fact that they want to become a bishop. Reining in our personal ambitions presents an extraordinary challenge for us. It goes against society. It goes against our human nature. For most of us, it will be a lifelong struggle. But we have help – divine help. Our Lord Jesus sets an example for us of humility and service for others. Today, immediately after the sermon, just as Jesus washed the feet of his disciples at the Last Supper, we, too, will wash each other’s feet. When the service is ended and we go out into the world, we will carry in our hearts a memory of this powerful symbolic act. And we will strive to live it out in our daily lives, serving in humility those with whom we live and work, as well as those for whom we pray: the aged and infirm, the widowed and orphans, the sick and the suffering, the poor and the oppressed, the unemployed and the destitute, the prisoners and captives. In the struggle to overcome ourselves and live for others, we also find help in the Holy Eucharist. As we receive Christ’s Body and Blood into our own bodies in the mystery of the Blessed Sacrament, we unite with him and become one with him. And His Presence in the Eucharist grants us the strength, the spiritual nourishment, to carry out his work in the world. In spite of all their faults and blunders, Jesus’ disciples eventually got it. They went on to embody the life of humble service that Jesus preached, and it is on their apostolic foundation that our faith rests. This evening, we join the disciples at the table that Jesus has prepared for us. We come to be fed with the holy food and drink of new and unending life. We come to be transformed that we might live no longer unto ourselves but for him who died for us and rose again, Jesus Christ Our Lord. Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday
Sean C. Kim St. Mary’s Episcopal Church 2 April 2023 Palm Sunday is one of the most festive celebrations of the church year. Waving palm branches, we process outside the church, and we have glorious music to accompany our worship. But today, you may have noticed on the service leaflet, is also called the Sunday of the Passion. Our Gospel reading from Matthew takes us through what will happen to Jesus the rest of this week – the Passion or the suffering of Jesus as he is arrested tried, and executed. During this holiest of weeks of the Christian faith, our liturgy invites us to enter and experience the drama of salvation that took place two thousand years ago. As we speak and reenact the events, we become the crowds. We become the disciples. Today, we join the crowds that welcome Jesus as he enters Jerusalem. The city is full of pilgrims who have come to observe Passover in the holy city. And the crowds are excited to see in person the famous preacher, healer, and miracle-worker. We read that some spread their cloaks on the road, others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road, and they shout, “Hosanna to the Son of David!” (Matthew 21:8). Through their words and actions, the crowds proclaim Jesus the king, the messiah, the fulfillment of prophecy. But then as we turn to our Gospel reading, there is a dramatic shift – no longer the joy and fanfare of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem but the sorrow and tragedy of His Passion and Death. We have a kind of preview of what will happen the rest of this week. What begins as a royal welcome for Jesus will end with his death on the cross as a criminal. And, through it all, we become part of the events that lead to Golgotha. On Thursday, we will join the disciples at the Last Supper when Jesus instituted the Sacrament of Holy Communion and when he washed the feet of his disciples. Then we will follow Jesus and the disciples to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray and keep vigil in Jesus’ moment of agony as he prepares for the supreme sacrifice that he will make on the cross. It is in the garden where Jesus will be arrested. And what do his disciples do? One of them, Judas, who has betrayed him to the authorities, comes to identify him, and the rest of the disciples desert Jesus and flee into hiding for fear of their lives. And later Peter, one of the main disciples, denies even knowing Jesus. On Friday, we will join the crowds again. But their mood will have changed. When Jesus entered Jerusalem, they shouted, “Hosanna to the Son of David!” Now, at the time of his trial before Pilate, they scream “Let him be crucified!” As our readings and liturgy lead us through these events, we are more than spectators. We may not have been physically there two thousand years ago, but we are no less part of the story of Jesus’ Passion and Death, for it is our sins and transgressions that put him on the cross. As we read in the book by the Prophet Isaiah: All we like sheep have gone astray; we have all turned to our own way And the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all (Isaiah 53:6) Like the disciples and the crowds, we, too, are guilty of betraying, denying, and abandoning Jesus. How many times have we, while calling him Lord and Savior, let our egos drive our actions? How many times have we conveniently hidden our Christian identity for the sake of acceptance by our peers? How many times have we