St. Monica: A Mother's Prayer Answered

Anyone who's been parent to a strong-willed child, particularly a teenager or young adult, readily admires and appreciates a woman like St. Monica, mother of St. Augustine of Hippo.


Augustine was one of those kids whom, from the time he was a baby, you could tell was headed for trouble.  He’s quite candid about it all in his famous Confessions: "...I wished to make my wants known to those who could satisfy them.  Yet I could not do so...So I tossed my limbs about and uttered sounds...When they would not obey me, either because they did not understand or because it would be harmful, I grew angry at older ones who were not subject to me and at children for not waiting on me, and took it out on them by crying..."  Of his boyhood he says: "...I did not love study and hated to be driven to it...I would have learned nothing unless forced to it...I detested the Greek language...The first stages of our education, when we learn reading, writing, and arithmetic, I considered no less a burden and punishment than all the Greek courses..."  


By age sixteen Augustine had discovered girls: "...Where was I in that sixteenth year of my body's age?...the madness of lust, licensed by human shamelessness...took me completely under its scepter, and I clutched it with both hands..."  Always competitive, Augustine and his friends tried to outdo each other: "...I ran headlong with such great blindness that I was ashamed to be remiss in vice in the midst of my comrades...I pretended that I had done what I had not done...See with what companions I ran about the streets...I willed to commit theft, and I did so, not because I was driven to it by any need... For I stole a thing of which I had plenty of my own and of much better quality...In a garden nearby...there was a pear tree, loaded with fruit that was desirable  neither in appearance nor in taste.  Late one night -- to which hour, according to our pestilential custom, we had kept up our street games -- a group of very bad youngsters set out to shake down and rob this tree...we did this to do what pleased us for the reason that it was forbidden..."


Amazingly, Augustine managed to finish his schooling and ended up as a professor in Carthage: a sort of 4th century "yuppie", engaged in philosophical discussion and teaching others by day; carousing, enjoying adult theater shows, and carrying on numerous sexual liaisons by night.  So brazen that he admits to God: "...Even during the celebration of Your mysteries, within the walls of Your church, I dared to desire and to arrange an affair for procuring the fruit of death..."  But Augustine was miserable, unhappy, almost despairing, intellectually and spiritually confused.  One can feel the anguish in his cry to God: "Give me chastity and continence, but not yet!"


Through all these early years the one person who stood by him, trying over and over to get him on the straight-and-narrow, was Monica, although in the Confessions she comes in for her share of parental criticism by Augustine.  But her heart was in the right place, as, frankly, was Augustine's -- even in the midst of his debauchery and intellectual error. More than anything, Monica, herself a devout Catholic, wanted her son to find Christ.  Regarding this, in Book 3 of the Confessions, Augustine tells of a dream which Monica had.  She saw herself standing on a wooden measuring rod, symbolizing the rule of faith.  Though heavily grieving, she saw a young man coming towards her -- splendid,  joyful, and smiling. Asking her why she was so sad and was crying, she responded that it was because she perceived Augustine as being spiritually lost.  The young man told her that she could rest secure: he "instructed her that she should attend and see that where she was, there was I also..."   When Monica looked again, Augustine was there, standing on the same measuring rod.  Relating all this later to Augustine, he insisted that she'd got it wrong; that it really meant that she shouldn't despair of becoming what he already was. "...'No!' she said.  'It was not said to me, 'Where he is, there also are you,' but 'Where you are, there also is he.'"  


It took several more years for Augustine to work his way through to the miracle of conversion.  In the meantime, Monica went to Ambrose, the great bishop of Milan, and begged him to talk to Augustine.  She knew that Ambrose had the expertise and the academic knowledge to refute Augustine's Manichean beliefs.   Ambrose, experienced as he was, knew that that approach would come to naught.  Augustine, he said, was "lacking in docility", and would be closed to Ambrose's arguments.  Essentially, Ambrose concluded that "All we can do is pray."  Well, Monica wasn't buying that, although she'd done a whole lot of praying over the past 30 some years! Augustine observes: "...she still would not keep quiet, but by her entreaties and flowing tears urged [Ambrose] all the more to see me and discuss matters with me..." He observes further that Ambrose "...became a little vexed".  He told her: "Go away from me now. As you live, it is impossible that the son of such tears should perish..."


