6th Sunday after Pentecost. The healing of the Paralytic

Homily by Sister Cecelia

Micah 4:6-10, Romans 7:14-24, Matthew 9:2-8

A cousin of mine was telling her daughter that she did not like all the time she was spending with her new boyfriend.  The daughter, Monica, exploded and answered her mother in a not nice way. Monica later said to me that she did not know why she had answered that way, as it was not like her to be like that. As St Paul indicated this morning in the epistle, we are all capable of sins against others and against God, even as we know we don’t want to be “like that.”

When we behave in ways we would prefer not to, consider this: are we more concerned about our own lack of victory over our weaknesses than we are about grieving the heart of God? Don’t we like to think ourselves as above average, not quite as wretched as those who commit really ugly offenses against God? For those with understanding and insight, every evil, no matter how small or great, is ugly. If we find ourselves quite intolerant about any failure in our struggles with evil actions or thoughts, it is likely because we are success-oriented rather than because we do not want to offend God. Are we being more self-centered than God-centered? St Paul indicates we will succeed only if we rely on God’s help. We can’t do it alone.

 The men who brought the paralytic to Jesus believed that Jesus could help—and their faith ultimately brought healing to the man who was paralyzed. Jesus had been preaching and healing long enough for many to have faith in him. But not the scribes. To the scribes who were scandalized by his words “Your sins are forgiven you,” Jesus asked: “Why do you have such wicked thoughts in your hearts?” They readily accepted that if the man was sick, he must have sinned. That was the cultural belief of that time. All sin was an offense to God, so only God could forgive.  The scribes found unacceptable Jesus’ saying that the paralytic’s sins were forgiven. Jesus was equating himself with God. The scribes were unable to think outside their boxes of ritualized do’s and don’ts and were scandalized that Jesus was making himself God. We never hear whether any scribes were open to Jesus after witnessing the paralytic’s sins being forgiven and his obedience to Jesus’ directions to get up and go home.

One direction Jesus has given us is to be of one mind and one heart with one another. It is a difficult thing to really achieve, as we are so different from one another. We have had different experiences; we are different temperaments, of different origins and families. We have different talents and different responsibilities. We have different views and understand each other imperfectly. Being different from other people, we may well grate on them, weary them with what we are, what we think, what we do, and what we feel.

We may not achieve empathy for all, but we can be of one mind in Christian forbearance, each bearing the other’s burden. I bear the burden that the other is to me simply by being himself or herself, because I know I am a burden to him or her simply by being myself. Besides praying for understanding and a peaceable, forbearing heart, we can take that person who is a burden into our prayer. Would we then find our heart a little lighter, more at ease, more patient if we did this? Say to God: “Here is someone I truly find a pain in my side. You put up with me, let me put up with him or her.  You, Lord, might not like the way the person is, but you not only allow the person to be, you love them.”

Mutual harmony and understanding—being of one mind—is difficult for us. We can only bear with each other, bear with one another’s burdens. Jesus showed us the example of true humility. Only by acquiring the same kind of humility will we be able then to love others and not just be able to bear with one another. Then we will be doing our best to be of one mind and heart.

Today we commemorate the successful testing of the atom bomb. May we all take all those responsible for nuclear warfare, and all those who have suffered from nuclear warfare in the past and will suffer in the future, into our prayer as well.

Remember: only in God, in whom we live and move and have our being, is being of one mind and one heart possible. 

God is in our midst.

"Who is this man, that even the winds and seas obey him?"

As Preached by Brother Christopher
Holy Wisdom Chapel

Homily for July 9th

Once was a young monk who asked an elder, “What good thing shall I do and thus be saved?” The old man replied, “God alone knows what is good. But I’ve heard it said that someone inquired of Abba Nisteros, the friend of Abba Antony, “What good work shall I do? and that he replied, “Not all works are alike. For Scripture says that Abraham was hospitable, and God was with him. Elijah loved solitary prayer, and God was with him. And David was humble, and God was with him. Thus, whatever you see your soul to desire according to God, do that thing and you shall keep your heart safe.”

            In this morning’s Gospel, we see a variation of this dynamic, with Jesus offering two very personal words to individuals who seek to follow him. To the first, he says, “Foxes have their holes and the birds of heaven have their nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” In other words, following Jesus precludes a safe and settled existence. Such following always involves risk. To the second man’s request, Jesus says “Follow me, and let the dead bury their dead.” meaning that there is nothing that takes priority over following Jesus‘ call to discipleship. Again, that word is searing in its challenge and calls for the disciple’s deep faith in response.

            It is significant that Jesus’ responses to the two disciples are immediately followed by his boat trip with the disciples across the Sea of Galilee. Note that Jesus leads the disciples into the boat: they follow him in, and during the trip, a huge lake storm occurs that threatens to swamp them. The Greek word is seismos, which literally means earthquake. So we’re talking about here is a violent storm and understandably the disciples are terrified. They wake Jesus, who has been sleeping in the boat and cry out “Save us, Lord! We are perishing!” Jesus takes this opportunity to show them that their fear can be transformed as he rebukes the storm and brings the sea to a great calm. The disciples are left awestruck wondering, “What sort of man is this that the seas obey him?”

