The more things change . . .

the more they stay the same.

As I turned thirty years of age last Thursday, this picture from twenty or so years ago came to mind. I was a Southern Baptist at the time, so I didn't even know what words like "altar" or "priest" meant. But I did have my make-shift pulpit, blue blazer, and picture bible.

The gift of discernment

One of the supernatural gifts is discernment. And it looks like it almost may take supernatural powers to discern whether this is a holy water stoup or a toilet bowl. What do you think? Would you dip your fingers in there?

Insert joke here

I'm sure there's some kind of church lady joke waiting to be told with this picture. I just haven't figured it out yet. Perhaps you can.

How can we know the way?

Homily for John 14:1-14
by The Rev'd Timothy M. Matkin, SSC
Given at S. Alban’s, Arlington, TX, on 24 April 2005

Perhaps you have also had a similar experience. I was driving home from work a few weeks ago and traffic was backed up because it was just about that time of day. Of course, stop and go traffic can be very tedious and boring. When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but an old Honda civic, covered in reading material. Especially in these circumstances, it becomes almost a personal quest, an unwritten social contract. I have to read those bumper stickers.

After a few blocks, I had gotten close enough to slip in behind the car. The first of three came into view for a moment. "I’m not as dumb as you look," said the first one. It sped away as I remained motionless in momentary shock. At the stoplight ahead, I got close enough to read the second. This time I was ready for something sarcastic, with a dash of attitude. Squinting slightly I read, "The future is not what it used to be."

By the time I finished that one, the car sped away at a green light. My turn was coming up soon, and I was faced with the fear that I would not be exposed to one more dose of meaningless drivel. Even though I knew it was risky, I hit the gas and eased up into viewing range. Before I had to slow to make my turn off, I caught a glimpse of the last bumper sticker, which stated in bold type, "You have to understand . . . It’s all about me!" I veered away and headed home, annoyed.

Today’s reading from John gospel is an excerpt from Jesus’ lengthy farewell to his disciples in the Upper Room, before he is betrayed and crucified. Although John doesn’t give the Supper narrative familiar to us from the other gospels, John spends over half his gospel on this farewell message. The cold wind of abandonment has just swept over the disciples. For the first time they begin to sense the coming isolation and grief. Jesus says, "I am only with you for a little longer, and where I am going, you cannot follow. But let not your hearts be troubled, neither be afraid. You trusted in God, now trust also in me."

Most people do not want to hear talk of tragedy and conflict, neither did the disciples in the Upper Room, but at the same time Jesus reassures them that these things need to happen--it is a part of the plan. At the Last Supper Jesus tries to prepare his disciples for his departure, meaning his tragic death, by telling them that he goes to prepare a place for them and will return to take them there. The "place" Jesus refers to is his Father’s "house." Don’t worry, you already know the way to get there.

Thomas is a bit confused at this point--"If we don’t know where you’re going, how can we know the way?" Jesus gives him a little three point sermon that has been a source of consolation to many during trying and confusing circumstances. Jesus said, "I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life." That little message to the troubled in heart touches on all the major themes that we find throughout the Gospel of John. "I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father, but by me."

Part of our hope as Christians lies in the fact that Jesus Christ is utterly unique. It has been said, there are many religions, but there is only one Gospel. There are many teachers, but there is only one Savior. Jesus Christ has no peer. Among religious leaders down through history, we might say that Jesus stands as an Everest, towering above the foothills.
One of the central ways that Jesus is unique is hinted at in today’s gospel. Unlike other religions of the world, Jesus founded the Christian religion not upon his teachings, but upon himself. Christianity is essentially not based upon the sayings or teachings of Jesus, as important as those are.

For example, Leo-Tse, was the founder of the ancient Chinese religion called Taoism (Tao means "the way" or "the right way"). Leo-Tse stressed that the proper way of living was in to live in harmony with nature, and he developed a wisdom tradition that shaped Chinese culture. Leo-Tse taught his disciples, "This is the way, follow in it." Jesus simply said to his disciples, "I am the way." With full awareness and seriousness, Jesus says, "You have to understand . . . It’s all about me."

Christ is unique in the way that he build his whole religion upon himself. Consider for a moment the creeds of the Church. The Apostles’ Creed is a summary of all the essential beliefs of the Christian faith by those offering themselves for baptism. The Nicene Creed is a defense of the core teachings of Christianity, reaffirmed at each Sunday Mass. What do the creeds say about the teachings of Jesus? Absolutely nothing. All the teachings of Christ are passed over in total silence. "Conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried." They pass directly from the day of his birth to the day of his death.

It is Christ’s reminder to us through his Church, I have not come to teach you a way; "I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life." You can follow the way of Taoism without knowing much about Leo-Tse. However, you cannot be a Christian without knowing about Christ, or perhaps more accurately, knowing Christ himself.

Jesus is the only person that we have record of every being crucified, not because of something that he had done, but rather because of who he was. Before Jesus was crucified, Pilate asked Christ, "What is truth?" Little did he know, there it was--Incarnate Truth standing before him. In the prologue of his gospel, John describes Jesus filled with truth. "The Word was made flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son of the Father, full of grace and truth" (Jn 1:14).

Truth is perhaps a more rare and precious commodity than gold. We are so often confused and misguided and overcome by deception. But there is one thing in this life that is unmistakable fact: in Jesus, we find the truth about who we are and who God is. In Jesus, we see that God is love, that he first loved us, and that God so loved the world that he gave his Son.

Jesus is the one rock of certainty and security in our uncertain and insecure lives. That certainty becomes clear for the disciples after the resurrection, when we see the truth of Jesus’ words to Martha of Bethany validated: "I am the resurrection and the life." There is no life apart from Jesus, and in Jesus, we find life in all its fullness.

In this Easter season we especially commemorate and celebrate the fact that Jesus Christ is now alive--even more alive than you and I. And he is now reigning with the Father and the Holy Spirit. Jesus is active interceding for us at this very moment. He stands as our great high priest at the Altar in the sanctuary of heaven, always pleading the sacrifice of his own self on our behalf. The founder of every religion in the world is dead and buried, but only Jesus Christ is risen from the dead. Because of that fact, by virtue of being joined to Jesus himself, we have forgiveness of sins and supernatural newness of life.

Jesus followed his little three point sermon with one of his boldest statements, "No one comes to the Father except through me." If anyone else had said it, we would dismiss them as a liar or lunatic. But we find comfort in his words because they are true. The Father is present in Jesus. The one who sees Jesus has seen the Father; the one who hears Jesus has heard the Father’s words; to know Jesus is to know the Father. To abide with Jesus, is to dwell in the Father’s house.

S. Peter says those who believe in him are stones built into a spiritual temple. Christ is the cornerstone, and his temple rests on a sure foundation. But for those who do not believe in him, Jesus is a stumbling stone. Perhaps that is a good thing. Maybe you’ve stumbled over Christ for the first time or in a new way today.

If you feel like you lack assurance and security in your life, you can find it in Jesus himself--the Way, the Truth, and the Life. He is your safe hiding place. He is your secure resting place. If you feel lost, turn to Jesus and follow him. He is the Way. If you face uncertainty and fear in your life, look upon Jesus, and see; he is the Truth that God is love and that God loves you. If your life feels lifeless and empty, cling to Jesus, the source of Life in all its fullness.

