Hieropraxis» Meditations

The Christian Past and Future

Holly Ordway — Sat, 22 May 2010 05:01:36 +0000

Christ has died.

Christ is risen.

Christ will come again.

Past, present, future. They’re all there – all true – all part of the Christian life.

In 2007, on my first trip to Durham Cathedral in the north of England, I thought a lot about the depth of history. The cathedral itself is almost a thousand years old, and a small community of Christians worshiped on the site before the cathedral construction began, so as I knelt in prayer there, I was aware that I was part of a millennium of continual worship of Our Lord at that very spot. Ten centuries of people lifting up praise and thanks, prayers and petitions to God, aware that He is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

Two great figures from medieval Christianity are buried at Durham Cathedral: the Venerable Bede and St. Cuthbert. Could they have imagined the twenty-first century, with its technology and gadgets, its world wars and its radical philosophies? I bet they’d see right through the post-modern fog, cut through all our excuses for why we don’t follow through on what Christ calls us to do, and challenge us to look for the one truth who is Christ. God called Cuthbert, a shepherd, to be a bishop; he called Bede to be a scholar, historian, and monk. He calls each of us to do His work – today just as much as in the seventh century when Cuthbert and Bede were alive, or in the time of Jesus Himself.

Durham Cathedral isn’t just full of old stone and medieval art – the “Millennium Window” is a modern stained glass piece, the banners for St. Cuthbert’s tomb are modern, and there are several modern-art sculptures of Christ. Some of the modern art I liked, and some I didn’t. But regardless of my aesthetic preference, I felt that the modern work there sent an important message: that this is a place of living faith, where Christians come to worship God in 2007 and beyond, not just to look back at history. The depth of Christian tradition is immeasurably valuable… but pairing it with modern work helps us understand why it’s so important: not just for its own sake, but because tradition is essential in helping us become and remain true disciples of Christ now and in the future.

Past, present, future. He has died; He is risen; He will come again. We must hold all three in our awareness. Past: the tradition that has been handed on faithfully for us to learn from. Present: where we must act out what we have learned. Future: that day, perhaps tomorrow, perhaps in another millennium, in which Christ, who is already King of the world, will return in glory.

What It Means to Follow Jesus: The Faithful Fishermen’s Perspective

Fr. Doran Stambaugh S.S.C. — Sun, 28 Feb 2010 02:36:11 +0000

Following Jesus is not a means to some other end: he is the end in and of himself.

While the people pressed upon him to hear the word of God, he was standing by the lake of Gennesaret. And he saw two boats by the lake; but the fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets. Getting into one of the boats, which was Simon’s, he asked him to put out a little from the land. And he sat down and taught the people from the boat. And when he had ceased speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.” And Simon answered, “Master, we toiled all night and took nothing! But at your word I will let down the nets.” And when they had done this, they enclosed a great shoal of fish; and as their nets were breaking, they beckoned to their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both the boats, so that they began to sink. But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.” For he was astonished, and all that were with him, at the catch of fish which they had taken; and so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were partners with Simon. And Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid; henceforth you will be catching men.” And when they had brought their boats to land, they left everything and followed him. (Luke 5.1-11)

I was talking to a young Marine the other day about his faith, and his life in the church, and his relationship with Jesus. He told me the story of a miracle that had happened to him; how, after significant prayer and searching, God had reached into his life and acted in a real and unmistakable way. It was a watershed moment for him and his relationship with God, literally shifting the course of his life. He began to reconsider his faith in a fresh way. He began to recognize God at work in the world. And he began going back to church.

Now this young Marine was raised in the church. And prior to this discernable act of God in his life, he definitely had a faith and a relationship with God. But as he described it, it wasn’t exactly a high priority in his life. He pointed to his intermittent church attendance as an example. As he explained it, after working 24 straight hours – from Saturday morning all the way through the graveyard shift Saturday night — he didn’t always feel like going straight to church on Sunday morning.

As he’s telling me this, I’m thinking, “who would?”

I think it’s enough of a struggle to get up for church even after a good night’s sleep, let alone after staying up all night.

When I think back, there were just a few times that I stayed up all night Saturday and went to church on Sunday morning. But I sure wasn’t “working” all night, and it sure wasn’t pleasant in the morning.

I think it would be difficult for anyone to work all night and go to church on Sunday.

It’s kind of crazy to think that the fishermen in today’s gospel did just that.

Imagine being one of these fishermen. You’ve been up all night fishing, and you didn’t even catch a darn thing. The sun comes up. You return to the shore empty-handed. You’re tired, cranky, probably hungry. And as you’re washing your nets and getting ready to go home, this Jesus guy comes by. There’s a whole mess of people crowding around him to hear him speak. He climbs into your boat, and asks you to row him just a bit off shore so the people can hear him speak. What do you do?

There’s no getting around the fact that the responsibilities and challenges of our daily lives are in constant competition with our relationship with Jesus. Work, school, family, friends, kids, relationships, late Saturday nights at Pizza Port, Chargers games, a nice, clean 3 to 4 foot northwest swell; there are an infinite number of reasons for not going to church on Sunday morning. We’ve all experienced them. Yes, even the priests. (Believe it or not, before I went to seminary I was a Saturday night guy; the Sunday-morning-snooze-bar was just too tempting.)

How difficult it can be to make room for Jesus in the midst of our labors – not just on Sunday, but every day!

