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Before I give the homily, I must give two warnings about today’s gospel reading in which Jesus tells us the parable of the talents.
First, this parable is not so much about investment. Jesus is not telling us that we ought to be good investors like Warren Buffett. He’s not teaching us that we have to manage our financial assets and double them up in order to be good and faithful servants. He’s not promoting capitalism. For your information, the slaves aren’t dealing with a couple of thousand dollars. One talent is about half a million, $500,000, so five talents are worth $2.5 million. If Jesus really believed that having excellent investment skills was part of the requirements to be a good and faithful Christian, he should’ve at least given us half a million. The parable is not about stewardship or church capital campaign. The other caution is that this parable is not about discovering what we are talented at like our natural gifts or skills and use them for the church. Jesus is not urging us to take career personality and aptitude tests to better serve the church. This is important for everyone, whether one is Christian or not! Our modern use of the term talent like “America’s got talent” can confuse and mislead us. The church is not structured by those who got talent, but who are baptized in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Our urge to structure our church according to our natural gifts and skills should be carefully discerned. We all know that God tells us to be good and faithful, not successfully talented at something. Then what’s the parable really about? Let’s remind ourselves that this parable comes right after the parable of ten bridesmaids which we heard last Sunday. It’s about the kingdom of God coming in the time of kairos, the time of God, not in the time of kronos. Our Christian life time is not measured impersonally and mathematically, but personally and spiritually. The theme of not knowing when the bridegroom will come still continues in this parable of the talents. The slaves have no idea when the master would come back. And he does “after a long time.” (v. 19) So we know the good and faithful slaves are living in the time of kairos and the wicked and lazy slave in the time of kronos. There’s another difference among the slaves in today’s parable. It’s about what kind of emotional attitude and spiritual temperature they have towards the master. These are shown in their responses to the master. The first two slaves who are given five talents and two talents have the same response. They say, “Master, you handed over to me five/two talents; see, I have made five/two more talents.” These slaves know exactly what’s given to them. They know what and who they’re dealing with. The other slave who is given one talent answers very differently. He says, “Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here you have what is yours.” First, notice that he doesn’t specify what he is given to from the very beginning. Even one talent is worth a lot. This is not about him being jealous or envious that the master gave him less than the other two slaves. He’s not really aware of what he’s given. Also, we can see how this slave with one talent looks at the master. We should definitely give him credit for being honest and having guts to describe his master as quite wicked and lazy. From his perspective, the master is the one who he should be scared of. He is afraid. He acts based on his fear. He probably thinks that he actually did a good job for not losing the talent as well as playing safe. His emotional attitude is driven by fear, and spiritual temperature is lukewarm. He simply wants to keep things the way it is and will be. There’s a lack of trust in his master. The master to him is the one who gives him a test and is ready to punish him if there's any financial damages caused by him. So, the essential difference between the first two slaves and the last one is whether they trust their master enough to take a risk! He buries what's given to him from the master. So how does today’s parable apply to us? The parable is about taking a risk in the time of kairos. It’s also about knowing and accepting what’s given to us. The symbol of talent in the parable is indeed about money. And each slave shows his gift and ability to double up their investment. Yet, this symbol as I said earlier is not limited to money or natural gifts. If we consider a talent as a unit of value, one talent is about 75 lbs, therefore, five talents 375 lbs. Think of this symbol of talent as weight which is given to each slave. The weight of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection is given to all of us here. This weight of the paschal mystery is on our shoulders. Imagine back to your school years when you had to carry your heavy backpack full of books, softcover and hardcover, notebooks and etc. This may not be a pleasant experience. (Children nowadays have their textbooks in their tablet.) What do we do to set us free from this weight? We let go of this weight by giving ourselves to others. Christians are called to share, give, and empty ourselves. The weight that Jesus has given to all the Christians is to be given and invested in the poor and the oppressed. It’s not to be carried over your shoulders. It’s not meant to be kept under secret or for a private devotion. This divine weight actually buries you to the ground unless you don’t actively share. The more you give, the freer you become. The more you share your love and compassion, the reconciling power of Christ with the poor, the firmer your ground of being becomes in the presence of God. The weight of Jesus you carry becomes the firm and solid rock on which you stand when you give yourself to the poor. This business of taking the weight of Jesus off your shoulders is about taking risks of loving the unloveable, forgiving the unforgivable, hoping in the midst of despair, and believing the unbelievable like G. K. Chesterton once said. It’s about being adventurous about loving God and our neighbors. The wicked and lazy slave keeps this weight to himself. His god is too small for us. His god is the one who punishes people for every mistake they make and is like a bookkeeper of wrongs and rights. His god is a fearful one without love and mercy. This wicked and lazy slave represents the local religious leaders in Jesus’ time who seek personal security by selfishly observing the Law at the sacrifice of others This wicked and lazy slave might represent in our time those who carry the weight of the gospel of Jesus Christ, yet not sharing it and using it properly. Know that this holy weight of Jesus’ compassionate and reconciling power is given to you. Whether you like to admit it or not, it is given to you at your baptism. Christ wants us to take risks of loving the poor radically and courageously. There’s no room for fear to kick in. The God of Jesus desires us to take risks to love, forgive, and reconcile without ceasing. Fear creates hatred. Trust in the God shown in Jesus creates courage to love. The Reformer Martin Luther once said, “Sin boldly, but believe and rejoice in Christ even more.” Christian faith is not filled with some pietistic behaviors and practices. It’s supposed to be fun and exciting. If we can experience the joy of sharing the holy weight of the paschal mystery here and now, there’s no way we will enter the joy of Christ in heaven. And we do this work of faith together as church. I invite all of us to feel this talent, this weight of the paschal mystery as we partake the Body and Blood of Christ at the Eucharist. The actual weight of the host, the holy sacrifice might feel light, but the weight that Christ’s body carries in it is big enough to feed this entire universe. Each one of us, according to our ability, carry this weight of the holy sacrifice, the divine mystery shown in the death and resurrection of Christ. Every day, we share this with those who suffer in our communities. We as Christians cannot get away from this weight of Christ’s love if not sharing. Otherwise, this weight will bury us into the outer darkness. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. If there’s one common, universal thing that people dislike most, I would say, people hate doing, is to wait. I don’t have a scientific data if this is the most hated situation, but I have always seen and heard what patients and families in the hospital almost always complain about is this wait.
When a patient gets to the ER, he waits for a doctor and a nurse to examine him. If he’s sick enough to be admitted, he has to wait for a room upstairs to be available for him. Often, particularly in NYC, people wait for hours. When it’s worst, I have seen them waiting for more than 30 hours. After a couple of hours of waiting for an inpatient room, he finally gets it. Now he waits for his medical team to come and explain what’s going on with his body. Of course, they can’t say anything specific unless they have data. So, the patient has to go through all the tests. Waiting again to be taken to various labs and waiting for all the pathology reports to come back. And waiting again for his doctors to come up with some decent plans. Until this patient gets to go home, he has to wait for all the discharge papers to be finalized. I wonder why someone who is admitted to a hospital is called a patient. They are destined to be patient. I’m sure we all have this experience of endless waiting, at a government agency like the DMV or at an airport or at a grocery store or even at a church during Sunday service when a priest doesn’t seem to finish his sermon while food for the coffee hour gets cold! There’s an article about the psychology of waiting. It points out what makes waiting seem longer or worse. The uncertainty which creates anxiety makes waiting seem longer. Unanticipated and unexplained waits can be worse. Unfair waits are much more unbearable than equitable waits. And lastly, solo waits seem longer than group or social waits. (https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/sideways-view/201411/the-psychology-waiting) What this research tells us is that we cannot avoid waiting in our lives, but we can handle and manage it better. That is, it is important to have knowledge and explanation of the delay. And it’s also important to wait as a group. I think these two simple pearls of wisdom help us hear what God tells us today in the gospel lesson since today’s parable talks about waiting. We heard Jesus talking about the parable of ten bridesmaids or virgins. Five are considered to be wise or prudent, φρόνιμος which is a better translation than wise. Other five are thought to be foolish. This parable is one of the difficult parables to make sense of. I can think of two things that are difficult to understand. First, it is the behavior and attitude of the five wise, prudent bridesmaids when the other five ask for extra oil. The foolish bridesmaids say to the prudent, “give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.” But the prudent say, “No! There will not be enough for you and for us; you had better go to the dealers and buy some for yourselves.” As Christians, we are taught to share our belongings, if not our lives, with others. The other difficulty to make sense of is the image of the lord who shuts his door to the foolish bridesmaids. This portrait of the lord is quite a mean one. The foolish bridesmaids after getting their oil come to the lord and say, “Lord, lord, open to us.” But he replies, “Truly I tell you, I do not know you.” This doesn’t look like a Christian thing to do. Doesn’t Jesus say, “Knock, and the door will be open to you.” (Mt. 7.7)? The foolish bridesmaids are denied entry into the wedding banquet for being not on time. We might wonder if that is too big of a deal or even a sin to be refused to join the party. There is a lack of evil behaviors that are often found in those who are refused to join the party in the parables of Jesus. But in this parable, that’s not the case. Also considering the biblical tradition that foolishness and wickedness are interchangeable, it is hard to pinpoint what’s so evil about the foolish bridesmaids. Often the teaching of this parable is emphasized in the very last verse that says, “Keep awake, therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.” If we merely focus on this one verse, then the parable becomes about how important it is to keep awake. But that’s not what’s happening in the parable. The prudent bridesmaids as well as the foolish ones, all of them become drowsy and fall asleep. It’s not that the prudent ones stay all night. They too sleep. The only difference between the prudent bridesmaids and foolish or wicked bridesmaids is that the prudent ones stay prudent, which means they take flasks of oil with their lamps. What does the word “prudent” mean? Doesn’t it mean that one is “acting with or showing care and thought for the future?” (Oxford Dictionary) The prudent bridesmaids prepare themselves with extra flasks of oil, showing care and thought for the future. They are open to the possibility that the bridegroom would come in his own time. We have no idea whether these wise bridesmaids expect the bridegroom to delay his coming. But they’re at least ready and prepared for the delay. They are very much aware that it is not up to them whether the bridegroom would come on time that they don’t need extra flasks of oil. They are not in control of his coming and going. There’s humility in them. There’s also hope that the bridegroom will come when it’s time. On the other hand, the foolish bridesmaids make no room for delay, but only for punctuality. Their behavior shows that the bridegroom must come on time that they don’t need extra flasks of oil. They expect him to come on their schedule, not on his own. They are in charge of the bridegroom’s coming and going. They’re in control. When they realize that the bridegroom’s whereabouts are not in their control, they panic. Their lamps are no longer lit. They have no extra flasks of oil. They try to undo their incorrect understanding of time, it’s too late. The door is shut. The metaphor of having extra flasks of oil is not limited to one’s preparedness for the future. It’s not so much about being diligent. It’s one’s confession of faith that time doesn’t belong to us. Time is not in our control. The Bishop of Rome, Pope Francis once said in his homily, “Time is not ours, time belongs to God! The moment is in our hands, and so is the freedom we have in how we seize it. Now we may become sovereigns of the moment, but time has only one sovereign, only one Lord, Jesus Christ.” (Encountering Truth, p. 256) The prudent bridesmaids are wise because of their humility before God. They know that time belongs to God, not to them, not to any human being. They have the love for the one whom they’re waiting to see. They have hope that they’ll see the bridegroom soon or later. Humility, love, and hope prepare them to greet the bridegroom. They allow themselves to be led on the bridegroom’s time. They allow themselves to live and act on the bridegroom’s time. They fall asleep like the foolish ones, but their sleep is not the same kind. Their sleep is prayerful, restful, and hopeful because they live in the time of God. There are two Greek words for time. One is kronos and the other kairos. Kronos is the time measured impersonally and numerically. The English word “chronological” finds its root from this Greek word kronos. Kairos, on the other hand, is the time measured personally and experientially. It runs in human consciousness. Spiritually speaking, it is the time when people experience love, grace, and hope. It is the time when people experience God. It solely belongs to God alone. Having extra flasks of oil or not is really about whether we live in kronos or kairos. Which time are we living? What are we anticipating and longing to see in our times? If one lives at the time of kronos, they don’t need flasks of oil. All they need is their lamps that will eventually tell them their time is up and it is far from the eternity. If one lives in the time of kairos, they will have flasks of oil in their hands, believing and knowing that time belongs to the Bridegroom and desiring to see him. Only those with flasks of oil can live without fear, facing the evil of the world. We’re not called to be liberals or conservatives, but to be the prophets of Christ. The prophets have their flasks of oil in their hands, living in the time of kairos in which God's humility and compassion reign in Christ. What do we have in our hands now? What are we hoping for? Are we hoping for the reign of God in the crucified and risen Christ in this world? It’s not so much about keeping awake all night. It’s about what timeline we’re living ourselves. Back to the psychology of waiting. I mentioned that it gets easier to wait when we have knowledge of delay and when we wait as a group. In dealing with this holy business of waiting for the coming of Christ, we do have knowledge of delay that we do not know exactly when he will come. But with humility, faith, and love for Jesus, we leave it up to him. We allow ourselves to wait because time belongs to him. And we wait, not alone, but as a group, as a community of believers, as the Body of Christ. At the Eucharist, with extra flasks of oil in our hands, we taste and see the crucified and risen Christ, the Bridegroom. And we’re called to be the Body and Blood of Christ for the world that the poor and oppressed can taste and see the crucified and risen Christ. So, my brothers and sisters, have your extra flasks of oil with you always. Keep awake of what timeline you’re living in. Live your life, not in the time of kronos where you think you can control and rule, but in the time of kairos, in the time that belongs to God. Otherwise, it may be too late. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. We Christians, particularly Anglicans and Roman Catholics, start our November with two feasts, All Saints and All Souls. All Saints’ Day is about holy men and women in our Christian tradition whereas All Souls’ Day is about faithful men and women whose lives had a huge impact on us, those with whom we had a personal relationship.
One common fact about these two feasts is that both all saints and all souls are no longer alive. They’re dead. From a secular perspective, these two feasts may be considered as something like Memorial Day on which we commemorate and remember those who died in active military service. Like how people observe Memorial Day in general, the feast of All Souls can be celebrated as the day of remembrance of our family members who are no longer physically with us. This, however, is not the reason why we celebrate these feasts. Both feasts are not about death, but about life in God whose love goes beyond mortality. St. Paul says so eloquently, “neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Rm. 8.38-39) On the feast of All Saints, we celebrate the communion in which we are united with “the glorious company of apostles, the noble fellowship of prophets, and the white-robed army of martyrs.” (BCP p. 95) We commune together not only metaphorically, but sacramentally in the Eucharist. Christ unites us with all the saints. On the feast of All Souls, we are consoled by Christ’s love and hope of resurrection in which we are never set apart from family members and friends who fell asleep in Christ, who are now in a different mode of being in Christ. We are in communion with them through Christ. This idea, this sacramental reality of being in communion with saints and those who have gone before us is quite comforting and consoling to us. At the same time, it is not just limited to this pastoral and psychological benefit of these feasts. When we say we are in communion with saints, it means we are standing on the same ground where saints are. It means we place ourselves in the context where saints would be in our lives here and now. Being in communion with them challenges us to be in places where we usually don’t want to be. And today’s gospel reading can be to us a “spiritual road map” that guides us where we can be in communion with saints and of course with Christ. The gospel reading today is selected for the feast of All Saints. It’s the infamous Beatitudes, in which Jesus talks about the eight blessings in St. Matthew’s version. Let’s read them together again. These eight blessings start with poverty, mourning, meekness, hunger and thirst for righteousness, mercy, purity, peace, and persecution for righteousness’ sake. If I’m to preach some kind of prosperity gospel, today’s gospel reading should never be chosen. Let’s admit it. Who wants to be poor in spirit? Who wants to mourn? Who wants to be meek in the society where one has to constantly prove one’s value, usefulness and worth? Who wants to hunger and thirst for justice when it brings so many risks to one’s life? Who is really pure in heart? Who wants to get messy with conflicts to bring peace? And lastly, who wants to be persecuted for righteousness’ sake? The Beatitudes talk about the blessings, but these blessings are countercultural. It’s not the kind of blessing that our world promotes. The Beatitudes are full of paradoxes which turn the values of the world upside down. In this midst of the Beatitudes stand the feast of All Saints. The Beatitudes become a spiritual road map for Christians to be and stand where saints are. Taking the wise advice of St. Teresa of Avila who once said, “...the actions of the saints are only to be admired, not imitated, by us sinners,” we can still be near the saints! We might not be able to imitate, for example, St. Francis of Assisi’s radical detachment from all material things, but we can still admire and be close to him. We can be close to those who are poor. We can be around those who mourn. We can hang out with the meek. We can pay attention to those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, those who fight for justice. We can be happily influenced by those pure in heart. We can find ourselves getting into a conflict where we meet peacemakers. We can witness those who are being persecuted for righteousness’ sake. The very first step of being in communion with saints is not only recognizing our communion with them in the Eucharist but also placing ourselves in the context where saints would be found, where Christ happens, particularly in local communities. Where are the poor, the mourners, the meek, the hungry and thirsty for justice, peacemakers, or the persecuted in your neighborhood? We are not going there because we are so saintly and godly, but because we are in communion with the saints and Christ who are already there. The former Bishop of Rome, Pope Benedict XVI says something that is very true about the Beatitudes. He says, “...the Beatitudes present a sort of veiled interior biography of Jesus, a kind of portrait of his figure He who has no place to lay his head is truly poor; he who can say, ‘Come to me...for I am meek and lowly in heart’ is truly meek; he is the one who is pure of heart and so unceasingly beholds God. He is the peacemaker, he is the one who suffers for God’s sake. The Beatitudes display the mystery of Christ himself, and they call us into communion with him.” (Joseph Ratzinger, Jesus of Nazareth, p. 74) For us to encounter the mystery of Christ, we are constantly called to the places of poverty, suffering, conflicts, and injustice. We tend to idolize saints as if they were completely different from us, as if they had their halo all the time. That’s not true. Saints are the ones who found their call to service in the crucified people. Saints used the Beatitudes as their spiritual road map to find the crucified Jesus in the lives of the crucified people. And today, we are once again called to use the same spiritual road map to be where saints are, to be where the crucified people are, and to encounter the crucified and risen Christ. Tragic incidents are everywhere, especially in our country. 59 innocent people were shot to death in Las Vegas, and most recently, 8 people were killed in New York City. The world is filled with anxiety and fear, which leads to violence and hate and produces suffering and pain. Most of us probably might not want to deal with this whole situation that is going on in our world. Yet, for us Christians, this is the time to live out the Beatitudes. This is the time to be among the blessed to whom Jesus refers in today’s gospel reading. This is the time that we feel and experience our communion with all the saints and souls. I pray that may God open our eyes to see the crucified people as well as our ears to hear their mourning. Not only do we place ourselves with them but also witness the work of Christ who resurrects all of our lives. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 21st Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 25A(Lev. 19.1-2, 15-18; Ps. 1; 1 Thess. 2.1-8; Mt. 22.34-46)6/27/2018 I would like to start with a riddle. What three words are said too much, yet never enough? (Please don't google.) The answer is “I love you.” I think this riddle speaks a volume about our culture. Love is said too much, yet people have a hard time that they actually loved. This rather subjective experience brings up the issue of our culture. Are we living in a culture of forgiveness, mercy, and love or a culture of fear, anxiety, and judgment?