Let us pray.
Everliving God, whose will it is that all should come to you through your Son Jesus Christ: Inspire our witness to him, that all may know the power of his forgiveness and the hope of his resurrection; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

We have a pope!

Josef Cardinal Ratzinger of Germany was elected by the College of Cardinals today to be the new Bishop of Rome. He has chosen the name Benedict XVI.

Ratzinger was a liberal theological advisor at the Second Vatican Council whose later experience as a bishop grounded him more in the Church's rich tradition, and moved him toward the center. He is a profound thinker who brings great gifts to the petrine ministry. He is a man of great faith who has also expressed concern for the reform and renewal of the liturgical life. It is interesting in light of my last post that he chose the olivetan name of a peacemaking predecessor, Pope Benedict XV.

As Pope Benedict XVI, his traditonal titles are: "His Holiness the Pope, the Bishop of Rome, the Vicar of Christ, Successor to S. Peter, Prince of the Apostles, Supreme Pontiff (Pontifex Maximus), Archbishop and Metropolitan of the Roman Province, Primate of Italy, Patriarch of the West, Soverign of the Vatican City State, Pastor of Pastors (Pastor Pastorum), and Servant of the Servants of God (Servus Servorum Dei)." As a curious sidenote, there are other titles that have fallen out of use. According to Charles Noonan, one such title is "Rector of the World."

Here is an excerpt from one of his books, The Meaning of Christian Brotherhood:

"The local community realizes itself as the Church in the religious assembly, that is, above all in the celebration of the Eucharist. Consequently, Christian brotherhood demands concretely the brotherhood of the individual parish community. This brotherhood has its source and center in the celebration of the eucharistic mysteries. In fact, in the classical theology of the Church, the Eucharist has been seen not so much as the soul's meeting with Christ, but rather as the concorporatio cum Christo--as the Christians' becoming one in the one body of the Lord" (p. 68).

Who is the Gloria Olivae?

According to the prophecies of St. Malachy (Archbishop of Armagh, Ireland from 1132 to 1138), the next pope is described by the motto Gloria Olivae ("The Glory of the Olive"). Malachy's prophecies indicate some noticeable trait of all future popes from Celestine II (elected in 1130) until the end of the world.

The prevailing view today is that they are elaborate forgeries, probably perpretrated by a school of Jesuits in the 1600s. This suspicion is based on the relation of the mottos to the various popes until that period, and the need to find oblique references (such as the motto of the Pope's home diocese) to make a particular motto fit a particular pope. Still, the prophecies get minor attention at every conclave. Apparently, in 1958, before the conclave that would elect Pope John XXIII, Cardinal Spellman of New York hired a boat, filled it with sheep and sailed up and down the Tiber River, to show that he was Pastor et Nautor ("Shepherd and Mariner"), the motto attibuted to the next Pope in the Malachy's prophecies.

In 1139 Malachy went to Rome to give an account of the affairs of his diocese to the pope, Innocent II, who promised him two palliums for the metropolitan Sees of Armagh and Cashel. While at Rome, he received (according to the Abbé Cucherat) the strange vision of the future wherein was unfolded before his mind the long list of illustrious pontiffs who were to rule the Church until the end of time. The same author tells us that St. Malachy gave his manuscript to Pope Innocent II to console him in the midst of his tribulations, and that the document remained unknown in the Roman Archives until its discovery in 1590.

The Benedictines (Olivetans) traditionally held that Gloria Olivae would come from their order. The problem with that idea is there is currently only one Benedictine cardinal, the inelligible 93-year-old Augustine Cardinal Mayer. Another idea is that Malachy could be describing this pope as a great peacemaker.

How many popes does Malachy describe after Gloria Olivae? Only one. "In the final persecution of the Holy Roman Church there will reign Peter the Roman, who will feed his flock amid many tribulations, after which the seven-hilled city will be destroyed and the dreadful Judge will judge the people. The End."

Another dark horse?

This is the man who caught everyone by surprise back in 1978. Are we in store for another dark horse candidate? As they say in Rome, "He who goes into the conclave a papabili, comes out a cardinal."

For all generations

This is one of my favorite pictures of John Paul II, embracing the youth of the Church.

Finding Peace

I've been a fan of Dietrich von Hildebrand for a number of years now. Sophia Institute Press took excerpts from his book Transformation in Christ and published it as a charming little paperback called Making Christ's Peace a Part of Your Life. I share these two quotes:

"The true actual peace of the soul depends, finally, on that superactual, habitual, constant attention to God, that sustained conciousness of having our roots in God, which allows our interior world to be penetrated by a ray of his infinite peace. This coveys to us a foretaste of ultimate harmony and protects us against inward distaste and unrest" (p. 95).

"It is the Holy Spirit--'rest for the weary, refreshment for the pining, solace in the midst of woe'--who imparts to the soul an imperturbable poise and a serene calm, the character of recollectedness, the soaring lightness of a full inner freedom. He, whom the Church calls 'light of the heart, sweet guest of the soul,' fills us with that supernatural light which takes away the poison of enmity, dispels the gloom of depression, and dissolves the spasm of agitation" (pp. 102-3).

On the road to Emmaus

Homily for Luke 24:13-35
by The Rev'd Timothy M. Matkin, SSC
Given at S. Alban’s, Arlington, TX, on 10 April 2005

It seems like a lot of interesting things happen on road trips . It was the same road that they had walked many times before. But this it would be different--much different. Josephus tells us it was a four or five mile road from Jerusalem back to Emmaus. Luke tells us that one of the pilgrims was Cleopas, tradition later names the other as his son Simeon.

Cleopas and his son were in Jerusalem for the festivals and now they were on the slow walk back to their home. There were believers in Jesus—they were, but perhaps not as sure now. It had seemed so promising when Jesus entered Jerusalem. They cheered with the crowds and hailed him as king. Jesus had walked with them for three years, and it seemed like the glorious part of the journey was just beginning, but it had all too quickly turned to tragedy, and now it was time for them to walk alone.

They believed Jesus was a prophet, and with many others, they hoped he might be the one to reestablish the kingdom of Israel, dominated for so long by the Roman Empire. Maybe he was the one to restore Israel to its greatness. But Jesus had been rejected by key leaders of the nation--shouted down, buried in false accusations, arrested, mistreated, and finally brutally executed on a cross outside the city walls. Earlier in day a few of the women said they found his tomb empty. They said they saw angels who told them Jesus was alive. Perhaps something miraculous has happened. Perhaps someone stole his body--one more insult for his dejected followers.

On the way to Emmaus, they experienced sadness, disappointment and hopelessness. The two disciples still grieved the loss of their friend and leader, Jesus. Even with the women’s testimony, it was hard to be hopeful after the agony and shame of the cross. Perhaps now it was simply time to get back to life as usual. So two disheartened disciples headed down the old road to Emmaus. The road never seemed so long.

