Kings or queens still exist in certain countries. Yet, most of them are symbolic figures with some privileges except the ones in Brunei, Oman, Saudi Arabia, Swaziland, and Vatican City who maintain absolute power. A ruler with supreme authority goes above and beyond laws. If not calling them a king, we call them a dictator who not only can do whatever one wants but also can suppress others’ freedom and human rights. Throughout much of European history, Christian theology played a crucial role to defend and justify absolute monarchy. We heard stories like a king is chosen by the divine right directly coming from God to rule others.
The problem with this theological concept of the divine right is that it is only applied to a certain group of people with power to justify their ruling over others. Whether this king or queen is benevolent, generous, and even so perfect or not, this implication of the divine right to certain privileged groups takes away the most important privilege and gift of God given to us, which is baptism. In baptism, we are all transformed, transfigured, and deified by the merit of Jesus Christ’s death and resurrection. No divine right of absolute monarchs is greater or higher than this baptismal gift from God. Then, this theological concept can only be rightly applied to only one person, Jesus of Nazareth. He is granted with the divine right, yet he knows so well that this is not the right for this world. Standing before Pontius Pilate, he says, “My kingdom is not from this world.” We have this king who has the divine right of absolute power and authority, but his kingdom is neither in this world nor from this world nor of this world. This is to say, “I have the divine right but I wouldn’t exercise it here in the way that this world uses and abuses. I’m not the king of this world, but the king who brings the reign of God into this world. And how I’m going to use this divine right, power, and authority is only through the weak, the vulnerable, the oppressed, and the poor. You can only see this divine right exercised rightly according to the will of my Father through the cross.” His being in this world is the reign of God, the kingdom of God itself breaking into this world. For example, coming into the womb of Mary the Blessed Mother is the most vulnerable and the most human way that God freely chose to bring God’s kingdom. His solidarity with the socially outcast such as prostitutes, criminals, addicts, and tax collectors is another way that Jesus manifests how his kingdom would look like. What about the crucifixion? In his encounter with Pontius Pilate, he refuses to use his power in the way that this violent world does. The crucifixion reveals the upside down nature of the kingdom of God in this power hungry and self-idolizing world. The crucifixion exposes that the kingdom of God is completely different from this world. The resurrection is the statement of God that God’s kingdom is the world of love. It is where the power of love rules, not like this world in which the love of power prevails. Often, we wonder what that kingdom is really about, if not somewhere we go after life. We seem to have no clue what it means here on earth, if not proselytizing or converting non-Christians as Western colonists used to. Itis rather simple than we would think. Who Jesus is and what kingdom of God is are not two different things. When we listen to his teaching of love and look at his action of compassion, that's what this kingdom of God is about. Jesus is the incarnation of God’s kingdom on earth. In this kingdom Jesus brings to this world, we feel loved, forgiven, reconciled, and embraced no matter what we have done in the past, are doing now, and will be doing in the future. God’s love and forgiveness is always ever present to each moment we live whenever and wherever God’s reign in Jesus is manifested through the Holy Spirit. How then do we find ourselves in the kingdom of God? Is it something we don’t really experience but can only talk about? Is it far from our reality, our ordinary lives? If we really think that way, we may want to seriously consider what we believe when we talk about the kingdom of God. Why would anyone believe in something we are not able to articulate at all? So here are some questions to reshape our perception of God’s kingdom: When do you feel the love of Jesus that gives you a sense of peace, healing, and hope? When is it you feel free and empowered to love more? What situations do you see yourself more