Ambrose was dead-on right.  On Easter Sunday, 387, Augustine was bathed in the waters of Baptism.  Not only him, but also his friend, Alypius, and, more importantly, his own fourteen year old son, Adeodatus, "gift from God", the fruit of his fiancé's and his relationship.  This unnamed woman, whom Augustine admits to loving, and for whom he was willing to wait, was two years too young for them to be legally married, and so she was returned to Africa, never to be seen again. Sadly, Adeodatus died three years later, at age 17, and in the fall of 387, not even a year after they'd been baptized, Augustine's beloved mother, Monica, died. In Augustine’s own words: “On the ninth day, then, of her sickness, and in the fifty-sixth year of her age, and in the thirty-third of mine, that religious and holy soul was freed from the body.”


So much loss, but because of Monica's tears, because of her refusal to take "No" for an answer, so incredibly much gain. “...you will have pain, but your pain will turn into joy...and no one will take your joy from you.” (John 16:20 & 22) Augustine had found himself and also the true Love of his life.  Who could forget the famous passage which Augustine, reflecting on his earlier life, wrote in Book 10: "Late have I love you, O Beauty so ancient and so new, late have I loved you! Behold, you were within me, while I was outside...You were with me, but I was not with you...You have called to me...You have blazed forth with light...and you have put my blindness to flight!...I have tasted you, and I hunger and thirst after you.  You have touched me, and I have burned for your peace..." 


Augustine recounts that once, as he and Monica were conversing at the window, she said, “What do I here any longer?” He goes on to say: “I heard afterwards also, that when we were at Ostia, she with a mother's confidence, when I was absent, one day discoursed with certain of my friends about the contempt of this life, and the blessing of death: and when they were amazed at such courage which You had given to a woman, and asked, ‘Whether she were not afraid to leave her body so far from her own city?’ she replied, ‘Nothing is far to God; nor was it to be feared lest at the end of the world, God should not recognize whence He were to raise me up.’”


What truly mattered to St. Monica was that God had heard her insistent years-long prayer, as she told Augustine not long before she died: “...[M]y mother said, ‘Son, for my own part I have no further delight in any thing in this life. What I do here any longer, and for what I am here, I know not, now that my hopes in this world are accomplished. One thing there was for which I desired to linger for a while in this life, that I might see you a Catholic Christian before I died. My God has done this for me more abundantly, that I should now see you withal, despising earthly happiness, become His servant: what do I here?’”

SS. Philip & James: Seeing Is Believing

Special Collections, Cleveland State University Library

Joseph C. Motto 

In the midst of some personally trying days this past week -- the death of my father's widow, the ongoing terminal illness of a close friend, family concerns, yes, and even the mixed emotions surrounding the announcement of Osama Bin Laden's death -- I can't express how comforting it was to enter into this morning's meditation using texts from the feast of SS. Philip and James, Apostles. That's James the Less, by the way, the son of Alphaeus, in contrast to James the Greater (one of the Boanerges Boys), brother of John and also an Apostle, and James, the brother of Jesus, who was Bishop of Jerusalem and then a martyr. I make that notation solely for my own feeble mind, because I'm always mixing the Jameses up, along with the Gregorys!

I found great solace in the message from Isaias (30:18-21): "The Lord waits to be gracious to you; therefore he will rise up to show mercy to you. For the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him...He will surely be gracious to you at the sound of your cry...your Teacher will not hide himself any more, but your eyes shall see your Teacher. And when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left, your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, 'This is the way; walk in it.'"  

Paul, in 2nd Corinthians (4:1-6) continues the message with the comforting words: "...we do not lose heart", immediately going on to speak of "the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God" found in our hearts in "the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ."

In John's Gospel (14:6-14) Jesus continues Paul's theme by reminding Thomas and Philip how he, Jesus, uniquely images the Father: "If you know me, you will know my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him...Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me?" Jesus tells them that, if they're having difficulty setting their hearts on him, at least "believe me because of the works themselves" because "the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these..." It resonates with the assurance which John gives in his first Letter (1:1-10), part of today's Office: "...We declare to you...what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands...we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us...his son Jesus Christ." There are also overtones and undertones from yesterday's Gospel (John 20:19-31) where Jesus says to Thomas: "Have you believed because you have seen? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet come to believe."