Yet, they didn’t stay in Emmaus; they went back to Jerusalem. The two pilgrims felt it was urgent. There was no time to waste. They were determined to tell others what they had experienced. Going back to Jerusalem, they were filled with joy and hope. The road never seemed so short.

What happened on the road to Emmaus? Clearly, whatever it was, it had changed their lives forever. As they were walking toward Emmaus, an apparent stranger comes along side and joins them. As the three walk together, they are talking about the events in Jerusalem. The stranger seems unaware of recent goings on. Very odd for another pilgrim coming from the city.

An interesting thing Luke tells us is that "they were kept from recognizing him." Perhaps they were too dejected to be open to Jesus being alive, perhaps they were spiritually blinded to the new reality of the resurrected Lord. They had been unprepared to witness his death, they were certainly unprepared to witness his resurrection. We too are often blinded by our expectations.

Cleopas asks , "Are you the only pilgrim in Jerusalem who doesn’t know the things that have been going on?" The stranger begs the question, "What things?" Cleopas tells him all about what has happened to Jesus. The stranger can tell there are walking home dejected. The stranger gently chides them. He says, "No you’ve got it all wrong. Nothing has been lost here, everything has been gained. It was part of God’s will all along that the Christ should suffer and die, and then after his Sabbath rest, be raised from the dead."

Luke tells us he conducted an informal bible study as they walked and talked. "Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them all the things about himself in the scriptures" (Lk 24:27). As they got to Emmaus, the stranger started to continue on. They said, "No, please don’t go. Stay with us. Evening is at hand. The day is past. Please stay with us. Maybe we can talk some more."

So the stranger went into their home to stay the night. He ate dinner with them--and Luke uses the same language we find at two other miracles: multiplying the loves and fishes, and the Last Supper. When the stranger was at table with them, he took bread, and blessed and broke it, and gave it to his disciples.

The written Word had prepared their hearts to see the Word made flesh. Their hope had returned and their spiritual blindness was gone. Perhaps it was when the stranger reached out to give them bread, that for the first time they noticed the wounds in his hands--the stranger was Jesus--and when they looked up, he was gone. The two pilgrims turned to each other and said, "It was the Lord! Did you feel it too? Didn’t your heart burn within you as did mine when he was speaking to us along the road?"

I find it interesting how the Sacred Heart of Jesus--the symbol of his love--is always depicted as burning with fire and crowned with thorns. Jesus gave these two disheartened people "burning hearts." Burning hearts are hearts ablaze with the good news of the gospel. They energize people to witness to the hope of Jesus’ resurrection. Burning hearts pump new life into people--life to share with others.

The Word of God had burned away the dejection and sadness in the disciples’ hearts, leaving them enflamed with hopefulness and joy. Their grief and confusion into exploded into excitement to share their experience with the other disciples in Jerusalem. In Jeremiah 20:9, the prophet, speaking about the Word that the Lord has given him to proclaim, says, "There is in my heart, as it were, a burning fire shut up in my bones. I am weary from holding it in, and I cannot any longer."

Have you had that moment in your life before? When you have had a close encounter with a stranger along the way--the stranger is Christ himself, who opens your mind to understand the written Word of God and to behold the incarnate Word--has the good news, the gospel, burned within your heart like it did for these two disciples? Has it burned so intensely, you say with Jeremiah, "I am weary from holding it in, and I cannot any longer"? The knowledge gained along the road ignites into hope at the supper.

Perhaps more clearly than with any other gospel narrative, we can see that this is a story about us. We are the disciples, walking along the road through life, our hearts dampened by fear and doubt and grief. Jesus walks along with us, unrecognized at the time. In the beginning, he is a stranger. But he is there to guide, to give understanding, and to reveal God’s will. He inflames our hearts with the love of God, a love that cannot help but be shared with others.

At the meal, the two disciples discovered that Jesus really is alive; death has no power over the Lord of life. They discovered that the Lord Jesus was still there to walk with them, only now he would not be leading from without, Jesus would lead them from within. Without hesitation, the two ran back to Jerusalem to tell the others that they too had experienced the risen Christ. When the opportunity arises, never hesitate to share the good news. Share with others how you have experienced him for yourself. Tell them how the love of God burns in your heart.

Tell them how you were once sad and lonely along the road, but Jesus transformed your life and turned you around. And invite them to some experience Jesus here for themselves. Invite them to come hear the Word read and preached. Invite them to know Jesus as he is revealed in Scripture and the breaking of bread.

May that kind of love and excitement burn within our parish family. May we race back to Jerusalem like those disciples and share the good news. May we be a people ignited by the hope that comes from the presence of Christ among us.

Let us pray.
Lord Jesus, stay with us; when evening is at hand and the day is past, be our companion in the way. Kindle our hearts and awaken hope, that we may know thee as thou art revealed in Scripture and the breaking of Bread. Grant this for the sake of thy love. Amen

The Grass is greener

I have a theological dilemma taking shape in my front yard. I am keenly aware that S. Paul says we should not boast about ourselves or anything that belongs to us. But I also know that S. Paul has never seen my lawn . . . except, perhaps . . . from above.

A Papacy Remembered

After many years of faithful ministry, Pope John Paul II has crossed "the threshold of hope." May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

He will leave behind many words and deeds worth remembering. I often use the following quote from his book Crossing the Threshold of Hope:

"At the end of the second millenium, we need, perhaps more than ever, the words of the Risen Christ: 'Be not afraid!' . . . [Our] conscience needs to grow in the certainty that Someone exists who holds in His hands the destiny of this passing world; Someone who holds the keys to death and the netherworld; Someone who is the Alpha and the Omega of human history—be it the individual or collective history. And this Someone is Love—Love that became man, Love crucified and risen, Love unceasingly present among men. It is Eucharistic Love. It is the infinite source of communion. He alone can give the ultimate assurance when He says ‘Be not afraid!’"


Please join us on Sunday, April 10th at 9:15 am, when I will present a special Adult Forum in the Parish Hall at S. Alban's on the Papacy. We will look at the history of that institution and the legacy of this particular pope. We'll also examine the hot and cold history between the papacy and the Ecclesia Anglicana.

"O God, our heavenly Father, who didst raise up thy faithful servant Karol Wojtyla to be a bishop and pastor in thy Church and to feed thy flock: Give abundantly to all pastors the gifts of thy Holy Spirit, that they may minister in thy household as true servants of Christ and stewards of thy divine mysteries; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the same Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen." [Book of Common Prayer, p. 197]

Sermon for Low Sunday

Homily on Doubt and Faith
by The Rev'd Timothy M. Matkin, SSC
Given at S. Alban's Church, Arlington, TX on 3 April 2005

Something extraordinary has happened. Of all people on earth, we as Anglicans, as Catholics, as Christians, as people of faith, should appreciate the vital significance of Jesus of Nazareth. We know that his life, and death, and resurrection has a crucial meaning for us here and now.

In our Lenten journey, the theme of refreshing waters came up time and again. The goal of our pilgrimage was to walk with Jesus through the dry wilderness of our hearts; to look at the barrenness in our lives and turn to Jesus, the wellspring of eternal life and grace and goodness—to thirst for that living water that is Christ himself. In Holy Week we watched and waited with our Lord in his final days of life. And in the end he chose the Father’s will—to go where we could not follow. It looked very bleak for the disciples that Friday, but the tough times didn’t last.