So here we have these fishermen, who for some reason, get back into their boat. There’s clearly something about Jesus that is compelling enough for them to stick around and listen to him teach.

OK, so they listen to his sermon. It’s Jesus preaching, so no doubt it’s a killer sermon. He probably tells a couple funny jokes. The fishermen maybe space out a for a few minutes and daydream about the Superbowl. Finally, he comes to an end.

So if you are one of these fishermen, now are you ready to go home? I would be. “Thanks so much for the sermon, Jesus. Have a great week. See you next Sunday.”

But Jesus is only just getting started. He turns to you and says, “Why don’t we swing this boat around and sail out to the deep end, and you can let down your nets for a catch.”

Seriously.

Why would anyone do this? It goes against your own personal experience. You’ve already been out on the sea all night… you know there’s nothing out there.

And yet, with an inspiring mixture of faith and obedience, Peter and the others do what Jesus says, even though their own experience goes directly against Jesus’ instruction. Peter says, “Master, we toiled all night and took nothing! But at your word I will let down the nets.”

And miraculously, a gazillion fish swim right into the net.

Now here’s an interesting question. Did Jesus find the fish? Or did the fish find Jesus?

Sure, Jesus could have known where all the fish were hanging out. But the fish may just as well have been drawn to their maker.

Either way, the greater point is this: the fishermen’s efforts were only fruitful when Jesus was with them in the boat; when they were following his instructions; when they obeyed his Word.

Our Lord tells us in very clear words, “I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in me, and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.”

Indeed, in that long night of toil and labor apart from Jesus, the fishermen were unable to bear any fruit. But despite their fatigue and no doubt skepticism, they followed Jesus’ Word and were met with such abundance that their boat almost sank.

How easy it is to toil for long periods of time before even realizing that all along we have been trying to do our work alone, apart from the free gifts of guidance and counsel and comfort and grace given to us through Our Lord Jesus Christ. Whether it’s relationships or jobs or schoolwork or health or decisions or dilemmas, Jesus’ promise to us is that when we abide in him and he in us, we will bear much fruit.

That promise was made manifest to those fishermen that morning.

I’m not a comedian guy, but some of you may know that I have a real soft-spot for a comedian named Jim Gaffigan. Jim is a Roman Catholic and so he tells lots of jokes about Bible stories. And he does this one bit about today’s fishermen. He says:

“The apostles are always used as an example of people that gave up everything to follow Jesus, they gave up everything. But you know, they were fishermen. It’s not like they were investment bankers. Jesus went up to them, ‘Hey, you know how you’re sitting out here in the blistering heat trying to catch fish in the Dead Sea?’

‘Yeah, it stinks.’

‘You want to follow me. I’m God. By the way, I can turn water into wine.’

‘All right, I’ll go with you.’

‘But there’s one condition: you have to give up everything, and I mean everything.’

‘So I leave the pole here?’”

It’s a funny bit, but Luke’s gospel actually paints a little different picture than Jim’s.

For starters, they are in the Sea of Galilee, not the Dead Sea.

But more significantly, Peter and his friends walked away from far more than just their poles, or even their boats.

Remember what just happened. Their life’s work revolved around the simple aim of trying to catch as many fish as possible. And with Jesus’ help, they had done just that. This load of fish was undoubtedly a record-breaking catch – possibly even the highlight of their careers.

They didn’t just walk away from their poles, or even their boats, but from this enormous payload, this over-abundance, this great success.

St. Luke writes, “when they had brought their boats to land, they left everything and followed him.”

Surely an entrepreneurial temptation ran through someone’s mind: “Hey, if we could only get Jesus to go fishing with us all the time, we’d be set for life!”

How easy would it have been for them to “follow” Jesus as a means to further their own career.

But for those fishermen, following Jesus was not a means to an end. They did not follow him in order to “get this” or “gain that.” That Jesus provided for them in such a miraculous and abundant way was proof enough that he was all they needed.

The same is true for us. Following Jesus is not a means to some other end: he is the end in and of himself. He is the alpha and omega; the beginning and the end.

We do not follow Jesus to “get this” or “gain that.” He is all we need. For he is life itself.

As with the Marine I was talking to earlier in the week, one miracle changed the course of those fishermen’s lives forever; and through them the life of the world.

The church fathers see in this story an image of the very mission of the church. The boat is the Church. The nets are the Word of God, the good news of the Gospel of Jesus Christ spread throughout the world by the faithful witness and obedience of the apostles. And we, my friends, are the fish.

This miraculous event was merely a foreshadowing of the fulfillment of those words that Jesus spoke to Peter on that day, “Do not be afraid, henceforth you will be catching men.”

Beloved, as those who have been drawn into the boat, the body of Christ: let us heed the obedient examples of St. Peter, St. James, St. John, and the others who were with them on that day.

Let us not grow weary of listening to Jesus, of obeying Jesus, and of following Jesus. Amen.

Hope and Love on the Way of the Cross: The Transfiguration of Jesus

Fr. Doran Stambaugh S.S.C. — Sun, 14 Feb 2010 23:27:50 +0000

Jesus’ Transfiguration reveals in all its fullness the mind-boggling nature of his voluntary act of self-sacrifice. This voluntary act of self-sacrifice has a name — and that name is Love.

Luke 9.28-36.