failed to be faithful in our prayers and devotions? How many times have we disobeyed the command to love God and neighbor? During this Season of Lent, we have been reflecting on our sins. That does not stop with Holy Week. In fact, the reflection on our sins intensifies as we speak and reenact the acts of betrayal, denial, and abandonment. We lay bare the worst of what lurks deep in our hearts and minds. As human beings, all of us have a bit of Judas in us. All of us have a bit of Peter in us. All of us can be fickle like the crowds, quickly turning from love and adoration to hatred and violence. So, toward the end of this week, on Friday, we will join the crowds one final time, this time at the foot of the cross, to gaze upon the body of Jesus. At the foot of the cross, we will confront the paradox of our salvation. Jesus was condemned that we might be forgiven of our sins. Jesus died that we might have life. But, as we know, the story doesn’t end there. Death will not have the final word. For the rest of the week, as Jesus lies in the tomb, we will wait. We will wait for the promise of resurrection. The Second Sunday in Lent
Text: Genesis 12:1-8 Sean C. Kim St. Mary’s Episcopal Church 5 March 2023 When I read today’s Old Testament lesson about Abraham and his family leaving behind their home to journey to a foreign land, I find myself drawing parallels with the story of my own family. Like Abraham, my parents left behind their native, ancestral land – in our case, Korea – to move to the United States in 1971. At the time, I was only a little kid, so I didn’t fully appreciate the challenges and sacrifices that my parents experienced as they became immigrants. Like Abraham, my parents left behind not only their family and friends but also a life of comfort and privilege. From our history books, we read about the European immigrants who fled poverty, hunger, political unrest, and religious persecution to arrive on crowded, dirty ships to Ellis Island. In contrast, our family traveled by jumbo jet with layovers in Hawaii and Los Angeles. And where is the first place we went when we landed in the continental U.S.? Disneyland, of course. My parents left Korea for two major reasons. The first was education. For all its faults, the American educational system, especially higher education, is the best in the world. Just look at all the foreign students on our college campuses today. The second reason was security. Having been refugees during the Korean War, my parents didn’t want us kids to suffer what they had to go through in the case of another war. As you know, even today, North Korea poses a major threat not only to South Korea but to the world. So, in short, it was for us kids that my parents made the move. As I get older, I realize more and more what a bold, risky move it was for them to pull up their roots and move to a foreign country. But like Abraham, my parents turned to their faith in God for strength and guidance. And in all the years that they lived in their new, adopted land, never once did they have any regrets or complaints. If I had been my parents, I’m not so sure that I would have had the courage to do what they did. It would have been so much easier for them to stay in Korea. Being risk-averse and a creature of habit, I avoid situations that pose unknown risks and challenges. I need a sense of control and don’t want to leave anything to chance. Sound familiar? I’m sure that I’m not alone in having this kind of personality. This past week, I just found out that I might be moving to a different part of town, and it unleashed all sorts of anxieties. I can’t imagine moving to a different country. So, I feel a bit hypocritical preaching this sermon. Of course, you know that it is always easier to preach than to practice what you preach. In today’s text from Genesis, we read “The Lord said to Abram, ‘Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing” (Genesis 12:1-2). We have no record of Abraham questioning or doubting the Lord’s command; he simply trusts and obeys. He gathers his entire family, packs up all his possessions, and heads to Canaan, the Land of Promise. Abraham’s journeys will many twists and turns, but whatever challenges and problems he encounters, he trusts and obeys God. We read in today’s Epistle reading that “Abraham believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness” (Romans 4:3). It is his faith – his willingness to trust and obey – that made him just and right with God. It is for his faith that we remember and honor Abraham. And it is not just us Christians; Jews and Muslims also look up to him as their progenitor. In fact, Christianity, Judaism, and Islam are known as the Abrahamic religions. But Abraham was far from perfect. In fact, by our standards, he falls short in many ways. For instance, when he is in Egypt during a famine, he becomes afraid that because his wife Sarah is so beautiful that the people there will kill him to take her. So, what does he do? He lies and says that she is his sister (Genesis 12:10-20). And he does this not just once but a second time, when he is the land of the Philistines (Genesis 20:1-16). Like almost all the heroes in scripture, Abraham is flawed. He is human, just like us. And yet whatever his