Sermon (Fr. Peay) February 4, 2018

"I became all things to all men. . . ."

Have you ever wondered how Paul accomplished the task of becoming all things to all people? Was he a master of many forms, a human chameleon, or an incredible con artist? Like the story of Frank Abagnale, Jr. which became the movie “Catch me if you can??” He was able to pass himself off, quite convincingly, as a physician, an airline pilot, what have you, at least for a while. Or, do you think Paul was simply insecure in his own self-hood or possessed of MPD, a multiple personality disorder?

I don't think Paul was a con artist, nor was he mentally ill. Paul was intimate with God and, ideally, one who is intimate with the Creator of all life shares the Creator's intimacy with all of created reality. Paul had the ability to become all things to all people, gained the freedom to submit himself as a "slave to all" because he had entered the freedom of intimacy as a "partaker of Divine nature."

Our society seeks intimacy, but we go about achieving it in all the wrong ways. It cannot be forced and it cannot come as the result of technology. Intimacy, defined by some psychologists as "the strength which allows one to share deeply with others," is the gift of God. God modeled true intimacy for us in the Incarnation of Jesus Christ; when he, literally, "got under our skin." We will begin to achieve true intimacy when we open ourselves to the reality of our ability to share in Divine nature. The great writers of the Christian East knew this and wrote about the internal struggle - what some contemporary scholars might refer to as "cognitive dissonance" - going on inside us. They understood that before one can achieve intimacy with others it must be achieved with the self. The only way intimacy with the self can be achieved is by entering into intimacy with the Creator of the self.

Here is what Gregory of Nyssa had to say: “Man, who among beings counts for nothing, who is dust, grass, vanity, who was adopted to be a son of the God of the universe, becomes the friend of this Being of such excellence and grandeur; this is a mystery that we can neither see nor understand nor comprehend. What thanks should man give for so great a favor? What word, what thought, what lifting up of mind in order to exalt the superabundance of this grace? Man surpasses his own very nature. From a mortal being he becomes immortal; from a perishable being he becomes imperishable. From ephemeral he becomes eternal. In a word, from man he becomes god. In fact, rendered worthy to become a son of God, he will have in himself the dignity of the Father, enriched by all the inheritance of the goods of the Father. O munificence of the Lord, so bountiful. . . .How great are the gifts of such ineffable treasures!”

Elsewhere Gregory tells us how we gain this gift. "For one who is a man becomes a son of God by being joined to Christ by spiritual generation; -- a man puts off himself and puts on the divine nature. A man becomes a son of God, receiving what he has not and laying aside what he is."

What Gregory is talking about here is the process of entheosis or divinisation. This is why Christ came among us. This is the kingdom of God come near that he preached; as he said to Peter, "for that is why I came out." God initiated the concept of intimacy in the Garden of Eden when he called after Adam and Eve, "Where are you?" Now, through his Incarnate Son, he gives us the gift and to a greater degree than anyone ever thought possible.

To be "in God" (entheosis) or "divinised" doesn't change our nature. Rather it builds upon it, restoring our human nature to what it was supposed to be like. Athanasius of Mount Sinai wrote, "Theosis (Divinization) is the elevation to what is better, but not the reduction of our human nature to something less, nor is it an essential change of our human nature. A divine plan, it is the willing condescension of tremendous dimension by God, which He did for the salvation of others. That which is of God is that which has been lifted up to a greater glory, without its own nature being changed."

Think about the implications of this divinization. You and I, creations of the hand of the God upon whom "no one can look and live" are now invited to share his life and to call him 'abba,' daddy! We are given the strength to share deeply with God. How do we achieve this sharing, how do we enter into intimacy with the Divine?

We achieve intimacy by using the means God has given us. First, we must open ourselves to God and stop running away when he comes looking for us. We do that by prayer. Jesus goes out "very early in the morning" and seeks solitude so that he can be solus cum solo - alone with the alone. The second person of the Divine Trinity needed to spend time with the Father. Do you think we can expect to grow or develop in spiritual life and do less? I hope not; we all realize that the key to intimacy is sharing and communication, it's really no different for spiritual intimacy.