Now about eight days after these sayings he took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. And as he was praying, the appearance of his countenance was altered, and his raiment became dazzling white. And behold, two men talked with him, Moses and Eli’jah, who appeared in glory and spoke of his departure, which he was to accomplish at Jerusalem. Now Peter and those who were with him were heavy with sleep, and when they wakened they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. And as the men were parting from him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is well that we are here; let us make three booths, one for you and one for Moses and one for Elijah”–not knowing what he said. As he said this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were afraid as they entered the cloud. And a voice came out of the cloud, saying, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” And when the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silence and told no one in those days anything of what they had seen.

Epiphany, the season between Christmas and Lent, is a celebration of the wonderful, saving truth that the Creator of the universe has made Himself known to His creation. Almighty God, He who is unknowable, incomprehensible, infinite, and uncreated, has become fully present and physically tangible to all of humanity. How has He accomplished this impossible task? By becoming a human being Himself. The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us. God has revealed Himself fully to the whole world in the person of Jesus Christ. This is our Epiphany celebration.

It is quite fitting then, that on the last Sunday of the season of Epiphany, we celebrate the Transfiguration of Our Lord. The Transfiguration is the consummation – or the climax – of Epiphany. This mysterious and miraculous event on the mountaintop is an unmistakable reminder that the tender infant in the manger, the small boy presented in the temple, the young man baptized in the waters of the Jordan, is in truth the God of the universe.

What happened on that mountaintop?

In St. John’s gospel, Jesus says, “I and the Father are one,” (John 10.30) and “he who has seen me has seen the Father” (John 14.9). At his Transfiguration these words are mystically fulfilled.

The light that shone so brightly that day was not a light shining down from heaven upon Jesus. It was the uncreated light of God Himself, bursting forth from within Jesus. For just a moment, Peter, James, and John beheld the Lord Jesus Christ in all his radiant glory: God of God, light of light, very God of very God, begotten not made, of one being with the Father.

It’s hard to blame these disciples for their excited bewilderment. It must have been a disorienting experience. Quite naturally, they mistake this event as somehow being the end of all they had been waiting for: the end of their journey, the end of their mission. Peter is ready to build booths, to set up camp and stay awhile. But Jesus’ Transfiguration is not the end of his mission; in fact, the mission has only just begun. While the disciples are ready to stay put, Jesus is on the move.

Where is he headed?

The calendar of the church year shows us the way . . . twice, actually. Some of you may know that we celebrate the Transfiguration not only at the end of Epiphany, but again every August 6^th. In both cases, this glorious event marks the beginning of a much darker road. Our celebration today takes place on the cusp of a 40-day journey that leads us straight to the cross. (Yes, that’s a reference to Lent). Likewise on August 6^th, if you count forward 40 days you will land on September 14^th, which is the feast of the Holy Cross. The calendar models the life of Our Lord who, after revealing himself as God on one mountaintop, begins his journey towards another: that of Calvary.

Which brings us to our final question: why the Transfiguration? What is its purpose and meaning? The answer is realized some 40 days into the future… on the cross.

Jesus’ revelation to his disciples is a gift to them. It is a vision of hope: of promised resurrection and future glory. They are given this vision to carry with them as they journey the way of the cross with Jesus.

We too must take the Transfiguration with us, on our journey to the cross.

Now you may think, “Well, I wasn’t there on top of that mountain.” But consider this. Many of us have experienced our own revelations of God in the person of Jesus Christ: those times when God has made Himself known to us in profound and unmistakable ways along the road of life.

These experiences are given to us for the very same reason the Transfiguration is given to the disciples: to be visions of hope, of promised resurrection and future glory. They are gifts to us especially for those darker periods in our lives, when we find ourselves in the valley of the shadow of death. God gives us these experiences to take with us as we journey the way of the cross with Our Lord. They are sure and certain reminders that He is real, that we are not alone, that He is with us in our suffering, just as He is in our times of deliverance and celebration.

The Transfiguration is God’s gift to us, a gift of the vision of hope at the foot of the cross.

But that is only the beginning.

The connection between the Transfiguration and the cross goes far deeper than this; it reveals to us the motive of the mission itself.

However, for this we must set the stage.

The Transfiguration is not the first time God has revealed Himself. Throughout the course of salvation history, He has done so in a variety of ways to a select few. One such revelation was to Moses on top of Mt. Sinai. Yet, as God says to Moses at that moment, “no man shall see my face and live.” (Exodus 33.20). So on that mountain with Moses, God literally covers Moses with His hand as He passes by Him — that he might live.

In another revelation, with the prophet Elijah, God does not come to him in a violent earthquake, or a raging fire, but rather in a gentle wind, so that Elijah would remain unharmed.

And so it is with Peter, James, and John. At the Transfiguration they witness the revelation of Almighty God: the voice of the Father, the glory of the Son, and the cloud of the Spirit enveloping them. They are privileged to behold the All-Holy Trinity . . . and live!

God says, “No man shall see my face and live.” Jesus says, “He who has seen me has seen the Father.” Christ’s identity as God is fully revealed at his Transfiguration.

And yet, this is the same Christ who will be betrayed in the garden. This is the same Christ who will stand before Pilate and be condemned to death. This is the same Christ who will be whipped and thrashed by the soldiers. This is the same Christ who will fall repeatedly into the dust of the earth under the weight of the cross.

This is the same Christ who will be stripped of his garments, nailed to the wood, pierced in the side.