failures and shortcomings, Abraham had a deep and abiding faith in God. He trusted God to safely lead him to the Promised Land. He trusted God to be with him every step of the way. He trusted God to grant him courage, strength, and guidance. Abraham holds up for us the kind of life we are to live as Christians. There’s an old hymn that some of you may know. It goes like this: When we walk with the Lord in the light of his Word What a glory he sheds on our way! While we do his good will, he abides with us still, And with all who will trust and obey. Trust and obey, there is no other way To be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey. Trust and obey. That is the life of faith in a nutshell. Trust in God, not in ourselves. Obey his calling, wherever that may lead us. And he will be with us every step of the way. Where is God calling you today? He may not be calling you to pack up your bags and move to a foreign land, as he did Abraham. Or perhaps he is. What are the areas in your life in which God is calling you to something new and different? Where in your life is God calling you out of your comfort zone and into uncertain territory? Perhaps a new job. A new ministry. A new relationship. A new community. God may be calling you with an inspiring vision or perhaps a gentle nudge. Take the risk. Let go of the need to control. Open yourself to God. Trust and obey. The Promised Land awaits. Fr. Sean C. Kim
St. Mary’s Episcopal Church Ash Wednesday Text: Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21 22 February 2023 Today, we mark the beginning of the Season of Lent with the Imposition of Ashes. This is an ancient custom dating back more than a thousand years in the history of the Church. The ashes are rich in symbolism. For one, they are a powerful reminder of our mortality. We will soon receive the ashes on our foreheads with the words: “Remember that thou art dust, and unto dust thou shalt return.” Being reminded of our mortality puts life into perspective. We realize how short life is. We reflect on how best to live the life that we are given. We focus on what truly matters in life. The ashes also represent sorrow and repentance. In the Old Testament, we read of the tradition of wearing sackcloth and sitting in ashes as an expression of mourning and repentance. For instance, in the Book of Jonah, the entire city of Nineveh – not just the people but even the animals – are covered in sackcloth and sitting in ashes (Jon 3:6) in a collective act of repentance. In the Early Church, Christians borrowed this custom and began putting ashes on their heads as a sign of sorrow for their sins. Then, in the Middles Ages, about the tenth and eleventh centuries, the tradition developed of beginning the penitential Season of Lent with the imposition of ashes. This is a beautiful and powerful ritual with which to begin our season of repentance and reflection. But what do we make of the Gospel reading for today? In the passage from Matthew, Jesus warns his disciples: “Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven” (Mathew 6:1). You may be wondering: “Why then are we putting ashes on our forehead and going out in public?” There is a certain paradox between this passage and wearing ashes on our forehead for others to see. But, these days, I don’t think there is much danger of wearing ashes to show off our piety. To begin with, piety is not respected in our society, as it has been in other times. Indeed, in our culture, religiosity is often looked upon with suspicion and even contempt. It is even subject to mockery and ridicule. Remember the Church Lady from Saturday Night Live? So, far from impressing others, we actually make ourselves vulnerable when we wear the ashes on our forehead. We risk being seen as weird. And, quite frankly, a lot of people won’t even know what to make of the ashes. Living in the Bible Belt, even many Protestants won’t know their significance. I’ve had many cases of people thinking that I just got dirty. Several years ago, the Office Professional in our department at school, a devout church-goer, came running down to my office with a Kleenex to try to wipe it off. And, believe it or not, I even had a professor of religious studies who mistook the ashes for grime on my face. So, considering the society in which we live, wearing ashes can hardly be a source of spiritual pride and arrogance for us. On the contrary, they humble us, reminding us of our mortality and of our sins and shortcomings. Moreover, the ashes can even be an opportunity to witness to our faith. I don’t know about you, but it’s not easy to talk about my faith with others – and I’m a priest. I remember several years ago in graduate school, one of my colleagues was shocked when I told him that I was a Christian. It’s not that I was leading an especially decadent life; it’s because I rarely talked about my faith. But when we wear the ashes on our forehead, those who know what that means will know we are Christians, and those who don’t know, may ask, providing us a chance to witness and tell the world that we belong to Christ. Dear friends, we gather today to begin the journey of Lent together. With the ashes on our foreheads, we commit ourselves to the spiritual disciplines of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. We do these things throughout the year, but they take on a special intensity during Lent. We pray more, we fast more, we give more to those in need. And we rigorously examine our lives in the light of our faith. As Jesus entered the wilderness for forty days to be tempted by Satan and to prepare for his ministry, we, too, enter a spiritual wilderness to confront our sins and shortcomings, to repent and reflect, and to prepare ourselves to follow Jesus in his Passion, Death, and Resurrection. I pray that you will have a Most Holy Lent. Amen. The Sixth Sunday after the Epiphany