Sitting awhile with these passages brought at least a modicum of peace, knowing that in the face of Jesus we come to recognize the One who's the bearer for us of God's graciousness, mercy, wisdom, the One who speaks a loving word behind us, "This is the way; walk in it." However it is that you and I "see", we find ourselves, even in the face of all that bothers us, capable of doing for ourselves and for others "greater works", greater generosity, greater understanding, greater love, than perhaps we thought was possible. 

Seeing is believing!    

Called To Common Mission: 2001-2011

Homily given 5/1/11 at Shepherd By the Sea Episcopal/Lutheran Mission, Gualala, CA

The key to understanding the meaning and message of these past two weeks, Holy Week and the week after Easter, is well summarized in the Book of Common Prayer’s Collect for the 2nd Sunday in Easter: “...Grant that all who have been reborn into the fellowship of Christ’s Body may show forth in their lives what they profess by their faith…” That meaning and message, perhaps more than at any time in human history, needs to be understood, affirmed and lived. The daily media provide us with unlimited stories of people who say one thing and do another, of unkept promises and assurances, of commitments and covenants routinely and flagrantly ignored or causally set aside.


New Testament scholar and ordained Disciples of Christ minister, Nancy Claire Pittman, points out her fascination this Eastertide with the “theme of trust in the witness of others”, a theme so prominent in John’s Gospel passage (20:19-31) today. She sees in our time, as many others do also, how nearly every institution in American culture seems to be “infected” with deep mistrust, shortsightedness, and just plain ignorance. Much information, many claims to truth, and the actions taken on such, seem to be based, not so much on what is said, or on the factual truth or genuine motivation behind it, but on who says it. Our mistrust, particularly today in civil life and politics, spills over even into our life together as followers of Jesus.


The message of Easter, to which St. Peter, in the second reading (1 Peter 1:3-9), bears eloquent witness is essentially that what you and I see in Jesus, in his life, in his passion and death, and in his Resurrection is precisely what you and I get. “...listen to what I have to say: Jesus of Nazareth, a man attested to by God with deeds of power, wonders, and signs that God did through him among you...this man, handed over to you according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, you crucified and killed...But God raised him up...and of that all of us are witnesses.”


In his Treatise On Christian Liberty, the great Martin Luther observes that “from faith flow forth love and joy in the Lord, and from love a joyful, willing and free mind that serves one’s neighbor willingly and takes no account of gratitude or ingratitude, of praise or blame, of gain or loss. For a man does not serve that he may put men under obligations, he does not distinguish between friends and enemies, nor does he anticipate their thankfulness or unthankfulness; but most freely and most willingly he spends himself and all that he has, whether he waste all on the thankless or whether he gain a reward. For as his Father does, distributing all things to all...richly and freely, causing His sun to rise upon the good and upon the evil, so also the son [or daughter of God] does all things and suffers all things with that freely bestowing joy which is his [or her] delight when through Christ he [or she] sees it in God, the dispenser of such great benefits…”


Today you and I have a special reason to recognize and rejoice in this. In just a few hours, bishops of the Episcopal and Lutheran Churches of the United States and of Canada will gather on either side of the U.S./Canadian border: Episcopal Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts-Schori and ELCC National Bishop Susan Johnson, at St. Paul’s Anglican Church, Fort Erie, Ontario; and ELCA Presiding Bishop Mark Hanson and Anglican Church of Canada Archbishop Fred Hiltz, at Holy Trinity Lutheran Church, Buffalo, N.Y. Episcopalians and Lutherans will celebrate liturgies marking the 10th anniversary of both our Churches’ full-communion relationship which became a reality when Called to Common Mission took effect in 2001. In that momentous agreement, the members of the Episcopal Church and of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America publicly affirmed their trust in one another, gave public witness to the reality of the “fellowship of Christ’s Body”, and publicly demonstrated their willingness to “show forth in their lives what they profess by their faith.”