This issue of love is crucial to us Christians. If you’re familiar with Rite I, today’s gospel reading is always proclaimed in the beginning of the service, which begins with, “Hear what our Lord Jesus saith…” It is mentioned every Sunday because the most essential teaching of Christianity is love. And it is also the most difficult and troubling one to follow. It is the ultimate goal that we Christians strives for. So who are we called to love? God and our neighbors. And there’s a third party we are called to love, that is ourselves. We love God, others, and ourselves, which forms a trinity of love. This trinity of love is so connected to one another that we cannot exclude any one party. If we say we love God, that means we love our neighbor. And if we say we love our neighbor, that presupposes we love ourselves. In other words, if we say we love God and don’t care about our neighbor, that means we neither love God nor ourselves. Today, I would like to reflect more on loving ourselves simply because it is always easy to start something with ourselves. Some of you might know that I work as a hospital chaplain. It is my full-time ministry during the week. I deal with death and dying every day. Some people think I’m the Grim Reaper when I show up. This is not the only thing I do in the hospital. I lead a spirituality group for patients with psychiatric illnesses. One of the group norms is this: “There’s no attacking in this group.” Patients seem a bit nervous when I say this norm as if we’re going to argue with each other on this subject matter of spirituality. And I explain what this norm is about in one sentence. I say, “No attacking in this group, which means you cannot attack yourself.” This seems to surprise my patients and bring some fresh perspective to them. This reaction might demonstrate a widely spread phenomenon of self-attack in our society. We attack ourselves without even recognizing we’re doing it. We are so hard on ourselves. We are mean to ourselves. We choke our neck so often that we don’t even know we’re doing it as if our choking hands around the neck is some kind of scarf we casually wear! I believe Jesus’ commandment of loving our neighbor as ourselves calls all of us to reflect on how we love ourselves. I’m not talking about self-pity or narcissistic way of loving oneself. I’m talking about accepting ourselves, our whole selves, some good parts as well as some imperfect parts. We can very well self-reflect as a way to learn to accept and love ourselves. This can be done through spiritual direction or psychotherapy. Another way to do so is to look at others, other human beings. They reflect how we look at ourselves. They are a mirror that reflects how we see ourselves. When we see others, what do we think about them? How do we look at them? In one way or another, do we think that we’re superior to others? Or do we think that we’re inferior to others? The former way of looking at myself better than others is pride which leads to a kind of “supremacism.” This belief says we are not just important but are more important than others. We all know that we are currently suffering from this spiritual disease in our society. Speaking from my personal experience, I find myself comparing to this person. I tell myself, “I’m smarter, stronger, socially more influential, spiritually deeper than this person.” Then I think to myself, “Wait a minute. Just because of all that, I think I’m better? This is wrong. No way!” On the other hand, the other way of looking at myself inferior to others is not humility. It is rather a false humility. We might even degrade and devalue good things we have. We internalize false messages and images about ourselves that we are never good enough and we are always less important than others. This internalization of a false humility might lead to shame and unnecessary guilt. Again, speaking from my personal experience, I look at another person, telling myself, “That person is so much better than me. He is smarter, stronger, lighter, better looking, better educated.” But then I think to myself, “Wait a minute. Just because of all that, I think I’m no better? This is wrong. No way!” When we are so caught up in this unhealthy spiritual and psychological dynamics of looking at oneself of better or worse than the other, we know we can never truly accept and love ourselves. This is against the Christian teaching of humanity that everyone is created equal in the image of God. For this reason alone, we are no better or less than others. In God’s eyes, we are all loveable. And because God loves us unconditionally, only because of this reason, we must accept and love ourselves even though we might not want to. There are at least two things we can practically do in order to beat this unhealthy inner dynamics of looking at oneself better or less, which will eventually help us love ourselves, others, and God. The first thing is humility. According to the Jesuit priest, Dean Brackley, “...humility means recognizing that I have no greater dignity than anybody else, including the drunk down the street. So I demand no privileges. Humility means identifying with those whom the world deems unimportant. It means solidarity.” (The Call to Discernment in Troubled Times: New Perspectives on the Transformative Wisdom of Ignatius of Loyola, p. 84) A true humility beats a false humility that considers others more important than ourselves. No matter what masks you earn to wear, you are as important as others but no better or no less in the eyes of God. The other thing, which I consider most essential, is that we must remember that there’s always God who never gives up on loving us and entire humanity. Back to our lessons today, particularly both the 1st lesson and the gospel reading talk about love. There’s a pattern in both lessons. God talks about loving our neighbor as ourselves and then declares, “I am the Lord.” Jesus in the gospel reading tells the Pharisees loving God and neighbor as ourselves and reveals his true identity the Messiah as the Lord. This pattern of teaching the Israelites and Pharisees to love and proclaiming the divine identity carries an implicit message that says, “I'm telling you to love your neighbor as yourself because I the Lord God will do what I teach you to do.” And this actualization, this embodiment of the greatest commandment is the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. In Christ, God eternally and unconditionally accepts us as who we are and loves us as who we are. When this love of God in Christ is felt and experienced through the Holy Spirit, when this love of God in Christ grounds and centers our whole being through the Holy Spirit, we can truly accept both our good and imperfect parts and love ourselves. And we can also see others as who they are, as our brothers and sisters created in the image of God and love them as ourselves. The Eucharist which we receive today is the sacrament of the divine love in which Jesus Christ gives himself as food and drink for the life of the world. As we take his Body and drink his Blood, we not only receive that divine love in us but also give ourselves to be shared with others. St. Paul in his letters to the Thessalonians confesses, “...we are determined to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves.” May this confession of St. Paul be ours! In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 21st Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 25A (레위기 19.1-2, 15-18; 성시 1; 1 데살 2.1-8; 마태 22.34-46)6/27/2018 “너나 잘 하세요.” 영화 <친절한 금자씨>에 나오는 대사입니다. 아마 이 영화 보신 분들이 많을 거라 생각합니다. 출소 후 감옥에서 만나 전도사가 두부를 들고 기다립니다. 그리고 이렇게 말하죠. “두부처럼 하얗게 살라고 다시는 죄 짓지 말란 뜻으로 먹는 겁니다.” 금자씨는 두부가 놓인 접시를 전도사의 손에서 살짝 밀쳐내고 두부는 땅에 떨어집니다. 그리고 무표정으로 말합니다. “너나 잘 하세요.”
“너나 잘 하세요.” 재밌는 표현이긴 하지만 가르치는 입장에 있는 사람에게는 꽤나 잔인한 말입니다. 담배 피는 고등학생 아이에게 금연을 요구하는 아버지, 아버지 입장에선 아이를 위한다고 말했지만, “아버지도 안끊으면서 저보고 끊으라는 겁니까?”라는 답변이 돌아온다면 뒷목 잡을 일이겠죠. 아무리 공손하게 표현해도 결국 “너나 잘 하라”는 뜻입니다. 금자씨가 두부를 떨어트리며 한 이 말, “너나 잘 하세요.”는 언행일치의 중요성을 코믹하게 보여주고 있습니다. 내 말과 행동이 일치하는 삶, 그리스도인에겐 신앙과 행동이 함께 하는 삶이라고 볼 수 있습니다. 오늘 복음서는 그리스도인에게 가장 중요하고 제일 지키기 어려운 가르침을 이야기합니다. “네 마음을 다하고 목숨을 다하고 뜻을 다하며 주님이신 너희 하느님을 사랑하여라. 네 이웃을 네 몸같이 사랑하여라.” 그리스도인으로 살아가는 목적이 오늘 복음서 말씀에서 다 들어있습니다. 하느님을 마음과 목숨과 뜻을 다해 사랑하라. 이웃을 네 자신처럼 사랑하라. 이 가르침을 굉장히 심각한 표정을 지으며 제 가족 누군가에게 하면 아마 금자씨처럼 “너나 잘 하세요.”라고 하지 않을까 싶습니다. 제 1 독서 레위기에서도 같은 가르침이 나옵니다. 특히 타인을 내 몸처럼 사랑하라는 가르침이 대두됩니다. 영어 성서에는 “Love your neighbor as yourself.”라고 복음서의 가르침과 똑같이 번역이 되어 있는데 공동번역 성서는 좀 다르게 해석을 했습니다. “네 이웃을 네 몸처럼 아껴라.” 어떤 게 바람직한 번역이다를 논하기 전에 “아끼다”는 표현이 더 살갑게 들립니다. 이 번역으로 복음서의 가르침을 표현하자면 “마음과 목숨과 뜻을 다해 하느님을 아껴라. 네 이웃을 네 몸처럼 아껴라.”로 할 수 있는데 어떻게 들리세요? 좀 더 구체적이고 친근하지 않나요? 사랑하면 아끼게 되죠. 레위기와 복음서가 보여주는 공통점은 하느님과 이웃 사랑에 대한 가르침 이외에 한가지 더 있습니다. 레위기에서 이웃을 아끼라는 가르침이 주어진 뒤에 반복되는 하느님의 선포가 있습니다. “나는 야훼이다.” 복음서도 비슷한 패턴을 취하고 있습니다. 사랑하라는 가르침 뒤 예수께서 바리사이파 사람들에게 그리스도의 정체성에 대해 여쭤보십니다. 이들은 그리스도는 다윗의 자손이라고 답하는데 예수께서 그리스도는 주님, 하느님이시라고 가르치십니다. 여기서 예수께서는 본인의 정체성, 즉 예루살렘에 입성했을 때 민중들이 “호산나, 다윗의 자손”이라고 부른 정체성을 정정하십니다. 즉, 바리사이파 사람들에게 “나는 하느님이다.”라고 말하는 것과 같다고 볼 수 있습니다. 이 패턴, 사랑하라, 아끼라는 가르침 뒤에 “나는 하느님이다.”라고 이어지는 패턴 앞에서 “너나 잘 하세요.”라는 반격은 무용지물입니다. 예수께서 우리에게 “사랑하라”고 말씀하시면 우리가 “예수님, 당신이나 잘 하세요.”라고 할 수 없지 않습니까? 하느님께서 마음과 목숨과 뜻을 다해 당신 자신처럼 인간을 사랑하심은 예수의 삶과 죽음, 부활에서 드러납니다. 예수께서 사랑하라 말씀하셨고 온몸으로 사랑하셨습니다. 예수 그리스도께서 우리에게 분부하신 가르침, 하느님을 이웃을 온맘 다해 아끼라는 이 가르침 앞에 우리는 금자씨처럼 답할 수 없습니다. 그저 침묵할 수 밖에 없습니다. 그렇다면 주님께서는 절대 불가능한 일을 우리에게 시키신 걸까요? 그건 아닙니다. 인간이 누군가를 사랑하는 일에 끝도 완성도 없습니다. 그 깊이를 더해가는 길 밖에 없습니다. 더 깊게 넓게 사랑하는 법을 일생을 통해 배워가는 겁니다. 사실 이 사랑하라는 가르침에서 우리가 사랑하는 대상을 둘로 생각하기 쉽습니다. 그런데 한명 더 있습니다. 바로 나 자신입니다. 마음과 목숨과 뜻을 다하고 내 몸처럼 나 자신처럼 주님과 이웃을 사랑하기 위한 가장 첫 걸음은 내가 나를 사랑하는데 있습니다. 나를 온전히 사랑하지 않고 이웃을 사랑할 수 없습니다. 여러분은 얼마나 자기 자신을 사랑하고 계신가요? 혹은 얼마나 자기 자신을 질책하시나요? 저는 병원에서 일주일에 세번씩 정신질환을 가지고 있는 환자들과 하는 영성그룹은 인도합니다. 보통 그룹 시작하기 전에 모임의 목적과 규칙 등을 설명합니다. 특히나 규칙은 상당히 중요해서 초반에 이야기를 하지 않으면 그 그룹은 어수선해지기 쉽상입니다. 규칙이란 게 별게 없습니다. 누군가 이야기할 때 경청하고 가치 판단하지 말 것 등등 입니다. 여기서 제가 가장 중요하게 생각하는 규칙이 있습니다. 뭘까요? 바로 이 그룹에서는 절대 공격하지 않는다는 규칙입니다. 이 말을 하면 환자들이 내심 불안해 하는 기색을 보입니다. 마치 이 그룹에서 종교 논쟁이나 자신의 신념에 어긋나는 이야기를 하는 건가 싶은 거겠죠. 환자들이 좀 의아해 하는 찰나에 한마디 덧붙입니다. “절대로 자신을 공격하지 마세요.” 공격을 하지 말라는 이야기에 나 아닌 다른 사람만 생각하기 쉽습니다. 하지만 얼마나 무의식적으로 우리가 우리 자신을 공격하고 사는지 곰곰히 생각해 볼 일 입니다. 내가 아닌 타인을 바라볼 때 알 수 있습니다. 나를 상대방과 비교시켜서 나를 폄하시키는 일, 다들 해보셨죠? 아무개가 나보다 더 잘 낫다, 이쁘다, 잘 생겼다, 잘 번다, 잘 나간다, 좋은 차를 탄다, 좋은 구두/가방을 든다, 더 좋은 동네, 더 좋은 학벌을 가졌다 등등. 여기서 멈추지 않습니다. 흙수저와 금수저, 갑과 을, 이 표현들은 사회적으로 우리 사회가 인간의 가치를 물질로 측정하는지 보여줍니다. 반면, 우리 내면 안에서 일어나는 다른 공격의 양태도 있습니다. 나를 상대방과 비교해 끊임없이 비하시키는 게 아니라 내가 더 잘났다고 하는 모습입니다. 요즘 White Supremacy, 백인 우월주의라는 말이 작년 2016년 11월부터 너무나 빈번히 미디어에 오르내리고 있습니다. 우월주의가 뭡니까? 단순히 내가 중요한 사람이라고 믿는 게 아니라 내가 나보다 더 중요하고 우월한 사람이라고 생각하는 게 우월주의입니다. 내 피부가 하얗기 때문에, 내가 돈을 더 벌기 때문에, 내가 남자라서, 내가 이성애자라서, 내가 젊어서 등등 여러가지 이유가 있습니다. 세상은 이런 이유들을 정당화 시키려 합니다. 이 두 가지의 모습, 우리 안에 있습니다. 내 안에 존재하는 이 두 가지 모습을 우리가 직접 대면하지 못하면 우리는 우리 자신을 결코 올바르게 하느님의 뜻대로 사랑할 수 없습니다. 어떻게 바라볼 수 있을까요? 바로 우리 주위 이웃을 통해서 두 가지 모습을 지닌 나를 볼 수 있습니다. 인간은 사회적, 관계적 존재입니다. 타인과의 관계를 통해 내가 확인됩니다. 묵상을 통해서도 가능한데, 이 행위 또한 절대타자인 하느님과의 관계를 통해 내가 확인되는 겁니다. 타인을 통해 나 자신을 비하시키고 때론 우쭐되는 나를 바라본다… 좀 추상적이죠? 제 개인적인 경험을 들려드리겠습니다. 제 허물을 드러내는 것이라 좀 부끄럽긴 하지만, 하늘뜻/뉴욕한인성공회 신자들 어느 누구도 제게 “너나 잘 하세요”라고 안하실 거라 믿기에 제 경험을 나누겠습니다. 어느날 출근 길에 거리에 서 있는 중남미 출신으로 보이는 청년이 보였습니다. 문득 내가 저 청년보다 더 낫다고 생각하는 제 자신을 발견했습니다. 어떻게 발견했는지 모르겠습니다만 성령께서 제 마음의 눈을 열으셨다고 믿습니다. 나보다 체구도 작고, 교육 또한 내가 더 많이 받았을테고, 직장도 내가 더 안정적일 게 분명했습니다. 이렇게 내가 더 우월할 만한 사항들을 떠올리며 이런 생각이 들었습니다. “고작 이런 것들, 이따위것들로 내가 저 청년보다 낫다고 하다니…참 못나다.”란 생각 말입니다. 주님 앞에 부끄러웠습니다. 하지만 또 감사했습니다. 우연히 본 중남미 청년이 내 안에 존재하는 쓰레기를 볼 수 있게 내 눈을 뜨게 해준 듯 했습니다. 이 경험은 저 자신을 비하하고 공격하는 제 또다른 부분을 정화시켰습니다. 나보다 우월하다고 생각하고 있는 누군가를 만났을 때, 작아지는 제 모습을 보면서 이 또한 얼마나 어리석은 생각인지 정신이 들더군요. 고작 그런 것들로 나 자신을 비하하다니..란 생각 말입니다. 그렇다고 내가 더 우월한 것들을 생각해내려고 한 건 아닙니다. 그저 하느님 앞에 잘난 것, 못난 것 없이 다 사랑받는 존재인데 나 자신을 사랑하지 못해온 것에 대한 회개의 마음이 들었습니다. 제가 존경하는 한 목사님이 이런 말을 했습니다. “우리 안으로 깊이 들어간 영적 여정만큼만 이웃을 섬길 수 있다.” 우리 안으로 깊이 들어간 영적 여정이란 얼마나 우리가 깊이 우리 자신을 이해하고 아끼며 사랑하는지 묻고 있습니다. 우리가 우리를 사랑하는 만큼 이웃을 사랑할 수 있습니다. 류시화 시인이 이런 이야기를 나눈 적이 있습니다: “미국의 코칭 지도자 케빈 홀은 여행 중에 우연히 만난 한 인도인으로부터 '겐샤이'라는 단어를 배운다. 고대 산스크리트어인 '겐샤이'는 '누군가를 대할 때 그가 스스로를 작고 하찮은 존재로 느끼도록 대해선 안 된다'는 뜻이다. 그리고 그 '누군가'에 해당하는 가장 중요한 사람은 자기 자신이다. 자기 자신을 대하는 방식은 타인을 대하는 방식에 그대로 반영된다. 자신을 사랑하지 않는다면 어떻게 타인을 사랑하는가?” (출처: facebook.com/poet.ryushiva/posts/431282203643538) “누군가를 대할 때 그가 스스로를 작고 하찮은 존재로 느끼도록 대해선 안 된다”라는 뜻을 지닌 단어 겐샤이, 우리 그리스도인은 타인 뿐만 아니라 우리 자신을 작고 하찮은 존재로 느끼도록 놔둬서는 안됩니다. 또한 우리 그리스도인은 타인 뿐만 아니라 우리 자신을 누군가보다 더 중요하고 우월한 존재로 느껴서도 안됩니다. 그저 하느님께서 우리를 당신의 자녀 삼으셨다라는 발판 위에 서야 합니다. 그저 하느님께서 우리를 죽기까지 사랑하셨다는 그 사실을 붙잡을 뿐 입니다. 하느님께서 나자렛 예수의 삶과 죽음과 부활을 통해 당신 자신 먼저 마음과 목숨과 뜻을 다해 우리를 아끼고 사랑하셨습니다. 이제 성체를 모실 때, 우리는 다시금 주님의 사랑을 확인합니다. 자신의 몸과 피를 내어 사랑하신 그리스도가 내 안에 들어 오실 때, 우리의 몸과 피를 내어 우리 이웃을 사랑할 수 있는 능력 또한 우리에게 있음을 기억합시다. 오늘 데살로니카인들에게 보낸 편지에서 나타난 성 바울로의 고백, “여러분을 극진히 생각하는 마음에서 하느님의 복음을 나누어줄 뿐만 아니라 우리의 목숨까지도 바칠 생각이었습니다. 우리는 그토록 여러분을 사랑했습니다.”고 말하는 성 바울로의 고백이 우리의 고백이 되길 빕니다. 그래서 끊임없이 불안과 공포, 혐오를 내뿜는 세상 앞에 마음과 목숨과 뜻을 다해 사랑하고, 또 “사랑하라” 외치고, 누군가 “너나 잘 하세요.”라고 빈정거리거든 “우리 같이 잘 해봐요.”라고 사랑으로 답하는 하늘뜻/뉴욕한인성공회 신자 여러분 되기를 성부와 성자와 성령의 이름으로+ 기원합니다. 아멘. What makes a story entertaining and intriguing is its unique and sometimes bizarre characters. The king in the parable palys that role. He's an eccentric figure. He’s not afraid to take revenge on those who disrespect him and his slaves. He also comes across being overly generous to the point where he invites everyone, whether good or bad to the wedding banquet. All are invited. Then he becomes quite moody and strict about the dress code that he kicks out someone who is invited, yet is not properly dressed.