Text: I Corinthians 3:1-9 Fr. Sean C. Kim St. Mary’s Episcopal Church 12 February 2023 Last summer, I had the privilege of attending the General Convention of the Episcopal Church in Baltimore, Maryland. A gathering of representatives from all across the United States as well as from abroad, General Convention meets every three years and is the main legislative body of the Episcopal Church. A couple of interesting facts that I learned while I was there – General Convention is the oldest bicameral legislature in the world, going back to our first convention in 1785, and it is also the largest legislative body in the world. There were around 1,200 bishops, deputies, and alternates from 107 dioceses. It was exciting to be there. Yet, at the same time, the convention made me aware of the many challenges and problems facing our beloved church, from rapidly declining numbers to issues of social justice. And it was painful to see the divisions in our church. In the discussions and debates over the various resolutions, the differences in theology and politics became very clear. This should be no surprise. For an organization of 1.8 million members, there is bound to be a broad spectrum of views and opinions. What impressed me, however, about General Conventions are two things. First, in spite of our differences, we could have open and frank discussions. At a time in our polarized society when civil discourse and dialogue are far too rare, it was refreshing to see democracy in action on the convention floor. Second, and more importantly, in spite of our differences, all 1,200 of us prayed and worshiped together. This is the beauty of our Anglican tradition. Whatever may divide us, we come together in prayer and worship. Divisions in Christianity are, of course, nothing new. In fact, they go all the way back to our beginnings. In today’s Epistle, we read of the problem of division in the early church. The Corinthian church is embroiled in factionalism, divided between a group loyal to Paul and another group loyal to Apollos. Paul had founded the Corinthian church, but Apollos had subsequently become more popular than Paul with some members. Paul points out to the Corinthians how silly they are in creating such personality cults – “I belong to Paul,” “I belong to Apollos.” The fact is, they belong to neither. They belong to Jesus Christ. Paul and Apollos are only servants through whom they have come to believe in the Lord; Paul and Apollos should not be the object of their loyalty and devotion. Divisions were a major problem in the early church. From theological debates over issues such as the circumcision of Gentile converts to socioeconomic tensions between the rich and poor, the New Testament is full of examples of dissension in the early Christian communities. Hence, because of these divisions, we likewise find many calls for unity. In Ephesians, for instance, we have this beautiful appeal: “…lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace” (Ephesians 4:1-3). The passage offers an antidote to the division and bickering: unity of the Spirit through humility, gentleness, patience, love, peace. Part of my training for the priesthood was what’s called Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE), in which I interned as a hospital chaplain in the St. Luke’s Health System. One of the lessons that I was taught in the program was to adopt an attitude of humility toward the people from other faith traditions, such as Muslims and Buddhists. This is a much-needed corrective to the past, in which we Western Christians have assumed an air of pride and superiority to non-Christian religions. But the irony now is that while most of us have been educated to be conscientious about having an attitude of humility toward people of other faiths so as not to offend, we don’t always do the same to fellow Christians. And for most Episcopalians, that means those Christians of a more conservative bent, in particular Evangelicals or Roman Catholics. They are Christians no less than we are. And yet because of differences in theology and politics, we find it difficult to adopt an attitude of humility. We find it easier to dismiss or ignore them. It’s sad that we seem to have the most bitter fights with those closest to us. Think of all the controversies and schisms that have rocked our own denomination in recent years over such issues as gender and sexuality. And I confess my complicity in the internal feuding within our Christian faith. How many times have I been dismissive of Christians who do not share my theology or my politics? Do I even bother to listen? How many times have I