forgiving, accepting and less judgmental of others and yourselves? All these experiences of God’s love and embrace are sort of special moments that are more memorable and powerfully moving. These are the moments when we enter the kingdom of God, that we encounter Jesus. Psychologically speaking, it seems to happen when our defense mechanisms are unguarded and we open ourselves, we get to see things closer to as they are in reality. Spiritually speaking, the Holy Spirit moves us into that sacred time and place quite unexpectedly, and Jesus so lovingly walks into our lives, inviting us to accept his love and compassion and follow him. We don’t simply find ourselves in the world of Jesus where Jesus is so fully present. We are found by him. But the problem with these instant experiences of the kingdom of God is that they come and go, and we are susceptible to forgetting. When we face life crises, they tend to disappear as we feel isolated, alone, hurt, or abandoned. Or we might not yet have experienced or brushed off this glimpse of God’s kingdom in our lives, shutting our hearts to the grace and mercy of God. Either way, we forget that just like Jesus we are not of this world even though we are in this world. We forget who we are following is the one who promises to be present in every moment of our lives, not the one who simply gives what we want, keeps us safe and secure while everyone else suffers. We forget it is the kingdom of God in which we desire to live, and by living it out here we can make God’s reign present in our lives. In that state of mind, we lose our true identity as Christians, as God’s beloved children. We become aimless, not knowing our meaning and purpose of life, not hearing God’s call to love, give, share and flourish with others. And when we lose our ultimate purpose as human beings created in the image of God, we idolize ourselves, seeking the power of this world to be in control of everything, trying to deify ourselves to be the king of our own lives. All our own efforts to build our own kingdom in this world end up hurting others and ourselves. So I want to ask all of us, “What world are you living in here on earth? Are you of this world or of the world of Jesus?” This feast of Christ the King, some might think, is out of touch with our time when we actively try to deconstruct oppressive patriarchy as well as its patriarchal use of languages. Talking about Christ as a king might sound outdated, countercultural, and irrelevant. But knowing what kind of king Jesus is and what world he is bringing to this world, we have quite a radical understanding of king and kingdom. This king of love invites us to be in his kingdom of love, hope, and peace. It is not coercive but empowering. It does not suppress but set everyone free. It is not deadly but life-giving. No fake news but the good news for all, the gospel for all that they are all loved, that you are loved eternally, “you are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ’s own for ever.” (BCP p.308) God gives us a choice to be in the world of Jesus or not. What helps us to see his world begins with our personal and intimate encounter and relationship with Jesus. And what keeps us to live in that world begins with our sense of thanksgiving to Jesus and his salvific work here in this world. That thanksgiving heart of ours leads us to celebrate our lives that God has given us, and it also compels us to share the world of Jesus with this world out of joy. Thanksgiving season is over this year, yet the spirit of gratitude never ends. It is the very means to remain in the world of Jesus where love prevails, wins, and rules. That’s why we celebrate the Eucharist, which means the Great Thanksgiving. Let us faithfully and actively develop the habit of gratitude to Jesus the king of our lives as we end this liturgical year and are about to enter the holy season of Advent. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Stewardship Sunday-Pentecost+26/Proper 28B(Dan 12:1-3; Ps 16; Heb 10:11-14 (15-18) 19-25; Mk 13:1-8)11/18/2018 Imagine an ancient temple where a priest stands with lots of of animals like goats, sheep, bulls, and doves, living and dead. If it is dead, then it is slaughtered with blood all over in the sanctuary, the holy of holies, and is burnt to ashes, filling the place with smokes. At the temple, especially in the holy of holies, a priest offers all kinds of sacrifices on behalf of others to be free from all the bondages and to stand righteous before God.