This same Christ, who on the mount of Transfiguration shines with the pure brightness of the everliving Father in heaven, will on the mount of Calvary die on the cross.

Here we see a most significant connection between the Transfiguration and the cross: the revelation of the divinity of Jesus at the Transfiguration is confirmation that his blessed passion and precious death were voluntary.

The Transfiguration is confirmation of Jesus’ own words, “No one takes [my life] from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again; this charge I have received from my Father” (John 10.18). And again at his arrest in the garden, “Do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father, and he will at once send me more than twelve legions of angels?” (Matthew 26.53)

No soldier or bystander could have withstood the glory of God in the face of Christ. It is of Jesus’ own free will that he allows them to destroy him. For their sake even — for their own deliverance from the power of sin and death — he sustains them in grace as they put him to death.

Jesus’ Transfiguration reveals in all its fullness the mind-boggling nature of this voluntary act of self-sacrifice. And this voluntary act of self-sacrifice has a name — and that name is Love.

Love, by definition, is voluntary. It is not mandatory. It is free. It is not something we have to do. It is something we desire to do, not counting the cost. Love is what we give, regardless of what we get in return.

The Transfiguration reveals for us the essence of Christ’s pure love for us on the cross: to be by very nature God, and to freely and voluntarily lay down his life for his friends.

True love is the motive of the mission.

True love . . . dies on the cross.

On the cross, Jesus is patient and kind; he is not jealous or boastful.

On the cross, Jesus is not arrogant or rude; he does not insist on his own way.

On the cross, Jesus is not irritable or resentful; he does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right.

On the cross, Jesus bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. The love and life that Jesus gives to us on the cross . . . never ends.

Made in God’s image, we too are free to walk in love, just as Christ loved us, and gave himself up for us. Beloved, let us pick up our cross, and follow him.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Salvation and Marriage

Fr. Doran Stambaugh S.S.C. — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 00:26:57 +0000

Marriage plunges spouses right into the heart of the mystery of Christ.

And Pharisees came up and in order to test him asked, “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?” He answered them, “What did Moses command you?” They said, “Moses allowed a man to write a certificate of divorce, and to put her away.” But Jesus said to them, “For your hardness of heart he wrote you this commandment. But from the beginning of creation, ‘God made them male and female.’ ‘For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.’ So they are no longer two but one flesh. What therefore God has joined together, let not man put asunder.” Mark 10.2-9

This past fall, late night talk show host David Letterman interviewed pop icon and sexual revolutionary Madonna. Last December Madonna divorced her most recent husband, so in his interview, Dave (who is having some relational issues of his own these days) asked Madonna if there were any aspects of marriage that she missed. He asked point blank, “Do you think you’ll ever be married again?” To which Madonna promptly replied, “I’d rather get run over by a train.” (Not much ambiguity there).

No doubt there are many others who would share Madonna’s sentiment. The destruction of the marriage ideal is just one part of the widespread collateral damage caused by our sinful nature.

In a culture which grows increasingly supportive of promiscuity, permissiveness, pleasure, and self-gratification, the institution of marriage and its inherent values of fidelity, monogamy, and life-long commitment seem to have faded into the mists of time. Nowadays, marriage is commonly viewed as passé, old-fashioned, irrelevant, and unnecessary.

But while our culture has pretty much completely lost the meaning of marriage, as the church we are bound to reclaim, restore, and preserve it. In fact, it’s not too much to say that our salvation depends on it.

As Christians — whether we are married or not — if we do not have a proper understanding of marriage, then we cannot have a proper understanding of the hope of our redemption. The two are inextricably linked. Contrary to Madonna’s sentiment, marriage was not to be for us an illustration of hell, but rather an icon of heaven, created by God, and manifested fully to us through the Incarnation, death, and Resurrection of Our Lord Jesus Christ.

Now you may wonder, what does marriage really have to do with Jesus? He was never married, right? Wrong! Jesus IS a spouse; he is a husband; he is, in fact, the bridegroom. And we – the Church – are his bride. And it is in our marriage to Christ – union with Christ — that our salvation is made complete.

The story goes like this. We humans were created to be in perfect communion with God. And this vision of perfect communion was fulfilled through the Incarnation of Our Lord, who reconciled in himself the human and the divine; in him, the two have become one. Our hope of redemption, of reunion, of perfect and complete communion with the living God is fulfilled in Our Lord Jesus Christ.

And he invites us into that union.

The whole sacramental life can be related to marriage. In fact, “all the sacraments church have a ‘nuptial’ character since their purpose is to unite the Bride (the Church) with her Bridegroom (Christ).”(1) In this way, “The entire Christian life bears the mark of the spousal love of Christ and the Church.” (2)

Earthly marriage, then, is a natural and intentional reflection of this heavenly marriage to which we are all called.

The union of husband and wife in holy matrimony is a living, breathing, incarnate icon of that perfect union of Christ and his Church which is our salvation, our redemption, our ultimate spiritual consummation and bliss.

Viewed through this lens of union with God, we begin to see just how sacred and profound marriage really is. It plunges spouses right into the heart of the mystery of Christ.

Alas, outside of the Christian purview – and even within it — the spiritual meaning of marriage continues to unravel.