In the Act of the Apostles we read that S. Peter, standing with the other apostles, proclaims the resurrection of Jesus Christ in a magnificent sermon to the Jewish people (Acts 2:22-32). He goes further than that. Listen to what Peter says: "God raised him up, having loosed the pangs of death, because it was not possible for him to be held by it." What an amazing thought—that it was possible for Jesus to die, but not possible for him to stay dead.

S. Paul adds in that Easter hymn of the early church we call the Pascha Nostrum: "Christ being raised from the dead can never die again; death has no more power over him. For in that he died, he died unto sin once; but in that he lives, he lives unto God" (Rom 6:9-10). It was impossible that the Author of Life could fail to triumph over death. Death was the gloom that hung over man’s head since the beginning, when it was said of the forbidden fruit: "The day you eat of if, you shall die" (Gen 2:17).

We often hear it said that Jesus died to save us, but that sentiment can only be true if he also rose from the dead to save us. The mystery of the Incarnation is that in the union of God and man in Christ Jesus a marvelous and miraculous exchange has taken place. He died in sharing in our human life and rose that we might share in his divine life. Christ takes away our sting of death and replaces it with the joy of eternal life.

There are many events of history that are interesting to study, but many have little relevance on our lives. For example, did Alexander the Great, after the last of his military campaigns actaully stop and weep because there were no more worlds to conquer? We don’t know for sure, but it really doesn’t matter. Did George Washington actually chop down that famous cherry tree? We don’t really know, but it really doesn’t matter. But did Jesus Christ, body and soul, rise from the dead and walk out of his own grave? With confidence, let us say yes, we do know and it does matter.

S. Paul stresses this point greatly in his epistle to the Corinthians. Some of them were saying there is no resurrection of the dead. Paul points out, "If Christ is not raised, your faith is futile; and are you are still trapped in your sins. And we are found to be lying about God, because we testified that he did raise Christ . . . Then also those who have fallen asleep in Christ are perished." Think of it; it staggers the mind. All of our loved ones are perished, lost, gone forever, if Jesus Christ is not risen from the dead.

"If in this life only we have hope in Christ," Paul adds, "we are of all men most to be pitied. But now Christ is risen from the dead, and become the first fruits of those who sleep in death" (1 Cor 15:12-20). The apostle points out that Jesus’ resurrection is the promise and preview of our own.

Our guilt from sin, our loved ones, and our own lives in this world and the next all hinge on the resurrection of our Lord. But we can rest assured; our faith is not in not in vain. It stands on a sure foundation. We are no longer trapped in our sins, without hope. Those who have fallen asleep in Christ have not perished. The power of the resurrection is the power of ultimate transformation.

It is the power that transforms death into life. It transforms sin into holiness and moral purity. It transforms doubt into belief and belief into faith and faith into hope. And hope does not disappoint because of the love of God poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit (Rom 5:5).

There are some very interesting details in our Gospel reading. Did you notice them? We are told that last Sunday evening, disciples were in hiding in a secret place with all the doors locked shut—perhaps in the Upper Room where they had shared the Last Supper. Is your life running into closed doors? Does every turn seem to be an obstacle that looks impossible to overcome? Has you’re door to hope been closed by disappointment? No disappointment could match that of the disciples who fled from Jesus at the crucifixion. Their hopes had been dashed to pieces.

The disciples were hiding in fear behind closed doors. And yet, all of the sudden, Jesus stands in the midst of them. They feared it might be a ghost, but he shows them his wounds and greets them saying, "Peace be with you." He was a real solid human being, but not the same as before. After the resurrection, those old bodily limitations no longer seem to apply. Closed doors where the disciples were gathered are now open pathways. He shows his anguished followers a man that has also suffered. But now his wounds are marks of identity, not of pain.

The exchange of peace is a very personal kind of sharing. And in sharing his peace, Jesus beacons the disciples to share in his work. "As the Father has sent me," he says, "so now I send you." Their mission will be accomplished through this power of the resurrection. He breathes on them to symbolize a giving of his own essence, the breath of life that conquered death, and says "Receive the Holy Spirit," and gives them authority to forgive sins.

Notice that it is only after the resurrection that this power of absolving sins is given. Since sacramental absolution is a sacrament of renewed life, it is accomplished through God’s transforming resurrection power. Therefore, after rising from the dead, Jesus gave to the ministers of the Church authority to act in his name in healing sinful souls to share with them his new life.

One disciple, Thomas, was not there when these events occurred. The others came to him to share the news that the Lord is risen. But he only had their testimony to rely upon, and he feared this news might only be the result of wishful thinking. Thomas was in the position that we often find ourselves in, at least at some point in our life.

In one sense, we could say that Thomas was somewhat open-minded about the story. After all, he did seem to say that he wants to believe them, and would, if he could only have been there to see it for himself. Yet, we could also say that Thomas was a bit too skeptical and non-committal. Unless he could see it for himself, and touch those wounds with his own hands, he would not believe it, whatever they told him. We see in Thomas, not so much a lack of belief as a lack of willingness to trust. And this is where so many souls hang in the balance. Many are lost in the chasm between doubt and faith.

A real key to faith is that element of trustworthiness. Coming to faith involves the assumption of truthfulness based upon the integrity of the source of information. Thomas’ hopes had been dashed—it was hard even to find his closest friends trustworthy at this moment in his life. Now there is a certain amount of skepticism that is healthy. Without it, we would have no curiosity. It is our drive to understand and prove things that leads us to discovery and new knowledge. But skepticism can also keep hope and faith at arm’s length, as it did for Thomas.

The eighth day after Easter Sunday—today—the disciples are again gathered in the house with the doors shut. This time Thomas is with them. But he is still trapped in that gulf between doubt and trust. If you are trapped between doubt and trust, pray that another witness may come to offer you testimony. That’s what happened to Thomas. This time the Lord himself came to offer testimony of his own resurrection. Jesus appears again, saying, "Peace be with you." Immediately Jesus goes to Thomas, who must have been overwhelmed. He asks Thomas to touch his wounds for himself, and have faith in God.

It is the power of Jesus’ resurrection that transforms Thomas. It transforms his doubt to faith, and Thomas responds in words brimming over with confidence and love, "My Lord, and my God." Jesus tells him, "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe." We ought to note here that Jesus does not say that Thomas is cursed for having seen it for himself. But Jesus does say the blessings are wondrous for those who trust in the Lord.

How often we think to ourselves, If I had been there I could really know. Or, If I could look ahead and see heaven, I could really know. And we miss the blessings of God that are available to us right now in knowing the Lord by faith. Faith is what brings hope through the closed doors of doubt. We can never know this joy until we begin to love Jesus Christ. Divine comfort can elude us until we start to love Jesus Christ. A certain hope begins when we decide to love Jesus Christ.

What is the great blessing for those who cannot see, and yet believe? S. Peter wrote in today’s epistle, "Without having seen him you love him, though you do not now see him you believe in him and rejoice with unutterable and exalted joy. As the outcome of your faith you obtain the salvation of your souls" (1 Pet 1:8-9).