            It’s important for us to realize what really is going on here. It’s much more than simply a colorful story. Woven into the narrative, this Gospel is deeply symbolic because it reveals the way discipleship so often works. It is the movement from call, from the decision to follow Jesus, to the crisis and struggle that inevitably come after this, and then finally to peace and calm. What Matthew is saying quite forcefully is that following Jesus will demand from us every ounce of faith and courage that we have, making us rely on Jesus totally -- and then, and only then, shall we know the great calm, the great peace that comes after this. 

            I suspect each of us here has at some point heard a “word” that has helped to define our life path. It’s a word we hear more in our heart than in our ears, and becomes our vocation: whether through marriage, a profession, our monastic vocation... What makes all the difference is when we feel it as a personal response to God’s mysterious call in our life: the call to follow Jesus. But let us have no illusions. Our faith will be tested. But there’s comfort in knowing that simply because we have embraced the call doesn’t mean that our life will unfold without stress, without crisis, without the storm on the lake. It surely will. But Jesus is in the boat, and our little faith will grow as we learn to trust in him ever more completely, and then finally we shall come to the point where we know a great calm.

Sermon 147; 2Cor 12:1-5, 7-9; 1Pt 3:8-17, 4:8-11; Mt16:13-19; Ezk13:1-14; Rom 4:13-18,20-5; Mt 7:24-8:4 Peter & Paul & 4th Sunday after Pentecost.

As preached by Brother Luke

Holy Wisdom Church

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit!

Br Stavros has visited Mount Athos twice. The photographs he took of the mountain and several of the monasteries are stunning. Some are hanging on our refectory walls. And of course, one can find innumerable books filled with photographs of monasteries on Mount Athos, elsewhere in Greece and around the world that have been built on rocks and magnificent cliffs. The monks took to heart, literally, the image of building their monasteries, and by extension their faith in Christ, on solid rock. New Skete is also built on a rocky ledge, so we follow in a venerable tradition.

The image of a rock representing faith is a common feature of the Hebrew and Christian scriptures. So, by deciding to transfer the Feast of Peter and Paul to this Sunday which is the 4^th Sunday after Pentecost this year, we end up with two gospel readings from Matthew that use the image of a rock.

The Matthew reading for the feast of Peter and Paul identifies Peter as the rock of faith upon which Christ will build his church. The Matthew reading for the 4^th Sunday after Pentecost is the passage at the end of the long sermon on the mount. It is about those who hear Christ’s teachings and take them to heart and believe. The image is the contrast between building one’s house on solid rock or on sand. If the foundation is weak like sand, then when the storm comes and puts stress on the house, that house of faith will fall, just as Ezekiel prophesizes for those who do not do God’s will. The wall they build and whitewash will be destroyed by the storm.

The theme of the reading from Peter is similar to that found in the letters of John, emphasizing how to live the message of Christ, that is to love purely, in a way that covers over sin. It’s not about denial, it’s about forgiveness. It’s about understanding our own, and others’, weaknesses and seeing, as God sees, the good in, and value of, that person, that transcends faults and failings. The fact that these words come from Peter, means they carry the additional weight of his lived experience of failure and rising above it while receiving the love of Christ even in the midst of failure.

A bit of a switch in roles is revealed in these readings too. Peter is called rock because he, by grace, understands that Jesus is the Christ. But once this is openly articulated, Jesus cautions Peter and the apostles not to tell anyone. Ultimately, it is Paul who makes that his central message.

The reading from Peter is about praxis, that is, living the teachings of Christ, as in the long sermon on the mount; while Paul is the one to emphasize Jesus as the Christ, whose death and resurrection usher in our path to salvation. It is Christ crucified and raised from the dead that is Paul’s boast.

These are in a sense the two pillars of the faith represented by Peter and Paul. Jesus as Messiah, the Christ, is the foundation of the authority for his teachings. Jesus as teacher, witnessed by the multitudes hearing the sermon on the mount, gives the message of the coming reign of God its flesh and blood reality. We all live in that flesh and blood reality.

With that in mind, we are fortunate to be able to celebrate another aspect of this feast, for today is a special day for one of our brothers. His 52 years of dedicated service to the church as deacon is another example of how the rock of faith can be lived out. Something he has lived out both as deacon, and as a founding brother of this community. He is one who mentored me in many aspects of this life and especially in our work with German shepherd puppies.

It just so happens that the CD we published as part of our 50^th anniversary celebration last year includes several tracks with Archdeacon Peter serving and chanting the deacon’s responses. That memento is available in our gift shop and through our web store for those who may be interested in it.

So, Brother Peter, as we sang to you last night: mnogya Lyeta! Many Years!

Glory be to Jesus Christ!