The parable that Jesus tells us today in the gospel lesson directly targets the chief priests and the Pharisees since they're the main audience. These are the local religious authorities and elites who hate Jesus and plot to murder him. We all know they do succeed in crucifying him. In the parable, they are depicted as those who are originally invited to the wedding banquet but take it lightly and ignore the king’s invitation. They even kill the slaves who are sent to remind them of the party. All the king’s slaves represent the prophets such as Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and many others in the Hebrew Bible who are rejected by the Israelites. The latest one who is in this prophetic tradition is St. John the Baptizer. I don't believe Jesus is afraid to offend these religious authorities. He ticks them off and enrages them with his radical teaching and life. What’s most ironic about this parable, however, is this; all are invited to the wedding banquet. Good or bad, innocent or guilty, holy or sinful, rich or poor, young or old, documented or undocumented, LGBTQ or straight, white, black, brown, or yellow, no matter what, all are welcome. The Kingdom of God is open to all. It’s like what our Church sign says, “The Episcopal Church welcomes all.” We often forget this infinite wideness of God’s feast. Theologically speaking, it is always "catholic" in both space and time. The feast that Jesus embodies is still open to all, not because we are good, but because God is good. Now, with this unconditional invitation of God to the feast, what matters is the dress code, whether one wears a wedding robe or not. The king comes to the wedding banquet to see all the guests. He notices this unlucky man who is not properly dressed for the feast. We have been already warned about the king’s eccentricity. He asks this man, “Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding robe?” The man becomes speechless. The king orders his attendants to bind him hand and foot and throw him into the outer darkness. As I’m reflecting on the idea that it would’ve been better off if this man hadn't come to the feast from the beginning and how unfortunate he is, I am also thinking that he probably doesn’t even know why he is there, to which party he is invited, and what is really going on there. He is not at all prepared to celebrate the wedding that takes place. He’s at the wedding banquet but is still outside of it. His body is there, but his heart isn’t there. It’s like he has no eyes to see, no ears to hear, no heart to enjoy and celebrate the feast. He is there, but he has not really taken the invitation to his heart. He has not accepted the invitation. He has no knowledge that he is invited to the feast where everyone else is invited. The ones who are originally invited to the wedding banquet and those others like this man who are invited later, yet are without their wedding robes face the same destiny after all. The parable then questions us Christians, “What are we wearing?” I don’t mean this question to be figurative or rhetorical. What are we really wearing, receiving this invitation to the feast of God through Jesus Christ? This is not about how we should dress when we come to church, not about the Sunday best. This question of what clothes we are wearing every single day is really about how we look at the world in which we live. Jesus tells us in the parable that the world that he brings, proclaims, and embodies is the divine feast to be celebrated. In this world of Jesus, what are you wearing? Well, maybe we should first ask ourselves, “What kind of world are we living?” Is it the world filled with hatred, terror, violence, judgment, and punishment? Are we living in the Kingdom of God here and now on earth? What does your inner world look like? When we as Christians talk about the Kingdom of God and say the Lord’s Prayer, especially “Thy Kingdom come,” we are praying and proclaiming that God reigns in my inner world, that I’m accepting God’s forgiveness, mercy, compassion, and love for myself and others. Encountering our world that is far from grace, love, forgiveness, and peace, we might forget this divine feast Jesus brings. We might forget what we are supposed to wear. We might forget that we are already wearing our wedding robe, which is the cloth of our “baptism” but wearing something over it as if there’s no feast happening. So for us, it's not so much about wearing a wedding robe. We are already wearing one through the sacrament of baptism. Once we wear it, that is it. There’s no need to wash it or wear it on and off. What’s at stake is to undress whatever is covering this robe of our baptism. If we are wearing an armor for a battle or survival, that tells us the world we are living in is a dangerous place. Check if we are wearing something like prisoners of consumerism, ageism, sexism, racism, classism or all that unhealthy ideologies. If so, that means our world is that of economic, emotional, and spiritual oppression and discrimination. We as baptized in the death and resurrection of Christ are constantly called to undress whatever layers that are covering our true identity and unmask whatever we are hiding from to see and live in the world Christ envisions in the Beatitudes. "Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets." (Lk. 6.20-26) This spiritual discipline of undressing and redressing means that we will not participate the feast of those who celebrate the golden calf or idols that are created by our own anxiety, lack of faith in God, and our desire to control. This spiritual act of undressing and redressing is about resisting the wedding banquet of idols and protesting against all the temptations of greed, selfishness, and evil and the messages of fear, anxiety, and despair. Practically speaking, reading and meditating the baptismal covenant time to time is a way to undress and redress:
And we respond to all these questions, “I will, with God’s help!” With this cloth of baptism, we see and celebrate the divine feast that Christ has brought to the world through his death and resurrection. With this wedding robe of baptism put on, we not only bring the feast of God to places of suffering and oppression but also join the feast of God already happening there. With this divine cloth called Christ, as St. Paul once said, “Put on Christ,” we sit with the poor and oppressed, not being afraid of our way into the cross with those suffering, yet placing our hope in the resurrection, living out the eternal feast of God Christ has opened to all, good or bad. We no longer are guests without a wedding robe but God’s slaves who are sent to invite all, good or bad in the parable. As God’s slaves, our wedding robe won't be clean. It will be stained with dirt, tears, or even blood. Putting on Christ is being wholeheartedly and absolutely involved and immersed in the suffering reality of our world that has forgotten the divine feast of Christ. Though this whole business of undressing and redressing, putting on Christ sounds daunting and somewhat scary, the Holy Spirit is always present in us, reminding us the taste of Jesus turning water into wine at the wedding banquet. As we eat the bread of life and drink the cup of salvation today, may Christ send us as his slaves to the world. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 16th Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 20A(Ex. 16.2-15; Ps. 105.1-6, 37-45; Phil. 1.21-30; Mt. 20.1-16)6/27/2018 Often, very often, we use these two words interchangeably, jealousy and envy, when some kind of covetous feeling arises. In fact, there’s a difference between jealousy and envy. Psychologically speaking, jealousy is when we worry that something or someone we think we possess will be taken away. I bet we all have experienced this feeling when someone becomes a threat, that he or she will take what we have. On the other hand, envy is wanting what someone else has. I want to take away what the other person has.
Jealousy is more about protecting yourself from having something taken away from you, whereas envy is taking away what the other person has. Both jealousy and envy can be harmful. In order to protect what we have from the other or to take away what the other has, we might even use violence. The parable of the laborers in the vineyard which we heard today might provoke feelings of envy and jealousy. There’s something deeply unfair about this. I don’t know about you, but as I’m reflecting on today’s gospel reading, I discover my own feelings of envy, jealousy, and anger as well as a sense of unfairness in regard to the landowner’s absurd generosity. I resonate so much more with those who came early and worked all day long. How about you? This is a matter of justice. Those laborers who got picked early in the morning do have a legitimate reason to protest against the landowner’s decision to pay everyone equally. We can easily imagine how these early comers would feel about the landowner. There’s anger at the landowner who is being unjust, unfair, and ridiculously generous and also anger at those who came late and got paid the same as they did. There’s jealousy of those who came late and took away a part of the amount that the early comers were supposed to get paid. And there’s envy that these early comers deserve to take away a portion of the pay that the latecomers received. It is not too difficult to be in their boat of anger, jealousy, and envy. We know all these emotions are judged as negative that we don’t want to feel. In a way, it causes a kind of emotional pain that reminds us we’re lacking something. For now, let’s not try to get rid of these feelings. Let’s not judge ourselves that we shouldn’t have these negative feelings, but consider them as helpful information that tells us something deeper about ourselves, particularly about how we understand God’s grace. As much as this parable of the laborers provokes a feeling of anger, envy, and jealousy, it also questions and challenges our understanding of God’s grace. How do we perceive God’s grace? Do we think that receiving God’s grace is the same as earning our wages? Is God’s grace something that we have to work hard to gain? Do we believe that we should get more of it if we do more? To all these questions I raise about God’s grace, the local religious authorities such as the Pharisees, scribes, rabbis, and chief priests would say “Yes” without any doubt. They’re like the laborers who bore “the burden of the day and the scorching heat.” If today’s parable is about how everyone should be paid and how a corporation should pay their employees, it is a great failure. From our perspective, the landowner is not a good business person. The vineyard won’t last long. Sooner or later it will go out of business if he keeps doing that. Rather, this parable is about God’s grace abundantly, equally, and unconditionally given to all. It shocks and disturbs us to reflect on how we think of God’s grace. Like the local religious leaders in Jesus’s time, we might unconsciously believe that if we pray harder, we should become wealthier, stay out of trouble, never get sick. If we come to church and participate more in church missions and volunteer services, nothing bad should happen to us. We might believe that doing more religious or pious things can earn us more of God’s grace than those heathens or slackers! Well, Jesus tells us a completely different message. We don’t and can't earn God’s grace on our own. God gives everyone God’s grace freely, unconditionally, and equally. This is God’s work initiated by God alone. We never took part of it. We didn't do anything to gain it but are invited to receive. Don’t get me wrong. I am not saying doing something righteous is useless. It just becomes useless when you think that's the way to earn God’s grace. I speculate that one of the reasons why we, or speaking for myself, I can so easily, without any difficulty, join the early comers’ feelings of anger, jealousy, envy, and resentment is because I somehow believe I can earn more of God’s grace and as a priest I might deserve to receive more. Also, there’s this sin of mutual exclusion. My gain is your loss. Your gain is my loss. There’s a German word for this, “schadenfreude,” meaning that we experience pleasure or enjoyment from the failures, troubles, or humiliation of others. If I hold on to this belief that I have to work hard to get God’s grace, I shall be the last! And God’s unconditional grace comes to a person like me as God’s judgment, as God’s unfair verdict. The image of the disgruntled laborers in the parable of the laborers overlaps the image of the older son in the parable of the prodigal son. There’s this feast of God’s grace pouring out on the world, yet I cannot joyfully celebrate it with others. Can you celebrate this feast of God’s grace with others without resentment, envy, and jealousy? Although we may be able to understand intellectually what God’s grace is, we might have some hard time to accept it if our hearts don't feel it. Without the help of the Holy Spirit, we cannot accept God's grace with gratitude. Let’s not forget that God’s grace is nothing but the divine love shown in Jesus Christ. We are socially adapted and culturally educated to try so hard to be accepted, recognized, and loved by others. What God’s grace does to us, however, is that we are simply loved by God, not because of what we have achieved, not based on our looks, incomes, or pious activities. God loves you for who you are as a human being created in his image. However and how much you feel broken and insecure about yourself, God’s grace embraces you and assures you over and over again that you matter to God. Imagine what would’ve happened to the landowner in the parable. I have this wild ending that the laborers who worked all day long would’ve captured the landowner and murdered him. That's what happened to Jesus who embodied God’s grace. God’s grace led him to the cross. It shows us how the world that only serves itself could not accept God’s love as shown in Jesus. And God’s grace raised him from the dead to tell us that God’s love never dies. God’s grace is always available to us, and God desires us to desire and accept that grace. Every Sunday at the Eucharist, we kneel and open our palms. As we are on our knees, we let go of our power, but solely depend on the power of God. As we open our palms, we humbly receive God’s grace. We don’t pick and choose the host. We receive the love incarnate in our open palms. Because God loves us, God gives his whole being to us in Jesus Christ. We don’t try to work so hard to gain more. God’s grace is already given to us abundantly in the body and blood of Christ. How do we respond to this love of God? We respond to God’s love by loving and desiring Christ and others more and more. It’s like “I also want others to experience God’s love that transforms me!” I’d like to share the prayer of St. Aelred of Rievaulx, the 12th century English monk. He expresses his way of responding to God’s grace as follows: “I pray you, Lord, let but a drop of your surpassing sweetness fall upon my soul, that by it the bread of my bitterness may become sweet. In experiencing a drop of this, may I have a foretaste of what to desire, what to long for, what to sigh for here on my pilgrimage. In my hunger let me have a foretaste, in my thirst let me drink. For those who eat you will still hunger, and those who drink you will still thirst. Yet they shall be filled when your glory appears and when will be manifest the abundance of your sweetness, which you reserve for those who fear you, and disclose only to those who love you.” (Aelred of Rievaulx, The Way of Friendship, ed. M. Basil Pennington, p. 17) Our desire to love Christ deepens as we start seeing others, especially those who we think came late for work in the vineyard in the eyes of the landowner, in the eyes of God who looks at them and us all with the long loving look. May God fill all of us here gathered at St. Bartholomew’s with God’s grace that is poured upon the world unconditionally and equally. May God’s grace flow through us to our neighborhoods. May we also humbly receive God’s grace flowing through our neighbors. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 15th Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 19A (Ex. 14.19-31; Ps. 114; Rm. 14.1-12; Mt. 18.21-35)6/27/2018 Nelson Mandela, a South African revolutionary, politician, former president of South Africa, and the Nobel Peace Prize winner once said, “As I walked out the door toward the gate that would lead to my freedom, I knew if I didn't leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I'd still be in prison.” This is indeed a powerful statement which comes from a person who was imprisoned for 27 years. This not only shows how important it is to let go of hatred, resentment, and bitterness but also reminds us how essential forgiveness is to that process of letting go and being set free. Without forgiveness, one is imprisoned in that bitter and resentful past.
Forgiveness, as we all know, is one of the essential Christian teachings. God forgives all humanity in Jesus Christ. God in a way sets God’s very own self free by forgiving all. It’s like God cannot NOT forgive us. God cannot help but forgive! Rowan Williams, the former Archbishop of Canterbury once said, “To forgive is to share in the helpless of God, who cannot turn from God’s own nature: not to forgive would be for God a wound in the divine life itself. Not power, but the powerlessness of the God whose nature is love is what is shown in the act of forgiving.” (Rowan Williams, Being Disciples, p. 42) In turn, we as forgiven are set free by God’s loving and liberating act of forgiveness of all. We are not forgiven through some comforting words that God whispers in our ears. We Christians believe that It has been already done once for all only through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. In the heart of forgiveness lies this working of death and resurrection. Without dying to oneself, no forgiveness happens. Therefore no resurrection takes place. Death is the only ticket to resurrection. We can never skip it. Today’s gospel lesson shows us how this act of forgiveness calls us to join Christ’s death and resurrection. Forgiveness invites us to face our own death and the death of Jesus. It then takes us to participate in his resurrection, in which we find our new being in communion with God and one another. In today’s gospel, Jesus introduces to us a very interesting parable. This parable has three players, the king, the slave, and the slave’s friend. The roles they play are twofold as forgiveness in its nature is also twofold: the one who is asked to forgive and the other who asks for forgiveness. The king in the parable apparently discovers that this particular slave owed him ten thousand talents. Ten thousand talents might be about the worth of $7 billion in our time. We might wonder how this slave was able to owe this much money and how the king allowed it to happen. Once the king learns this slave can't pay him back, he orders him to be sold together with his wife, children, and whatever he owns. And this is not it. The slave still has to pay what he owes to the king. (This trait of the king teaches us that it is not Jesus’s intention to describe the king as God. Let’s not make a mistake of building an image of God based on the parable.) The king’s verdict of selling this bankrupted slave and all his family isn't too different from that of our world except we are enslaved by a different structure such as banks. Actually, it's worse than our chapter 11 since the slave still has to pay him whatever is left after losing all he has. And who knows when he can actually pay it all off? This verdict is almost like a death sentence. The slave’s life, as well as his family's, is almost over. There’s no way out unless they're dead. The slave falls on his knees before the king as if he is giving up his life to him, saying “Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.” This saying of the slave is not so convincing if you critically think about it. The slave can never ever pay everything back! It’s an empty promise. And it's also a very bad lie! The king isn't that stupid enough to buy in this false promise. But then, a strange thing happens. Compassion happens! Our translation says, “out of pity for him” in verse 27, but its literal meaning is more like “having been moved with compassion.” The only thing the slave does to live is to fall on his knees, to die before the king. Not the words that he says. As the slave dies before the king, the king’s old self, that seeks for revenge without mercy, dies too. The king becomes a new person after his old self dies. He releases the slave from all the debts. He forgives the slave. He sets the slave free. We have no idea how this happened. What we do know is that the king wasn't crazy. Instead, compassion happened as the king’s old self died. The king became a new person. This is not the end of the story. There’s another twist. We would imagine the slave once his old self died would become a new person like the king. Well, that didn't happen. Compassion does not happen to this slave. He is given a chance to demonstrate that his old self died and he became a new self as he deals with his fellow slave who owed a hundred denarii. (That’s about one-third of a year’s salary or four months’ wages.) His old self is still there. He may have died, but not any more. He refuses to do so. He remains as his old self who has no grace or compassion. Once the king finds out about this, this wicked slave as he wishes gains back his old self who has to pay all he owed to the king. Back to where he was, imprisoned in his old self. This matter of our old selves dying and rising again shown in the parable of forgiveness is nothing new to us. Through Baptism, our old selves die, and we are risen with Christ. This sacrament of Baptism not only symbolizes what kind of life we are called to live but also continuously and efficaciously works in us through the Holy Spirit. So we don’t go back to our old selves, but follow the lead of the Holy Spirit in our lives. We might go back to our old selves time to time, yet Jesus also tells us, “Not seven times, but I tell you, seventy-seven times.” We can turn back to him again and again. With this confidence, we can confess what St. Paul in today’s second lesson urges us, “...whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.” There’s a lot to forgive and to be forgiven in our lives, especially nowadays. Let us as Christ’s followers never walk away from this act of forgiveness. Forgiveness calls out our old selves to die so that we can rise with Christ. Forgiveness is an invitation to live out our baptismal covenant. Forgiveness takes us to the death of Christ on the cross and leads us to his resurrection. It is the most difficult thing to do, both to forgive and to ask for forgiveness. In either way, we are called to put an end to our old selves in order to rise again with Christ. And we are indeed able to do this because compassion already happened to us through Jesus Christ. Deep down in our hearts, God’s compassion is planted. At the Eucharist, this seed of God’s compassion is sown in our body through the Body and Blood of Christ. We might not be able to see it so quickly, but it is there, waiting to be found. And it may not be so pretty, but can be more like “distasteful empathy.” Some theologian describes it as a feeling that we wouldn’t want to have for those who hurt us, but a feeling of recognition or kindness. (Healing Agony, Stephen Cherry) The world is unsettling our grounds. And we as Christians are called to be the sign of God’s forgiveness and reconciliation. May God’s compassion revealed in Christ happen to us whenever we lack compassion, whenever we are afraid to let go of our old selves. May God’s compassion dwell in us even if it comes out as “distasteful empathy,” so that we become the sign of God’s compassion for the world of hostility, hatred, and unforgiveness. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Blood is one of the most important and frequently used symbols in the Judeo-Christian tradition. The Book of Leviticus teaches the life of a creature is in its blood. (Lev. 17.11; Deut. 12.23) Blood is life. Genesis also says, “Only you shall not eat flesh with its life, that is, its blood.” (Gen. 9.4) Don’t drink blood! Perhaps the idea of vampires drinking blood might come from all these teachings about blood.
The use and understanding of blood are not limited to life. It’s used to purify something unclean. The priests were told to offer up the blood and sprinkle it around on the altar. (Lev. 1.5) Purify yourself with the blood before you enter the sanctuary of God. In the Christian Scripture, especially the letter to the Hebrews says, “According to the Law, in fact, nearly everything must be purified with blood, and without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness.” (Heb. 9.22) In the 1st lesson from the Book of Exodus, we can easily see how the blood is differently symbolized and used, yet quite powerfully. God instructs Moses and Aaron that the blood is taken from the slaughtered lamb that is a year old male without any blemish. We’re talking about the Passover. This blood of the lamb is to be marked on the doorposts of their houses where they live and eat the Passover meal in a hurry. The blood becomes the sign that God will pass over the Israelites without killing their firstborns. It’s not merely a pass mark, but the symbol of God liberating the Israelites from slavery, the symbol of God’s salvation. This first lesson from the Book of Exodus was read at the Easter vigil service by ancient tradition. The Church Fathers allegorically interpreted the metaphors used in this first lesson in terms of Christ’s sinlessness, suffering, and resurrection. (The early Church tradition basically Christianized the Passover story. Or it contextualized the story in the Christian situation.) For example, slaughtering the lamb in the evening was interpreted as representing the death of Christ on the cross in the evening (St. Cyprian) or the end of the ages (St. Jerome). Another obvious example of this connecting the Exodus metaphor to Christ is the blood. St. Chrysostom taught that if this blood of the lamb, animal blood had great power, how much more power does Christ’s blood have? St. Martin of Braga also said, “Christ the lamb, by his blood, frees us from the slavery of death.” (Ancient Christian Commentary on Scriptures: Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy, pp. 56-57) We ourselves can follow this way of relating the Exodus lesson to Christ as we connect eating the unleavened bread with eating the Body of Christ, the living bread. The blood that particularly matters in the Christian sense is the blood of Christ. Every Sunday, the celebrant or chalice bearer serves you with the saying, “The blood of Christ, the cup of salvation.” This blood, we drink every time we come to the Table of God. And this blood, not only do we drink at the Eucharist but also is marked on our foreheads through Baptism (according to St. Augustine, Ibid.), just like the blood of the lamb was marked on the doorposts. Though this image of our foreheads marked with the blood may look a bit gory and cultic, it at least helps us remember. We, Christians believe that we are marked and saved by the blood of Christ. Now what this blood of Christ does to us is something radical. We’re reborn, reshaped, restored, rewired, re-membered as God’s beloved. This sacred blood transfusion transforms and transfigures our entire being. My identity is no longer on my own. I belong to God whose love never ends whether I live or die. I have this personal experience with God in which I feel embraced, cared, and loved as who I’m supposed to be and to become in the image of God. Again and again, I am found by God, never abandoned. Jesus becomes part of who I am. Rather, I’m embedded and embodied in Him. I become part of him, part of his Body. And this transformation process is not a private, individual matter, but a personal one, which always involves a community, a group of others who also have encountered this divine love shown in Christ Jesus. Personal and communal. In this secular age when everyone is busy searching for self-identity, purpose, or meaning of life, we, Christians begin from one definite identity. That is God’s beloved. God’s children. We find ourselves in the love of God shown in Jesus. We discover others as God’s beloved and are becoming one Body. And this seemingly new identity Christ gives us is actually a restored one, healed and reconciled. Even though we’re baptized in the baptism of Jesus where we die and rise with him, we are still used to our old selves. This new identity takes education and formation. St. Paul urges in his letter to the Romans to put on Christ. Put on the armor of light. Put on the blood of Christ. He’s not talking about how religious we ought to become, but how we live our lives, loving others, not only fellow Christians but also those who are not! We do this act of love because we are embodied in the body of Christ who loves, forgives, heals, and loves, forgives, heals again. I don’t own myself, but God does. I belong to something bigger than myself. I become part of the assembly called the Church, the Body of Christ. In this light, we read today’s gospel lesson. Our deed is never an individual, private matter. My action matters to the Church. Your action matters to the Church. We’re organs, veins, cells of Christ’s body. Our Prayer Book clearly tells us in its catechism, whether lay or ordained, that we “represent Christ and his Church.” (BCP, pp. 855-856) And this new Christian identity we receive by grace through faith in Baptism always requires another Christian in order to be complete. Thus, Jesus promises us, “...where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” (Mt. 18.20) We all know the saying, “Blood is thicker than water.” It means my biological tie is stronger than anything else. Its original saying, some say, is to be “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb." As Christians, we who do not share the water of the womb are linked by the blood of the covenant. We believe the blood of Christ is thicker than the water of the womb. This is a new human construct. Then what can the Church, we offer to the world? As two or three of us are gathered in the name of Jesus Christ, we offer a “ritual of healing” to the world. We bring in our body as the body of Christ the sacred reality to the world; the world that separates human beings from documented to undocumented, from legal to illegal, from superior to inferior, from "who’s in" to "who’s out." Whenever we gather together in the name of Jesus Christ, not only do we believe Jesus is in our midst but also remember our presence represents Christ and seek Christ in all persons, however the world divides one from the other. May those who are hurt and wounded find the presence of Jesus Christ, our loving and compassionate God in our presence. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Who do you say that I am? In today’s gospel reading, we hear Jesus being a bit overly self-conscious about what people say about him. In our modern or postmodern world, being too conscious about oneself is considered a psychological indicator of insecurity. Jesus may have been a bit insecure about who he is and who he is called to be. Or he is somewhat ready to reveal who he really is to the disciples.