In particular, the physical dimensions of this sacred union are falling to pieces. Our sexuality has long since been unleashed from what the culture perceives as the old-fashioned confines of marriage. But our sexuality was created for the express purpose of consecrating this most holy union, as Our Lord himself demonstrates for us. The heart of Christ’s physical love for his bride the Church is found in the action of his sacrifice of himself on the cross, when he says, “This is my body . . . given for you” (Luke 22.19).

Our bridegroom Jesus Christ actually demonstrates four particular qualities of love for his bride the Church, qualities of love that specifically involve his body. Like his Word these qualities they serve as a lamp unto our feet and light unto our own relational paths.

These four qualities come from Pope John Paul II’s magnificent work, The Theology of the Body.

“First, Christ gives his body freely (“No one takes my life from me, I lay it down of my own accord,” Jn 10.18).

Second, he gives his body totally – without reservation, condition, or selfish calculation (“He loved them to the last,” Jn 13.1).

Third, he gives his body faithfully (“I am with you always,” Mt 28.20).

And fourth, he gives his body fruitfully (“I came that they may have life,” Jn 10.10).

If men and women are to avoid the pitfalls of counterfeit love, and live their vocation to its full, their union must express the same free, total, faithful, fruitful love that Christ expresses.” (3)

This is precisely what a bride and groom commit to at the altar with the words spoken in their vows. Their physical union in the marital act when “the words of the wedding vows become flesh. It’s where men and women are meant to incarnate divine love,” and in fact every time a husband and wife engage in the marital act they are “renewing their wedding vows with the language of their bodies.” (4)

The physical union of husband and wife then, is literally the outward and visible sign of the sacrament of Holy Matrimony.

I know that all this can sound like some impossible ideal when we consider the complexities of our relationships and the brokenness of our own sinful natures. But if we do not understand this fundamental vision of marriage, than we have absolutely no hope of attaining that vision. The whole idea of progress is predicated on a common vision or ideal that a people, or a couple, or a culture can work towards. If there is no goal or vision to move toward, then we are not progressing but regressing. As progressive Christians, it is essential for us to understand these fundamentals of marriage.

Our Lord has profoundly and selflessly demonstrated that the heart of divine love is the complete self-offering of ourselves — our souls and bodies — to our beloved.

Love is not about what we get, it is about what we give.

Love is sacrifice.

May Our Lord have mercy on us all, married, single, divorced, widowed, lonely, young and old alike; and may he give us the grace in all our relationships to increasingly walk in love just as Christ loved us, and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God. Amen.

————–

References:

1) Christopher West, Theology of the Body for Beginners: A Basic Introduction to Pope John Paul II’s Sexual Revolution, (West Chester: Ascension Press, 2004), 86.

2) Catechism of the Catholic Church, n. 1617.

3) Theology of the Body for Beginners, p. 91.

4) Ibid, p. 92.

Meditating on the Apostles’ Creed, Part 2

Holly Ordway — Sun, 29 Nov 2009 01:44:47 +0000

The Apostles’ Creed begins: “I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth. And in Jesus Christ his only Son our Lord…”

The Christian faith does not simply honor Jesus as a teacher, or as an example of a life perfectly obedient to God the Father – although our Lord certainly is both those things. If Jesus were just a teacher, then there could be many teachers, and many paths to follow to God. Have you seen any examples of the “many paths” idea being taken for granted as true?

Notice what the Creed says. “Christ”: it is not part of Jesus’ name. It is a title; it means “Messiah.” Jesus is the culmination of God’s work in salvation history – so whoever He is, He is not just one out of many: He is unique.

What is your reaction to this? Are you glad, or troubled, by the claim to uniqueness? Why?

“…his only Son our Lord”: While in one sense we are all adopted sons and daughters of God, Jesus is uniquely the only-begotten Son of God. Not only that, He is eternally the Son, as part of the eternal Trinity. How do you normally think of Jesus? Consider whether you tend to focus more on the human nature of Jesus, or on the divine nature of Jesus. How would your prayer life change if you consider Jesus in relation to God the Father and God the Holy Spirit, the most holy Trinity?

He is our Lord: and we can be sure of this because of the Cross. Jesus suffered, died, and was buried, and on the third day He rose again. In the Resurrection, God the Father vindicated the claims of Jesus of Nazareth to be the Son of God. In your prayer, consider taking a few moments to imaginatively put yourself in the place of the disciples. Stand at the foot of the cross, wait at the tomb, gather in the upper room, and encounter the Risen Lord.

Where do you struggle? Where do you want to be? Ask the Lord to help you find the place in the Gospels where you need to spend time with Him.

Meditating on the Apostles’ Creed: Part 1

Holly Ordway — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 01:17:39 +0000

“I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth.”

This is the first statement in the Apostles’ Creed, one of the ancient and central statements of orthodox Christian faith. It is a profound statement about the nature of reality.

“I believe in God.” The natural world is not all that there is. Beyond, behind, intersecting with our physical reality is supernatural reality. Consider: Where do you get your ideas about right and wrong? How do you know you love, and are loved? Look for the signposts in your lived experience that point to God as God.

“…the Father Almighty…” What is the nature of God? He is Almighty. We recognize, both by intuition and careful reasoning, that God is all-powerful. That points, inevitably, to the fact that God is One. God is Trinity: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, but He is Trinity in Unity.

Note also how the Christian faith identifies this all-powerful God as our Father. What does a perfect Fatherhood mean to you? He is “our Father,” which is to say, the Father of you and me, and also the Father of Our Lord Jesus Christ. Consider what that means when you hear of “brothers and sisters in Christ.”