We also have to realize that prayer is not just "talking to God," but involves our meditative listening as well. If you want a good little basic book on prayer, I think Anthony Bloom's Beginning to Pray is excellent.

The second means God gives us to achieve intimacy are the sacraments. Through baptism we are adopted into God's family and made part of the covenanted community. Our participation in the Eucharist - God's good gift to us - is truly a 'communion,' a coming into union with God. As Augustine tells us, we are made one with what we see before us on the table. Simple, every day things like bread and wine become living reminders of our participation in the Divine.

The third means God gives us to achieve intimacy, and this one is really part and parcel of the first two, is the Holy Scriptures. The way we can listen for God is by being open to hearing what his Word has to say. While the Bible is the "norm for which there is no higher norm," I think we need to realize that God can speak through a variety of means. Thus, our study should begin with the Scripture and branch out into theology, spiritual writers, and into all the arts and sciences. The God who made all of created reality can speak to us through it, if we have open minds and are listening with the "ears of the heart."

As we begin to grow in this Divine intimacy we will learn to exercise it in freedom. The manner in which we relate to our loved ones, to the community of faith, and to the community at large is going to be markedly different. Where before we had to "protect ourselves," we no longer have to do so, because, as Isaiah so beautifully put it, "those who wait upon the Lord renew their strength," mounting up "on eagles' wings." We can become "all things to all people" because we know who we are in relationship to the God who made all people. The perfect love of God, then, casts out our fears and allows us to see ourselves, and everyone around us, in a new way. I am free to be who I am because I finally know it!

This partaking in Divine nature is not some kind of stunt. Jesus distanced himself from those who simply wanted to see him as a "worker of wonders." He wanted to preach the possibility of Divine intimacy, the nearness of the Kingdom within the heart and life of every human being made anew in the image and likeness of God. Paul caught the same vision, thus his words, "Woe is me if I preach not the gospel!" The freedom of intimacy is compelling.

When Jesus left the village and went off to pray, he did so because the wonders were becoming more important than the Word. The message of change and growth was being lost, so he left and went elsewhere. Over the centuries, even now, we lose the message. We want the effects - the healings, the ecstasies, and the like - but we don't want to change. God should just do this for us.

That's not what it's about. Those who enter into Divine intimacy have to come away different than they were. The greatest wonder is that God empowers us, them, to make a difference. It's unfortunate that so many Christians are still getting caught up in the empty promise of the "wonder working" and missing the greatest gift - intimacy, union with the Divine. The freedom of intimacy comes when we partake of Divine nature, when we allow ourselves to be recipients and practitioners of measureless love.

Sermon (Fr. Peay) January 28, 2018

"He taught them as one having authority. . . . "

What gives someone authority? Some would say that it comes from having mastered a certain field, discipline or craft. Others would say it comes from having the appropriate credentials or connections. There's a story that might give us some insight.

It seems that there was a young government surveyor who, with his theodolite and chart, came up to a local farmer. "Sir, I'm from the federal land survey," he said, "And I need to take a reading in your field." The farmer expressed some reluctance and was about to explain himself, when the young man cut him off. He produced his papers and explained that he had government authority to take necessary readings. "Now," he commanded, "open that gate. I'm going into the field and I'm taking these readings whether you like it or not." Still sputtering about not being responsible, the farmer opened the gate and young man marched in. He set up his theodolite and set to work, but was interrupted by a large, fierce bull. As the officious surveyor went galloping for safety with the bull in hot pursuit, the farmer yelled, "Show him your credentials! Use your authority!" The surveyor may have had authority to enter the field, but he didn't have either the authority or the power to stop the bull!

True authority, I think Scripture tells us, is that which is backed by action. Authority has a certain power to it, the ability to follow through. When Jesus stood in the synagogue at Capernaum he acted and taught with true authority. His words were weighted with action and he demonstrated that a prophet, a new Moses, was in their midst. The authority Jesus brings is not that of the footnote, the thorough review of the literature, or the credential. Rather, Jesus makes the will and the Word of the living God known, making good on the promise found in Deuteronomy. It is possible, still, to hear what God is saying, because God is making his Word known.