Jesus asks his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” What do people talk about me? How do people see me as? Who am I to them? The disciples answer him, “Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” These identifications with Jesus are quite understandable since Jesus behaves like a prophet. People hear a prophetic voice in him. “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near.” This question of one’s identity is not a simple matter. If I ask you to tell me who I am to you, it gives us some information about our relationship. This identity question can only be answered when there’s a relationship between two parties. If I ask Annie who I am to her, she might answer I am her neighbor. This answer might suggest that geographically we live close to each other, or spiritually speaking, she considers me as her neighbor who she is called to love as herself. Who I am to you is also about who you are to me. Who I am to you defines who you are to me. A general impression people have about Jesus is that he is a prophet. Jesus is to them a voice or a visionary or a guide. Jesus is never an object of worship and praise. It isn’t too difficult to make sense of this because we, for example, don't worship Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., our modern day prophet, though he has shown us the vision of nonviolent resistance and peace. The question Jesus raises about his identity goes to the disciples. He puts them on the spot. What about you guys? Who do you say that I am? No other disciples dare to respond, but Simon Peter who always plays a leadership role among them answers, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” Though usually described as short-tempered, Simon Peter gets it right this time. Jesus answers him back with remarkable blessing and compliment, “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, and on this rock, I will build my church...” In Peter’s response to Jesus and Jesus’ response to Peter, we see their relationship. It’s not so much about a teacher and a student. It’s not so much about BFF. It’s about Jesus Christ the Son of the living God and his Church. Jesus becomes Christ to Peter, and Peter becomes Jesus’ Church. This then means that whoever considers Jesus as Christ, the anointed One, the Son of the living God becomes his Church. This becoming his Church might sound like, “If you say Jesus is Christ, you gain a membership of his Church.” I don't know how this might sound to you, but it sounds quite terrible to me, not only because confessing Jesus as Christ shouldn’t sound like gaining a Costco membership card but also it muddles our identity in relation to Jesus. The Greek term used for Church in our gospel lesson today is “ecclesia.” Its literal meaning is an “assembly.” An assembly means “a group of people gathered together in one place for a common purpose.” So if we reconfigure this meaning of Church in today’s reading, it goes like this: Jesus will build a group of people gathering together in one place on the common confession of Jesus as Christ the Messiah. This image of people gathering for the common purpose, the common confession of Jesus as Christ, the Crucified and Risen One is not so much about obtaining a membership. It looks more like gathering and celebrating God’s revelation to us and the world through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. More specifically speaking, it’s about the Assembly gathering for the celebration of the Eucharist. In this celebration of the Eucharist, not only do we see Jesus as Christ the very human face of God, but also we discover who we really are. We find our true identity that no matter what kind of skin color, economic status, sexual orientation or gender identity is, we are created in the image of God, we are never abandoned, and we are loved. We find ourselves as such as we find others as such. It creates a new set of human relations. Being Church is then not so much about being a member of prestigious social clubs, but communally and personally experiencing the reality of God in Jesus as Christ through the Holy Spirit. In this reality, we find ourselves being forgiven and forgiving ourselves and others, being loved and loving ourselves, others, and God deeper, creating something beautiful, something greater than ourselves as we follow the steps of Jesus Christ. The former Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams expresses this reality quite eloquently: “The Christian involved in the celebration of the Eucharist is not affirming a set of propositions with the help of an audio-visual programme, but inhabiting, in speech and action, a drama which purports to ‘relocate’ him or her in the space occupied by Jesus Christ in his eternal relationship with the Father, a relocation which is enabled by his sacrificial death and his rising from the grave and ascension into heaven.” (Rowan Williams, Faith in Public Square, p. 92) Professing Jesus as Christ places you in the Assembly and relocates who you are in the world. This business of professing Jesus as Christ has never been an easy task. Throughout the history of the Church, those whom we call saints sacrificed their lives for their faith in Jesus as Christ. Let’s not forget that where Jesus asks his disciples who he is to them in today’s gospel lesson. It is Caesarea Philippi where the Canaanites built a sanctuary to Baal. In the time of Jesus, it is the symbol of the imperial cult. In the heart of worshipping imperial power, the power that be, Jesus reveals himself to the disciples by asking who he is in Peter’s profession. This is quite a provoking act of faith. Before the power that rules, the power that people worship and admire, Jesus stands alone. Peter’s confession of faith in him becomes the foundation of the assembly that worships the power of God’s love and compassion, not the power of money or politics. This act of professing faith before the powers that be isn’t a new thing. In our first lesson from the Book of Exodus, let’s remind ourselves that it is the Hebrew midwives, Shiphra and Puah, who save the Hebrew baby boys from the king of Egypt. Their fear of God, which comes from their faith in God, relocates their fear of the king of Egypt to their courage against the power that be. Their faith in God becomes God’s reason to multiply and grow the Israelites. Today, Jesus asks us the same question, “Who do you say that I am?” To answer this question of his identity and our identity in him, we want to look around where we are standing before him, what kind of world we are living in, against what power that be we are called to confess our faith in Jesus as Christ the Messiah. The world hasn’t gotten so much better as we see what’s happening in the world, especially in Charlottesville. We might have been tricked or illusioned that people were somehow getting more ethical or moral, or even more civilized. Our confession of faith in Christ assembles us as the Body and Blood of Christ and calls us to the places where hate is allowed and welcomed, where love is perceived meaningless and unprofitable. St. Paul urges us in our second lesson, “By the mercies of God, present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God...Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds. Discern what is the will of God.” (Rm. 12:1-2) It is my prayer that we may discern the will of God in which our confession of faith in Jesus as Christ become an act of protest against the evil we are facing in our communities. It is my hope that we see that messiness of God’s love in Jesus that transforms us to his broken body and shed blood for both of those who are oppressed and those who oppress, that we as the Church become the presence of reconciliation and healing to the world. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 11th Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 15A (Gen. 45:1-15; Ps. 133; Rm 11:1-2a, 29-32; Mt. 15:10-28)6/27/2018 One of many pearls of wisdom in my chaplaincy training is this: Do not try to defend God. God does not need my defense. God can defend Himself. We as believers can very often feel like defending God or speaking for God when we hear criticisms about God.
In today’s gospel reading, some of us might feel this urge to defend Jesus because of his mean words to a Canaanite woman. Others might feel Jesus needs to be criticized for being ignorant or indifferent to this poor woman. She comes to Jesus for her daughter who is tormented by a demon. It looks like Jesus should’ve been kinder and more compassionate to this woman. Even if he didn’t want to associate with this gentile woman, he didn’t have to refer to her as a dog. That is just mean and insulting. In the original Greek, the term for a dog is more like a puppy or a doggie. Well, this doesn’t change anything about his mean words or attitude towards her. Again, I’m not interested in sugarcoating Jesus’ mean words to this Canaanite woman. Perhaps I might have more of an urge to fix up Jesus to have a better attitude. Or I might dare to remind him his own teaching about how we ought to treat each other. While we can imagine how Jesus should’ve behaved or what kind of words he should’ve said to the woman, there’s something inconsistent about his behavior and attitude towards the gentiles. This inconsistency might make us more curious about Jesus. In chapter 8 of St. Matthew’s gospel, we see a Roman centurion who comes to Jesus to heal his servant. Jesus shows no discrimination against the centurion. Instead, he is willing to go to the centurion’s house. Quite ironically, it is the centurion who tells Jesus not to come, saying, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof, but only speak the word, and my servant will be healed.” (Mt. 8:8) His humility not only saves his servant but also earns Jesus’ praise. Jesus being amazed by the centurion says to his followers, “Truly I tell you, in no one in Israel have I found such faith.” He doesn’t stop there and says, “I tell you, many will come from east and west and will eat with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven, while the heirs of the kingdom will be thrown into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” (vv. 10-12) Jesus compares the centurion’s faith and humility with that of the Israelites, especially those local religious authorities such as the Pharisees and scribes. No one in Israel has such faith like this Roman, gentile centurion. He would eat with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven, but not those local religious leaders. This is indeed provoking. Today’s gospel lesson situates Jesus in a similar context. The Pharisees and scribes criticize Jesus and his disciples for breaking purity and dietary laws. And Jesus directly tells the crowd that it is the heart that should be pure, not the unclean hands which do not defile. After this conflict with the local religious figures, Jesus encounters the Canaanite woman. We can see that both his encounters with the centurion and with the Canaanite woman are not just about how great their faith is, but are used as an example to show the local Jewish religious authorities’ hatred and unfaith. There’s this concept called “mirroring” in psychology. It is the behavior in which people mimic and imitate others’ gesture, way of talking, or attitude. It can be done subconsciously or consciously and very intentionally. There are some articles how this mirroring can be helpful in a job interview or other social situations. When it is to be done successfully, the person you’re imitating must not know your mirroring. Otherwise, it can backfire and be perceived as annoying and rude. Jesus, it seems to me, is doing something called “mirroring.” He’s mirroring the local religious leaders’ behavior and attitude towards the gentiles who they consider as God’s un-chosen ones or dogs. It seems, Jesus reflects how they see the gentiles. These gentiles are not to be nearby because they’re unclean and unholy. The Messiah is sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel! It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs! God does not care about them. God does not exist in their lives. This is the message in the background. In the responses of both the centurion and the Canaanite woman, however, we hear something radically different. Jesus discovers and shows God is already at work in the lives of the gentiles. In the lives of those who are considered as unclean and unholy, faith in Jesus as Christ is found, not in the lives of the children of the house of Israel, God’s chosen ones. Faith is planted and grown already in the most unexpected places. Thus Jesus proclaims, “Woman, great is your faith!” In our first lesson from the Book of Genesis, we can also see that God is already at work in places and situations that no one would think God would even exist. Joseph tells his brothers who sold him to Egyptians out of envy and hatred that it is God who sent him to preserve their life. In other words, God was with him even when his brothers threw him in the dry well. God was with him when he was sold and sent to the prison. God is already at work in the most unexpected places we can ever imagine. This means that God is not just found in this church context, but is to be discovered everywhere. We don’t bring God with us everywhere we go. God is already there, working and loving God’s people. We do not own God. We do not possess God. It’s not about having God on our side or “many sides” or “both sides,” but placing ourselves on God’s side. We have witnessed quite a lot of evil things that are done in the name of God, in the name of Christianity. Reflecting the white nationalist rally in Charlottesville, it is especially disturbing and troubling to hear that many white supremacists claim themselves to be Christians. We may want to distance our faith from theirs, yet their identification with Christianity makes this terrorism a “Christian problem.” When we ignore this and stay out of this, there’s no such humility and faith like the Canaanite woman’s within us. Only the warning of Jesus echoes, “Every plant that my heavenly Father has not planted will be uprooted.” If we believe that God is already at work everywhere, our action is to join God in our neighborhood, in the world, and in Charlottesville where God’s reconciliation is most needed. Jesus makes us look outside the church and discover God who is already at work, inviting us to experience God’s presence and join God’s mission. One of the most beautiful prayers that the Book of Common Prayer has is the Prayer of Humble Access. If you’re familiar with the Rite I or the 1928 Prayer Book, you would know this prayer by heart. There’s this one phrase that seems to combine the words of both the Centurion and the Canaanite woman: “We are unworthy to gather up the crumbs under thy Table.” Our call as Christians is to utter this phrase with humility and gratitude in our lips, discover God in the crumbs, and join God in the neighborhood. Once we open up ourselves to join God in the world, the crumbs of the Bread, the crumbs of the Body of Christ outside the church in the most unpleasant and unwanted places will come to us. Our duty as Christians is to gather up the crumbs under the Altar of Christ placed in the world where suffering and torture happen. And we also find God’s reconciliation hidden in the crumbs. Today at the Eucharist we eat the flesh of Jesus and drink his blood to dwell in him and he in us. I pray that we not only gather up the crumbs of Christ’s Body here at the Eucharist, but we ourselves become the crumbs of Christ’s Body for the world so that people taste the love and compassion of Jesus in our lives. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. The Feast of the Transfiguration (Exodus 34:29-35; Psalm 99; 2 Peter 1:13-21; Luke 9:28-36)6/27/2018 It is a fact that no one has ever seen God visibly, especially the face of God. God in the Hebrew Scripture has been clear on this policy that God doesn’t show God’s face to anyone. There’s this story from the Book of Exodus. Moses who already shows up twice in our lessons asks God, “Show me your glory, I pray.” God responds, “I will make all my goodness pass before you, and will proclaim before you the name, ‘The Lord’; and I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will show mercy on whom I will show mercy. But you cannot see my face; for no one shall see me and live. See, there is a place by me where you shall stand on the rock, and while my glory passes by I will put you in a cleft of the rock, and I will cover you with my hand until I have passed by; then I will take away my hand, and you shall see my back; but my face shall not be seen.” (Exodus 33:18-23)
So if you meet some people who claim that they’ve seen God’s face, make sure to pinch them so that you know they are living people. Otherwise, you might have been granted a special gift to communicate with dead people! There’s a strange and mysterious thing about God revealing God’s very own self to the world and God hiding God’s face from the world. Whenever God shows up, things become bright. The burning bush blazing is one thing. And in today’s lesson from the Old Testament, Moses’s face shines because of God’s uncreated light. His face radiates from the light of God’s glory. On the other hand, God also hides his face. Whenever Moses encounters God, he enters into the dark cloud where God is. It is as if God is hiding his face behind the dark cloud. And Moses is afraid to see God’s face. It’s like we humans can never handle the mystery, holiness, or otherness of God. We can never face the face of God with our own eyes. So God shows himself in the dark cloud where God hides. We celebrate today as the feast of the Transfiguration of Jesus. We celebrate the manifestation of Christ’s glory, not only revealed to Peter, James, and John but also to the entire world. What kind of glory would it be? Is it just about how Jesus’ face changed and his clothes became dazzling white like that of Moses? Is it simply about talking with Moses and Elijah in glory? Why does Christ’s transfiguration matter to us? It matters to us because God showed God’s very own face to us and the world. We celebrate and give thanks to God today because God showed God’s face to the world. In Jesus, God showed God’s very human face to the world. Jesus is the human face of God. Peter, James, and John, however, had no idea of what was going on. Quite comically, they were very drowsy. They somehow managed to resist the urge to sleep. They saw Moses and Elijah talking to Jesus about the foreseeing of Jesus’ death in Jerusalem. Still, Peter, James, and John had no clue. Especially, Peter didn’t know what he was saying. He said to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” I’m actually thinking he might have known what he was saying. If I may summarize Peter’s saying, he didn’t want to go back to where he was. He would prefer to stay in this glorious state, forgetting what Jesus had told him about death and resurrection. And he simply thought Jesus was one of the great teachers or prophets like Moses and Elijah. He didn’t see the face of God in Jesus until the resurrection. Peter, James, and John entered the cloud where God was. They were in terror. The Greek icon of the Transfiguration depicts their reactions quite realistically that they are either looking disordered or shocked or hiding their faces and rolling on the ground. Completely disrupted and terrified, they heard the voice of God, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” St. Luke dramatically narrates that after the voice of God was spoken, it was Jesus alone who was in the midst of the cloud. In the dark cloud centered the human face of God, Jesus radiating the uncreated light to the world. This transfigured Jesus is also the crucified one. This glorious face of Jesus is the face of the one who prayed so earnestly to the point where his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground. On the Mountain of Olives, he prayed, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me; yet, not my will but yours be done.” This glorious face of God in Jesus is the face beaten and wounded. God’s face never turns away from us even when we mess up. God’s face never avoids facing the suffering of the world. God’s face never hides from injustice, evil, and oppression. God’s face with his long loving look watches our coming in and going out, desiring the world to ever desire God. At the Eucharist, we are invited to enter the cloud where God is. God is hidden, yet present in the consecrated bread and wine, in the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ. In this dark cloud of the Eucharist, we look at the human face of God. God shows God’s Eucharistic face, broken and shared for the life of the world, to us and to the world as we partake Christ’s Body and Blood. And this business of looking at Jesus the human face of God is a serious matter. It prompts us to see what that face sees. As we become embodied in the face of Jesus Christ through our partaking of his Body and Blood, our face will change. Yes, like Moses, our face might be shining and radiating from the light of Jesus Christ. And also like the sweated face of Jesus, we will sweat blood in our prayer for those who are suffering and for the world that is in agony, always asking for God’s will be done in the life of the church. Our face will never turn away from errors, mistakes, pains, and injustice, but will always look forward to seeing reconciliation, peace, healing, and justice in the hope of the resurrection. Whatever skin color we have, how old or young we are aged, what cultural or economic background we come from, we as Christians, baptized in the death and resurrection of Jesus, we carry this transfigured face of Jesus Christ, the human face of God in our uniquely created faces. May we always remember who we are and whose face we bear. May we also be able to see the face of Jesus in every human being. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. I thought we have had enough of seeds from last Sunday. I guess not. Once again, we are given the parable about the seeds. The sower shows up again and the seeds are sown again. And this time, there’s one more element, the weeds. So there’s a bit of difference between today’s parable and last Sunday’s.