“…maker of heaven and earth.” The Creed reminds us that this all-powerful God is a Creator, and in fact is our Maker, as He is the Maker of all that is, seen and unseen. What implications does that have for your worship? Throughout history, humankind has been tempted to worship the creature instead of the Creator: sometimes explicitly, as in nature worship or the worship of other gods, and sometimes implicitly, as in idolizing sex, money, or power. What does it mean to you that God is our Father and that He is also our Maker and the Creator of the heavens and the earth? Knowing this, is there anything you would do differently today?

The Feast of St Mary Magdalene

Holly Ordway — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 04:00:12 +0000

From the Book of Common Prayer for today’s date:

Almighty God, whose blessed Son restored Mary Magdalene to health of body and mind, and called her to be a witness of his resurrection: Mercifully grant that by your grace we may be healed of all our infirmities and know you in the power of his endless life; who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

St Mary Magdalene is special to me because she is the Apostle to the Apostles, the very first to proclaim the Resurrection. She carried His message, but more than that, she saw Him, the Risen Lord.

Two years ago, I had the privilege of worshipping in the Church of St Mary Magdalene in Oxford, England – the church that C.S. Lewis attended. The life and witness of St Mary Magdalene reminds us that when we come to Christ, we can trust that He will heal us of what ails us, in body, mind, and spirit — and that He calls us all, men and women alike, to do His work and spread the good news of His kingdom, no matter where we come from or how broken we were to start with.

Lord, help me to follow in St Mary Magdalene’s footsteps, to know You, to love You, and to do Your work in the world!

The Garden, the Cross, and the Tomb

Holly Ordway — Sat, 11 Apr 2009 02:55:32 +0000

Christ is risen! On Easter, we raise our voices in praise and thanksgiving, celebrating the victory won for us by Our Lord, our new life made possible in His new life.

And rightly we do celebrate – but before we do, wait a moment. Paul writes in Romans that “if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his” (Rom 6:5 ESV). How easy it is to jump ahead, in our eagerness to be united with Our Lord in a resurrection like His own mighty resurrection. Stop for a moment. Stop and think on Paul’s words: “if we have been united with him in a death like his.” A death like Jesus’ death. What does that mean?

We cannot come to new life without death. We cannot find the Risen Lord without the Cross; we cannot reach Easter any way except through the agony of Good Friday and the emptiness of Holy Saturday.

Good Friday

Our Lord leads the way – from triumph and hosannas as He entered Jerusalem on Sunday, through the lonely watch in the garden of Gethsemane. Mark tells us that in the garden, Jesus “fell on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. And he said, ‘Abba, Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will’” (Mk 14:35-36). Our Lord Himself was distressed and troubled, yet constant in obedience to the Father. How easy it is to proclaim Christ when we anticipate that His will is peace and prosperity. Yet Christ calls us to come and die. “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?” (Rom 6:3).

Would you die for Christ? Here in America, we are unlikely to literally die for Christ at all, and certainly not as Our Lord did – in agony, His scourged body stretched across the wood of the cross, struggling to breathe. Put it differently. Would you be willing to lose your job for Christ? Would you let go of God’s good gifts to follow God Himself?

Christ calls us to share in His death, that we may share in His resurrection. “We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life” (Rom 6:4). We will, soon, glory in His resurrection – but first comes the cross.

The crowd shouts, “Crucify him, crucify him!” (Jn 19:6). We are in that crowd. Pilate offers to release Him: the crowd shouts, “If you release this man, you are not Caesar’s friend.” (Jn 19:12). What accommodations have we made with Caesar? What do we worship instead of the One True God? We must face the darkness in our own lives as we make our way toward the light of Easter.

Christ is crucified. Not for a vague and unspecified “humanity,” nor for a general idea of “sinners” which we so easily interpret as “other people.” No – on the cross He hung for three bitter hours, bleeding, thirsty, listening to the mockery of the crowd – for us. For me who writes this, for you who are reading this, for all the individual human lives that have ever been and ever will be. And with Christ was crucified all our sins. “We know that our old self was crucified with him in order that the body of sin might be brought to nothing, so that we would no longer be enslaved to sin. For one who has died has been set free from sin” (Rom 6:6-7).

Holy Saturday

Jesus is dead. Say it again: Our Lord is a lifeless body, wept over by a few women, his friends having scattered. Darkness lies over the land. We can imagine the disciples, on that terrible Saturday, puzzling over what seemed to be shattered hopes. “We had hoped,” Cleopas would say a day later on the road to Emmaus, “that he was the one to redeem Israel” (Lk 24:21). Is this what the vindication of Israel looks like? Is this what the Kingdom of God looks like? Or is it what it seems to be – shame, death, defeat?

What is there to do? Perhaps only to give up. Yet not everyone had abandoned Him. In the waning hours of Friday, a few stayed faithful, even if it was a faith without hope. Joseph of Arimathea, a man “looking for the kingdom of God,” did what he could, even if it was pathetically little. “This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then he took it down and wrapped it in a linen shroud and laid him in a tomb cut in stone, where no one had ever yet been laid… The women who had come with him from Galilee followed and saw the tomb and how his body was laid. Then they returned and prepared spices and ointments.” (Lk 23:51-56).