Bishop Hanson recently explained that the bishops chose to meet near the border of the U.S. and Canada “to provide a unified witness to the saving grace of our Lord Jesus, to share our commitment for renewal in Christ’s Church and in God’s creation, and to serve our neighbor in need.” Presiding Bishop Katharine commented, “Ten years is only a beginning; we are yet young in this work...God truly knows no bounds…”


The Called to Common Mission agreement wasn’t reached overnight, by any means, nor did everyone, on either side, “buy in” to it, even when full-communion was adopted some 20 years after the initial dialogue. What was new and unique about Called to Common Mission involved a number of things, not least of which was that each recognized one another “as churches in which the Gospel is preached and taught”, and that “Ecumenism is not real if it is not local.” Most importantly, both Churches agreed, in the end, to recognize the validity of each other’s baptisms, ordinations, and the historic episcopate.


It was, as most of you know, no coincidence that also a decade ago, in 2001, a few years after both the Episcopal and Lutheran faith communities in the Gualala area began worshiping together here at Mary Star of the Sea Catholic Church, that a formal relationship and covenant was established under the name, The Common Mission, with the blessings of Episcopal Bishop Jerry Lamb and ELCA Bishop David Mullen, under affiliation with the Episcopal Diocese of Northern California. This, of course, grew into an organized mission, Shepherd by the Sea Episcopal/Lutheran Mission, in November, 2006. Since then, you have all proudly represented the best of mission and ministry within the Episcopal and Lutheran traditions, far better, in my humble opinion, than many larger and much older parishes. You’ve truly modeled for this community a witness of trust, and have shown yourselves to be a true fellowship of Christ’s Risen life, “showing forth in [your] lives what [you] profess in [your] faith”.


You may have noticed that, so far, I’ve not even mentioned “Doubting Thomas”! Many speak of this Sunday after Easter as “Low” Sunday, because the attendance is often lower in comparison, following the solemnity and grandeur of the Easter services. Nancy Pittman, whom I quoted earlier, also opines that another reason for folks taking a bye this Sunday may, in fact, be because they expect that the same old sermon, which they hear year after year, on “poor” doubting Thomas may be preached yet again! To be honest, all of us, preachers and congregation, need to remind ourselves that it isn’t Thomas alone who deserves our clucking over his disbelief without proof. The other Apostles had actually done no better, particularly after a woman, Mary Magdalene, had assured them that she actually saw and spoke with the risen Jesus on Easter morning. It’s just that, because of Thomas‘ absence on the day of Christ’s Resurrection, the other disciples had gotten a week’s jump on Thomas when they saw for themselves that Jesus was still alive and well. Even Mary Magdalene herself wasn’t immune, given that she became all emotional and weeping when she didn’t see Jesus at first. One could say that almost everyone in John’s account was afflicted with some sort of doubt. The story isn’t just about doubting Thomas, but about a whole gang of doubters!


Nancy Pittman observes that “doubt concerning the resurrected Jesus is not really the most pernicious disbelief” in this Gospel story. What she says is even more dangerous is “the lack of faith in one another’s witness...Communal distrust pervades this account like a noxious gas. The disciples don’t believe Mary, and Thomas doesn’t believe the disciples...No wonder that...Jesus stands up on tiptoe to look over the heads of all those disbelieving disciples and straight into our eyes, saying, ‘Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.’”


That’s the gift of blessedness which you, in this “Common Mission”, are privileged to hold out to this community. None of you has put your hand directly into Christ’s wounds, yet you believe enough to continue gathering faithfully together each Sunday, to break the bread and drink the wine of Christ’s word and sacrament; you continue to pass on, through Baptism of those in your midst, the faith in the risen Jesus of our mothers and fathers; you bring to the sick, the dying, the hungry, the homeless of this community, the Presence of the living Christ.


One of my dearest friends, now deceased, Fr. Brendan, who was a Roman Catholic Trappist, once sent me an article which said this: “The schisms, persecutions, and polemics of our yesterdays today begin to assume a certain unreality...As the Christian world once split on the diphthong, so have Christians killed each other for a definition. That they should quarrel and divide within the great area of mystery created by the Incarnation, which they share and live by, becomes increasingly unacceptable. The most elementary lesson of a faith held in common is to love, and so to understand one another…”


Episcopalians and Lutherans, including all of us here, and those of many other denominations, are continuing to learn and live that lesson of love and understanding which Jesus taught us in his life, in his passion and death, and in his being raised up. We are all, indeed, “called to common mission”.