In the Name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

The unanswered question

I was greatly saddened by the death of Terri Schiavo last week and the suffering and grief of [part of] her family in the matter. In the whole story, there is a big unanswered question I just can't figure out: How is this legal?

Many of the commentary about the case centered on the issue of "What are Terri's wishes?" Suppose for a moment that she had expressly stated in a living will prior to her condition that she wished to be starved and dehidrated to death exactly as has happened. Why whould that make it possible, from a legal standpoint? Suicide is not legal. Homicide requested by the victim is not legal. "She was asking for it" has never been a legal defense I am aware of.

If any of you are in the know about this legal issue, please leave a post addressing the unanswered question.

Easter Bunnies

There are Easter Bunnies at the Matkin House!

The two curious and playful bonded rabbits pictured above are named Ruby (left) and Tobi (right). They enjoy carrots, lettuce, and apples, and absolutely obsess over alfalfa. We're lucky they're around the house all year long because they really are a joy.

Sermon for Easter Day

Homily on the Resurrection of Christ
by The Rev'd Timothy M. Matkin, SSC
Given at S. Alban's Church, Arlington, TX on 27 March 2005

Alleluia. Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Familiarity is comforting; but sometimes familiarity deadens the impact something might otherwise have. Often we hear familiar phrases or sayings as if they were brand-new when the wording or vocabulary is slightly different. Looking at something in a new way helps us notice things that we might have glossed over because they are familiar. This is a great help for many in reading new translations of the Bible. Alongside older versions, familiar passages gain a renewed impact. I’ll cite one example. A verse that should be familiar to many us is Romans 3:23, “For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” If you look up the same passage in the Good News Bible, you’ll find it translated like this: “Everyone has sinned, and is far away from God’s saving presence.”

I’m a “Rite One” kind of guy, and as an English major I love to pull the King James bible off the shelf from time to time just to enjoy the beauty and comforting familiarity of the language. But I was struck by something of this nature a few years ago. The church where I served as a seminarian in Sheboygan, Wisconsin is home to the American proto-shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham, commemorating an appearance of St Mary in England. One Sunday afternoon while I was spending some time there, I was paging through one of the booklets from the Anglican shrine in Walsingham, England that they kept as a souvenir. It was an ecumenical collection of prayers for devotion to Mary, the virgin Mother of God.

Now we are accustomed to our prayers ending something like, “through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.” But I came across a collect that was a fresh translation from the Latin. It said the same thing, but the words hit me in a new way. It was like I was hearing it for the first time. The prayer ended, “through Jesus Christ our Lord, who is now alive, and who reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and always.” Dear friends, Jesus Christ is now alive. That is a fact each one of us must come to know and experience for ourselves. He is reigning with the Father and the Holy Spirit at this very moment. There is nothing passive about Jesus’ current life and ministry.

Following the Sabbath day, long ago, just before dawn, at least two women wandered through the twilight to the tomb of Jesus of Nazareth. One of them was Mary Magdalene—a woman that Jesus had personally healed and delivered from demons during his ministry. We are told that she was the first to see the risen Lord. As far as we know, she is probably the only one within the inner circle of Jesus’ followers who had been healed by him. She knew the power of Jesus in a more personal way than the others. Her life had been completely changed by that healing. She knew from experience that Jesus could do anything he said. She knew that Jesus keeps his promises.

She found that Jesus has risen from the dead, just as he said he would. He appeared to her, and said, Go tell the brethren what you have seen. The women dashed away to tell the others, filled with both fear and joy. They told the others, We saw Jesus, standing before us. He is risen; he is alive. Just as we had seen and handled his dead body, we knelt at his feet to worship him. His skin was warm to the touch. His voice resounded in our ears (as Matthew tells the story), “Be joyful; don’t be afraid.”

Christian tradition names Mary Magdalene as the first “apostle”—the first witness to the resurrection, charged and sent by Christ to share the Good News of his joyful resurrection with the Apostles. We are likewise to be filled with apostolic joy. May the joy of Christ, of Our Lady his Virgin Mother, and of Mary Magdalene be with us this day. For all of us who share the faith, seeing Jesus alive makes us glad, for we know that he lives for a reason—to be with and in us. And in the resurrected Christ, we see a glimpse of our own future. The lesson of the resurrection is that it does not stop with Jesus. What happened to Jesus will also happen to us. It is the ultimate sign of both God’s power and authority over life and death as well as his immeasurable goodness and grace. As the Lord told Ezekiel, You will know that I am the Lord when I open your graves, and raise you up, and put my Spirit within you, and give you life (Ezekiel 37:13-14).

The resurrection of Christ teaches us a number of things about our own. It teaches us that eternal life is a quantity of life—it is a life that knows no end. As St Paul wrote in his epistle to the Church of Rome, “If we have died with Christ, we believe that we shall also be alive with him. And we know that Christ being raised from the dead will never die again; death no longer has any power over him” (Rom 6:8-9). Death also has no power over those who live in Christ.

The resurrection of Christ also teaches eternal life is a quality of life. We see that Jesus no longer knows suffering in his body. His wounds are still there after the resurrection, but they are no longer marks of pain, they are signs of his identity. St. John describes the life of resurrected saints in his Revelation, saying, “[The Lord] will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be any mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore for the former things gave passed away” (Rev 21:4).

The resurrection of Christ also shows us that eternal life is a new kind of life. That new life is physical, but it is also something more glorious than what we know now. Jesus is bodily, physically alive; every resurrection account notes that detail. His followers do not simply see his spirit. Jesus addresses that point when he bids Thomas to put his hands in his side—to feel the reality of his resurrected flesh. In Luke’s gospel, Jesus asks the disciples to come up and touch him—to feel hid body for themselves, to know that he is not an apparition or a ghost. To make his point further, he eats in front of them to demonstrate the reality of his bodily nature.

And yet, his resurrected body shows us a new kind of existence, one greater and grander than anything yet experienced on earth. Jesus is no longer limited by suffering and death, nor is he bound by time and space any longer. Sometimes, his followers don’t recognize Jesus at first. He also seems to appear and disappear at will. The fearful disciples are gathered in a locked room, and suddenly, Jesus is there with them.

All this was told to the disciples in advance, but when they actually experienced it, the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ changed their lives for ever. He opened their mind to understand the Scriptures, to see his promises fulfilled—that the Son of Man must first suffer and die, and on the third day be raised. We also can know, personally, like Mary Magdalene, that Jesus keeps his promises. We can know intimately that Jesus can and will do what he says he will do. These are God’s promises of eternal life to each of us through Christ. And the resurrection shows us that God keeps his promises.

When the Magdalene first told the story to the other disciples, they were skeptical. Perhaps it was because they just hadn’t seen it for themselves. Perhaps it was because they didn’t have that previous personal encounter with Jesus’ healing power like Mary Magdalene had. But hers wasn’t the only report coming in. Soon there were others. Two more disciples encountered him walking through the country. And Jesus himself came to offer testimony of his own resurrection.