I find the title of today’s parable quite intriguing. Jesus' disciples name it as “the parable of the weeds of the field.” It’s not the parable of the sower or the parable of the wheat. Usually, what’s in a title provides us a big picture of whatever one wants to talk about. For example, if we think about the movie “Back to the Future,” we can guess what that movie would be about. What about “The Great Gatsby” or “Indiana Jones?” We might not know the whole plot, but its protagonist is Indiana Jones and Jay Gatsby. In this sense, it seems that Jesus points us to look at the weeds as his leading character. Then what about the weeds are so important about this parable? Does Jesus want to tell the crowds and his disciples not to become the weeds? That the enemy, the devil sowed the weeds in the field among the wheat, and they are the children of the evil one? That they will be thrown into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth? Is it a warning about the divine judgment at the end of the age? Does it tell us about hellfire? These topics may be important to some, but there’s something about the weeds staying together in the field. However evil they are, the weeds are not to be plucked. Two concerns are at stake. First, at any attempt to get rid of the weeds, one might pull out the wheat as well. And second, the weeds and wheat look alike. It’s hard to distinguish between them. One can only do so when they are fully grown at the harvest. The sower tells his servant, “Let both of them grow together until the harvest.” The sower apparently is not really a good farmer. He is obviously risking the wheat being ruined by the weeds, not growing to the fullest. The wheat and weeds growing together, in other words, good and evil coexisting together is a very realistic picture of our community, society, and world. Our world is like the field that let both wheat and weeds grow together. Our society is just like that. Good and evil are there. What about the church? We might have some people in mind we want to fix up a little or even to pluck out! The church is a mixed body of wheat and weeds. Please do not examine yourself if you belong to the wheat group or the weeds group… because it’s not that simple to distinguish them. Good and evil look alike. Evil is smart enough to pretend to be good and even better than good. Good is not as smart or clever as evil. Good and evil are intertwined as the roots of the weeds are with those of the wheat. The sower’s command to let both grow together until the harvest is not just some kind of gardening strategy. It reveals to us our human reality in which good and evil are so closely interwoven. A Russian novelist, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, who was also a critical voice of the Soviet Union and communism said, “If only it were all so simple! If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?” (Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago 1918-1956) Jesus definitely knew this “line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being.” He wouldn’t destroy the whole heart, the whole field. He wouldn’t do anything, but let both grow together until the harvest. This might sound like he’s reluctantly allowing evil to prevail or being an indifferent bystander before injustice. Here’s, however, an interesting word play he does in the parable. When he says, “Let both of them grow together until the harvest,” he uses the Greek verb ἀφίημι. It means to let, allow, permit, release, or suffer. But there’s another meaning to this which is actually used in the Lord’s Prayer. This other definition of the term is to forgive. (Charles Griswold, Forgiveness: A Philosophical Exploration, p. 3; Robert Farrar Capon, Kingdom, Grace, Judgment, p. 91) If I use this meaning, then “Let them both grow together until the harvest” can be translated into “Forgive them to grow together until the harvest.” This echoes “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us” (Mt. 6:12) or Jesus’ prayer on the cross, “Father, forgive them, they do not know what they are doing.” (Luke 23:34) This interpretation may be a bit of stretch. Yet, forgiveness is the only way to save ourselves from the line dividing good and evil which cuts through our hearts. Forgiveness creates a space for both to coexist. In order to keep them both always requires some kind of forgiveness, forgiving of others and forgiving of self. Letting both grow together cannot happen without forgiving the evil in our church and in our hearts. Forgiveness allows both to be in the same place. Let’s think of ourselves. We see our good and evil sides in our hearts. They are so stuck together. Forgiving myself for the weeds sustains our heart to grow the wheat. This form of forgiveness might not be so much like saying “I’m sorry” or “I forgive you.” In this act of letting both grow together until the harvest, in this process of forgiving them to grow together until the harvest, one would wait and pause. One would be patient with others and oneself. One of the definitions of love I like is that love is patience with others. Be patient with others and yourself. That’s love of others and of yourself, which becomes an act of loving others as yourself. Think about how often you are unforgiving of yourself when you do something wrong or bad or evil. Recall how judgmental you were to yourself and to others. There’s a beautiful practice of reading Psalm together in the prayer book (BCP p. 583). I know that St. James’ reads Psalm altogether. Another way of reading Psalm would be to read the half verse, pause at the asterisk, and read the other half verse. Archbishop Rowan Williams once said, “...the asterisk at the end of each clause in our Psalter is essential to our identity: it means we are a people who pause to allow everyone to catch up so that we move forward to the next step as one.” (Paraphrase quoted from http://www.episcopalrochester.org/content/attending-asterisk-reimagining-theology-marriage) Pause to allow others to catch up. Pause to allow yourself to catch up. Before passing a harsh judgment of yourself and others, stop at the asterisk. This is how we become patient with others as well as ourselves. We do not know who belongs to the weeds or wheat. And I don’t think that is the point of this parable of the weeds. We as a church are a mixture of the weeds and wheat. You as a person are a mixture of the weeds and wheat. However, the good news in this messiness of good and evil in us is that at the harvest this will be all sorted out not by our own power, but by the power of the Holy Spirit. It’s not that one is going to hell and the other is going to heaven, but our whole being will be transformed. The weeds we have in us, in the church, and in the world will be purified in the furnace of fire. All our anger, hatred, and resentment, “weeping and gnashing of teeth” will be sanctified. The face of the crucified and risen Christ, the face of the transfigured Christ will be our face also. Which is the reason why we can pause at the asterisk when we mess up. Looking at the face of Christ, we never cease to become patient with others, ourselves, and God. Looking at Jesus crucified and risen, we see Christ embracing good and evil, showing us God’s goodness and his nailing down the evil in us and the world upon himself. Looking at Jesus transfigured, we see our true face, also transfigured like him, because of him, despite the weeds we have in us. As we take the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ, we are transformed into Christ’s Body and Blood. And this shall be our one and only hope in which we are saved, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 오늘 본문 묵상을 하면서 머리 속을 떠나지 않는 노래가 있었습니다. 결국 이 노래를 틀고 원고를 썼는데요, 혹시 무슨 노래였을지 짐작하실 수 있으신지요? 찬송가도 아니고 가요도 아닌 동요 “밀과 보리가 자라네"였습니다. 다들 잘 아실거라 생각하는데 가사가 이렇습니다: “밀과 보리가 자라네, 밀과 보리가 자라네. 밀과 보리가 자라는 것은 누구든지 알지요. 농부가 씨를 뿌려 흙으로 덮은 후에 발로 밟고 손뼉치고 사방을 둘러보네. 친구를 기다려, 친구를 기다려. 한사람만 나오세요 나와 같이 춤추세. 랄라랄라 랄라랄라 랄라랄라 랄라.” 밀과 보리 대신 예수님께서는 밀과 가라지의 비유를 이야기하고 계십니다. 복음서 비유에 영감을 받아 “밀과 보리가 자라네" 동요를 개사해보면 대충 이렇게 되겠네요: “밀과 가라지 자라네, 밀과 가라지 자라네. 밀과 가라지 자라는 것은 누구든지 알지요. 농부가 씨를 뿌려 흙으로 덮은 후에 원수가 몰래 가라지 뿌-리고 갔지요.” (아마도 응답송으로 이 동요를 불러도 괜찮지 않을까 싶기도 합니다만…) 밀과 가라지의 비유, 이 비유의 제목은 사실 “밭의 가라지 비유"라고 제자들은 부르고 있습니다. 일반적으로 책이나 영화의 제목은 중요합니다. 내용을 한마디로 요약하고 실질적으로 판매에 큰 영향을 끼치기 때문이죠. 무엇보다 제목을 통해 영화나 책 내용이 이야기하고자 하는 방향을 알 수 있습니다. 예를 들어, “춘향전”이란 제목은 춘향이가 주인공이라고 알 수 있고요. 영화 “Back to the Future”를 생각하면 미래로 돌아가는 내용이라고 가늠할 수 있습니다. 이런 의미에서 오늘 본문 비유의 제목이 “밭의 가라지"라는 점은 가라지가 하는 역할이 크다고 볼 수 있습니다. 가라지가 뭐길래 그리 중요할까요? 예수님께서는 혹시나 제자들이 가라지가 될까 불안하셨던 걸까요? 악마의 자식들인 가라지가 불 아궁이에 들어갈 걸 알아서 겁을 잔뜩 주시고 싶으셨던 걸까요? 아마도 예수천국 불신지옥의 성서적 근거는 이 비유에서 나오지 않았을까 싶기도 합니다. 가라지의 최후가 누군가에게는 상당히 중요할 수 있다고 봅니다만, 복음의 핵심은 될 수 없습니다. 두려움과 불안감을 조장해 판매 수익을 올리는 전략과 예수님의 모습은 상상하기 힘듭니다. 가라지가 비유에서 차지하는 중요한 역할은 바로 밀과 함께 자라는 데 있습니다. 아무리 악하더라도 가라지가 뽑히지 않고 밀과 공존합니다. 두 가지 이유가 있는데요, 첫째로 가라지를 제거하려다 밀까지 뽑을 수 있고, 둘째로 둘을 구분하기가 어렵습니다. 가라지인 줄 알고 뽑다가 밀을 뽑을 수 있단 말이죠. 밀을 보호하려고 한다지만 어쨌든 이 농부는 세상의 눈으로 볼 때 그다지 영리한 사람은 아닙니다. 밀이 가라지 뿌리에 엉켜 아예 수확을 하지 못할 수도 있습니다. 구더기 무서워서 장 못 담근다는 속담도 있지 않습니까? 밀과 가라지는 함께 자라는 모습은 선과 악이 공존하는 우리 현실을 보여주고 있습니다. 세상이 그렇습니다. 선과 악이 뒤엉켜 있습니다. 교회 역시 마찬가지입니다. 예수님을 따른다고 하지만 지난 2017년 동안 욕을 먹지 않은 적이 없습니다. 밀과 가라지가 교회 안에서도 함께 자랍니다. 종교 개혁은 밀과 가라지가, 선과 악이 교회 안에 공존해 있다는 걸 보여주는 좋은 예이기도 합니다. 우리 자신은 어떤가요? 우리 영혼은 밀과 가라지가 함께 자라는 밭과 같습니다. 어떤 순간에는 밀의 냄새와 열매를 보이다가 가라지의 맛을 내곤 합니다. 러시아의 문호, 알렉산더 솔제니친은 <수용군용소>에서 이런 말을 했습니다. “"악행이 교활하게 저질러지는 곳에 악인들만 있다면, 그리고 남은 우리들 속에서 그들만 솎아내 파멸시킬 일만 남는다면 얼마나 단순하겠는가? 그러나 선과 악을 가르는 선(line)은 모든 인간의 심장을 가르며 지난다. 그 누가 자기 심장을 파괴하고 싶겠는가?” 예수님께서도 분명 인간의 내면에 공존하는 선과 악을 꿰뚫어 보고 계셨습니다. 선과 악이 우리 심장 안에 있기에 죽지 않고서야 이 불편한 동거를 끝낼 수 없다는 걸 알고 계셨습니다. 그럼 여기서 한가지 문제점을 마주 하게 됩니다. 예수님께서 이 말씀을 하십니다. “추수 때까지 둘 다 함께 자라도록 내버려 두어라.” 가라지가 그냥 자라도록 놔두는 건 악이 자라도록 방치하라는 말인데, 이게 과연 하느님의 뜻인가라는 의문이 듭니다. 추수 때까지 둘 다 함께 자라도록 내버려 두어라… “내버려 두어라"라는 동사는 헬라어 ἀφίημι가 사용되고 있습니다. 이 ἀφίημι가 가진 뜻은 내버려 두다, 허락하다 등이 있습니다. 이 동사가 주기도문에서 사용되기도 하는데 어떤 부분인지 추측할 수 있으신지요? 바로 “우리가 우리에게 잘못한 이를 용서하듯이..” “우리에게 죄 지은 자를 사하여 준 것같이…” 구절입니다. ἀφίημι는 용서하다라는 뜻을 가지고 있습니다. 이 의미를 가지고 30절을 다시 번역해보자면, “추수 때까지 둘 다 함께 자라도록 용서하라"고 할 수 있습니다. 추수 때까지 둘 다 함께 자라도록 용서하라...는 이 말씀은 예수님께서 십자가에 매달려 하신 기도를 연상시킵니다. “아버지 저들을 사하여 주옵소서 자기들이 하는 것을 알지 못함이니이다. (새번역)” “아버지, 저 사람들을 용서하여 주십시오! 그들은 자기가 하는 일을 모르고 있습니다." (공동번역 루가 23:34) 이 구절의 해석이 좀 억지스러울 수도 있겠습니다만, 용서만이 선과 악이 있는 세상의 밭과 우리 영혼의 밭에 살 수 있게 합니다. 선과 악을 가르는 선이 우리의 심장을 가르기에 우리에게 선과 악을 솎아 낼, 구분할 능력은 없습니다. 선과 악이 엉킨 영혼의 밭에서 우리가 숨을 쉴 수 있는 건 용서가 있기 때문입니다. 인간이 존재하는 한 악이 없는 세상은 없습니다. 수백, 수천개의 감옥을 짓으면 선이 가득할까요? 솔제니친이 지적했듯이 선과 악을 선명히 가를 방법은 없습니다. 우리 자신의 내적 분열을 살펴 볼까요? 얼마나 자주 우리는 우리 영혼에서 마주하는 악함과 못남, 부족함으로 우리를 채찍질합니까? 겉으로는 선한 척, 깊은 척 행동하지만 우리 내면에서 상대방에 대한 비난과 나를 향한 비난이 있지 않나요? 선과 악, 밀과 가라지가 함께 자라는 영혼의 밭에서 우리가 살 수 있는 건 용서라는 공기를 쉬고 있기 때문이 아닌가요? 여기서 제가 말하는 용서는 단순히 상대방에게 잘못했다고 사과하는 용서가 아닙니다. 나 자신과 상대방의 악함과 부족함을 인내하는 용서입니다. 설사 마음 속으로 풀어지지 않았더라도 내 부족함을, 상대의 부족함을 견뎌내는 용서입니다. 한 구절을 둘로 나눠 시편을 읽는 방법이 있습니다. 아마 예전 하늘뜻교회 수련회에서 아침기도(조도), 저녁기도(만도)를 하면서 접한 적이 있으실 겁니다. 반구절을 읽고 별표에서 멈춰 나머지 반구절을 읽습니다. 바로 제가 오늘 말하는 용서란 별표에 멈춰 아직 추스리지 못한 나를, 다른 사람들을 기다리는 행위입니다. 주님 앞에 섰을 때 드러나는 내 영혼의 가라지와 다른 사람들의 가라지를 마주하고 다시 일어서 다음 구절을 갈 수 있을 때까지 기다립니다. 그냥 마냥 기다리는 건 아닙니다. 죽으시고 부활하신 그리스도의 변모하신 모습을 바라보며 나 역시, 다른 사람들 역시, 교회가 그리스도의 변모하신 모습을 지닐 것이란 희망의 신앙으로 기다립니다. 내 안에 존재하는 증오와 분노, 악함이 불구덩이에 들어가 사라져 그리스도의 옷을 덧입는 나를 바라봅니다. 내 영혼의 밭에서 자라는 가라지가 사라지고 밀로 가득찬 나를 봅니다. 변모한 그리스도에서 해와 같이 그리스도와 함께 빛나는 나를, 우리를, 교회를, 세상을 바라봅니다. 이 희망으로 우리는 별표에 멈춰 그리스도의 변모를 바라보며 앞으로 나아갑니다. “밀과 보리가 자라네"로 오늘 설교를 마치겠습니다. 이 동요의 후반 구절은 “친구를 기다려, 친구를 기다려. 한사람만 나오세요. 나와 같이 춤추세.”로 마칩니다. 우리는 우리의 친구이신 그리스도, 그 한사람만 기다립니다. 그리고 성찬의 신비에서 그 한사람을 만납니다. 오늘 죽으시고 부활하신 그리스도 안에서 우리 자신을 발견하는 여러분 모두가 되길 성부와 성자와 성령의 이름으로 아멘. There are some things in our life that give us excitement and hope. (I’m not talking about Friday evening.) These are not quite mature or fully grown yet. They have so much potential within themselves. For example, when we look at a baby or a child, especially their smiles, they are not just being cute. As their smiles open up our hearts, we see something hopeful arising and even sense a glimpse of sacredness in them. They are full of life.
Today’s gospel lesson, the parable of the sower deals with something full of life and hope. It is a seed. More specifically speaking, it’s about where seeds are sown and how they bear fruit or not. I looked up what a seed actually means. According to its dictionary definition, a seed is “the unit of reproduction of a flowering plant, capable of developing into another such plant.” From a biological standpoint, it is “an encapsulated plant embryo.” The parable of the sower in St. Matthew’s version is pretty clear about to whom Jesus refers the seeds. Those who have heard the message of Jesus become the seeds themselves. This message is the word of the kingdom, where one follows God’s will shown in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. They carry that “encapsulated gospel embryo” in their hearts. And we who have heard the gospel of Jesus are the seeds too. Sacramentally speaking, baptism is like sowing that encapsulated gospel embryo in us. In the parable, there are four conditions on which the seeds are sown. The first condition is that the seeds are sown along the path, which would be eaten by birds. The second one is that the seeds are sown on the rocky ground and would be scorched. The third case is that the seeds are sown in the thorns and would be choked. And finally, the last condition is that the seeds are sown in good soil, bearing fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty. These four conditions reflect the realities that we often face in our lives. Especially, I can easily resonate well with the first three conditions. The first condition seems to talk about my forgetfulness of the Christian identity. I often forget who I am, whose I am, and who I’m called to become. In dealing with matters like politics, injustice, or violence around us, I forget or hide my Christian identity out of fear and anxiety as if the evil one can take away my baptismal identity in which I am being sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever. I find myself standing on the rocky ground. When troubles in my life arise, I forget the joy of the gospel. My patience is drained. As doubts about God’s unconditional love pile up, the root of my faith withers. I don’t see Jesus suffering with me anymore, but I’m just scorched. What about feeling stuck in the thorns? Yes, I see all these cares of the world and lures of wealth. I’m fascinated with what better future the world and wealth can offer me than following the footsteps of Jesus. How easy it is to forget God in all the cares and occupations of life! I feel like I’m making a confession to you right now, but I believe you can also join my experiences of these conditions. We all go through these conditions, stages, or crises of faith in our life. Simply believing that I am somehow sown in good soil is a bit naive. It can actually be self-deceiving. The reality of our human nature and life is that at times we find ourselves on the rocky ground, in the thorns, and along the path. Perhaps tomorrow, we may feel like being grounded in good soil. Although there are four conditions described to us, there is this common denominator to all these different conditions. The seeds all die regardless of which ground they are sown. They all disappear to be the seeds after all. And depending on which ground they are sown, they can be gone forever or be born into something greater than themselves. Living as the seeds in good soil then is about how to die fruitfully, which is also about how to live fruitfully. Being grounded in good soil takes the seeds to death and resurrection. Dying to ourselves and living to Christ, turning again and again to Christ and embodying Christ deeper and deeper. Then we might wonder what helps us stay in good soil? Jesus says it is a matter of understanding the word of the kingdom. It is not so much about getting some theological knowledge, but cultivating that encapsulated gospel embryo in us over and over again in good soil by being open to all the fullness that God desires to pour into our hearts. That is to contemplate Christ and his will, be in a spiritually intimate relationship and communion with him, be in love with him. The parable talks about producing some hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty. This is not about increasing church membership and attendance. But more like, quoting the 104th Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams’ words, it’s about developing “the face of a humanity in endless growth towards love, a humanity so delighted and engaged by the glory of what we look towards that we are prepared to embark on a journey without end to find our way more deeply into it, into the heart of the Trinitarian life.” (Rowan Williams, The Archbishop of Canterbury's Address to the Thirteenth Ordinary General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops on The New Evangelization for the Transmission of the Christian Faith) This is often expressed and exercised in one’s prayer life. Just as this inner cultivation involves communion between self and God, getting us into the good soil is never an individual act just as good soil is never a single unit. The soil is mixed with sand, silt, and clay particles. It’s never one particle. And how they hang together, how they are connected with each other matters. I’m using an analogy of good soil in a botanical sense, but it applies to our faith life as well. What moves us sown and grown in good soil is when we find ourselves together with one another in communion. In the parable, the seeds play a passive role. They are simply sown by the sower. What’s different about our reality from the parable is that we as the seeds can change the grounds we are initially sown into when each one of us come together as Church, as communion. Our gathering together at the Eucharist to receive the Divine Seed is in and of itself the work of the Holy Spirit plowing fields of doubt, hatred, and apathy into the good soil of trust, humility, and compassion. Whenever we come together as Church, the Holy Spirit sends away the birds, stirs up the rocky ground, and plucks the thorns. We who are distinct and unique bring some dirt with us. These specks of dirt, which are our brokenness and vulnerability, help us hang together as Church. And the Holy Spirit transforms whatever ground we individually are sown into the good soil, the “godly soil.” This is the same Spirit of Christ which dwells in us according to St. Paul. Jean Vanier, a philosopher founded the community called “L’Arche” to live with people with intellectual disabilities. He says something profound about community, “One of the marvelous things about community is that it enables us to welcome and help people in a way we couldn't as individuals. When we pool our strength and share the work and responsibility, we can welcome many people, even those in deep distress, and perhaps help them find self-confidence and inner healing.” (Jean Vanier, Community and Growth, p. 271) As there’s no single Christian, but always Christian”S,” our sticking together as Church is the only way to be grounded in good soil. Deepening our communion with God and one another then bears the fruit of hope, healing, and resurrection on the ground of despair, hurt, and death. At the Eucharist where we kneel together before the Body of Christ, may we once again remember the Divine Seed is forever sown in our hearts. May God weave us together so that we can transform whichever ground we are sown into the good soil, the godly soil! So that we may bear the fruit of hope, healing, and resurrection, the face of a humanity in endless growth towards love that God reveals to the world in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. One of the most comforting words of Jesus would be the one from today’s gospel reading. That is, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” This saying is particularly fitting in the hospital context. As a hospital chaplain, I sometimes pray this saying of Jesus with patients. One of the reasons why this saying resonates well with patients is they recognize that they are weary and are carrying heavy burdens. They feel and experience the weariness of physical, emotional, and spiritual pains that their illnesses bring. They carry heavy burdens, not only of their illnesses, but of the thought that they are becoming burdens to their family.