Jesus granted this prophetic authority to his living body, the church, which continues to make him present in the world. The guarantee of the authority is the presence of the Holy Spirit, "the Advocate that the Father will send in my name -- he will teach you everything and remind you of all that I told you" (John 14:26). The Spirit is the living authority within the church so that we might better understand the Lord's teaching and unfold the meaning of his words according to the signs of the times. J-M Asurmundi reflects this in his book on prophecy:

To believe in the relevance of God is to believe in the presence of prophets among us who show the relevance of his word. To believe in the faithfulness of God and in his Church is to believe that he will not let it fall asleep, be overwhelmed, lose its vigor and the dynamism of its hope. And for that reason, Jesus Christ, 'the Prophet' is present through the intermediary of men and women prophets who, in their individual ways, in their places and times, actualize the Word that invigorates all who believe in him. [Le Prophetisme quoted in DAYS OF THE LORD, Liturgical Press, 1993, p. 12]

Thus Paul was acting in a prophetic manner when he wrote to the church at Corinth. Like Jesus, Paul's teaching carries authority because of the action, the life-witness if you will, that accompanied his words. The Corinthians were a cosmopolitan lot and, as such, were rather easy marks for the seduction of intellectualism. In this case a little knowledge was, indeed, a dangerous thing. Paul confronts this squarely when he says that "all Christians" -- not just a select few -- "have knowledge" and that knowledge is that which is mutual, experiential, and edifying.

Augustine comments on this passage in The City of God. He says, "Paul means that knowledge only does good in company with love. Otherwise it merely puffs a man into pride." Love empowers us to act in the right way. We may have more knowledge than someone else, more insight, more authority, but if we're acting in love, we won't invoke these things to that individual's detriment. "Knowledge puffs up, love builds up."

The authority we have, the freedom we have is tempered by the love we have. How do we measure love? Well, I think Francis de Sales said it best, "The measure of love is to love without measure."

The presence of love is what makes knowledge effective and makes belief authentic. Even the demons had knowledge. They cried out, "I know who you are, the Holy One of God," yet they lacked love. Their "profession of faith," as it were, was born of terror at the presence of the living God, who was the opposite of what they were. As Augustine said, "Faith is mighty, but without love it profits nothing. The devils confessed Christ, but lacking love it availed nothing. They said 'what have we to do with you?' They confessed a sort of faith, but without love. Hence they were devils. Do not boast of that faith that puts you on the same level with the devils."

So many people do, however, believe "on the same level with the devils." Their faith is there because of fear. They're afraid of God, they're afraid of death, they're afraid of hell, they’re afraid of the future, they're afraid of themselves, they're afraid of what people might think -- they're afraid. There is no love there, only fear. And, unfortunately, for years the prophetic voice of the church has turned itself more to -- pardon the expression -- 'scaring the hell out of people,' than it has to helping people fall in love with God! There is a I love the story told of one of the desert holy men that delights me. It seems this venerable monk who was seen walking along in the desert totingwith two pails of precious water. Someone called after him, "Abuna, father, where are you going?" His response? "I'm going to go put out the fires of hell so we can find out who loves God for himself alone!" I promise you that you will never hear fear preached in this pulpit, my concern is for us to come to love God and “fear God” in the way the Bible means it, be in awe of, respect, not be scared.

It all comes back to what Paul told the Corinthians, "anyone who loves God is known by him." Our authority, our authenticity grows out of the mutual experience of loving and being loved by God. As the apostle John would say, "In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him . . . so we know and believe in the love God has for us. God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God and God in him . . . There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear." (I John 4:9, 16, 18) And to put the action clause in there, the apostle of love said, "We love because he first loved us. If anyone says, 'I love God,' and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen."