All of us here came to faith in the risen Christ at one point or another because someone trustworthy told us the story. Now it is time for us to go tell the story. We will encounter the risen Christ today in this Eucharist—here on this Altar and within ourselves in Holy Communion. When this Mass is over, it will be time for us to go. “Go,” Jesus said, “into all the world and preach the good news to the whole creation” (Mk 16:15). But you will not go alone. What did Mark tell us happened to the eleven? He said, “they went forth and preached everywhere, while the Lord worked with them and confirmed the message by the signs that attended it” (Mk 16:20). That is part of God’s promise to us (and remember, God keeps his promises). If we go share the good news (share what we ourselves have seen and heard) God will be at work, confirming the message, converting souls, healing the wounded, raising up the mystical Body of Christ.

Let us pray.
Father in heaven, by the resurrection of your Son Jesus Christ, happiness entered the world : Grant that we, by the aide of the Virgin Mary, his Mother, may share in those joys of eternal life; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who is now alive, and who reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and always. Amen.

Sermon for Maundy Thursday

Homily on the Eucharist and Priesthood
by The Rev’d Timothy M. Matkin, SSC
Given at S. Alban’s Church, Arlington, TX on 24 March 2005

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.

Tonight we gather in this Holy Week to begin recalling the central mysteries of our redemption—the betrayal, death, burial and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. A few weeks ago, I was looking ahead at my books on ceremonial about the liturgies of Holy Week, and I came across a curious thing. I don’t recall many ceremonial directives about sermons in there. But there was one for one day this week—Maundy Thursday. It read, "It is proper that, at the usual point, a sermon should be preached on the Holy Eucharist and the priesthood" (E. C. R. Lamburn, Ritual Notes, 11th Ed., p. 320).

I thought I might do just that, for an understanding of the Eucharist and the priesthood seems essential, not only for grasping the truths about this night, but also about the meaning of the redemptive suffering, death, and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ.
One thing that should be made clear from the beginning is that, for his holy Catholic Church in all times and places, Jesus is our great High Priest. "Priest" comes from the Greek word presbyter, means "elder." A priest is one who is an elder or wise leader within a community, or one who is the father of a tribal family. In that position, he is set apart or "consecrated" to God and his service. A priest is devoted to God with his entire being, and thus devoted to God’s people as well. A priest is an intercessor and a mediator. He goes to meet with God on behalf of the people, and he speaks to the people on behalf of God.

We might say that priesthood began with Adam. He was created in God’s image, to do the will of God as his servant. And as a being made reflection of God image, Adam was a priest. He was consecrated to God in all his being. Humanity fulfilled God’s will through Adam, who conversed with God face-to-face. But sin damaged that office in which Adam stood as priest of God. In Adam we became rebellious priests—disobedient sons. In his disobedience, we embraced the opposite of a priestly office. Instead of consecrating our life and labor to God, we withheld it as our own, saying, "My will be done." With the advent of sin, we became unworthy to minister to the Lord.

The priestly duty of offering sacrifice means presenting a gift to God as a sign of love, in recognition of his supreme dominion over all creation. Our sinfulness wants to claim dominion for ourselves alone. Yet, in his mercy, God nurtured the ministry of the patriarchs and the elders of Israel even as they offered imperfect worship. He taught them through prophets, and raised up priests to consecrate the people to the Lord. Indeed, the people as a whole were a kind of nation of priests, sanctifying the world by being a holy presence within it—a "light to the nations."

Sin brought a new task to priestly work—making atonement for sin. Sacrifice would henceforth not merely be a sign of love, it would also be a desperate plea for mercy. The problem was that such priests, rebellious by nature, could only offer imperfect sacrifices. These were but a type or shadow of the real thing. In the fullness of time, God sent his Son into the world. The eternal Word took human flesh from the blessed Virgin Mary. This was the new Adam—the obedient and humble servant. The first Adam brought sin and death into the world, the second Adam brought forgiveness and life.

St. Paul put it this way in his letter to the Church of Rome: "For as by the one man’s disobedience, many were made sinners, so by the one man’s obedience the many will be made righteous" (Rom 5:19). As the righteous servant, Jesus was able to be the priest that Adam was not. Jesus could offer the one true pleasing sacrifice to God the eternal Father, because he offered it with a truly sinless and humble heart. And that fulfillment of all sacrifices was to be the gift of himself.

"For in [Jesus] all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell," St. Paul wrote to the Colossians, "and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross. And you, who were once alienated and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds, he has now reconciled in his body of flesh by his death, in order to present you holy and blameless before him" (Col. 1:19-20). The union of the human and divine in Jesus is essential to his priestly work. Holy Week and Easter have no real meaning without the Incarnation. The human and divine natures are united in the one person of Christ, as the ecumenical council of Chalcedon puts it: united "without confusion, without change, without division, and without separation" (BCP, p. 864). He is the one mediator between God and Man—bringing God and humanity together in himself. And in bringing the two together, Jesus mediated a new covenant.

The Old Covenant was sealed with the shedding of blood. When Moses declared all the commandments of God to the people, and took the blood of calves and goats, and sprinkled both the book of the Law and the people, saying, "This is the blood of the covenant that God commanded for you" (Ex 24:6-8). This act of Moses long ago foreshadowed the way that the New Covenant would be sealed in the shed blood of Christ. Jesus offered himself to the Father as the Passover lamb on this night—a sacrifice to spare people from their sins, just as the blood of the Passover lamb spared the lives of the Hebrews when they marked their door-posts with its blood so the angel of death would know to pass over them.

The author of Hebrews speaks a great deal about Jesus as our great High Priest. The crucifixion is a kind of liturgy. Jesus enters the veil of heaven through his death, to offer his own blood on the mercy seat, just as the high priest of Israel offered the blood of bulls and goats in the Holy of Holies on the day of Atonement. Jesus is our great High Priest.

In his divine plan, our blessed Lord wanted to share that priesthood with us. Like Israel before, those in his Church are to be "a chosen people, a royal priesthood, and a holy nation . . ." (1 Pet 2:9). The laos (the People of God), by virtue of union with Christ in holy Baptism, share in what we call "the priesthood of all believers." This is a ministry of service, love, and mission, to which all Christians are called. Believers must mediate Christ’s love and his saving gospel to the world. Like Israel, we are to be a "light to the nations."

Jesus often spoke of a kind of renewal of Israel in the kingdom of God; part of that messianic mission was to renew Israel’s elders. While he is the only true priest or elder, he shares that priestly work with those whom he calls in his Church. Early in Mark’s gospel, we read, "He now went up onto the mountain and summoned those he wanted. And he ordained Twelve that they might be with him and that he might send them forth to preach, and to have the power to heal sickness, and to cast out devils" (Mk 3:14-15). Jesus called out men whom he ordained to do the kinds of things he was doing. As Moses laid hands on Joshua and gave him authority to care for the people, Jesus gave the Twelve authority to teach and to heal, and even gave them a share in his ministry of divine reconciliation.

