Psalm 97:1-2,7-12
Matthew 28:16-20
+In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.
There is a lot of evil in the world. We see it all around us: greed, corruption, environmental destruction, racism, sexism, homophobia, prejudice, anger, hatred, and pride. It can sometimes be overwhelming. What is especially be disheartening is that we hear so many sermons these days that call out these evils, that denounces them, and offer the hope of change and reconciliation. With so many prophetic voices that exist, surely the evil around us should be brought down by the power of our words, and with the power of our sentiment. Sadly, it seems this is not the case. In many we preach ways to the choir, to people who know or accept that the evil is there, that is beyond them, and that deny they contribute to it in any way. It never seems though to truly transform the world around us.
We are in the bright sadness of this Season of Lent. Through our prayer and fasting we are called to examine ourselves and our surroundings and work to strive to become closer to God so that we may be prepared for the Paschal Feast. We like the idea of Lent, we like the sound of Lent, but if our way of proclaiming the Gospel is any indication of how we actually behave and act as Christians, it reveals the truth of how we relate to Lent—namely, we do not like it. We like to shy away from the personal or individual aspects of the faith for the corporate. In our own little ways we make it possible to deny our culpability with evil, we are uncomfortable with singular professions of faith, we avoid “I believe” and replace it with “we believe” for the Creed, we like confessions that speak of “the evil done on our behalf” because perhaps in some ways it dulls the bitterness of acknowledging the “the evil we have done” or even more so “the evil I have done.” This is not to say that we should not have a common faith, for indeed as Anglicans we have a Book of Common Prayer. Nor that corporate and communal sin do not exist—they do. But too often it seems that those of us who would identify as progressive Christians tend to overlook the little picture in favor of the big picture, to speak out against the great corporate sins without examining or acknowledging how we participate in those very sins we denounce.
The devil, my friends, however is in the details, and we may not like to acknowledge how we make it easier for the Devil to work in this world. Lent stares us back in the face and says to us and to our prideful boasting—so what? Yes, we call out evil, but we ourselves are still sinners. We still have that evil serpent that whispered lies into the ears of Adam and Eve coiling around us, and telling us lies that keep ourselves from acknowledging that fact.
We like to follow Jesus command, to spread the Gospel to all nations, but do we even believe in that very Gospel ourselves? And if we do not believe in that Gospel, then what is the point of it?
I am a sinner, there are times believing the Gospel is near impossible, there are times that I have said racist, sexist, and homophobic things, I hide behind my white and male privilege to escape my own faults, there are times that I accidentally leave my AC on too long, I occasionally toss plastic bottles and cans in the trash can because I am too lazy to recycle, some of the stocks I own are in companies that are less than ideal. I need Christ for myself as much as the world needs Christ to turn away from sin.
Today is the Feast of S. Patrick of Ireland. There is far too much that can be said about this much beloved Saint—the Patron of Ireland, the Apostle to the Irish, the cultural icon of children of the Irish Diaspora in the United States and beyond, and the person whose Feast is celebrated by many as an excuse to over drink. And yet in and amidst the biography of the old curmudgeony saint from the 400s, I am still drawn to the old stories of Patrick. Namely, because of S. Patrick, the snakes of Ireland were driven away. To be sure, this is a myth of S. Patrick, there are many myths associated with him. Ireland is an island at a high northern latitude that is far too cold, dark, and wet for most reptiles to survive. This was a story to help explain why Ireland lacks snakes. Though as with any myth, there are deeper truths to be had if we look beyond the historical reality. Myths, parables, fables, and legends are all part of how we learn about ourselves, the world around us, and God. They are powerful because they strike that part of the brain that comes to life to imagine new possibilities and realities—simply put, we all love a good story.
Patrick came to Ireland, and in the midst of his mission, drove the snakes away. In his ministry, he preached, he called people to accept the baptism of repentance he built churches and monasteries that still dot the landscape of Ire, he rejected payment from people to be baptized or ordained, he refused to seek the protection of local chiefs and kings in his work in exchange for compromising on the Gospel, he faced imprisonment and violence, but in the end, the Gospel was heard and received in all Ireland. The old gods of Ireland, the old devils and snakes of Ireland, were driven away.
The message that Patrick preached was not his own, nor was it a version of the Gospel that was reworked to become appealing to the people of Ireland. It was the Gospel that Jesus Christ gave his one, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic church to proclaim, a Gospel of faith, a Gospel of God’s love for us, a Gospel of repentance of our sins, a Gospel of Resurrection into new life. It is not always an easy message, sometimes it is downright bitter because it forces us to confront our fallen state and to turn away from those actions and ways of being and thinking that cause us to sin. It calls us to make ourselves as individuals humble before God Almighty. We must recognize that we cannot seek to please others with the Gospel, but as S. Paul the Apostle said, strive to please only God with our proclamation. According to S. Gregory of Nyssa in his biography on the Life of Moses, much like the bitter water at Marah was made sweet by the wood Moses placed in it, so too does the Gospel become sweet because of Christ and the wood of the Cross, the wood that defeated the power of sin and death, and restores us to new life. The serpent of old in the Garden is put to shame as through the power of the cross, we are restored both in image and in likeness of God.
Patrick called the people of Ireland to join Jesus Christ’s one Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church through Baptism. Though there have been twists and turns throughout history, invasions, reformations, dispersion, oppression, and unification, the Church that Patrick called the people of Ireland to is the same Church that we are a part of NOW. We are a part of something greater than ourselves, than this chapel, than this diocese, than this Episcopal Church, and this Anglican Communion. The liturgy we celebrate is the image of the liturgy before the throne of God, and Patrick calls us just as he called Ireland to turn and orient ourselves to Christ—the Christ within us, the Christ behind us, the Christ before us, the Christ beside us, the Christ beneath us, the Christ above us;
But ultimately the Christ who is not us.
We are not Christ, we are not God, but through the Gospel we are capable of being restored to that original image and likeness of the Divine.
 |
| Light in the Dark--Gallarus Oratory |
If we strip away our own sins, we bear witness to the True and Living God. Others will follow that light that shines through us and come to God.
My friends, I am a sinner, I ask your prayers of forgiveness as we all walk along in the bright sadness of Lent towards the light of Christ and the Paschal Feast.
Amen
No comments:
Post a Comment