If we visualize all the sacrifices that have been offered at all the temples in the world as bricks, we can imagine building a very tall tower with them. With all these bricks of all the sacrifices offered to God by human hands, it will certainly be the tallest building in the world. It will be taller than the tallest building in the world which is Burj Khalifa located in Dubai. It is 2,717 ft tall. And this tower built with all the bricks of sacrifices will become taller and taller as if this becomes a project to build a second Babel Tower. And this tower can look quite beautiful and magnificent just like the temple by which Jesus’ disciples are so amazed in today’s gospel lesson. They want Jesus to agree with them on this gorgeous looking temple, “Look, Teacher! What large stones and what large buildings!” The point of this imagining a building built with bricks of sacrifices is not about the quantity of how many sacrifices have been offered. It is about this inevitably repetitive nature of a sacrifice to God. It is repetitive in its essence because that sacrifice given by humans is never satisfying. The second lesson we hear this morning talks about exactly this unsatisfying and unfulfilling nature of a sacrifice given by humans. “Every priest stands day after day at his service, offering again and again the same sacrifices that can never take away sins.” This kind of sacrifice is not good enough to undo our sinful pasts and heal our scars on our own. But also, it cannot stop us from sinning. In other words, despite all our human efforts to transform ourselves, we don’t seem to stop hurting each other, ourselves, and God with our own power. It doesn’t matter how often we give the same sacrifice again and again. Only God can save us from hopelessness and despair. So the author of the second lesson continues, “...Christ had offered for all time a single sacrifice for sins...by a single offering he [Christ] has perfected for all time those who are sanctified.” The sacrifice that Jesus himself offers is all that counts to transform the entire humanity. And how that sacrifice is done is said in Jesus’s words about the temple. “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.” Not a single stone of all these great buildings, which are the results of all the human efforts and achievements will be left. “All will be thrown down…” This saying of Jesus, as I was reflecting on all these lessons we hear this morning and trying to connect to the theme of Stewardship Sunday, has been strongly lingering. “All will be thrown down…” At first, this saying of Jesus doesn’t sound so encouraging or promising if we perceive Stewardship Sunday as something that the church has designated for its fundraising purpose. Who wants to donate when its institution proclaims “All will be thrown down” as the good news? But for us Christians, what seems to be a collapse of every human effort is the good news! And this message of Jesus is where we start our understanding of Christian stewardship. I am not sure if you received the stewardship letters this week. One is written by Amy, the other by me. In my letter, I briefly mention about the theology of stewardship in our Christian tradition. That we are created in the image of God is the very foundation of our call to be God’s faithful stewards. Two things to reflect on being created in the image of God. One is that we are not the creator of our own being. That we are created, that we are part of God’s creation, not a god of our own selves tells us our true nature as a human being. Jesus’s saying of “all will be thrown down” can actually be considered as “all that we human beings have created as if we are the Creator of the world will be thrown down.” Whatever Babel Tower we build, however magnificent and beautiful it can be, does not make us divine. The other thing about being created in the image of God is that after we are aware of our createdness or creatureliness, we believe that we are created in God’s own image. This image of God which is embedded and embodied in each human soul is in and of itself divine. And the most appropriate way of using this divine image in us is: first, know we are created, and second, exercise responsible stewardship. All material and spiritual things are given to us as God’s gifts and we are called to take care of them. So whatever we think we’re trying to build on our own doesn’t mean anything at all when we forget our very calling to be God’s faithful stewards. All will be thrown down if we believe somehow we can actually build something on our own. All will be thrown down if we think that we can be on our own, being so self-reliant, self-dependent, self-sufficient, not needing any help or support from others and God. All will be thrown down if our church can somehow manage to survive with an excellent financial management strategy. All will be thrown down if we stay in that privileged state of entitlement, not in the humble state of gratitude before God. At a personal level, all will be thrown down if I believe I am somewhat better than others, or if I deserve more rights, more privileges than others. This process of all things being thrown down might sound like a bad thing but it is not! It is God’s way of making all things new, restoring and reshaping us into God’s very own image. It is being immersed in the water of baptism, refined by the fire of the Holy Spirit, born again with Christ’s heart for love of God, of our neighbor, and of all