A bitter, sorrowful obedience. Not a joyful anticipation of the Resurrection, for we know that they did not understand. The world shook at the moment of the Lord’s death, but then it seemed to go on just as always. Shouldn’t the world have paused, with the Son of God lying dead in the tomb?

We have to go through Good Friday to get to Easter. But we also have to go through Holy Saturday. The time of waiting: time to let the significance of His atoning death seep in; to face the sins that sent Him to the cross.

Easter

“Now, if we have died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him” (Rom 6:8). We have died with Christ; we have suffered the agony of our sin that He carried for us on the cross; we have failed Him, fled from Him, come back in shame and sorrow to kneel beside His tomb.

And then – into the darkness of Holy Saturday shines the light of Easter. An empty tomb. Shock, fear, awe, joy. “He is not here, for he has risen” (Mt 28:6).

Now, only now, can we raise our voices in praise with Paul: “We know that Christ, being raised from the dead, will never die again; death no longer has dominion over him” (Rom 6:9). Christ is risen – not a legend, not a hope, not a spirit, but the Son of God in new, strangely transformed life, the firstfruit of the new creation.

Christ is risen! And that changes – everything. “For the death he died he died to sin, once for all, but the life he lives he lives to God. So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus” (Rom. 6:10-11).

Christ is risen! How can we sing out loudly enough to convey the joy, the utter and earth-shaking joy of those words? It is the pivot-point of history. It is the sure foundation for everything in our life and work and worship. It means that Jesus is the world’s true Lord – that Jesus, and not Caesar, is God. Christ is risen! How can we find language to carry that meaning?

One poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins, comes closer than any other in capturing the mingled awe and joy of the Resurrection – perhaps because Hopkins was, like the Lord he served so faithfully, a man well acquainted with grief and troubles. Hopkins writes:

…the Resurrection,

A heart’s clarion! Away grief’s gasping, joyless days, dejection.

Across my foundering deck shone

A beacon, an eternal beam. Flesh fade and mortal trash

Fall to the residuary worm; world’s wildfire, leave but ash:

In a flash, at a trumpet crash,

I am all at once what Christ is, since he was what I am, and

This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, patch, matchwood, immortal diamond,

Is immortal diamond.

Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Advent Season: Living In Between

Holly Ordway — Thu, 25 Dec 2008 05:21:59 +0000

Our King and Savior draweth nigh: O come, let us adore Him.

As I write this, it is Christmas Eve. In a few hours I will go to church, where we will ring in Christmas Day with a joyful celebration of the Incarnation, of the birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

The weeks leading up to this blessed night have been full of anticipation. On the surface, they have been of anticipation of the secular “holiday” celebration: food, family, gifts. All good things, to be sure, but in themselves not the reason we celebrate. We gather to celebrate not love and peace in the abstract, but the Prince of Peace in the flesh, the love of God made manifest in the birth of His Son.

In the ancient Christian liturgical calendar, the four weeks preceding Christmas are the season of Advent. Not the commercialized “Advent” of Advent calendars (cute as they are) with their pieces of chocolate hidden behind little paper doors labeled with the days of December. No, the ancient Christian celebration of Advent is a penitential season: a season to reflect on our sins, on the reason that we need a Savior, on the fact that the joy of Christmas Day contains within it the sorrow of Good Friday before we come through to the new day of Easter. We must remember that between the baby Jesus in the manger and our Risen Lord stands the Cross, where He suffered and died for our sins.

“Advent” literally means “coming” or “arrival,” and so in the season of Advent we look forward to the arrival of our Lord on earth, His birth to Mary in the stable in Bethlehem – the beloved Christmas story. But while the first Advent of our Lord is an event of history, His second Advent lies in the future.

It is easy to forget – or perhaps never even to realize, as I didn’t before I became a Christian – that the Christian faith does not promise a disembodied life in heaven with an equally disembodied God. No, the Christian creed has been clear on this from the beginning: Christ will come again, bodily, to judge the living and the dead. There will be a new creation – a new heavens and a new earth, and a physical resurrection of the saved. Jesus, who was bodily raised from the dead – not spiritually in the hearts of his disciples, not as an inspiring memory, but physically and bodily, with the marks of the nails in His hands – is the firstfruits of that new creation of which we will one day be a part.

While we celebrate the Savior’s birth, the season of Advent calls us also to look forward to that day of judgment and new creation.

When will that day come?

In the Gospel of Mark, Jesus offers us this stern warning: “Be on guard, keep awake. For you do not know when the time will come. It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his servants in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to stay awake. Therefore stay awake – for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or when the rooster crows, or in the morning – lest he come suddenly and find you asleep. And what I say to you I say to all: Stay awake.” (Mk 13:33-37 ESV)

Every day becomes a day of repentance, a day of thanks, a day of relying on God’s grace and mercy. He might not come today – but then again, He might. We do not know the hour. We cannot presume to guess the hour. When that hour comes, will we be able to greet it with joy?

And so now, this night, this Christmas Eve, I feel the tension of living in between the times. Sometimes this world is so beautiful, life is so good, that I want to cling to it, keep it forever. Other times the world is so obviously broken, the pain and tragedy around us so terrible, that I want Him to return now, right now! to set the world to rights.

Like a child longing for Christmas morning, my heart this night longs for His coming.

Until that day – what to do?