Jesus taught with authority because he taught with love and made it evident in his life and in his actions. The witness of the incarnation reminds us that God has embraced humanity, and this embrace extended to the arms of the cross. It's something we cannot forget -- God himself has shown us the way of self-giving loving. Thus, the authority of measureless love will not act to create fear. Rather, the authority of measureless love empowers us to cast out the demons of fear which haunt our lives and the world around us. Demons are real; yes they are, but they aren't the little red devils off the deviled ham can, nor are they the 'catchalls' for everything that goes wrong in the world. No what we must confront and cast out are the real demons of intolerance, of selfishness, of shortsightedness, of ignorance and narrow-mindedness, of spiritual deadness, of low self-esteem, and of self-hatred. Today you and I have the same authority that Jesus had, because he has given it to us and it is our task to cast out those demons through the power of love.

Those who heard Jesus teach and saw his actions knew something was different, "a new teaching -- with authority." We live in an age crowded with new teachings, but few are with authority and most are met with skepticism. There are many spiritual teachers who claim to have "the truth," but their knowledge doesn't seem to build up, but instead it puffs up. Perhaps our little section of the world our families, friends, co-workers, neighbors, will notice the difference if we begin to teach and to live the authority of measureless love? It all began with Jesus taking the fear out of one person. What could happen if that "perfect love which casts out fear" was lived by you and by me? What could happen if we began to rise above the criticism and pettiness, which, too often, cripples God's people and lived measureless love? There's only one way to find out – do it. The measure of love is to love without measure.

Sermon (Fr Cunningham) - February 4 2018

            I had a friend who was from a very wealthy Egyptian family.  If he was to be believed, which sometimes was a rather dubious proposition, but if he was telling the truth he was a descendent of King Farouk.  Anyway, in his rather privileged upbringing he had his own cook who would ask him everyday what he would like to eat and then prepare it for him.  He said that one day he grew very frustrated with the whole process and angrily demanded of his cook, “Can’t you figure out what I want to eat?”  And I bring this up not really to address the perils of wealth or the goofiness of my friend, but rather to have a conversation about expectations of others and what it is that we believe they should be doing.  And since this is church and since you probably knew that I would eventually get to God let me say that you were right, because I think we also need to think about what are our expectations of God and ask if those are pious and right expectations.  The reason I bring this up is because of the seemingly odd story we have today in Mark’s Gospel.  And I say it is odd because Jesus does not quite live up to the expectation that we might have for him as the Messiah, the Son of the living God.

            The story goes like this (and I am skipping the mother in law bit that started it off).  Jesus has had a very busy day of curing the sick and casting out demons and when the morning comes he is nowhere to be seen.  So Simon and his companions go out and search for him and when they find him they say, “Everyone is searching for you.”  Now we are not told why everyone was searching for him, but based on what we have in the previous few verses, it would appear that there are probably more sick to cure and more demons to cast out.  But Jesus does not say, “Thanks for reminding me, I’ll be right there,” rather he says, “Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.”  Which on one level sounds very nice – Jesus is going to spread the Gospel a little further, but it also begs the question about the people back in the previous town who were still sick or demon possessed?  Mightn’t they want a little more of Jesus’s time?  Aren’t their sick and their demoniacs worthy of a little more curing?  And this is not really and easy question to answer.  The reason it is not an easy question to answer is because no matter what we conclude is the right thing to do, someone is not getting healed.  If we say Jesus should stay near Andrew and Peter’s house, what of the people in the other towns?, but if we say he should go out to the other towns, what of those people nearby?  No matter on which side we come down, someone in the story is not going to be healed.  And that seems unfair.  But as we try and understand this let’s first start by thinking about it with a little background on the nature of the incarnation.   