After his resurrection, we read in John’s gospel, "Then Jesus said unto [the apostles] again, ‘Peace be unto you: as my Father sent me, even so I send you.’ And when he said this, he breathed on them and said, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit: whose sins you forgive are forgiven; and whose sins you retain are retained’" (Jn 20:20-23). However, in theological discourse down through the years, when teachers and bishops talked about the institution of holy orders, they did not so much look to this early mountaintop experience nor to this post-resurrection blessing as they did to the Upper Room. The institution of the Christian ministerial priesthood is always connected with the institution of the holy Eucharist—Sacrament of the Altar.

One of the best books for those studying for the priesthood is The Christian Priest Today by the late Archbishop of Canterbury, Arthur Michael Ramsey. In an early chapter called "Why a Priest," he outlines four unique qualities of the priest in today’s Anglican Church. The priest is the "man of theology", the "minister of reconciliation," the "man of prayer", and the "man of the Eucharist." Concerning the last quality, he notes the following:

"The liturgy indeed belongs to all the people. We being many are the one bread, one body. We take, we break, we offer, we receive . . . Where then, and why then, the priests? As a celebrant, he is more than the people’s representative. In taking, breaking, and consecrating, he acts in Christ’s name and in the name not only of the particular congregation, but of the holy Catholic Church down through the ages. By his office as celebrant he symbolizes the focusing of the Eucharist in the givenness of the historic gospel and in the continuing life of the Church as rooted in that gospel. He finds that at the Altar he is drawn terribly and wonderfully near not only to the benefits of Christ’s redemption, but to the redemptive act itself" (A. M. Ramsey, The Christian Priest Today, pp. 9-10).

Archbishop Ramsey touches upon two fundamental truths about the connection between the Eucharist and the priesthood. The first is summed up in the old theological axiom sacerdos alter Christus—"the priest is another Christ." That is, by virtue of the grace of holy orders, the Christian priest is indelibly and metaphysically conformed to Christ—the ultimate source and irreplaceable model of his priesthood. Thus, Jesus’ will that the apostles "do this as my memorial" requires that they stand in the place of Christ and speak his words (i.e., not "this is his Body", but "this is my Body.")

The second truth Ramsey touches upon is that the Eucharist is a participation in Christ’s redemptive work. It is not simply a reminder that these things once happened—a mere symbol or aide to help call to mind past events. Rather, the Eucharist is a real participation in past events, the constitutor of a present reality, and the foretaste of the future kingdom.
The Eucharist manifests past works of God’s redemption. St. Paul told the Corinthian church, "as often as you eat the bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death till he comes" (1 Cor 11:26). The catechism of the Prayer Book reminds us, "The Holy Eucharist, the Church’s sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving, is the way by which the sacrifice of Christ is made present, and in which he unites us to his one offering of himself" (BCP, p. 859).

Not only does the Eucharist participate in past events, it is also a present reality. In the blessed Sacrament, Jesus is our "Emmanuel"—God with us. The Word made flesh tabernacles among us. It is in the celebration of the holy Eucharist that the Church is constituted, the mystical Body of Christ on earth.

While the Eucharist is a participation in past and present, let us not forget that the Eucharist is also about the future. Indeed, the second Advent of Christ was the dominant imagery in the Eucharist of the Church in the early centuries. Jesus said, "Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day" (Jn 6:54). By receiving Holy Communion, we receive a foretaste of eating and drinking at his table in the kingdom (Lk 22:30).

We can see the connection between the Eucharist and priesthood from the Last Supper. At the Passover meal Jesus shared with his disciples this night, the pure unleavened bread was broken into quarter portions, and one portion, called the afikomen, was hidden away in a cloth and laid aside. No one really knew why, except that it had always been done that way before. It was also called the Bread of Redemption, and it usually went uneaten. Many suspect that it was this portion that Jesus took, broke and gave to His disciples saying, "Take eat, this is my Body." There were four cups of wine during the meal and it was the third cup, traditionally called the Cup of Redemption or the Cup of Blessing which Christ gave to them saying, "Take and drink; this is my Blood of the new covenant poured out for you." St. Paul noted, "The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not the communion of the blood of Christ?" (1 Cor 10:16)

And what of the fourth cup of wine in the Passover meal? At that point, Jesus said, "I will not drink of this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in My Father’s kingdom" (Mt 26:29). The fourth cup was known as the Cup of Consummation—the cup in which God takes us as his people. After sharing the cup of his precious Blood, Jesus left the liturgy unfinished. Or perhaps we should say, the liturgy continued—in the Garden, at the cross, and at the tomb.

Jesus left the fourth cup on the table because there was another new element in the Seder liturgy; there was a new cup from which to drink; for Jesus, it would be the cup of suffering. Isaiah and Jeremiah said the Messiah would drink from the cup of God’s wrath. The grapes of wrath would be churned in the winepress and the cup of divine wrath would be poured out against sin. Jesus prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane, "Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me. Nevertheless, not as I want, but as you want" (Mt 26:39). We he was first put on the cross, they offered Jesus wine mingled with myrrh, but he would not take it. "I will not drink of the fruit of the vine until I drink it new in the kingdom." He hung there on the tree for about three hours.

One of the last things that happened before Jesus died was that he looked down and said, "I thirst." John’s gospel tells us there was a bowl of sour wine nearby. So they put a sponge on the end of a hyssop branch, (the same kind of branch used to mark the door-posts with lamb’s blood at the first Passover) dipped it in the wine and raised it up to his lips. And when he drank it, Jesus said, "It is finished." And bowed his head and gave up his spirit (Jn 19:30). It is finished. It is consummated. The Mass has ended. The liturgy is over. He drank the final cup, the Cup of Consummation, and brought us into the kingdom of God, for the gate of heaven’s kingdom stands at the cross on Golgotha.

The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not the communion of the blood of Christ? Jesus gathers with us here tonight; he presides over our Passover meal through his priest at the Altar. He is himself the Passover Lamb slain for the sins of the world. The sacrificial banquet is spread on the table before us. "Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us," St. Paul said, therefore let us keep the feast . . ." (1 Cor 5:7). Jesus bids us to come to his holy Table and eat and drink tonight. All is prepared. "Come ye blessed of my Father, and inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world" (Mt 25:34).

Holy Week and Easter at S. Alban's

Schedule for Holy Week
Saint Alban's Episcopal Church in the City of Arlington, Texas

Monday The Holy Eucharist: Rite One, 6:30 pm
The Rev'd Timothy M. Matkin, SSC, Celebrant and Preacher

Tuesday The Holy Eucharist: Rite One, 6:30 pm
The Rev'd Dwayne R. Bauman, SSC, Celebrant and Preacher

Wednesday The Holy Eucharist: Rite One, 6:30 pm
The Rev'd Richard N. Clark, Celebrant and Preacher

Maundy Thursday The Holy Eucharist: Rite One, 8:00 pm
The Rev'd Dwayne R. Bauman, SSC, Celebrant
The Rev'd Timothy M. Matkin, SSC, Preacher

Good Friday Stations of the Cross, noon
The Rev'd Dwayne R. Bauman, SSC, Officiant

Solemn Liturgy of Good Friday: the Solemn Collects, the Veneration of the Cross, and Mass of the Presanctified Gifts, 7:00 pm
The Rev'd Timothy M. Matkin, SSC, Celebrant
The Rev'd Richard N. Clark, Preacher

[Saturday] The Great Vigil of Easter (with Holy Baptism), 8:00 pm
The Rev'd Richard N. Clark, Celebrant
The Rev'd Timothy M. Matkin, SSC, Preacher

Sunday The Holy Eucharist: Rite One, 7:30 am
The Rev'd Richard N. Clark, Celebrant and Preacher

The Holy Eucharist: Rite Two, 9:00 am
The Rev'd Dwayne R. Bauman, SSC, Celebrant and Preacher

Folk Mass in the Parish Hall, 9:00 am
The Rev'd Timothy M. Matkin, SSC, Celebrant and Preacher

Solemn High Mass of Easter, 11:00 am
The Rev'd Timothy M. Matkin, SSC, Celebrant
The Rev'd Dwayne R. Bauman, SSC, Preacher


Please join us for worship, and have a blessed Holy Week and Easter!