the created beings in the universe. When all the walls that prevent us from loving God, our neighbor, and God’s creatures more are thrown down in us, we can truly become God’s faithful stewards. So, my friends in Christ, on this Stewardship Sunday, it is my sincere request that you ask the Holy Spirit to throw down all the walls that hold you back from loving God and others more, listening to God and others deeper, sharing with others abundantly, or understanding them more. Ask the Holy Spirit to bring down all the walls that do not help you flourish and blossom. And most importantly, ask the Holy Spirit to tear down all the walls that get in the way of accepting God’s love, embracing who you are as God’s gift, seeing yourselves and thus others as transfigured, and feeling truly and unconditionally loved by God that there’s nothing more precious than this love of God in Jesus Christ, that we can truly give ourselves out of utmost gratitude. Only when all these walls of apathy, ignorance, and entitlement are thrown down by Jesus’s death and resurrection, we can be God’s faithful stewards. Without this experience of God’s unending love, there is no true Christian stewardship. The second lesson from the letters to the Hebrews then urges us God’s stewards, “Let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” On this Stewardship Sunday, let’s encourage one another to love more and do good deeds for others. Let’s not neglect to meet together. Share that love you have received from Christ with others. This is the way to be responsible for the love of God we are given to share with others as God’s faithful stewards. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. There are people I pass by almost every morning on my way to work. They’re not my fellow commuters. These are the people I walk by at Port Authority. Sometimes they hold the doors that are already open. Sometimes they sing a song not as a performer but as a way to draw people’s attention. Now you can assume who I am talking about. These are homeless people. Now, imagine that I go to one of them and ask, “Can you give me everything you have?” This is like trying to get water out of a stone or squeeze blood out of a starved vampire! This seems like what’s happening in the first lesson and the gospel reading this morning. While Elijah does succeed in getting water out of a stone, getting a morsel of bread from the widow, our focus is on how he does it. Which leads us to what makes both of these widows in the first lesson and the gospel lesson give everything to God as well as what compels us to give our whole selves, who we are and what we have to God.
So speaking of Elijah, we might have some bias against him. What kind of God’s prophet would ask to be fed by someone who seems poorer than himself? Why can’t he ask someone who is wealthy enough to provide him with food and drink? Here, Elijah is strictly faithful to God’s commands. Even before his attempt to get food from the widow, he receives God’s commands that there would be a drought. God tells him to go east and hide himself. He will drink from the wadi or ravine and will be fed by the ravens who will bring him bread and meat in the morning and evening. Believe it or not, he is hydrated and fed. And when the ravine also dries up, this is when God tells Elijah to move to a different place. First with the ravens, now with the widow, his life is not easy at all. God tells him, “I have commanded a widow there to feed you.” At this time, Elijah might have thought that there’s some kind of divine arrangement that he doesn’t have to worry about food, perhaps thinking to himself, “Finally, God is treating me as I deserve!” Well, that is not the case at all. Elijah doesn't get the bread easily from the widow who also has her son and others to take care of. Getting water isn’t too difficult. But Elijah faces resistance from the widow. He asks, “Bring me a morsel of bread in your hand.” Then she responds, “I have nothing baked, only a handful of meal in a jar and a little oil in a jug; I am now gathering a couple of sticks, so that I may go home and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it, and die.” This widow’s answer is serious and powerful. This is almost like her last will. It’s like saying, “This handful of meal in a jar and a little oil in a jug are the last meal for myself and my son before our deaths. Don’t take away the very last meal from us.” she is realistic enough to know that she and her son have no chance to survive the drought. The main reason why we consider Elijah being too much to ask food from this woman is right there. Not only she faces her own reality as well as her son whom she loves most but also prepares her death. I would call this existential crisis she’s in as the state of spiritual poverty. Her life utterly depends on God alone. In this state, her situation, not her faith in God, pushes her to realize that everything is up to God. It’s like her existential crisis of spiritual poverty takes her faith in God to another level. There’s a sense of complete surrender to God at this point. But we don’t sense any hope in this. That hope that God brings comes only after Elijah demands the last meal from the widow. That hope of God’s life is revealed to the widow only when she lets go of the last thing she would like to hold onto before her and her son’s deaths. Elijah delivers the message of God, the good news, “Do not be afraid; go and do as you have said; but