The Resurrection: Mystery of Jesus Risen, Glorified, Sending the Spirit

Paul the Apostle, in 1st Corinthians (15:12-20) so well expresses the bottom line, the reality regarding the Resurrection: “Now if Christ is proclaimed as raised from the dead, how can some of you say there is no resurrection of the dead? If there is no resurrection of the dead, then Christ has not been raised; and if Christ has not been raised, then our proclamation has been in vain and your faith has been in vain. We are even found to be misrepresenting God, because we testified of God that he raised Christ—whom he did not raise if it is true that the dead are not raised. For if the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised. If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins. Then those also who have died^* in Christ have perished. If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied. But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead…”

It’s unfortunate that many folks spend so much energy looking for the evidences of the physical happening, forgetting the greater importance of the meaning of the Resurrection, as John expresses it in the Gospel for Easter Sunday (John 20:1-18).  It’s a basic understanding of the Christian Scriptures that the risen Jesus isn’t restored to the normal life which he possessed before his death. He now dwells in eternal life, in God’s presence. The time and place which characterize earthly existence no longer applies to him in the risen state. From the moment that God raises Jesus up, he’s “in heaven”, in the presence of/with God.

What we call The Ascension is merely the use of spatial language to describe Jesus’ exaltation and glorification. Many early statements in the Christian Scriptures speak of the identity between Christ’s Resurrection and Ascension. “God raised up Jesus...being therefore exalted at the right hand of God.” (Acts 2:32-33) Christ Jesus “who was raised from the dead, who is at the right hand of God…” (Romans 8:34) “...the resurrection of Jesus Christ who has gone into heaven and is at the right hand of God.” (1 Peter 3:21-22)

Not only do the Christian Scriptures identify Jesus’ Resurrection and Ascension, but also the giving of the Spirit. Jesus had told his disciples at the Last Supper: “If I do not go away, the Paraclete will never come to you; whereas, if I do go, I shall send the Spirit to you.”  The Spirit’s coming follows Jesus’ death and is linked inseparably with the Resurrection and Ascension.

When Jesus speaks in John’s Gospel today of his Ascension, he’s not drawing attention primarily to his own glorification, for that process has been going on throughout his “hour”, as he calls it. Rather, Jesus draws attention to what his glorification will mean to humankind, to us: i.e., the giving of the Spirit which makes us children of God.

So, it’s not the Resurrection as Christ’s being glorified in heaven that we need to emphasize, but the Resurrection as the renewal of personal relations with the disciples and with us. Jesus has these relations in mind when he refers to the disciples as “my brothers” and describes the goal of the Ascension as “my Father and your Father, my God and your God.” Jesus identifies himself with his followers. He’s ascending to the Father who will now become the Father of the disciples and of all humanity.

Remember back a few Sundays when John told us that they alone are children of God who believe in Jesus (1:12) and are begotten by the Spirit from above (3:5). Jesus’ Resurrection/Ascension makes possible the giving of the Spirit who begets the believing disciples as God’s children. That’s why, in anticipation, Jesus now refers to them and to us as “my brothers”. Paul says that Jesus is the “firstborn among many brothers.” The writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews says, “he brought many sons to glory.” 

In the Spirit which Jesus sends, he is continually present here among us. That’s the good news of the Resurrection: that by Jesus’ being raised up, as he said he would be, and glorified, you and I are set in a new relationship with Jesus, our brother, and with God, our Father.

The mystery of Jesus risen, glorified, and sending the Spirit is truly rich and awesome. Perhaps that’s why the Church now allows us 50 days of Eastertide to reflect on, pray over, and try to absorb into our lives the reality of these mysteries.  For now, let us simply pray:

“God, it is your happiness and life

that one son of man,

of all the men born into this world,

should go on living with us

and that one name should inspire us

from generation to generation -- Jesus Christ.

We are gathered here

in your presence

to pray that we may

hear and see him

and pass on his name

to all who wish to receive it.

Let your Spirit move us

to receive him from each other

and from you, this man

who is our future,

who lives with you 

for all men and for the whole world.”

(Huub Oosterhuis) 

Waiting In Hope

"At this time in human events

The world is going through

'Her change of life.'

In this period of vast dislocation

Words are violent!

Some call it treason

Some call it freedom

Some say it's calvary

Some say it's Easter

No one says it's easy.