Sermon for Monday in Holy Week

Homily on Mark 14:3-9
by The Rev’d Timothy M. Matkin, SSC
Given at S. Alban’s Church, Arlington, TX on 21 March 2005

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.

You might not have come. There were plenty of other places you could be. Indeed, this may be the first time you have been to church on a Monday. The Church encourages, but does not obligate you to come tonight. There might have even been important things that you might have accomplished otherwise. But, like the woman in today's gospel story, perhaps you sensed that it would be a special time. You sensed that it was important for you to be here tonight. And it is.

It was a very precious moment between Jesus and this woman. She brought in a jar of very costly perfumed oil--worth several hundred dollars--nearly a year’s wages. And she poured it on Jesus’ head. It seems that she truly understood the finality of the moment that they shared. Oil poured on the head is a symbol of messianic anointing; it was done as a sign of honor for rpinces and kings. But Jesus also says that she has anointed him for burial. The others there complained that it was a nice gesture, but such an incredible waste. You see, she not only anointed Jesus, she broke the jar, and used all of the perfume that she had.

They tried to correct her, saying it could have been put to much better use, such as relief for the poor. Jesus was probably hurt by their inability to understand or appreciate what she did—that this was a special time, and a precious gesture. "She has done a beautiful thing," he simply said. You can always give to the poor, Jesus added, but this is a moment that will not last.

The woman is unnamed in Mark's gospel. In John's gospel, a story very similar to this one names the woman as Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus. What we know about this Mary is that she was a quiet and contemplative person. She was a devout and discerning kind of woman. She was tender and compassionate. If any of Jesus' friends were to share a quite moment with him, we might expect it to be Mary of Bethany. But even Jesus seems genuinely surprised by the outpouring of devotion. St. Mark tells us he was deeply moved.

It was a very expensive gift; it was an extravagant gesture; it was impulsive and reckless. And it could not have been more perfect. When others criticize her as wasteful, Jesus rebuked them. What she has done will be spoken of throughout the world, wherever the gospel is preached, she will be remembered as a model of devotion. To many minds, faith and love and generosity and charity are but a waste. They can show no profits, no results, no material purpose. Their inability to see her act of devotion as an intensely valuable thing reveals their limited understanding of discipleship. Mary has the instinctive spiritual knowledge to understand the worth of pure love in and of itself. Pure devotion is something above and beyond loving service. To lift the dutiful up to the level of the beautiful, and then to let that beauty transform one’s duty in the world, is a mark of true discipleship. Beauty has access to a part of the soul where even reason cannot reach.

It is there that we experience intimacy with God on another level. It is the place where God imparts inner peace. Sorrow may darken inner peace, encroaching on the space of shelter in the soul. It is at the time when darkness and sorrow approaches that pure love and beauty can be most impactful. I know people who have had this kind of loving, beautiful, intimate time shared with a loved one before death, especially those who have been a caregiver for someone dying. We see much the same type of moment in the scene between Jesus and Mary of Bethany. Mary is insightful, and she knows it is her final goodbye, and all she can do is to pour out her soul to say "I love you." It is an opportunity for us to pour out our souls to Jesus during this holy week.

I have not yet had the blessing of nursing a loved one through till death. But I have been touched by two similar passings during seminary. One was Bill Mabry--he was the Director of Christian Education at First Baptist School in Shreveport, Louisiana where I grew up. I remember him telling Bible stories in chapel when I was a child, illustrated with cartoon cutouts on a felt board. He always spoke with tenderness and personal faith. I hardly saw him after first grade, because I started going to public school, and then we moved away after that. My last summer in seminary, my aunt (who had kept up with him over the years) told me that he was dying. He was living in Arkansas--which just happened to be on my route to Wisconsin.

I was more than a little nervous since I hadn't seen him since I was a child. I waited till the end of the summer to call him. Reluctantly, I said I would stop by on the way back to school. After all, what is a mere evening in the big picture? Except for the oxygen mask he wore at times as we talked before dinner, he looked practically the same as I remembered--he had the same encouraging smile, the same quiet manner, the same conviction in his voice, the same strong and nurturing faith. We talked about our vocations to ministry and about life and faith. We must have talked for hours--and it was as if he had been there every day of my life. I didn't have the maturity to be a Mary of Bethany to him that night, but Bill was Christ to me in that moment. A few weeks later, he died, and the world lost a genuinely good man.

It was a only few months later that one of the ladies from my Sunday parish in seminary--Marian Keller from Our Lady of Grace in Sheboygan was dying. She and her husband had always had a special affection for seminarians from Nashotah House. They considered it their ministry to the wider church to help nurture these young men in their calling. She always tried to mentor me in my years there as well. Lung cancer had eventually gotten the best of her. Marian and her husband John went to the Virgin Islands for a final vacation that winter. She lived life to the end. A few weeks into Eastertide, she was living her final days. The last Sunday I saw her, she was lying in bed at home with family and friends all through the house.

The Rector gave her a final sacramental unction. Later, I was asked if I would read the Litany at the Time of Death from the Prayer Book. When they prayers were finished, he looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, "I bet you didn't realize this was going to be a part of your training too, did you?" A few days later, I served as the subdeacon at her Requiem Mass. I still miss her, and wish I had taken more advantage of the time I was around her.

I still think about Marian and Bill from time to time, usually in the liturgy--in joining my voice with "all the company of heaven" in worship. I don't know if I was a blessing to them before their deaths or not. But I do know that both were a blessing to me--simply by sharing intimate moments of life and fellowship as death approached.

Jesus said, "Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her." The story will be told that we may learn from her example. Covering Jesus with costly fragrance was all she could do to pour out her soul before the Lord to say "I love you." It is an opportunity for us also during this Holy Week to spend some intimate time with Christ before his death, and to break the flasks of our personalities and pour out our souls onto Jesus. I believe that this will be a special time for each of you. I don’t believe that anyone in this church tonight ended up here by accident.

This is going to be a special time between you and Jesus Christ. He is here tonight, and he wants you to share this moment. The very mysteries of our salvation lie close at hand, and this will be your time alone with Christ, as together you begin to look toward that dark hill that lies outside of Jerusalem called Golgotha. Treasure these moments with Christ, before you begin the journey along the way of the cross. Amen.