            When God became flesh and dwelt among us in the person of Jesus Christ, he accepted certain constraints by being fully human – he had to walk places, he got tired, he got hungry and so on.  And as a result of this his ministry in many ways was very limited.  If we are to believe the experts, the entirety of Jesus’s earthly ministry took place in an area of about 2800 square miles, which may sound like a lot but it is about the size of Metropolitan Atlanta.   And in terms of population the only major city that Jesus visited was Jerusalem which depending on who you believe had a population of somewhere between 20,000 and 100,000.  Which means it had a population somewhere between that of Ashland, Oregon and Davenport, Iowa.  Both lovely cities, but hardly what we would call major metropolitan areas.  And so even if Jesus healed and preached to everyone in Galilee and Jerusalem we are still talking about a rather small percentage of the total population, when you figure the City of Rome had close to a million people at that time.  So we are not just saying that the ministry of Jesus was limited in terms of whether he chose to go to this town or that town, but in terms of its totality.  Jesus came to a rather small, relatively obscure and unpopulated area of the world.  And to top it off, he would spend only three years doing his mission.  And so we find that we are not just up against a question of where and who Jesus should heal, but an even larger question about the particularity of God.  And what I mean by that is God’s interventions on this earth are most often very localized phenomenon, to a few select people.  Just look at the Old Testament - God came to Abraham, God came to Moses, God spoke to Noah and so on.  All of these were not visits for mass audiences.  And so what are we to make of God coming to the people to whom he chooses to come and what is the lesson that we are to learn from that? 

            To get to the answer I think we need to go way back, and by way back I mean to the Book of Genesis, in particular Genesis 1:26 when we hear, “Then God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, after our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.’”  The key line here is that we were created in the image of God, which has lots of implications, but one of those implications is that we are to want to do the things that God wants to do.  We are to have the mind of God.  And let’s go back for a second and look at some of God’s interventions on this earth that I mentioned previously.  In every one of those instances God came and said I am going to do something and you are going to do something too.  To Moses he first said that he had heard the cry of his people and that is followed by, “Now I am sending you to the king of Egypt so that you can lead my people out of his country.”  To Abraham God promised to make of him a great nation, but also said, ““Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.”  And to Noah God said he would save him and his family but also said, “Make yourself an ark of gopher wood; make rooms in the ark, and cover it inside and out with pitch.”  What all of this illustrates is that yes God comes to particular people, and says what he is going to do, but then also gives them a job.  He makes everyone co-workers in the kingdom.  And rather obviously since we are created in God’s image, working along side God is divine work and something that we should want to do, because we are made to do it. 

            And so now let’s move to our original question about Jesus and why he decides to go to another town and on top of that why he came to a rather small region of the world.  The answer comes down to God loving us and to our being created in God’s image.  God wants us to work along side him and build up his kingdom, because that is what we are made to do.  God does not simply come in and tell us to sit back relax and he will fix everything, but rather he shows us a direction and asks us to “Come Labor On” as the hymn puts it.  And in our day and age where we put a premium on leisure this may sound like an almost cruel and unreasonable thing, but remember because we are created in God’s image when we do not act in accordance with our nature things can go very wrong. 

I was reading an essay by Arthur Brooks the other day entitled The Dignity Deficit which was about what happens when people who either do not work or work in fields that we deem unimportant.  He writes, “The deep problem is this: Those who are poor in our country are increasingly being told, implicitly and explicitly, that they are not needed by the rest of society. And the result of so many people not being needed is a dignity deficit. When people are told, by everything from labor markets to trends in family formation, ‘You’re not necessary, you’re not useful,’ that will attenuate any sense of dignity. And that leads to a culture and an economy of despair. It leads to opiate and alcohol abuse. It leads to an uptick in suicide. And that’s what we’re seeing in our country.”

            Being needed is part of what makes us human and part of what gives us our dignity.  God is very needed and God has given some of that “being needed” to us.  And so this morning when we see that Jesus did not get everything done, it is not a call to be disappointed in Jesus but rather an invitation for us to continue the work that Jesus has started.  For in working with God we are displaying some of the divine that is in us, we are being told that our life is necessary and meaningful.  As Brooks points out, those that are not needed sink into all sorts of psychosis.  And so we have both a responsibility to be fellow workers with God and a responsibility to show our fellow man that they are needed too, so that we may all be God’s own both now and forevermore.