Damned if you do

Damned if you don't

Insecurity is a fact of life

And everyone is caught

in the cross fire of rage

In the middle of free-floating hate.

Something has died

No one knows what!

Something is born

With difficult birth! 

The faithful have scattered

To cover their hurt

Each to his own fall-out shelter

Everyone is to blame

Except the one who is to blame

God:

He is the one who has brought us out

Into this desert to die!

Or to trust!

Despite the creeds we mouth

Despite the prayers we say out loud

We are wary of what He is doing to us

By all He has let happen to us

And gingerly we follow

where He leads us

Covering our tracks

In case we want to come back.

Like a teenager the whole human race

Is being dragged screaming

To our adult place

In a world come of age.

Tell the fishers of men

The good times have come

Their God is too small

The ballgame has changed

Another brand of saint

Is sought

With soul that is world size

This cut of man is

not too large to live

He is happy washing feet

A loving servant 

Who serves God's underworld

All he knows is that he doesn't know

All that is meant by what is said

He will never claim to understand

What men mean by what men do!

Yet indeed, it is a different kind of day

When we wake up to find

Our times up to something great

Around the world

Again shall rise

The loud laugh of hope

That comes from faith in something

Greater than ourselves.

We shall live again

Like children playing

Accepting total joy

As our destined lot

We shall feel again love

come alive in everyone.

The world will be the same

Yet living here will be different.

We will celebrate in wild fiesta

The promises already made

The promises already kept.

Our blood will boil again

with gusto for a world saved.

We will dance together in the streets 

And sing together in our parks.

When once again the impossible is real

Then again shall awe and wonder reign

Fascination and surprise

Excitement will invade

The churches

jumping up and down in the pews

Waltzing in the aisles.

Cynics will melt to smiles

'Til tears run down their cheeks

We will be saved from ourselves

When we realize we are already saved

All we have got to do

Is celebrate!

And so:

And so:

The world waits,

Some for Godot!

Some for the Second Coming!

Oh! reader of words

Whoever you are

A word to remember

Is Easter!"

(Joe McCarthy, Papal Bulls and English Muffins, Paulist Press, 1974)

The Cross: A “Bed of Hope”

“There is a legend about a bird which sings just once in its life, more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. From the moment it leaves the nest it searches for a thorn tree, and does not rest until it has found one. Then, singing among the savage branches, it impales itself upon the longest, sharpest spine. And dying, it rises above its own agony to outcarol the lark and the nightingale. One superlative song, existence the price. But the whole world stills to listen, and God in His heaven smiles. For the best is only bought at the cost of great pain...Or so says the legend.” (Colleen McCullough, The Thornbirds)  What an apt description of the terror and the magnificence of Christ’s offering up of his life on the Cross!

“It is accomplished.” St. John, more than the other Evangelists, pictures Jesus as reigning from the tree. John’s Christ is the crowned Christus Victor = Christ the Victor. At the beginning of his account of the Gospel, John says: “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us...and we have beheld his glory.” Flesh refers not only to Jesus‘ taking on our human form, but to his whole observable life, reaching its highpoint in his death. 

The glory, God’s Presence, God’s nearness, is there throughout Jesus‘ whole life, and especially in his dying moment. John clues us in to this by the signs he uses throughout his account: “Behold, the Lamb of God”, recalling the Passover Lamb; Jesus‘ assurance to Mary, in Chapter 2, that his hour hasn’t yet come, and how there’s tension until his hour does come, in Chapter 13; and Jesus‘ declaration, as he cleanses the Temple made with hands, that he’ll replace it with his own body: “Destroy this temple and in three days I will rebuild it.” Jesus‘ whole life is lived under the sign of the Cross. All that Jesus announces in the passages about his identity and his revelatory work, all his great “I am” sayings, become true at the moment of his death on the Cross. There for the first time Jesus really is all that he said he was: the bread come down from heaven; the light shining out to the world; the door by which you and I enter life; the noble shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep-herd; the resurrection and the life; the true vine, giving life to the branches.

We grieve, we sorrow, over the fact that Jesus died being so misunderstood and mistreated by people he came to serve. We also rejoice because we see, especially in the Cross, the glory of God present and close and at work, bringing us to new life.