This saying of Jesus is only comforting to those who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens. It is quite meaningless to those who have no problems in their lives. Why need another rest when you’re already resting? So here’s my question to all of us this morning: Do you feel comforted by this saying of Jesus? Do you find peace in his saying that he will give you rest? If "Yes" is your answer, that means you somehow feel weary and carry heavy burdens. One strange thing about the Christian faith is that one has to realize one’s own need of help from God. I have to admit that I cannot save myself as well as others. Not only do I need God’s help, but also that of others and the entire world. There must be something greater than myself to rescue me from whatever misery or despair or unhappiness I’m dealing with. It’s like you can’t be a sinner if you don’t know what you’re sinning against. And you can’t be saved if you’re not a sinner. So this whole strange, even paradoxical nature of the Christian faith is that we must start with our brokenness and imperfection. Traditionally speaking, this is the doctrine of the Original Sin. We messed up big time. And what we messed up is socially transmitted and spread throughout centuries, from generation to generation. I personally consider the 12 steps of AA as the greatest spiritual invention of America. I’m not sure if you’re familiar with it, but it is worth reading. The first step is this: “We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable.” If we translate this to St. Paul’s version, “I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. Wretched man that I am!” Admitting my brokenness, recognizing that I’m perfectly imperfect is a prerequisite to the Christian faith. And this is a very tough step to take. Socioculturally, we are educated to cover up our imperfect nature. We are to pretend that everything around me is fine. Our American culture condemns and despises brokenness as weakness. It shames our brokenness. Wearing different masks that say “we’re okay” is never a Christian virtue. Becoming authentic, becoming who we really are, whose we are, and who we want to become through Baptism is far from operating under a pretense. As a hospital chaplain, there’s this one response I hear from patients I visit. “I am fine.” I usually ask them, “How are you feeling this morning?” I would say 50% of them tell me “I am fine.” I’m not being skeptical or doubtful, but sometimes I wonder if they are really fine. I would like to keep my job so I would never ask them, “Well, you’re in the hospital. You’re pretty sick. Are you really fine?” So I have to use a different question. “How are your spirits?” Then 70% of them give me some real answer. Of course, there’s always 30% who continuously tell me their deep desire to be fine! And I keep my Anglican coolness that teaches me “All may, none must, some should!” The point is whether we as Christians admit and recognize our brokenness before God. In today’s gospel reading, Jesus rebukes these religious leaders. John the Baptizer who seems to be religiously perfect is considered as being haunted by a demon. Jesus who welcomes the broken is considered a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners. These religious leaders are self-righteous. They don’t see anything wrong with them. Their will to have power blind their eyes and hide them from the mystery of God in Jesus. I would say one good thing that these religious authorities have done for us is that they actually give a great nickname for Jesus. He is a friend of sinners. And this friend of sinners is the God who became flesh! He is the Divine Wisdom enfleshed. The mystery of the gospel is that this friend of sinners is hidden from the wise and the intelligent, those who think they are perfect and who believe they possess all that the world requires. This friend of sinners is only revealed to not just a little less wise and intelligent people, but infants! Just as he himself came to the world as an infant through the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary, God shows us how to humble ourselves. God Himself reveals to us God’s own broken heart in the death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth. Michael Ramsey, the 100th Archbishop of Canterbury’s words of wisdom are still valid today. (Please excuse his gender-exclusive language.) He says, “Here is man satisfied with himself and with his immense powers and using his powers to aggrandize himself in ways which make the world divided and miserable. And here on the other side is the answer of the gospel, that if man has lost the power to humble himself before his Creator, the Creator will humble himself towards his creatures. So the divine humility breaks upon the scene of human pride…” And quoting St. Augustine, “So low had human pride sunk us that only divine humility could raise us up. (Sermons, 118)” (Michael Ramsey, The Christian Priest Today, p. 77) After all, the mystery of God’s salvation is only revealed to infants and those who can see God who came as an infant. One of my teachers once said, “Hurt is home to healing.” It took me so much hurt and pain to understand what it means. Wherever there’s a deep wound, that’s where healing is born. Paraphrasing this wisdom, I can say “Death is home to resurrection.” Looking at our own brokenness is facing ourselves dead to all the illusions and fantasies that tempt us to be perfect and powerful. Only those who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens can receive rest from God in Christ. Going back to the comforting words of Jesus, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” This is not the end of his teaching. Once we know we are weary and are carrying heavy burdens and are given Christ’s rest, we take his yoke upon ourselves. This yoke metaphor indicates observing his commandments, which is prayed in our collect for today: Loving God and our neighbor. As we take the yoke of Christ, the enfleshed Divine Wisdom is vindicated by her deeds. As the Body of Christ, whatever we do is the deeds of the Divine Wisdom Jesus. And the Church has called this deeds of the Church something fancy, which is “Sacraments.” Completely broken and perfectly imperfect we are, take up the yoke of Jesus Christ, loving God and our neighbor in this dangerous world. We dare to do this because we know so well that his yoke is easy, and our burden is light. At the Eucharist, especially at fraction, the part where the celebrant breaks the bread, we see Christ revealing the brokenness of God to the world, giving his broken body for the life of the world. We as Church are embodied in this sacred broken body of Christ, tasting the wholeness of God, the resurrection which makes us whole. May our brokenness be transformed by the broken body of Jesus Christ to the wholeness of God that brings healing to the world. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. There is this notorious question that we might have had been asked when we were children, or we might have asked other children. That is, “Which parent do you love more?”
Though it may sound quite silly, scholars in the field of psychology have published a number of articles on this topic of children’s preference towards their parents. Their research focuses are what causes one to prefer one parent over the other and what might be some possible harms for that behavior. Of course, none of these studies tell us which parent one should love more! Instead, they suggest that this emotional splitting of preferring one parent over the other may become an obstacle to one’s fuller self-understanding. After all, both parents, not just one over the other, take part of children’s whole personhood. Reflecting on today’s gospel reading, Jesus asks his twelve disciples the “Which parent do you love more?” type of question. He says, “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me…” If I may summarize this saying of Jesus, it’s “Who do you love more...me or your family?” So, I dare to ask you this morning this same question, “Who do you love more...Jesus or your family?” Before you say anything, I admit that this question is not a good one. It is indeed a bad question. If we pick one or the other, we end up feeling terrible. Suppose I say I love Jesus more than my parents, my wife, and my son. I may sound like a faithful Christian, but I become an irresponsible son, husband, and father. It’s almost like saying to my son, “I love you, Theodore, but not as much as I love Jesus. You’re my second favorite.” What if I say I love my family more than Jesus? This response may be socially more acceptable, but something doesn’t sound right. As Jesus’ follower and disciple, as the person who was baptized with Jesus, died with him and risen with him, loving my family more than Jesus our Lord and Savior seems quite hypocritical. After all, whichever side I choose, I lose. This is not a win-win situation. We might want to ask ourselves, “Does Jesus want us to hate our family?” This kind of God who teaches hatred towards our family can’t be the God of love. I have seen some cases of cult movements that destroy family lives. Parents are told to abandon their children or children getting away from their parents in order to join such groups. Of course, there’s always a financial gain that follows. This critical thinking of the question, “Who do you love more?” then leads us to reconsider what it means for us to love Jesus or our family or someone in the Christian sense. Loving Jesus is never about hating our family. And family is a kind of domestic church. So, what does loving God or Jesus look like? Does it involve some emotional or physical experiences? Maybe so. Some mystics experienced physical and emotional sensations. They had a deep longing for the presence of God in Christ. They shed tears. Some of them went through the stigmata, having the marks of Jesus’ wounds on their body. Though all these experiences can happen as an expression of loving God, this is rather unique and esoteric. From the first reading from Genesis, we can actually learn what it is to love God. Last Sunday we heard the story of Abraham and Sarah meeting God whose appearance was revealed in the three men. These three men said to Abraham that Sarah would have a son. Sarah laughed about it, which became the reason why her son was named “Isaac” (which literally means laughing or mocking). Isaac wasn’t the first son of Abraham. Sarah had told Abraham that he should have a child from her slave girl Hagar. In today’s first lesson, we now see Hagar and her son Ishmael being kicked out of the house by Sarah. We might have some feelings about this brutal decision of Sarah to cast them out and Abraham’s unwillingness to protect Hagar and Ishmael, and perhaps how God was letting all things happen. Hagar and Ishmael are left in the wilderness. Often, there are some images of this story in which Hagar is carrying her infant son Ishmael in her arms and wandering around. Actually, that picture may be not so correct since we can estimate that Ishmael would be about 17 years old. We can imagine Hagar and her teenage son. Water and food supplies are finally gone. No food and water remain available, which means this mom and son would eventually die. Hagar does something interesting in the midst of facing their own deaths. She casts Ishmael under the bush, distances herself from him, and sits down. She starts praying to God, or rather weeping for help! She cries out to God, “Do not let me look on the death of the child!” I can easily imagine her suffering since I have seen parents of pediatric patients in the hospital. God does answer Hagar, yet in a very strange way. We are told that God heard the voice of Ishmael, not the voice of Hagar. The angel of God, not God himself, calls her from heaven and tells her, “What troubles you, Hagar? Do not be afraid; for God heard the voice of the boy where he is…” Nowhere in the text do we hear the voice of Ishmael, but only Hagar and the angel’s. Let’s not forget that Ishmael isn’t an infant. He is a teenager who can of course speak for himself. What we know from the story is that not just Hagar, but also Ishmael also prays to God. He prays for their life. And God hears his voice. God hears the voice of the one whose voice is not heard by us. God has never forgotten Hagar’s son, Ishmael even though Hagar might have thought God has forgotten about him and herself. On this note, Jesus isn’t really asking us to love him more and love your family less. Jesus is telling us that Jesus loves our family more than we can do. Jesus in a way teaches us how to love our family deeper and wider. Trust your loved ones to Jesus. Jesus hears their voices, not just when you pray for them. We leave them to Jesus who never abandons them, who is always ever present in their joy or sorrow. If we know that Jesus loves our family more than we do, then the question of “who do you love more?” doesn’t mean much. It’s never about loving Jesus more than the other. It’s really about loving Jesus whose love goes beyond the boundaries of space and time. Loving God in Christ is trusting in Christ that not only he cares about me, but also my family, friends, and those who I don’t know and will not know as well as those who do not know him. St. John said God loved us first, not us. God initiated that love in a concrete and mysterious way of the incarnation. This love is for all. Look at the love of God in our loved ones. Love that love. That love is nothing like ours that is conditional and limited. This love is unconditional and catholic to the point where even death cannot separate us from it! With this way of loving God in Christ, with this trust in Christ whose love towards all never perishes, we can take up the cross and follow him. We can get out of our own box called, “no one matters, but my family only” and reach out to those in need and suffering. Those to whom we reach out then become our new family who has already been in the love of Christ. Jesus tells us not to fear. We have nothing to lose, perhaps our body, but not our soul. God even cares about sparrows and counts the hairs of our head. Love God in Christ. Trust yourself to Christ. Trust your loved ones to Christ. Christ never abandons you and your loved ones even if we time to time do abandon him. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 어디선가 한번쯤 소위 “거듭났다"거나 “다시 태어났다" born again했다는 사람들의 간증을 들어본 적이 있으실거라 생각합니다. 각 간증의 내용은 거듭난 사람이 살아온 길에 따라 다릅니다. 그런데 이렇게 각자 다른 삶의 굴곡 가운데에도 공통분모가 있습니다. 모두 극심한 어려움 가운데 하느님을 경험했다는 점입니다. 부도가 났다든지 병을 얻었다든지 등등 시간이 지나가면 괜찮아질 정도의 고생이 아니라 인생의 바닥을 치게 하는 혹독한 고통을 겪는 와중에 하느님을 만납니다.
여기서 곰곰히 생각해 봐야 할 질문이 있습니다. 과연 하느님께서는 우리 고통 가운데에만 나타나시는 걸까요? 물론 그렇지 않습니다. 하느님께서는 고통 가운데에만 나타나시는 게 아니라 언제 어디서나 시공간을 초월해 우리와 함께 계십니다. 고통은 빛이 보이지 않는 어두운 밤 아래 있는 나를 발견하는 경험과 비슷합니다. 밝은 대낮, 특히 정오엔 그림자가 생기지 않습니다. 빛으로 가득 차 있기에 빛이 보이지 않습니다. 오히려 칠흑같이 어둔 밤 아래 빛이 더 환하게 보이기 마련입니다. 우리가 경험하는 하느님도 이와 비슷합니다. 우리 삶에 아무 일이 없을 때 하느님이 잘 안보입니다. 어려운 일을 겪을 때 하느님의 함께 계심을 찾게 됩니다. 어두운 내 앞 길, 넘어지지 않으려고 한줄기 빛을 찾으려 온갖 신경을 쏟아 주위를 살피듯이 하느님의 흔적을 찾습니다. 하느님의 품을 느끼려 쉬지 않고 기도하며 영적 촉수를 뻗칩니다. 어려움에 대처하는 우리의 노력이나 신앙의 자세 물론 중요합니다. 하지만 이것보다 더 중요한 게 있습니다. 바로 하느님께서 쉬지않고 매순간 우리를 찾으신다는 사실입니다. 우리가 하느님을 찾는 것보다 우리를 매순간 찾으시는 하느님에게 사로잡혀야 합니다. 오늘 우리가 읽은 제1독서, 제2독서, 마태오가 전한 복음에서 우리를 찾으시는 하느님을 발견할 수 있습니다. 제1독서의 말씀을 먼저 보겠습니다. 창세기 저자는 아브라함이 마므레의 상수리나무 곁에서 하느님 야훼께서 나타나셨다고 우리에게 전합니다. 그런데 정작 아브라함이 만난 건 자기를 향해 서 있는 세 명의 사람들이었습니다. 아브라함은 이 세 사람을 극진히 대접합니다. 물을 길어 발을 씻게 합니다. 아내인 사라에게 고운 밀가루 세 말을 내다가 반죽하여 떡을 만들라고 합니다. 살이 연하고 맛있어 보이는 송아지 한 마리를 잡습니다. 이 세 사람이 식사를 하는 동안 그들의 시중을 듭니다. 환대 혹은 접대(?)의 정수를 보여주는 아브라함에게 관심을 보일만도 한데, 이 세 사람은 그의 아내 사라가 어디 있는지 묻습니다. 그리고 내년 봄 사라가 아들을 낳을 것이라는 예언을 합니다. 이 세 사람을 통해 하느님께서는 아브라함을 찾는 게 아니라 그의 아내 사라를 찾아옵니다. 사라는 이미 출산에 대한 희망을 포기한지 오래입니다. 아이를 가질 수 없는 아픔은 사라에게 큰 수치이자 고통이었습니다. 창세기 16장을 보면 사라가 아브라함에게 이렇게 이야기합니다. “야훼께서 나에게 자식을 주지 않으시니 내 몸종을 받아 주십시오. 그 몸에서라도 아들을 얻어 대를 이었으면 합니다.” 사라의 몸종 하갈은 임신을 하자 사라를 업신여겼다고 합니다. 분함에 속이 터지겠죠. 사라는 하갈을 박대해 결국 임산부 하갈은 도망을 칩니다. 어떻게 보면 사라보다 하갈이 더 불쌍한 처지에 있습니다. 하갈 본인이 원해서 임신을 한 것도 아니고 모두 사라의 아이디어였는데 말입니다. 사라, 참으로 공사다망한 삶을 산 인물입니다. 임신한 여종을 박대하며 자신의 숨겨진 악한 본성을 경험했습니다. 그렇게 해도 아이를 가지지 못하는 아픔은 사라지지 않고 이제 태기가 끊긴 채 나이만 들었습니다. 세 사람이 내년 봄에 아이를 가질 것이라는 말에도 도인처럼 기대도 하지 않고 웃어 넘깁니다. “내가 이렇게 늙었고 내 남편도 다 늙었는데 이제 무슨 낙을 다시 보랴!” 고통을 넘어 고통을 받아들인 사라에게 하느님께서 찾아오십니다. 복음서를 볼까요? 예수님께서는 모든 도시와 마을을 두루 다니셨다고 합니다. 사람들이 자기에게 오라고 마냥 앉아서 기다린 게 아닙니다. 예수님께서는 회당에서는 가르치시고 복음을 선포하셨습니다. 그리고 병자와 허약한 사람들을 모두 고쳐 주셨습니다. 예수님께서 찾아간 사람들은 “하느님나라가 이미 도래했다"는 걸 모르는 사람들과 아픈 사람들이었습니다. 성 마태오는 이들을 “목자없는 양과 같이 시달리며 허덕이는 군중"이라고 보며, 예수님께서는 이들을 보시고 불쌍한 마음이 드셨다고 합니다. 바로 측은지심을 가지셨다는 겁니다. 바로 이들, 목자없이 시달리며 허덕이는 잃어버린 이들에게 열두제자를 보냅니다. 창세기에서 세 사람을 통해 사라를 찾으신 야훼 하느님처럼 예수님께서도 열두제자를 통해 잃어버린 이를 찾으십니다. 우리가 우리 자신을 잃어버렸다고 느낄 때, 우리가 칠흑같이 어두운 밤 아래 있을 때 우리를 찾으시는 하느님을 향해 눈을 감지 말아야 합니다. 성 바울로는 제2독서 로마서에서 이렇게 고백합니다. “우리는 고통을 당하면서도 기뻐합니다. 고통은 인내를 낳고 인내는 시련을 이겨내는 끈기를 낳고 그러한 끈기는 희망을 낳는다는 것을 우리는 알고 있습니다. 이 희망은 우리를 실망시키지 않습니다. 우리가 받은 성령께서 우리의 마음속에 하느님의 사랑을 부어주셨기 때문입니다. 우리 죄 많은 사람들이 절망에 빠져 있을 때에 그리스도께서는 당신의 때가 이르러 우리를 구원하시려고 죽으셨습니다.” 고통을 당하면서도 기뻐할 수 있음은 나를 찾으시는 예수님을 봤기 때문입니다. 그래서 견디고 버티면서 희망이 솟아 오릅니다. 엄밀히 말해 모든 그리스도인은 예수님께 발견된 사람들입니다. 예수님께서 찾으신, 건져낸, 사로잡은 사람들이란 말입니다. 그리스도인은 하느님으로부터 잊혀지지 않은 사람입니다. 오늘 주보 앞면에 있는 그림을 보실까요? 안드레이 루블료프(Andrei Rublev)의 “삼위일체"라는 이콘입니다. 바로 제1독서 본문을 바탕으로 한 이콘입니다. 사라를 찾아온 세 사람이 삼위일체를 암시했다고 해서 이 이콘의 제목이 삼위일체로 붙여졌다고 합니다. 자세히 보시면 상수리나무가 뒤로 보이죠? 성작도 보입니다. 작아서 안보이시겠지만 이 세 사람의 시선 또한 앞을 바라보지 않고 있습니다. 가운데 앉아 있는 사람은 왼쪽에 있는 사람을 바라봅니다. 왼쪽에 있는 사람은 오른쪽에 있는 사람을 응시하고 다시 오른쪽에 있는 사람의 시선은 가운데 있는 사람을 향합니다. 어느 한 지점에서 시선이 멈춘게 아니라 둥글게 돕니다. 끊임없이 움직입니다. 이콘은 보통 왼쪽에서 오른쪽으로 읽는데 이 루블료프의 이콘에서 성부와 성령을 사람으로 그리는 것은 불가능하다는 걸 전제하고 왼쪽 사람은 성부, 가운데는 성자, 오른쪽은 성령을 상징한다고 봅니다. 이 세 사람의 끊임없이 움직이는 시선은 마치 강강술래를 연상시키기도 합니다. 세 사람이 앉은 테이블에 가운데 사람의 마주편, 성작 앞의 자리가 비어있는데 바로 우리의 자리입니다. 여기서 사라가, 우리가, 특히 고통 가운데 있는 우리가 예수님께 발견됐다는 것, 예수님께서 우리를 찾으셨다는 것은 우리가 이 세 사람이 앉아 있는 테이블 빈 자리에 초대되었다는 뜻입니다. 혹은 신명나는 강강술래에 참여하도록 초대받았다는 뜻입니다. 단순히 이콘에서만 일어나는 초대가 아닙니다. 매주일 감사성찬례에 참여함은 바로 이 세 사람이 앉은 식탁에 앉아 함께 빵을 나누는 일입니다. 영성체 후 기도문을 볼까요? “전능하신 하느님, 주께서는 그리스도의 성체와 보혈로 신령한 양식으로 우리에게 먹이심으로써 그리스도의 몸과 하나되게 하셨으니 감사하나이다.” 이 기도는 주님의 식탁에 초대되었음을 전제하고 있습니다. 이렇게 주님께 발견된 우리들, 주님의 식탁에 초대되어 함께 앉은 우리들... 여기서 끝이 아닙니다. 예수님께서 제자들을 통해 목자없이 시달리며 허덕이는 잃어버린 이들을 찾으셨듯이, 우리 또한 보내십니다. 우리도 잃어버린 이들을 찾습니다. 그리스도의 사랑으로 잃어버린 사람들을 찾아 나섭니다. 성공회신자들은 전도활동에 취약한 데요, 괜찮습니다. 그리스도의 사랑으로 잃어버린 사람들을 찾아 나서는 일은 예수천당 불신지옥이라는 슬로건으로 겁을 주거나 최신시설과 여러가지 혜택으로 사람들을 교회로 유혹하라는 게 아닙니다. 잃어버린 사람들에 대한 측은지심으로 그들과 함께 아파하고 기도하며 살아가는 게 바로 그들을 찾는 길입니다. 예수님께 발견된 우리들, 우리를 찾으시는 주님을 바라보는 우리들, 이런 우리를 통해 잃어버린 사람들, 고통 가운데 있는 사람들이 매순간 그들을 찾으시는 예수님을 경험하길 성부와 성자와 성령의 이름으로 간구합니다. 아멘. 영어로 성령강림주일은 오순절 Pentecost, “부활절 이후 50일째 되는 날”이라는 의미를 가지고 있습니다. 오순절 외에 또다른 용어가 있는데요, 바로 Whitsunday입니다. Whit Sunday는 성공회에서 유일하게 쓰는 용어입니다. 무슨 뜻일까요? Wheat, 밀이 아니라 Whit인데요, 이건 white이 줄여져서 whit이 됐습니다. Whitsunday는 “하얀 주일”이라는 뜻입니다. 성령강림주일에 많은 사람들이 하얀 의복을 입고 세례를 받았기에 하얀 주일이라고 불려졌습니다.