first make a little cake of it and bring it to me, and afterwards make something for yourself and your son. For thus says the Lord the god of Israel: the jar of meal will not be emptied and the jug of oil will not fail until the day that the Lord sends rain on the earth.” What we see is not how great Elijah is or how great the widow’s faith is. Neither do we learn if we have enough faith, God will fill us with good things. What we do see, however, is whether or not our soul is in the state of spiritual poverty. In other words, do we really see that we are in complete spiritual poverty before God? Do we admit and remind ourselves that our lives are at the mercy of God? Often, material poverty can push us to experience that spiritual poverty where we are completely dependent on God. Or physical poverty through serious illnesses can push us to surrender everything to God. It is not surprising in this sense why people who have done the so-called born-again experience often talk about how they encounter God’s love in their most challenging struggles in their lives. Poverty in the monastic tradition is one of the three vows along with obedience and chastity that monks must make. This poverty is really about putting oneself in the state of constant longing and anticipation for God’s presence. This poverty, whether material, physical, or spiritual, is a means to see what’s most important in our lives before God. It exposes what’s substantial and what’s not. And in this poverty, there’s always the hope of the resurrection that Jesus brings. In this light, we can understand why the widow in today’s gospel lesson is able to give everything she has. Jesus says, “This poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.” She can only do this act of complete surrender because she is in the state of spiritual poverty which is helped by her material poverty as well. In comparison to this widow, rich people who put in large sums are far from spiritual poverty. What about the scribes Jesus criticizes? They are also far from spiritual poverty. They like to walk around in long robes and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets. They are spiritually and religious spoiled. They know enough to look spiritual. I must confess that Jesus would talk about clergy in our church the same way he regards the scribes! My friends, today’s gospel lesson calls us to go to the place of spiritual poverty where our hearts are longing for God alone, nothing else. Only the Holy Spirit can fill our existential void of aloneness, loneliness, fear, anxiety, and resentment. Do we have this desperate longing and anticipation for the Holy Spirit? Do we acknowledge our spiritual poverty in our church? Let us go to the place of spiritual poverty, personally and communally. Let the last will of the widow be ours. Only then, we can hear the hope of the resurrection in which Jesus revives our souls and bodies, the jar of meal will not be emptied and the jug of oil will not fail. Only then, we can put everything we have. May that spiritual poverty be welcomed in our hearts in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” This question comes from some of the friends of Lazarus who see Jesus weeping for the death of Lazarus. I sometimes wonder about this, encountering dying patients I have a relationship with and seeing their family and friends in deep sorrow and grief. What if Jesus were here? What would he do? I see myself raising the same question as some of Lazarus’ friends do, “Could not Jesus who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” And this question becomes something like “Why couldn’t Jesus keep our loved ones from dying?” Then it leads to “Why couldn’t he keep all of us from dying?”
This question that Lazarus’ friends raise disturbs Jesus greatly. And he does not avoid the question that somewhat challenges his healing power as the Son of God would have. He directly tackles the question by visiting the tomb of Lazarus. I think we all know what happens. He ends up bringing Lazarus back to life. We might wonder if he does what he does in order to prove himself and his mighty power. His prayer to God the Father shows us the purpose of this particular miracle, which says, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” So the purpose of reviving Lazarus is not to give him a second chance to live a better life. It is not to teach us that if we pray hard enough, people who are dying or already dead can be brought back to life. This is extremely rare, and it can not be the standard. It is not surprising how often this miracle story of Lazarus is misunderstood or misinterpreted among Christians at the hospital where I work. Let’s not forget that Lazarus also died after all. Jesus’ intention, on the other hand, is quite straightforward that it is to help the crowd in sorrow believe that he is the Son of God who is beyond life and death. It is to have them focus on God who is beyond life and death. Jesus’ peculiar miracle of going to the tomb of Lazarus, ordering people to take away the stone, and seeing this dramatic scene of the dead man coming out with his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth and his face wrapped in a cloth leads us to the resurrection of Jesus himself. In other words, Lazarus’ revival foreshadows Jesus’ resurrection. We all can recall the story of the empty tomb, the Easter story. Jesus’ tomb stone was open. All the clothes that bound his hands and feet and wrapped his