failed to be humble, open-minded, and respectful toward my fellow sisters and brothers in Christ in other branches of our faith? In Deacon Lynda’s sermon last week, she made the wonderful point that the metaphors of salt and light that Jesus uses in his parables are not aspirational. We are not called to become salt or light to the world. We are already salt. We are already light. And, today, taking my cue from Deacon Lynda, I would like to say that we Christians are already united, we are already one. As followers of Jesus Christ, we are united in one Lord, one faith, one baptism. Whether we are Presbyterian or Roman Catholic, Evangelical or Pentecostal, conservative or liberal, we are all Christians first and foremost. Yes, that includes Low Church Episcopalians. When we were baptized, we were reborn into a new family, joining the community of all the faithful, here and throughout the world. As the Apostle Paul states later in Corinthians, we are joined together as members of the Body of Christ: “For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body – Jews or Greeks, slaves or free – and we are all made to drink one Spirt” (I Corinthians 12:12-13). Through baptism, through the Spirit, we have already been joined as one body. We are all members of the body of Christ. Our goal is to embrace this fundamental unity of all believers. We are sisters and brothers united in Christ. And as with any siblings, we will have our differences. But whatever may divide us, we are united in “one Lord, one faith, one baptism.” All our differences in theology and politics pale in comparison with what unites us. As we sang in the opening hymn, “The Church’s One Foundation is Jesus Christ Her Lord.” May God grant us the grace to live together in unity with mutual respect, humility, and love. For only then can we fully live into our identity as the Body of Christ. The Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany
Text: I Corinthians 1:18-31 Sean C. Kim St. Mary’s Episcopal Church 27 January 2023 As many of you know, I teach history at the University of Central Missouri in addition to serving here at St. Mary’s. Our spring semester is in full swing, having finished up our third week already. This semester, I have the special pleasure of teaching a graduate seminar on Christian history, my area of specialty, and we get to read a lot of interesting books. Three of the books that I assigned were authored by former professors of mine from graduate school. As I was preparing the syllabus, I decided to google one of the professors. I was saddened to learn that he had died recently. Of the three former professors whose works I assigned for the class, two have died, and one is still living, aged 93. I had almost forgotten that it has been almost twenty years since I was in school – almost a generation ago. But in my mind, I still picture my professors as they were in the classroom back then – imposing paragons of knowledge and scholarship. Some of you may have seen the movie or TV show “The Paper Chase.” Do you remember Professor Kingsfield? I had quite a few professors who resembled him. If learning about the deaths of these beloved teachers and mentors wasn’t enough, I was further saddened to discover that very few people read their books these days; they’re considered out of fashion in the ever-changing academic landscape. This is quite sobering, especially since I’m an academic myself. These scholars were some of the most brilliant minds that I had encountered. During their careers, they made a huge impact in their fields and became famous. But now they are mostly forgotten. Today’s Epistle reading is a powerful reflection on the nature of wisdom. It sets up a stark contrast between the wisdom of the world and the wisdom of God. In Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, we read: “Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of his age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?” (I Corinthians 1:20). For Paul, wisdom presents a paradox. The wisdom of his time - the Greeks with their sophisticated philosophy and the Jews with their prodigious legal and religious scholarship – is foolishness, while what the world considers foolish – the Christian proclamation of Christ crucified, the idea of worshiping a God who died a criminal’s death - is true wisdom. In this passage, Paul himself is a paradox. Paul was a highly educated Jew, someone who would have been called wise by others. Paul studied in Jerusalem with one of the leading teachers of the Law, Gamaliel. The product of an elite education, Paul’s brilliance and sophistication come through in his writings – and often make them difficult to understand, typical of a lot of scholars. Try the Letter to the Romans for some light reading. And, of course, Paul is the Church’s first theologian, the pioneer in systematically explaining the meaning and significance of Jesus for the Church. Yet here he is in this passage; he seems to be taking an anti-intellectual stance, dismissing the life of the mind. Placing his comments in the broader context of his writings, Paul is not calling us to suspend our intelligence and enter a state of blissful ignorance. That would be hypocritical. What is at issue for Paul is the knowledge