용어에 대한 공부를 좀 더 해보겠습니다. 원래 오순절, 성령강림주일은 유대교 전통인 칠칠절에서 유래됐습니다. 오늘 사도행전 본문을 보면 오순절이 되어 신도들이 모두 한 곳에 모여 있습니다. 이 신도들은 유대교 전통인 칠칠절을 지키기 위해 모였다고 볼 수 있습니다. 칠칠절은 유월절 후 50일을 가리킵니다. 이 50일째 되는 날 하느님께서 시나이산에서 모세를 통해 이스라엘 민족에게 토라, 즉 모세5경, 율법의 가르침을 받았습니다. 하느님의 법이 이스라엘 민족에게 전해진 날입니다. 이 칠칠절, 오순절을 기리기 위해 신도들이 모였습니다. 특별히 성령을 기다리기 위해 모인 게 아니라 자신들의 유대교 전통을 지키기 위해 모인 셈이죠. 그런데 이 날, 예수 그리스도가 부활하고 승천한 이후 맞이한 칠칠절은 달랐습니다. 이 날 하느님의 법이 내려오는 게 아니라 바로 하느님의 영, 성령께서 이 신도들에게 임합니다. 바로 이 사건이 성령강림주일입니다. 기적같은 일이 일어납니다. 성서는 이렇게 말합니다: “갑자기 하늘에서 세찬 바람이 부는 듯한 소리가 들려오더니 그들이 앉아 있던 온 집안을 가득 채웠다. 그러자 혀 같은 것들이 나타나 불길처럼 갈라지며 각 사람 위에 내렸다. 그들의 마음은 성령으로 가득 차서 성령이 시키시는 대로 여러 가지 외국어로 말을 하기 시작하였다.” (사도 2:2-4) 초자연적인 현상과 함께 여기 모인 신자들이 외국어로 말을 하기 시작합니다. 알아들을 수 없는 방언이 아니라 외국어랍니다. (저는 미국에 처음 왔을 때 이 성서 본문을 읽고 성령의 힘으로 영어를 빨리 배울 수 있게 기도했는데 아직도 열심히 배우고 있는 중입니다!) 이 여러 가지 외국어로 말이 트였다는 뜻은 이제껏 하느님의 가르침인 율법이 이스라엘 민족에게만 주어졌는데, 이 성령강림 사건을 통해 예수님께서 보여주신 하느님의 영, 성령의 가르침이 모든 민족에게 주어졌음을 시사하고 있습니다. 즉, 오순절에 예수 그리스도를 통해 하느님의 가르침이 어떤 특정한 사람들에게만 한정된 게 아니라 이 세상 모든 사람에게 주어졌다는 말입니다. 여기까지가 성령강림주일에 대한 짧게 요약한 뒷배경입니다. 이렇게 보편적으로 세상에 주어진 성령의 영, 이 성령을 여러분은 받으셨습니까? 복음서에서 부활한 예수님께서 당신의 숨을 내쉬시며 제자들에게 말씀하십니다. “성령을 받아라.” (요한 20:22) 이 성령을 여러분께서는 받으셨습니까? 이 성령을 받았냐 안받았냐는 주로 오순절 계통 전통의 교회 부흥회에서 많이 회자됩니다. 혹시 개신교 전통의 부흥회에 가보신 적 있으신가요? 제가 고등학교 때 다니던 교회에서 능력이 신통한 목사님을 초청해 부흥회를 열었습니다. 이 목사님이 안수기도를 주면 사람들이 뒤로 넘어가는 것이었습니다. 성령의 역사하심이라고 성령을 받으면 뒤로 넘어간다고 (나자빠진다고) 하길래 저도 안수기도 줄에 섰지요. 제 차례가 드디어 왔습니다. 목사님이 제 머리에 손을 얹고 기도를 하시는데 아무 일이 안일어나는 겁니다. 제가 머리를 밀고 버틴 것도 아닌데 말이죠. 목사님께서 은근히 미시길래 성령에 의지해 누군가 날 잡아주겠지 하며 뒤로 자발적으로 넘어갔습니다. 저는 이 날 성령을 받았을까요? 엄밀히 따지면 제가 스스로 넘어갔는데 말입니다. 다시 여러분에게 여쭤 볼게요. 성령을 받으셨습니까? 네! 여러분 모두 성령을 이미 받으셨습니다! 언제 받으셨나요? 여러분이 세례 성사를 받을 때 성령께서 임재하셨습니다. 세례 성사를 통해 성령의 임재하심이 우리에게 일어났습니다. 뒤로 넘어졌든 앞으로 넘어졌든 성령께서 여러분의 삶에 함께 계십니다. 그렇다면 이 성령은 세례받은 이들에게만 교회에만 존재하시는 걸까요? 아닙니다. 성령은 이 세상 어디에나 계십니다. 세상에 일어나는 선하고 정의로운 일은 성령의 역사하심입니다. 대신 우리가 세례를 받아 성령께서 우리에게 임하심은 우리의 온 존재가 성령의 움직임을 의식할 수는 능력을 얻게 됐다는 뜻입니다. 이 성령은 우리에게 예수님을 더 의지하고 사랑하게 만듭니다. 주로 성령에 관해 이야기할 때 추상화시키거나 기적화시키거나 미신화시키는 게 예삿일입니다. 물론 성령께서 하시는 일을 우리가 제한시킬 수 없습니다만, 성령께서 하시는 일을 기적에만 연결시키는 또한 성령을 제한시키는 행위입니다. 성령께서는 우리보다 우리에게 더 가까이 계십니다. 우리 일상에 항상 살아계십니다. 작은 예를 들어볼까요? 우리의 마음이 어려움에 처한 사람에게 향할 때, 그들을 위해 기도하고 실질적인 도움을 드릴 때, 모두 성령께서 하시는 일입니다. 오늘 감사성찬례를 드리려 우리를 여기에 모이게 한 분은 성령이십니다. 타인을 향해 미소 짓고 이해하려는 마음을 갖게 되는 것, 성령께서 우리의 마음을 움직이시는 겁니다. 새벽녘 문득 아무 이유없이 잠에서 깨어나 주님께 기도를 드리는 것, 성령의 움직임입니다. 이렇게 보면 ‘우리가 하는 모든 선한 일은 성령께서 하시는 건가’라고 볼 수 있는데 맞습니다. 성령께서 억지로 우리를 시키는 게 아니라 성령의 이끌림을 우리가 자진해서 선택하고 행하는 것, 우리의 이기적인 마음을 뒤로 하고 성령의 간구하심을 선택하고 따르는 것, 바로 그리스도인의 삶입니다. 그리고 성령께서 궁극적으로 이끄시는 길의 도착점은 단순히 선하게 사는 삶에 있지 않습니다. 도덕군자가 되라는 게 성령의 뜻이라기 보단 우리가 예수님처럼 살 수 있도록 끊임없이 힘을 북돋아 주시는 데 있습니다. 눈을 한번 감아보시겠습니까? 복음서에서 부활한 예수님께서 숨을 내쉬시며 제자들에게 성령을 받으라고 말씀하시는 모습을 상상해 보시길 바랍니다. 그리고 제자들이 모인 이 자리에 여러분이 함께 서있다고 상상해 봅시다. 예수님께서 깊게 숨을 내쉬십니다. 그리고 여러분에게 말씀하십니다. “성령을 받으라.” 세례 성사를 받은 우리는 모두 예수님의 숨을 받은 이들입니다. 지금 쉬는 내 호흡, 숨은 바로 예수님께서 내게 주신 숨입니다. 그리스도인이 내쉬는 숨은 그저 생명을 유지하기 위해 육체가 행하는 본능이 아닙니다. 그리스도인이 내쉬는 숨은 성령의 숨결입니다. 들숨과 날숨, 성령께서 내 안으로 들어오시고 나가시고, 내게 예수님의 숨으로 부활한 삶을 살게끔 하는 동력입니다. 우리는 그리스도의 몸으로서 이 부활한 예수님의 숨결에 따라 살아갑니다. 삶이 걍팍해져서 내 이웃을 향한 마음이 닫힐 때가 있습니다. 때론 가슴 아픈 일을 겪으면서 마음이 울적해지거나 아무 의욕이 없어지고 의기소침할 때가 있습니다. 억울한 일을 당해 화가 잔뜩 날 때도 있죠. 그럴 때마다 내 안에 살아계시는 성령을 기억합시다. 숨을 깊게 내쉬며 부활한 예수님께서 숨을 내쉬던 그 모습을 기억합시다. 단순히 심호흡을 해서 마음을 정돈하자는 게 아니라 예수님의 숨으로 우리가 살고 있다는 사실을 상기시키자는 말입니다. 이럴 때 우리의 심호흡은 심폐 운동이 아니라 기도입니다. 이렇게 성령의 움직임에 예민하고 분별하는 영성 훈련이 있을 때 우리와 예수님과의 관계는 깊어지고 우리에게 각자에게 주어진 성령의 은사, 성소를 깨닫게 됩니다. 우리 각자의 개성에 맞게 주어진 성소를 식별하고 살아낼 때 그리스도의 몸인 우리, 즉 교회는 건강해집니다. 오늘 성령강림주일을 맞은 우리의 마음이 오순절에 모였던 신도들의 마음처럼 성령으로 가득하길 기도합니다. 우리가 매순간 숨쉬는 호흡이 예수님께서 주신 호흡임을 기억하며 매일 성령의 속삭임에 귀기울이는 우리가 되길 성부와 성자와 성령에 이름으로 간구합니다. Are you here? Are you present right now? This is the question I always ask when I lead a spirituality group in the hospital where I work as a chaplain. I ask this question in the beginning of the group, not because they’re not physically there. They are there, but almost always their minds are somewhere else. So, I ask you the same question. Are you here? Are you present right now here at Grace? Is your heart wandering or still in the kitchen or your room whether you turned off all the lights before you came here? Are you still in your car listening to your favorite music or NPR weekend edition?
St. Augustine in his Confessions writes, “You were with me, and I was not with you.” Look who is around you. They are with you, and are you with them? Once you realize who you are with right now and recognize them, they are in a way strangers to you. How did I get to know this person? Or how did I end with this person? It’s a kind of mystery and strangeness in our lives how we strangers are connected to one another. Just like us, two of Jesus’ disciples encounter a stranger on their way to Emmaus. This stranger seems or pretends to have no knowledge of what happened in Jerusalem. It’s not hard to imagine their sadness of the death of their teacher easily turning into a kind of frustration or anger to this stranger who is so out of the loop. Cleopas summarizes what happened lately in Jerusalem. It was about Jesus of Nazareth. In his summarized version of Jesus’ life and death, Jesus was a “prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people.” He was handed over by the religious authorities and ended up being crucified. Cleopas wanted him to be the one who could liberate Israel from the Roman Empire and bring independence and freedom to Israel. What a huge failure! And he now hears all these stories about his dead body gone missing and some women saying they had a vision of angels at the empty tomb. And this is not the end of the story. The most unbelievable part is that he is alive! And the most disappointing part is that those who went to the tomb did not see Jesus. The whole narrative of today’s gospel reading is very strange. Jesus comes to these two disciples of his own as a stranger. They could not recognize their teacher. St. Luke describes their inability to recognize Jesus quite poetically, “...their eyes were kept from recognizing him.” They eyes were shut or somehow became temporarily blind. Jesus was with them, and they were not with him on this way to Emmaus. This story reminds us of the gospel reading last Sunday. When the disciples were meeting, Jesus stood among them. They didn’t seem to recognize Jesus right away. Their eyes were kept from recognizing him. They were able to see that it was their teacher only after he showed them his hands and side. They were able to recognize it was Jesus who was risen from the dead only after the wounds of Jesus were revealed to them. This woundedness, brokenness of Jesus breaks open their eyes to see the crucified and risen Christ. Something similar happens in today’s gospel lesson. Notice it does not happen while they were listening to Jesus’ interpretation about himself in all the scriptures. It happens at the table. Jesus took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and recognized him. St. Luke says Jesus was known to them “in the breaking of the bread.” It’s not just his four actions at the table, “taking the bread, blessing it, breaking it, and giving it” simply remind them of their teacher. In the breaking of the bread, Jesus was known to them. In other words, “in the breaking of his Body,” Jesus is known to them and to us. That brokenness, that woundedness of Jesus the Divine Stranger breaks open their eyes to see the crucified and risen Christ. Without looking at this brokenness and woundedness of Jesus, we cannot recognize the risen Lord. His brokenness breaks open our eyes to see him. The stranger becomes the risen Lord Jesus Christ. The stranger becomes the Divine Lover who loves not only us, but entire humanity. The mystery of the resurrection is that it never shies away from suffering. It goes right into the core of the brokenness and woundedness of the world. If there’s one thing that we can learn from these two disciples, it’s their hospitality to the stranger. They strongly urged Jesus, “Stay with us.” We know what enkindled this hospitality in their hearts. Their hearts were burning with them while he was opening the scriptures to them. That burning spirit within their hearts created the spirit of hospitality. They were able to say, “My dear stranger, stay with us.” And this spirit of hospitality eventually leads them to see the risen Lord. All of us here are called to meet the risen Christ. Have you met him yet? Have you been able to recognize the risen Christ? Sacramentally, at the Eucharist Jesus is present with us and is known to us in the breaking of the bread. As we eat his Body and drink his Blood, we become his Body and Blood. Today, I invite all of us to speak to Jesus the Divine Stranger to stay with us. “My dear stranger, stay with us!” We stay with the stranger at the Eucharist and see his broken body for the life of the world. And look around next to you strangers kneeling with you and becoming part of the same Body of Christ. And from there on, we go out to the world. We stay with strangers. We see their brokenness and woundedness. We recognize the risen Christ in them. Strangers show us the risen Christ. Our eyes are no longer kept from recognizing the risen Christ in strangers, but break open by their brokenness and woundedness, by their suffering. In turn, we hope and pray that they may see the risen Christ in us as we take the bread, bless it, break it, and give it to them. I would like to go back to St. Augustine’s confession: “You were with me, and I was not with you.” He doesn’t stop there. He recognizes Jesus the Divine Stranger in his woundedness and confesses, “You called and cried out loud and shattered my deafness. You were radiant and resplendent, you put to flight my blindness. You were fragrant, and I drew in my breath and now pant after you. I tasted you, and I feel but hunger and thirst for you. You touched me, and I am set on fire to attain the peace which is yours.” (Confessions, 10.27.38) May the brokenness of Jesus break our eyes open to recognize him and set our hearts on fire so that we stay with him and all other strangers in the world! May we see the risen Christ in the brokenness of those who are suffering in the world as we stay with them strangers. May they see the risen Christ in us Christians the Church in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Phobos is the god of fear and panic in Greek mythology. There’s a historical record that says Alexander the Great offered sacrifices to Phobos to win his battle. And there’s another legend that Heracles carried the shield that has the face of Phobos. Phobos then becomes the root word for phobia.
In today’s gospel reading, we see the disciples being captured by Phobos, the god of fear. The doors of the house where they were meeting were locked. Why? Because of their fear of Jews. They locked themselves out of fear. Phobos took control of their minds. They were probably afraid that the local authorities might accuse and arrest them for concealment of a human corpse, taking and hiding the body of Jesus their Master out of the tomb. They might have been in total terror and panic. At the same time, it is quite disappointing to see how they were behaving. Mary Magdalene had just told them, “I have seen the Lord!” What were they thinking? Is it too much for us to imagine that they were thinking she was being delirious or even psychotic? Perhaps they had to gather to discuss how to help this poor lady, Mary Magdalene who seemed to suffer greatly from loss and grief. Perhaps they were discussing to which psychiatrist they should refer her. Or they were talking about how not to avoid potential charges that could be guilty of because of the empty tomb. We can speculate all other possible motives for their meeting. But one thing we are sure is that they were scared. Fear controls their movement and behavior. Fear paralyzes their reasoning. Fear disables their resilience. Fear erases their memory. Fear vanishes what Jesus had promised them. Fear prevents the disciples from the hope of the resurrection. Fear locks and closes their hearts. Fear isolates ourselves from others. Fear also alienates others from ourselves. After all, fear weakens their faith in God. This nature of fear that the disciples were experiencing is what we also experience. Fear of losing our jobs, houses, health and loved ones… Fear of war, famine, poverty and global warming… Fear of violence and discrimination… It seems the world is filled with fear rather than love. The fruit of fear is hatred. We dislike what we fear. We hate what we fear. What we hate, we want to get rid of, we want to destroy. Fear always leads to hatred, and hatred always leads to violence. And violence leads to the destruction of self and others. In this midst of fear, however, comes and stands our risen Lord Jesus Christ. Not in a cozy, comfortable and peaceful place, but right in the center of the disciples’ fear he appears. Then he greets them, “Peace be with you.” In the midst of terror and fear, he is not just saying peace, but is making peace. He’s not a peace-sayer, but a peacemaker in the place filled with fear, hatred, and violence. The disciples don’t recognize Jesus right away. They only acknowledge him after he shows them his hands and his side. Only after looking at the wounds of Jesus, they know it is Jesus, the risen Lord. The wounds of Jesus unlock their heart full of fear, and fear disappears. Then I want us to think about what we are afraid of in our lives? What kind of fear locks us into? From what are we hiding? Naming our fear is the first step to finding ourselves behind the locked doors of the house with the terrified disciples. Then we will hear the voice of Jesus who greets us, “Peace be with you.” Yet, our fear will not disappear right away until we see the wounds of Jesus. The wounds are the mark of the resurrection. They are the sign of our courage and resilience to face our own fear. Jesus’ resurrection is never a magic that simply takes away our fear. Jesus’ resurrection, especially the wounds of Jesus which are healed, breathes the new spirit into our hearts to encounter our own fear as well as others with trust in God who raises the dead. Looking at his wounds, we see Jesus standing in the midst of what we most fear. Looking at the wounds of Jesus in facing our own fear, we know we might be wounded, yet ever healed! This Jesus, we fall in love with. No one else. That love we receive takes away fear we have. Why do or/and how can we love Jesus when we have not seen him in person? Because we have seen his brokenness, his wounds in our broken lives. Because his brokenness has brought the divine healing to our brokenness. Because in his wounded and broken body and innocent blood we are resurrected with him through our baptism. Because we eat his broken body and drink his saving blood in the Eucharist. And most importantly, because Jesus loved us first. I’d like to conclude my homily with St. Bernard of Clairvoux’ poem. I’m going to repeat twice. And it is my prayer that we love Jesus more and more as we experience his love every moment. To shame our sins He blushed in blood; He closed His eyes to show us God; Let all the world fall down and know That none but God such love can show Amen. What do we proclaim to the world as ordained? How do we live our lives as ordained? I’m not going to ask us to go to pages 518, 531, or 543 in the BCP. The answers to these two questions are the same. We as ordained are called to live what we proclaim. We are ordained to live Christlike, preach and teach Christ crucified and risen.
In his letters to the Corinthians, Saint Paul goes a little further to point us to see how the world will perceive Christians. He urges, “the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing…” and “...we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles.” So, according to Saint Paul, we preach and proclaim the foolishness. If we are what we proclaim, we are then called to be fools in the eyes of the world. Yet, we as “fools for Christ” know that Christ is the power of God and the wisdom of God. In today’s gospel reading, Jesus says his farewell to the world, the world that considers him foolish. The world would pray to God, “Father, save me from this hour.” But Jesus the Divine Fool prays, “Father, glorify your name.” The world would say, “Love your life, yours and your family’s only.” But Jesus the Divine Fool says, “Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this will keep it for eternal life.” The world would tell us to be “a single grain” without having to fall into the earth and die. Jesus the Divine Fool tells us to “bear much fruit” by falling into the earth and dying. I have been ordained a priest just a month shy from a year. In other words, I have been a fool for Christ just a month shy from a year. I ask myself, “Have I been a faithful fool for Christ?” I confess to you my fellow clergy, that there are many times I pray, “Father, save me from this hour” and there are countless times I desire to be “a single grain.” I have not been so successful at becoming a fool, but rather an idiot whose original meaning in Greek idiotes is a private person. Being a fool for Christ and in Christ is countercultural. In today’s service as being a part of this gathering of clergy, I’m once again encouraged and empowered to be a fool for Christ. Jesus in today’s gospel reading says, “Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also.” Where Jesus is, there will his servant be also. Not a single grain, but lots of grains who desire to fall into the earth and die to bear much fruit. Not a private person, not an idiot, but fools for Christ in communion. Perhaps this communion of fools is what Saint John Chrysostom means when he says, “A priest must be sober and clear-sighted and possess a thousand eyes looking in every direction, for he lives, not for himself alone, but for a great multitude.” (Six Books On the Priesthood, p. 82) I can be a fool with a thousand eyes as long as I am in communion with other fools for Christ! (The best way not to be an idiot!) In this Holy week, we as communion of fools are entering into the darkness as Jesus in today’s gospel reading departed from the crowd and hid from them. In a way, we are hiding ourselves from all the noises and gossips of the world and delve deep into the darkness of suffering that Jesus has taken upon himself. We don’t escape from the world, but hide ourselves deeper in the suffering of the world to suffer with those who are suffering, sometimes physically and always spiritually. We as fools for Christ dare to hide ourselves into this darkness, not because we simply like to be safe and secure, but because we believe this darkness can never overcome the light of God the Christ. I pray we as called to be fools for Christ dare to be fools to proclaim and live out that foolishness of Christ our wisdom and power. And also I pray that we see God reigning from the wood of the cross in Jesus Christ the Divine Fool in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. What is greater than God, more evil than the devil, the poor have it, the rich need it, and if you eat it, you'll die? It’s a riddle. Can anyone guess what it is? I got this one on google, please don't google my riddle! The answer is nothing!