face were neatly folded on the side where his head had been laid. Jesus turned the tomb of death to the womb of life as he turned water to wine. What is dead becomes living in and through the resurrection of Jesus. This is the fundamental teaching and truth of our Christian faith. On this foundational belief of Jesus’ death and resurrection lies the Feasts of All Saints and All Souls which we’re celebrating today. Both days, we remember all the faithful who have departed. While All Saints’ Day focuses on all the saints, known and unknown, All Souls’ Day is about all the faithful who have departed in our communities and families, the ones we actually know. It is one of the reasons why we brought the pictures of our loved ones. But as I said these feast days have its foundation on Jesus’ death and resurrection, we shouldn’t simply consider our celebration of these feasts as a means to remember our favorite saints and loved ones who died. Quite frankly, you don’t need to be a Christian to do that. These feasts particularly point us to something deeper than remembering the departed, which is the communion of saints in Christ. This communion of saints is none other than the Church herself. The Church that is united in the Holy Communion of Jesus Christ is also the Communion of all the followers of Jesus Christ, the living and the dead. Not only do we remember the dead on the Feasts of All Saints and All Souls but also remember our intercommunion with them in Christ. This is to say that we never forget the dead and continue to have a relationship with them. Often, our society teaches us we’re always to move on once our loved ones die. Death is something to either defeat or avoid. Aging which is then perceived as a step closer to death is another thing to avoid or fight against. We are living in a society that doesn't help us age well and die well. In this kind of sociocultural setting, aging doesn’t lead to maturity, and death doesn’t provide hope for the resurrection. In this context where we’re unconsciously receiving all these anti-aging and death-avoiding messages, these Feasts of All Saints and All Souls are counter-cultural. We not only remember all the faithful departed but also claim and believe that we’re interconnected with them. We’re in communion with them through Jesus Christ. Hence, we can say that we’re in constant dialogues with the saints and the deceived local saints that we personally know. We pray for them as well as we believe they do not cease to pray on our behalf. Rather than dismissing or discrediting a unique moment where you think of your loved ones who are no long here with us physically or seeing them in your dream or becoming reminiscent of your memory of them, those experiences become a reminder of how we the living and the dead are united in Christ. And this faith is fundamentally rooted in Jesus who bring his resurrection to all of us, the living and the dead. Facing his own death, Saint Dominic says to his brother, “Do not weep, for I shall be more useful to you after my death and I shall help you then more effectively than during my life.” (CCC 956) If we truly believe in the communion of saints, then our Christian grammar, our way of talking about God must change. For example, how often do we hear when facing someone’s death, “So and so is now with God.” Wasn’t God with that person before he was actually alive? Of course, God was, is, and will be. Then as Christians who believe in the communion of saints, therefore in the resurrection of the body, we must say, “So and so is closer to God’s presence. That person is more closely united to Christ.” This is not really the case for us. It seems we might have long become functional atheists. We might sometimes say we believe but we might not act like one. Sometimes we actually look like Lazarus in the tomb, our hands and feet still bound with strips of cloth and our faces wrapped in a cloth. Without anticipating for the hope of the resurrection, we end up locking ourselves in the tomb of death, disabling our hands and feet to do the work of God, blinding our eyes to see the risen Christ in our midst, and suffocating ourselves from breathing the new breath of the Holy Spirit. What Jesus tells us this morning is rather simple. “Lazarus, come out! Unbind him, let him go.” Jesus is here and now, present with us to unbind us from whatever holds us down and let us go. Even the ones who are dead are no longer locked in the tombs of death. With all the saints and all the faithful departed whose pictures are here with us, we are called to live out our lives to the fullest. While all these saints, known and unknown, local and universal, praying for us, we are called to discern and do what God calls us to do. God has already turned the tomb of death to the womb of life. God has already transformed you from water to wine through baptism. And as we drink the blood of Jesus Christ with all the saints, we go beyond this culture of death to the divine culture of life in Christ our Lord and Savior. May God the Father of all the living and the dead take away the stones that block us from living fully. May God the Son who dies and rises with us unbind us from all the strips of despair, hopelessness, resentment, and death. May God the Holy Spirit set us free and set us on fire to live and love God and our neighbors as ourselves. 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
January 2025
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