Paul reminds us in Philippians to:

…work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure. Do all things without grumbling or questioning, that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world, holding fast to the word of life, so that in the day of Christ I may be proud that I did not run in vain or labor in vain. (2:12b-16 ESV)

May our Lord Jesus Christ grant us the grace to stay awake and in readiness for His Second Coming in power and great glory; may our Savior whose death on the cross redeemed us from sin and death give us the grace to keep our hearts turned to Him in love and obedience; may our Risen Lord grant us the grace to let His light shine through us this day and every day until we see Him face to face.

Honoring Christ the King

Holly Ordway — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 02:03:01 +0000

The Feast of Christ the King is significant to me, perhaps because I didn’t grow up learning about Jesus in Sunday school, reading kid-friendly picture books about how Jesus loves me and is my best friend. Now, that’s an understanding of Jesus that’s appropriate to a child… but as adults, have we grown in our understanding of who He is? To be sure, Jesus is our friend and companion as well as our Savior, but it’s all too easy, these days, to view our Lord as “Buddy Jesus” – a righteous dude you hang out with, who’s always going to stand up for you, who will give you a pat on the back when you do a good deed or an comforting word when you’re down.

There’s another aspect to our Savior. He is our King.

What does the title “King” mean to Americans, born and raised in a democracy (and one in which our elected leaders all too often turn out to be less trustworthy and upright than the average guy)? Too little, I think.

“Christ” is the title of Jesus of Nazareth, not His last name. Jesus is the Christ, the Messiah, God’s Son and the King of the Universe. In 1 Corinthians, Paul reminds us that “God has put all things in subjection under his feet” (1 Cor 15:27). All things! Consider the visionary description of Christ the King in Revelation: on a white horse sits the one “called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he judges and makes war. His eyes are like a flame of fire, and on his head are many diadems, and he has a name written that no one knows but himself. He is clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and the name by which he is called is The Word of God” (Rev 19:11-13). Awe-inspiring… and a far cry from the soothing image idea of a tame “Buddy Jesus.”

Here we see Christ as truly the “King of kings and Lord of lords” (Rev. 19:16). It is this image of the King that we should hold in our mind as we hear Jesus’ parable concerning the final judgment.

When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne. Before him will be gathered all the nations, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. And he will place the sheep on his right, but the goats on the left. Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’ (Mt 25:31-40)

So far, so good; we can all probably think of some example of kindness or charity that we have done. It is not hard for us to imagine ourselves at the King’s right hand. That is, until the King continues in judgment:

“Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ Then they also will answer, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?’ Then he will answer them, saying, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.” (Mt 25:41-46)

“As you did it not to one of the least of these, you did it not to me.” There are few more terrifying phrases in Scripture. Why? In this parable, the King does not condemn the unrighteous for murder, or theft, for cruelty or for deliberately denying food, drink, or clothing to the needy. No: He condemns them for sins of omission: what they have not done.

Have we ever passed up the chance to help “one of the least of these” – not just “the poor” in the abstract, but any instance, any time, anywhere, when we turned away from one who was hungry, or thirsty, or naked, or lonely? In case we start thinking that “loving our neighbor” means doing something nice when it’s convenient for us, Jesus makes it clear: “just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another” (Jn 13:34). How did Christ love us? By willingly going to His death on the cross for us, while we were still alienated from Him.

I know that my conscience convicts me of falling short of Christ’s call to self-sacrificing love of God and neighbor. I can remind myself of all the good things that I have done and continue to do, but God knows my heart; He knows all the opportunities that I have missed, all the times when I was too busy or too tired or too caught up in my own things to help another. And yet, God is totally and utterly holy; His righteousness is perfect, not just “good enough.” His justice is total justice; He is not misled by surface appearances. He cannot be bought off.

This is Christ our King.

In the words of the Psalmist, “If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, O Lord, who could stand?” (Ps 130:3). As the Psalmist well knows, no one can stand before God, trusting in his own righteousness.

What, then, can we do?

Consider what the unrighteous do in the parable. They try to argue with God. “Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty?” You can almost hear the offended tone. “If it had been brought to our attention we’d have done something – how can you blame us for not noticing?” This is the sin of pride. Those who are blind can ask for the gift of sight – or they can keep on being blind, but blindness is no excuse.

What do they do after the King explains the reason for their guilt? They say no more, but go away. This, too, is pride, or rather the flip side of it, which is despair: rather than confess their sins and ask for mercy, they go away, into eternal punishment.

And so the parable in which Jesus convicts us of our own sins of omission also shows us the way forward.

What can we do that the unrighteous in the parable do not? We can kneel before the Lord our King and say, “Lord, have mercy.”

Psalm 130 calls our attention to the overwhelming justice of God, before which none can stand – and continues:“But with you there is forgiveness, that you may be feared.” (Ps 130:4).

Forgiveness and fear; mercy and awe. The two go together. Our King is both just and merciful; His holiness convicts us of our own unrighteousness, and His death on the cross offers us salvation. Here the idea of “Buddy Jesus” is revealed as too shallow. What can a friend, even our best friend Jesus, do for us when we are faced with the overwhelming holiness of the Father and the utter failure of our own attempt to save ourselves? Not a whole lot, it seems. And so we should rejoice in being subject to the authority of Christ our King, who does what no other can do: He forgives us and clothes us in the righteousness of His blood.

Let us, then, honor Christ our King; let us kneel before His majesty; and let us say what the unrighteous in the parable do not: “Lord, have mercy upon us.”