In the Solemn Collects of today’s liturgy, we lament all our sins, individual and corporate, “known and unknown, things done and left undone”. Most appropriately, however, we also share today, of all days, Christ’s body and blood, Christ’s real Presence: the beginning of true life forever. The Eucharist has been shared throughout this Holy Week in different ways. We’ve heard over and over the phrase “we proclaim his death until he comes again”. What could create more hope, more optimism, more faith than this assurance! In the meantime, we silently, prayerfully wait.

Traditionally, in Christian devotion, Jesus‘ burial after his death has been associated with the service of Compline, which “completes” the day. There’s an ancient prayer which suggests that our going to bed each night is a reminder of our mortality, but also a reminder that Jesus‘ burial on this Good Friday is a sign to us of the hope of resurrection. We might consider praying it often as we await the life-giving dawn of the Day of Resurrection:

Lord Jesus Christ, who at this [evening] hour

rested in the sepulcher, and thereby sanctified

the grave to be a bed of hope for your people;

help us to abound in sorrow for our sins

which were the cause of your passion

so that, when our bodies lie in the dust,

we may live with you, who live and reign

with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, 

forever and ever. Amen.      

Maundy Thursday - Giving & Receiving Love

Canon Richard Mansfield writes: "There is a story about a mother and her son having an argument at the breakfast table on Sunday morning, about whether the son was going to go to church or not. Finally, the son said, 'I can think of two good reasons why I shouldn't go to church. First of all, I don't like any of the people there very much. And secondly, none of the people there like me.' The mother answered him right back saying, 'Well, I can think of two good reasons why you should go to church. First of all, you are 45 years old, and secondly, they pay you to be the Rector.'" That story pokes fun at something which can and does become an issue in many congregations at times: a love/hate relationship between priest and people, or simply between people and people. Many times, it doesn't degenerate to that level, but there is often estrangement, distance, invisible barriers.

I'm willing to bet that at least some of us will feel uncomfortable reading the Gospel passage for Maundy Thursday (John 13:1-17; 31b-35) dealing with Jesus washing the disciples' feet. Parenthetically, ever notice how difficult it is to recruit volunteers to come forward to have their foot washed on Maundy Thursday?! This year I read of a parish which is going to have a washing of hands instead of feet! I think it's not so much the prospect of washing someone else's feet that makes us uncomfortable. It's having someone wash our feet. We're not the only ones who have felt this way. So did Peter, the leader of Jesus' followers.

It's easier to wash someone else's feet than to have them wash ours. Just as it's generally easier to serve others, than to let them serve us; or to minister to others, than to allow ourselves to be ministered to. It's a way in which you and I can avoid intimacy. It's a way to keep ourselves in a position of control. It's a way to avoid possibly getting hurt. Perhaps people in the helping professions are especially prone to this, but I think that most of us do at some time or other. I suspect that we often interpret this Gospel passage as Jesus' way of showing us that we must do, that we must serve. But maybe there's a deeper message. "What I am doing," Jesus says, "you do not know now, but afterward you will understand." 

Intimacy, closeness to another, will never come about unless you and I learn how to receive as well as give. In relationships, it's truly a blessed thing to receive as well as to give. In some way, perhaps, we need God's grace more to enable us to receive than to give.

Could it be that our greatest service to one another is in our accepting the discomfort of receiving, in allowing someone else the happiness of giving to us? The late Henri Nouwen wrote: "...a gift only becomes a gift when it is received and nothing we have to give will ever be recognized as a true gift until someone opens their hands or heart to accept it."

The saving realities which we celebrate and live into anew during Holy Week, especially on this day, remind us how utterly we're on the receiving end -- beneficiaries -- of a caring, loving, gift-giving God. The very name, Maundy Thursday, reminds us that we're recipients of Jesus' novum mandatum = his new command: "Love one another as I love you." We're recipients of his love: in the command to do to each other as he does to us; in the gift of God's Son, enfleshed in Jesus; and in the Holy Eucharist, the real Presence in sign, his abiding Presence in life-giving bread, broken, indeed, but broken so as to be taken and assimilated and to bring forth new life.

In today's Eucharist, in today's washing of one another's feet, in the symbolic stripping of the altar, in sharing an Agape fellowship, we testify to God's incomprehensible love for us, even though we feel so unworthy. But we also testify to our faith, to our acceptance of that great love, by letting ourselves receive love from one another.