of God. For Paul, no matter how learned and wise we may be, we cannot know God through our own efforts. He states: “the world did not know God through wisdom” (I Corinthians 1:21). It is not through books or the exercise of our reason that we come to know God. Rather, we know God because he has revealed himself in Jesus Christ. Paul proclaims that Jesus is “the power of God and the wisdom of God” (I Corinthians 1:24). So, to know Jesus is to know God. In looking at the history of Christianity, we have a rich and diverse depository of knowledge and wisdom. The theologians who succeeded Paul, the Church Fathers, continued the tradition of learning and scholarship, even combining Christian faith with Greek philosophy. And in the Middle Ages, Christian theologians and scholars dominated the intellectual life of Western Europe. In addition to the great thinkers, the Church also established countless schools, libraries and other centers of learning. In fact, the origins of the modern university are in the cathedral schools of the Middle Ages. There is great value in learning. It illuminates and enriches our understanding of Christian belief and practice and helps us grow in our faith. And yet for all the book learning that we may have, even the wisdom of the Church, we will get no closer to knowing God if we do not heed the Apostle Paul’s call to experience the crucified Christ. Yesterday was the feast day of Thomas Aquinas, one of the greatest Christian thinkers in history. There is an interesting story about Aquinas that reflects the paradox of wisdom that the Apostle Paul presents. The story goes that after decades of brilliant scholarship, he suddenly stopped writing in the year 1273, a year before his death. He did not write another word. He even left his masterpiece, the Summa Theologica, unfinished, though even in its unfinished form, it is a cornerstone of Roman Catholic theology. We do not know exactly why Aquinas ceased his work. He made the decision to stop writing after celebrating Mass, so we think he had a mystical experience during the service, but we don’t know for sure. When one of his friends asked him why he stopped writing, he answered: "I can write no more. All that I have hitherto written seems to me nothing but straw.”[1] Whatever the reason may have been for Aquinas’s silence, it is clear that he believed his theological writings fall short of explaining God and Christian faith. To put it another way, he recognized that there are limits to wisdom in knowing God. While Aquinas stopped writing, he remained faithful in his passionate devotion to the Holy Eucharist. He wrote some of the most beautiful Eucharistic hymns, many of which we use today, including Panis Angelicus (Bread of Angels), O Salutaris Hostia (O Saving Victim), and Pange Lingua (Sing, My Tongue). And if you happen to have the laminated card with the Private Prayers Before and After Mass in front of you, one of them was written by Aquinas. While Aquinas stopped trying to understand God through his scholarship and writing, he never wavered in his personal experience of the crucified Christ in the Holy Eucharist. While reason may have failed him, he found fulfillment in mystery. So, we, too, gather this morning at the altar for Holy Eucharist to proclaim, together with Thomas Aquinas, the Apostle Paul, and all the saints past and present, Christ crucified, foolishness to the world but the wisdom of God to believers. Christ is the wisdom that reveals God to us. Christ is the wisdom that unites us with God. Christ is the wisdom that will lead us to eternal life. [1] Terrence Klein, “Thomas Aquinas fell silent when he learned the truth: The mystery of God is impossible to grasp,” America Magazine: The Jesuit Review of Faith & Culture, 2 February 2022. https://www.americamagazine.org/faith/2022/02/02/catholic-homily-scripture-fifth-sunday-ordinary-time-242326 The First Sunday after the Epiphany/The Baptism of Our Lord
Text: Matthew 3:13-17 Sean C. Kim St. Mary’s Episcopal Church 8 January 2023 Do you remember when you were baptized? If you were baptized as an infant, you may have photos of the event, but I can’t imagine you remembering something that happened when you were just a baby. But for those of us baptized at an older age, we have our memories. I fall in this second group. When I was born, my parents were not regular churchgoers, so I didn’t receive infant baptism. It wasn’t until I was a sophomore in college that I finally received this sacrament. At the time, I was attending a nondenominational church in Ithaca, New York, Bethel Grove Bible Church. I was baptized by immersion. I put on a white shirt and white pants and was dunked by the minister, Pastor Stern, in a small cement pool at the front of the church. I’m sure some of you here were also baptized by immersion. Anyone here dunked? Others had water sprinkled or poured on you. There are many different ways to be baptized. In the early church, the candidate stripped naked and entered a large pool at one end, went under the water and then emerged to walk out at the other end to be clothed in a new white robe – pretty dramatic. I don’t think there are any churches today that have maintained this practice of baptism in the nude. Whatever the manner in which we are baptized, it is the same sacrament. There are seven sacraments of the Church: Baptism, Confirmation, Holy Communion, Confession, Marriage, Holy Orders, and Anointing of the Sick. Of the seven, baptism is one of the two so-called Dominical Sacraments, that is, Sacraments instituted by Our Lord. The other Dominical Sacrament is Holy Communion. These are the two most distinctive practices in Christianity, common to almost all believers; they define who we are. On today’s Gospel from Matthew, we read about the origins of baptism: “Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him” (Matthew 3:13). At this time, baptism was a form of ritual cleansing and purification in Judaism.