Jesus’ conversation with Nicodemus sounds very much like a riddle. We can actually create a riddle based on their conversation. Here’s one: “Who can see the kingdom of God without being born from above?” The answer is no one. What about from Nicodemus’ question? Can we make another riddle? “Who can be born after having grown old and enter a second time the mother’s womb and be born?” I will answer this riddle at the end of my sermon. So, if you have sleep deficit from daylight savings, I gently urge you to wake at the end of this sermon so you know the answer to this riddle. In the heart of this riddle lies this matter of being born from above. What does it mean to be born? Without it, there’s no chance of seeing and entering the kingdom of God. Jesus doesn’t hide what he means by being born from above. He gives Nicodemus another hint that being born from above is the same as being born of water and Spirit. Then he brings up the image of the wind that blows where it chooses and us not knowing where it comes from or where it goes. This image of the wind is reminiscent of the creation story in Genesis 1, “a wind from God sweeping over the face of the water.” If we put all these pieces together, which are being born from above, of water and Spirit, the wind from God who chooses where it comes and goes, we have one picture that we are familiar with. That is the sacrament of baptism. It is the baptism Jesus received. The baptism of Jesus is not just one of the events that happened to him. It is the passion of Jesus. It is his resurrection. That sacramental event of Jesus’ baptism at the Jordan river foretells his death and resurrection. And this Lenten season we participate in his baptism. In our Ash Wednesday service, we are introduced to the purpose of Lent. The BCP says, “This season of Lent provided a time in which converts to the faith were prepared for Holy Baptism. It was also a time when those who, because of notorious sins, had been separated from the body of the faithful were reconciled by penitence and forgiveness, and restored to the fellowship of the Church.” In this sense, the gospel reading today is a text that shapes and patterns us to the spirit of Easter. Once baptized, God’s grace in a mysterious way changes us whether we feel it or not. The transformative work of the Holy Spirit never ceases to work in us. We become the new creation and new being. And this season of Lent helps us become much more aware and attentive to the transformative work of the Spirit. Which is one of the reasons why we give up on certain activities, behaviors, or food. This image of giving up during Lent is what St. Paul talks about in his letters to the Romans. Faith, not the law, is what matters. Faith in Christ places us in a right relationship with God, which we call “righteousness.” Faith is not something that we work so hard to get it. It is not a human creation. It is never mine. It is always given. It comes from above. It is born from above. Faith is a gift from God. My seminary professor once said, “If somebody says he lost his faith, well...he never had it from the beginning!” Faith in Jesus Christ creates in us our desire to be like him, to follow him, to love him. It awakens us that we are nothing but dust and to dust we return. Every Ash Wednesday for 5 years, I usually give ashes to more than 100 people in the hospital. (No worries, my fingerprint on my right thumb is still there!) The imposition of ashes is not a blessing. It is a sign that reminds us of our mortality and penitence. It brings the fundamental truth right in our foreheads that we never live forever. We are mortal. We all die. But people in the hospital love to be imposed with ashes! It’s not that there’s something magical about ashes. This ritual in a way brings the truth that awakens who we really are. We are human beings created by God. When we know who we really are, humility arises. With ashes, we are somehow forced to see what matters to us. There’s this experience and feeling of being humbled before God, before ourselves, and before others. We experience some kind of peace. We somehow experience what it’s like to let go and let God. When St. Paul talks about faith over work, he urges us to let go of our own ego and let God appear. Empty our hearts, and make room for God to happen. It’s not a one-time exercise, but what our baptism constantly leads us to. Faith in Christ as the baptized is about letting our baptism run its own course in our lives. Follow the passion of Jesus. Live it out. Faith is like swimming. If you try to use your own strength to float in water, you end up becoming too stiff. You will eventually sink. It is all about relaxing and letting go. So, faith is about allowing our baptism to float and flow through our daily lives. It is about giving up our desires to control everything. Instead, trust in Jesus, not trusting in my own work or effort to be holy. Recognize and accept my inability to genuinely love someone unlikable, and pray for the love of God to change me so that I can truly love God and others as myself. Through our baptism, we sink, float, and flow in the Jordan river with Jesus. We are getting into his life, death, and resurrection. We are being embodied into the Body and Blood of Christ. Through our baptism, we are in communion with Christ. At the Eucharist we receive and drink what we truly are in our baptism. During this season of Lent in 2017, during this highly divisive, anxiety, fear, and hatred-filled era we are living in, I urge you to let your baptism of water and the Spirit roll down like waters and righteousness of Jesus Christ like a mighty stream. Let our baptism in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Spirit lead us to witness the resurrection of love, the divine love incarnate Jesus raising in the midst of those who are oppressed and hurt. And let us hear the voice of Jesus, “God so loved you, them, us, and the world that he gave his only Son!” As I promised, I end my homily with the answer to the riddle, “Who can be born after having grown old and enter a second time the mother’s womb and be born?” After having grown old, it is us Christians who enter a second time the womb of God and are born again and from above in Jesus Christ through the Holy Spirit! It is us Christians through Baptism in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy.”
“Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect.” “Do not resist an evildoer.” “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” “Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you.” After hearing all these lessons for today the 7th Sunday after Epiphany, I start to wonder why Joyce asked me to cover for her. Be holy. Be perfect. Do not resist an evildoer. Love your neighbor as yourself. And this isn’t enough. Here comes the hardest commandment of Jesus: Love your enemies. Do these commandments sound realistic to you? Are these achievable or realizable? Oh, I’m so ready to say NO! How about you? But I’m actually wondering what if this is actually possible. If Jesus or St. Paul knew it’s never possible, why would they bother to say it and hand over this teaching generation after generation? So, this time, I want us to set aside all our desires to say no to all these commandments. Instead, I want us to be hopeful that we can indeed live them out. Of course, not on our own, but with the help of the Holy Spirit who guides and moves our hearts to the divine will. In order to do what’s been asked of us by Jesus, the first thing we should ask ourselves is “What is love?” Not just love, but love in the Christian sense. In the Christian sense, it is far from being romantic. There’s nothing like “roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, and so are you” about this. Love in the Christian sense is real, earthy, life giving, forgiving, accepting, enduring, and ever embracing. We all are very much familiar with the 1st Corinthians chapter 13: “Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.” And we know this love of God in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. As we look at Jesus, we look at the divine love, what love ought to be. Jesus is the divine love incarnate. Jesus is the human form of God’s love. Jesus is not only the Word becoming flesh, but also love becoming flesh. So what about Jesus the embodied love of God? What does it do to us? St. Paul in his letters to the Corinthians tells us we are God’s temple. And its foundation is Jesus. He is the foundation of our whole being which we call “God’s temple.” I want to remind all of us that if we don’t see our foundation in our existence, our being, we can’t possibly love anyone in the Christian sense. Without experiencing this foundation, we know nothing about the divine love. Without experiencing Jesus in us, we know nothing about loving our neighbors as ourselves or loving our enemies. If we desire to love God, ourselves, our neighbors, and even our enemies, we must experience God’s love towards us first. Deep down in ourselves, in our hearts, we discover God’s love. God’s love speaks to us that we are accepted, forgiven, welcome, and are never abandoned in any situations. God’s love speaks to our hearts that God is eternally present with us. Not even death can separate from us. Whatever or whoever curses us and hurts us, God never curses or hurts us. God blesses us and heals us. Finding this eternal love hidden, yet revealed through Jesus Christ in our hearts is our first task if we want to truly love anything or anyone. Because we are accepted by God, we can accept ourselves and others. Because we are forgiven by God, we can forgive ourselves and others. The Lord's Prayer says, “Forgive our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.” God forgives us. Therefore we can forgive ourselves and those who sin against us. As much as we experience and accept God’s love, we can actually love ourselves. Someone says, “We accept the love we think we deserve.” I believe there is some truth to this. How much love do we think we deserve? Probably not a lot since we are pretty hard on ourselves. But if we look at Jesus, his death and resurrection, God tells us otherwise. The love God shows us in Jesus is the love we deserve. This is the love God believes we should accept. And this is the Gospel! This is the good news! And this is universal, this is catholic! As we look deep inside our hearts and discover Christ living in us, we learn to love God and ourselves. We slowly and gradually learn to accept ourselves as God accepts us. We learn to see ourselves created in the image of God. The image of God created in us is no one but Christ. We see Christ in us. We discover God’s image in us through Christ. Our baptismal covenant asks us, “Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?” Seeking Christ in all persons… Don’t forget that you are also included in that category of “all persons!” Loving ourselves begins when we seek Christ in ourselves and fall in love with him. Then, we are able to see Christ in our neighbors. We are able to see the image of God in them. Maya Angelou famously said, “I don’t trust people who don’t love themselves and tell me ‘I love you.’ There’s an African saying which is: Be careful when a naked person offers you a shirt.” And this is not an easy task. We have to “SEEK” Christ in all persons. Seeking requires a spiritual discipline of seeking Christ in ourselves first, seeking the image of God in ourselves. As we seek Christ in us, we can seek Christ in others, and serve Christ. So now here comes the most difficult part: loving our enemies. What should we do with this? Again, there’s nothing romantic about this whole business of loving our enemies in the Christian sense. Very thankfully, Jesus never told us to become BFFs with our enemies! Simply love them, and pray for them. In other words, seek Christ in them. Seek the image of God in them. And how do we seek the image of God, Christ in them especially when they are evildoers? We don’t resist an evildoer in the same way he persecutes us. Instead of retaliating, turn the other cheek. It does sound foolish, but this is Jesus’ way of reminding us what they have done wrong as well as giving them a chance not to do it again. And its non-violent resistance creates social pressure around evildoers. In this way, we never cease to seek and discover his image in them. Help them discover Christ in them. Help them recover and restore their image of God. So we become the sign of Christ. We become the living symbol of the image of God. We become the living reflection of their humanity. So we protest against their own rejection of the image of God created in them. We resist their refusal to see their restored, reconciled, and healed humanity in them. We fight until they see Christ in themselves. So is this kind of Christian love doable? I believe so! Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said, “Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.” This love that drives out hate begins from within ourselves, our hearts where we discover and rediscover Christ. In this new era of facing a high level of fear, anxiety, hate, and hostility, we are tempted to hate our enemies or those who hurt us emotionally and spiritually. It is easy to not seek th image of God in them, and demonize them. Given that what they’re doing is indeed evil, let’s remember we are Christians. We are called to show their true identity, the image of God, Christ, their humanity in them. As we eat the body of Christ and drink his blood, let us remind ourselves Christ living in us. So we never give up to love them and pray for them. We love them as we never cease to remind them Christ the love becoming flesh is in them just like sun rising on the evil and on the good, raining on the righteous and on the unrighteous. Are we ready to do that? May it be so! Amen. Having Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s sermon as part of our readings, there’s so much pressure to preach! I almost feel like there’s no need to preach anything. I can just sit down and read his entire sermon “The Drum Major Instinct.” The only better thing, though I’m not sure if it’s better, is that my sermon will be much shorter than his!
Dr. King’s words in our time are still powerful and moving, and speak to our hearts. And I personally feel that his words speak much louder, harder, and stronger to my heart than last year. I believe it’s because we have a lot of work to do, especially during this time of a new presidential era. We all are very much aware of his legacy. His non-violent resistance and protest against social injustice, his refusal to stay quiet, and his courage to speak up and stand up for truth and peace… At the same time, I’m curious ‘what made him devote his entire life for that cause.’ Whatever prompted him to do so is also the spirit and legacy that Dr. King leaves behind, which we as fellow Christians would like to honor and continue. Before we tackle “what” made him so committed to the quest for justice and peace, I want us to think about “who” triggered him to speak up and take his words into action. And it’s not really an idea that motivated Dr. King. An idea doesn’t change us, but a person! So can you think of who would’ve done that? Yes, it was Ms. Rosa Parks. It was her who ignited the vocation of Dr. King, his Christian calling and witness to the injustice, oppression, and suffering African Americans were facing. Ms. Parks’ refusal to give up her seat to a white man on a bus in Alabama sparked the greatest phase of the civil rights movement. It was this one simple act. How was she able to stand up for injustice at that time? It wasn’t just her random courageous act. She wasn't just the ‘bus woman.’ Not many people know that she was a person of faith, deeply involved in the American Methodist Episcopal Church. She was to become a deaconess in the AME church. It was her deep Christian faith that called her to action. She said, “I learned people should stand up for their rights, just as the children of Israel stood up to the Pharaoh.” This faith-seeking-action of Ms. Parks must have stirred up the heart of Dr. King. It must’ve pointed Dr. King to look up to the object of Ms. Parks’ faith as well as his own faith. Her faith-seeking-action pointed Dr. King to look at Jesus Christ who liberates all humanity from bondage and oppression! Her action would’ve invited Dr. King to encounter Jesus in the reality of injustice and suffering that African Americans were facing at that time. In today’s gospel reading, we see this ‘sacred act of pointing one to Jesus.’ This is nothing but the ‘sacred chain of the Jesus encounter which happens from person to person.’ Anyone who encounters Jesus personally becomes changed. First, let us look at John the baptizer. He repeats himself in the reading, “I myself did not know him.” He probably meant that he only knew him as his younger cousin, nothing more than that. But something changed in his personal encounter with Jesus. Jesus is the Lamb of God, the Son of God. This encounter changes him. And he directs his disciples to Jesus. As he sees Jesus walking by when he is with his two disciples, he shouts, “Here’s the Lamb of God!” Why would he shout such a thing in front of his disciples? It is to tell them to look at Jesus the Lamb of God, the Son of God, never John himself. John the baptizer let go of his disciples to Jesus. This is his way of pointing them to Jesus. Send them to Jesus. Don’t look at me. Don’t follow me, but Jesus. Then, these two disciples of John the baptizer, Andrew and the other disciple whom we suspect as John the beloved disciple, John the Evangelist, approach Jesus. They don’t ask, “Jesus, are you the Lamb of God? Are you the Son of God? Are you the Messiah?” They ask him, “Where are you staying?” It would’ve been quite humorous if Jesus gave them his home address, something like “456 Van Houten St, Paterson NJ 07501.” He answers them, “Come and see.” This encounter between the two disciples of John and Jesus is actually very eastern. It is an old-fashioned eastern way of learning. Often, in the Western culture, a master or a teacher has become someone who provides information and knowledge. It doesn’t matter how that teacher lives his or her life. In the ancient Eastern culture, however, a teacher’s role is not simply to give a didactic. A teacher is not only to provide certain wisdom and knowledge, but also to become an example to her students as living out her teachings. As a student, his role is not simply to memorize and understand lessons, but to observe and watch his teacher and live out the teaching of his teacher. So in this sense, Andrew and John must observe and watch how Jesus lives. Until then, they do not know who he is. This sacred chain of the Jesus encounter doesn’t stop at Andrew and John. It is contagious because it brings joy and liberation of one’s soul. It fills one’s heart with love which shares itself over and over. Andrew brings his brother Simon to Jesus. In Simon’s personal encounter with Jesus, Simon becomes truly who he is. He becomes Peter the rock. Today we celebrate this sacred chain of the Jesus encounter which still continues from Ms. Rosa Parks to Dr. King, from John the baptizer to Andrew and John, and from Andrew to Simon Peter. In the heart of this sacred chain stands Jesus, the Son of God, the Lamb of God, the Prince of Peace. In this personal encounter with Jesus, he asks “What are you looking for?” What do you truly seek? I think our answers may vary, but based on Jesus’ naming of Simon as Peter, what we are truly seeking for is our true selves. We look for ourselves, and none can find us, but God in Jesus Christ. In her encounter with Jesus, Ms. Rosa Parks truly becomes who she is. In his encounter with Jesus, Dr. King becomes truly who he is. In his encounter with Jesus, Simon becomes Peter. And in our encounter with Jesus, we become truly who we are as the baptized ones. Our lesson for today, as we celebrate and remember how Jesus worked in the life of Dr. King, is nothing but to continue this sacred chain of the Jesus encounter. There is no Dr. King without Ms. Rosa Parks. There’s no Peter without Andrew. And there’s no Blessed Oscar Romero without Fr. Rutilio Grande. There’s no me without you. Help each other become truly oneself in Christ as we point each other to look at Jesus the Lamb of God. Don’t talk about it. Don’t preach at each other. Simply act in love and kindness. Carry the radiance of Christ’s light to others. Show Jesus who you’ve encountered. And finally let the words of Dr. King be part of your confession. “Yes, Jesus, I want to be on your right or your left side, not for any selfish reason. I want to be on your right or your left side, not in terms of some political kingdom or ambition. But I just want to be there in love and in justice and in truth and in commitment to others, so that we can make of this old world a new world.” In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Thanksgiving is over, and now we’re heading into the season of Christmas. And this season of waiting for the coming of Jesus Christ, we are now celebrating today as the first Sunday of Advent. The four weeks of Advent symbolizes the four millennia of waiting from Adam to Jesus of Nazareth. (Yes, I know the early church got their scientific history wrong…!) In a secular sense, this season of Advent can be considered as a time for shopping in advance for Christmas.
There are many themes of Advent. We can easily think about the theme of “coming” as Advent means “coming” in Latin. How about waiting or longing? We’re waiting and longing for the coming of Jesus, the coming of God becoming flesh in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Another theme is being alert or awake as Jesus in our gospel reading urges us. I want us to ask ourselves some serious questions this morning. What are we really waiting for? What’s it that we are hoping to see? What are we expecting to see? Are we genuinely longing to see the coming of Jesus? Teilhard de Chardin, a Jesuit priest, and geologist once said, “We persist in saying that we keep vigil in expectation of the Master. But in reality, we should have to admit, if we were sincere, that we no longer expect anything. The flame must be revived at all costs. At all costs, we must renew in ourselves the desire and the hope for the great coming.” I think de Chardin’s comment on the lack of expectation for the coming of Jesus has some truth to our reality. Nowadays, it is quite unclear exactly what it is that we desire. And as Christians what do we want to see in our world? So, let us ask ourselves again, “How much do we really expect the coming of Jesus?” If you have a strong desire, a longing heart for his coming, that’s wonderful! You’re blessed. That is a gift from God. It is my prayer that you keep that holy flame burning. If you, however, have no expectation whatsoever, that is also okay because you are probably not alone. There are lots of people who can join your boat. You will see me as well! Whether we have that expectation or not, there’s one place we should go deep down in our hearts to keep the flame burning for those with expectations, and to revive that flame for those with no expectations. Going deep down sounds a bit abstract, but it’s rather simple. So, I’m actually going to invite all of us to explore together an exercise of going deep down. You want to give it a try? Take a deep breath in and out. Feel your chest being expanded as you breathe in. And as you breathe out, you can go deep down in your belly where there are no words necessary. When you breathe out, and reach to that deep place, and hold your breath for a second or two, it might make you feel grounded or a bit alone or even lonely. It might feel like a void or an abyss, something empty, dark, or even melancholic. It feels a bit risky to go there, because very often we feel a little down or gloomy in that place. But in that empty place or an abyss, we can actually sense a glimpse of our longing for wholeness, our yearning for oneness and communion, and our desire for the coming of Jesus. Without this longing for Jesus, we cannot be alert or awake or watchful as Jesus urges us in today’s gospel reading. Without this longing for Jesus, we won’t know even when Jesus comes to us. When there’s nothing to look forward, why bother to be awake? Black Friday doesn’t mean much to those who already have a 50 inch TV! Noah shows how to be alert and awake. He doesn’t know when the flood is going to take place. As he’s waiting for the flood, he builds his ark, following God’s instruction. Even after the flood comes, his waiting process doesn’t end right away. He has to wait until it’s safe to get out of his ark. Interestingly the ark doesn’t have windows on the sides. It has only one window on the roof. So Noah and his family are only allowed to see the sky. They don’t see what’s happening in the flood. We can imagine dead bodies of people floating in the water… Looking at the window on the roof, Noah must look upon God only. He’s to look at life, not where death is taking place. I think this picture of Noah’s ark gives an image of our hearts. In our hearts, there’s only one window through which we look at God’s kingdom coming in Jesus Christ. We may, at times, not look at the window at all because we get so caught up in our cares and occupations. As we look at the window high above in our hearts, we move towards God, we become Christ-ward. Using a traditional term, we call this “repentance.” It’s not so much about making ourselves guilty and miserable, but really about turning ourselves towards God and our neighbor. It’s “change of heart.” It’s a “fundamental transformation of our outlook, a new way of looking at ourselves, at others, and at God.” Our eyes looking at the window of the heart are same as our longing for the coming of Jesus. So, during this season of Advent, I invite all of us to go deep down in our hearts where we find our ark. And in that ark of our hearts, we will see the window on the roof. If you look around, there are no windows on the sides, but only on top. Let’s look through that window, let’s long for God’s presence of Jesus Christ. Let’s yearn for oneness and communion with God and our neighbor, and strangers. This all sounds too metaphorical. I would like to suggest two practices that might help you deepening your longing for Jesus. One is your prayer life. Try to pray the Lord’s Prayer three times a day during this season. And whenever you can, pray the Jesus Prayer. The Jesus Prayer is called the Prayer of the Heart. It’s short and simple: “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me a sinner.” Another practice is to find a glimpse of Jesus in others. In your conversation with your family, friends, or colleagues, seek Jesus in them. Jesus will show himself like a thief in the middle of the night. He will reveal himself at an unexpected time in an unexpected person. One last thing… Even if you don’t succeed finding Jesus in others, there’s nothing to worry. Jesus always comes to us, into our bodies at the feast of the Eucharist. May we welcome his coming in us as we partake his Body and Blood at the Eucharist today the first Sunday of Advent. In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Santi. Amen. |
Paul"...life up your love to that cloud [of unknowing]...let God draw your love up to that cloud...through the help of his grace, to forget every other thing." Archives
June 2026
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