[1] Thus, John the Baptist preached repentance and forgiveness of sin to the people whom he baptized. But since Jesus had no sin, he was baptized to set an example for us for follow, a sign of solidarity with sinful humanity. Likewise, when we enter into the waters of baptism, we become one with Jesus. In Romans, the Apostle Paul puts it this way: “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? Therefore, we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life” (Romans 6:3-5). In baptism, we die to our old selves and rise to new life in Jesus. For Episcopalians, we have a list that describes what this new life entails. During the service of baptism, we make a series of vows in what we call the Baptismal Covenant. For instance, we commit to observe the doctrines of the church, receive Holy Communion, lead a life of prayer, repent when we sin, and so on. Among these various vows in the Baptismal Covenant, one of the most difficult for me is this one: seeking and serving Christ in all persons, loving my neighbor as myself (p.305). This is, of course, rooted in Christ’s command to love. At the Last Supper, he told his disciples: “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:34-35). Sometimes, I wonder why Jesus had to add love to the requirements for following him. I can discipline myself to prayer and worship and an occasional good deed, but loving all persons? Loving my neighbor as myself? When I was in graduate school, I remember a conversation I had with an undergraduate friend of mine. He was very shy and quiet. He shared with me that what really drew him to Christianity was his inability to love. Christian faith, for him, held the promise of moving and expanding his heart to love more. At the time, I thought it was a rather odd comment. But as I have gotten older, I think it is quite profound. It's not hard to love those who love us – our family, our friends. But our love often stops there. It’s difficult to love those whom we don’t know well - and perhaps even more difficult, if not impossible, to love those whom we know too well and hate. It’s often those closest to us, with whom we live and work and play, who are the most difficult to love – the family member with whom we have been estranged, the annoying colleague at work, the mean neighbor. Think of all the things that get in the way of loving those around us: grudges, slights, biases, prejudices, greed, envy, pride. To put it another way, our ego puts up many barriers to love. At times we may be able to fake nice for the sake of maintaining cordial relations and call it love. But I don’t think that’s what Christ is talking about. It’s much more radical. He calls us to a self-sacrificing love, putting the needs and concerns of others above our own. And he calls us to love everyone, not just our friends but strangers and enemies. Jesus not only preached this; he set the supreme example. He died on the cross to save the whole world. Christ’s command to love lies at the heart of our faith, but I need help carrying out it out. In the Baptismal Covenant, each vow is framed in the form of a question. So, we have: “Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?” And the response to every question is “I will, with God’s help.” I will, with God’s help. I can’t do it alone. One of the acts of personal piety that helps me with my baptismal vows is the practice of dipping our fingers into the holy water in the font or stoup. Each time we dip our fingers into the holy water and cross ourselves, we remind ourselves of our baptism and the covenant that we made. We remember that we have died to ourselves and risen to new life in Christ. We’ve just begun the new year, 2023, and some of us are still drawing up New Year’s Resolutions – exercising more, losing weight, getting more organized, saving money, and so on. Perhaps some of us have given up already. Or perhaps you don’t even bother anymore. But today as we celebrate the the Baptism of Our Lord, might I suggest that you add one more to your list of New Year’s Resolutions: seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself. [1] Diane G. Chen, “Commentary on Matthew 3:13-17,” Working Preacher. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/baptism-of-our-lord/commentary-on-matthew-313-17-6 |
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To the Glory of God and in honor of the Blessed Virgin Mary
St. Mary's is a parish of the Diocese of West Missouri, The Episcopal Church, and the Anglican Communion.
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